“Something wicked this way comes…” said the creaky voice from the woman on the side of the road. Old and withered, her skin was hanging off her bones as loose as the cloak she had wrapped around her. Her eyes trained on the two walking down the street. In particular the taller figure, dressed in dark brown with dark ebony hair.
“So it does, woman.” hissed the ebony haired figure in a female’s voice. A flash of pearly white teeth in a devious smirk. Beside her, a slight shorter man, solid in build but older with a graying beard. He coughed softly and clucked his tongue to deviate her attention.
“Watch your temper, Caoilainn…” he warned with a form tone.
Caoilainn rolled her eyes, paying no heed. “There is naught wrong with my temper.”
The beggar woman suddenly began laughing. A high pitched, choked sort of sound in between her wheezing. “Beware thyne demon soul, o’ Lady of Shade! For when the golden voice speaks, you will destroy that which shines!”
There went her temper. Snarling as she pulled a knife from her belt, it was only the heavy hand of her companion grabbing on to the back of her neck that kept her still. “Stay your hand. Steel should not be wasted on the rambles of beggars.”
Casting the old beggar woman a final glare, the two continued on their way…