The End of the World As We Know It OPEN

He wasn't planning on leaving with Hunter at first; the bar took his first priority and all, but when he heard that the bookstore was just on his way back anyway, his curiosity got the upper hand. Making sure that Sylvan was comfortable, tucked in the bag, he followed Hunter. A small visit wouldn't hurt; Rhiannon was practically his neighbor anyway, and if all failed, Sylvan could just stay the night at his place.

It was the foreign books that he had been interested in. Old books in a writing that couldn't be deciphered...half the time they were simply tomes of old scriptures here and there but the occasion that they were old grimoires and things like that, well, he wanted to be there if it was.

The bookshop itself was cute. Simple, with its vintage items and fancy shelves, and there were comfortable spaces to sit, which–as a customer–he was grateful for. Finding a comfortable spot, he placed his bag on the couch before glancing at the shelves. It had been a while since he had taken time to just read. Part of him felt a bit guilty for that, but this decade was a busy one. There were things to do and things to be done.

He glanced up as Hunter placed the books on the coffee table, and he immediately gravitated towards them, opening the top one and dusting them off a little bit. Old was right. They seemed more like personal tomes and journals rather than books to be sold at a book shop.

"Where did you get these?" he inquired, looking through the pages, being careful to not rip them. The writing was unknown to him, but the illustrations certainly weren't. There were symbols, old ones that he had once seen in the temples where witches still dwelled back in the days. How curious.

The man almost didn't notice the other woman as he continued flipping through the pages, absorbed in the symbols. He couldn't read it but he could guess perhaps some type of Cyrillic script? He wasn't exactly sure, but he was intrigued. Perhaps they could decode it, at least. It'd be an interesting read.

Sylvan heard his name, and his head peeked out, wide blue eyes looking up at Hunter, before letting out a meow, crawling out of the bag on the floor and brushing against Hywel's ankle. When the man didn't react, the kitten's eyes glinted with a certain deviousness, attaching his claws to the man's ankle with a playful viciousness.

Hywel let out a yelp, before glancing down to the cat giving his scowl the biggest baby eyes ever, not even noticing Hunter looking at him, expecting a reply to his answer, before glancing up, forcing himself to retrace a few steps and...right, books.

"Oh uh," he chuckled, giving an apologetic smile to Hunter, "yeah, yeah I think she would." He continued to flip the pages, before stopping. Oh. The triangle, square, and circle. Alchemy? Huh. That was definitely interesting; the only real witchcraft that he was still into was alchemy. It was something he could still work with, to find a cure for whatever curse they had put on him.

"Yeah, definitely," he replied quickly, looking up, "are you...selling these? Or are these like antiques that you're keeping in the store?"

"Huh," his brow furrowed, as if trying to understand the woman. Books with personalities? Well, she wasn't completely off–grimoires and things like that sometimes held a piece of their founder within them, and it was a complicated process, but...like Nietzsche said, if you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stared back into you.

Sylvan was completely unaware of Hywel's thoughts, only looking up to see the man deep in thought, before deciding to tentatively trust the dog to not bite his head off. Then again, Sylvan had never been the nervous kind of creature; he was an explorer if there ever was one.

Hywel pursed his lips, before glancing to Hunter again. "I get what you mean in a weird sort of way, but I know my sister would definitely be intrigued. It's in her line of work, or well, it's sort of stuff she's researching...you know, for her masters I guess?" It was an easy lie, but it was true. These books belonged to another witch or warlock once, and he could remember seeing that signature somewhere once. His memory was shoddy at best, but there must be something of his that would point him in the right direction.

McRorie

The cu rose from his place on the rug. He could watch the little thing from a spot not quite so close to those tiny claws. He'd met cats before. Many churchyards had their quota of cats. The priests and ministers fed them to help keep mice out of the church itself, and the often nearby manse.

He'd found felines interesting to watch but less than appropriate play things. They tended to squawl at him and hiss a lot. And that was when he approached them to try and make friends! A few of them had decided to welcome the wolfhound in the past. They'd been pretty thankful when rat catchers had brought out their ferrets and terriers to practice their trade on stray felines.

McRorie had put the fear of the cu into the men and their animals. No creature died on his watch, unless he wanted them to.

He lay down against a stack of books on the floor and kept an eye on Sylvan from what he considered a safe distance.

Hunter and McRorie

"Just ask her to please give me a call before she comes," Hunter picked up a couple of the tomes and replaced them on the shelf. "In the meantime, I'll keep them right back here. They should be safe."

She really hoped the Hywel came along too. She liked the guy.

With your luck, he's probably gay, snarked her inner voice. Hunter flinched at the thought.

In the meantime, McRorie eyed the kitten as it played with his tail. He kept his eyes averted and moved the tail slightly, just to see what would happen. He kept his big paws to himself. One light swat would flatten the little thing and that would spoil the fun. He had jaw wrestled with the odd kitten and even though he'd had to gauge his pressure and movements, they both had had fun. His whiskered face protected his eyes from the inadvertent swipe. McRorie fondly remembers playing with a litter of kittens one time and when he stood up, he'd had a little black and white one hanging off his beard.

McRorie

With a canine smile, McRorie wagged his long tail, kitten firmly attached. It looked a little like he was sweeping the floor with a small silver mop. He then carefully sniffed the kitten, trying to not frighten the little creature. At the sound of a dog barking outside, the wolfhound rose, kitten determinedly hanging from his tail, and wandered to the front window to have a look.

Hunter

Hunter took a quick glance at her cu and then started to roar with laughter. Helplessly, she pointed at the hound and the kitten.

"Omy my gawd, that's hilarious," she gasped when she had enough air. "I think they're going to be good friends.

"McRorie," she said softly, "What's that on your tail?" Then she had to snicker.

The cu looked at her over his long back and slowly waved his tail, kitten and all. Sylvan swung in an easy arc inches from the floor.