A bit down the pathway, a figure stepped out of a large swirling mass of glowing ivory papers, they swirled and bloomed like a massive lotus flower, but the sound of ruffling pages was so loud that it was as if a wind machine was going off as he stepped out of the pages. He made his way up the loosely winding ramp that swept up the hill into the Licorice Woods, he hadn’t been planning on visiting his grandfather in a while, but he and the family members of the others who live in his grandfather’s neighborhood are often called upon to help with people who wandered into Glimmerstand. Sometimes they’ll just be swept up into a party somewhere and be tossed out as the party ends so they can’t recall anything that happened, but other times if someone wants to stay a bit longer.

              He heard his grandfather’s voice along with the voices of Apricot, Liri, and Dahlia, but he started being able to pick up a new voice; obviously the person didn’t speak too frequently or didn’t like talking because of how quiet it was, as he got closer, the new voice had an accent that was a heavy mid-western accent, but their voice was heavy, raspy and told him that the person was most likely ill. As he got closer, he was able to pick up on an unfamiliar magic as well, he had been around that of his grandfather and his neighbors and some members of their familiars, but this was a different magic that wasn’t like all of the others obviously because of the very heavy lean to the magic of the mortal realm that was on it, but also the magic of mortality itself. As he walked up to the small, open thicket surrounded by the four small homes, he saw the horns first.

              He’s seen hell-kin or hellspawn before, they’re not absurdly common in Glimmerstand, but they’re not too seldom seen, most of them seem to keep their horns sculpted close, blunted and tight to the body for the sake of politeness and accommodation of those around them, the person he saw had horns that were anything, but those three words; they were elongated, razor sharp and flamboyantly curled upwards and outwards. The horns were inky pitch black with a golden texturing to them showing the ram-horn like rough texture of them, they curled up and over the figure’s head before dipping down along the skull till they curled back forward as they slowly moved outwards to end a few inches above their shoulder-caps in two loose corkscrew like twists; it was a graceful and elegant sweeping coil to them that made them almost more crown like than horn, met with the inky color and gilded texture made them even more regal looking.

              “Oh, Coco, there you are” his grandfather said with a chipper tone, long tail coiling over is lap as he was holding a large saucer and teacup, tail curled through the handle of the teacup.

              “I guess it’s my turn this time?” Calico asked walking up, still not able to see the figure whom bore those big horns was yet.

              “We thought you were best” his grandfather said, “Calico, meet Quinten…Quinten, this is my grandson, Calico.”

              As the figure moved was when Calico was able to see them clearly, though he was shocked the figure was able to hide as easily as he did, his skin was the color of red lipstick or maraschino cherries: the figure that stood from the couch bowed his head a little, standing there quite meekly and Calico had been around long enough to recognize the posturing of someone who was always looking over their shoulders. Quinten was a good few inches shorter than Calcio, but tall nevertheless, though fey do tend to run on the taller side compared to those of the other realms. Calcio guessed he was maybe in the upper side of five feet, but his horns probably pushed him close to seven feet. The figure, Quinten, stood before him; that bright maraschino cherry red skin, digitigrade legs ending in black split goat hoofs that had seen better days, a long, thin bull-whip like tail coiled off behind him and was tightly coiled around his right leg, ending in a matching long, thin arrowhead shaded blade…he had long and thin limbs that were only stressed by his obvious malnutrition. His hands faded to black mid-palm and his legs seemed to fade at some point too, but Calico was only able to tell that his feet at least were black as well. He was built like a knitting needle was all Calico could compare him too; the extremely narrow shoulders, chest and hips met with the long limbs and extremely underweight form made him look like a stiff breeze would get the better of him. His head was hung a little low, but Calico could see a tall and thin neck that looked a little longer than it should and as Quinten looked up, sharp and angular features that brought to mind the images of devils in a cartoon: the sharp features, bright red skin and the big horns and hoofs. A thick knot of black hair was on the back of his head that Calico couldn’t fathom how long it would be when loose the knot was so large, a deep widow’s peak that framed his horns and furthered that “cartoon devil” appearance, bat like ears that pointed mid-way along his skull, those elegant horns and as Quinten’s head shifted a little, Calico felt…he almost felt his body lock up when he saw Quinten’s eyes: where one would except yellow, green or even black or red, they were instead such a pale, pale blue that it would be easier to say they were white instead, no defined iris or scalar just being solid masses of that icy blue and thin slit pupils framed by thick, long lashes and highly arched thin brows that had a distinct point at their apex. He was dressed in ratty, beaten and threadbare clothing, his skin looked like he hadn’t had a good proper bath in quite some time and Calcio was not unfamiliar with how someone whom is homeless looks when entering Glimmerstand.