The midday light sprayed through the dirt tinted glass windows, creating two beams of light into the cottage, shadows cowering in their illuminating presence.
Yossarian and Georgia sat quietly at a large wooden table in the centre of a small cottage. Two mugs laying in front of them, the soothing scent of black tea rising into Yossarian's nose.
Yossarian looked around more of the room, whilst taking a sip of tea offered to them by Marianna who left to find her husband, leaving them and the small child alone. He noted little wood surrounding a poorly built stone fireplace behind them, a small kitchen - comprising of a single large bench and a few cabinets - laying close by. A Singular fur rug was placed upon a wooden rocking stool similarly positioned in front of the fireplace. The rest of the cottage's features hidden in a partially lit hallway on their right.
Yossarian dropped the mug, disdain in his mouth, what on earth did they put in this, he wondered. He looked to see Georgia's reaction to the tea's taste - who similarly took a sip - only to see her common flat and expressionless face once again. I'm honestly so confused by this girl, I think I get her, then I don't.
After waiting in the strangling silence, his eye's laid on the small child hiding himself behind the rocking stool, pale eye's watching him back. A plan hatched in Yossarian mind.
"So my boy-" Yossarian started, indicating to the young man and taking another sip before putting it down, realising its horrid taste once again. "Theres no need to be scared of us, right my dear Georgia?"
Georgia grunted in response, eyeing Yossarian now and his mysterious intentions in interest. The boy seemed to hide further away at Yossarian's sudden dialogue. He clicked his tongue, timid as his mother, what is wrong with these people?
Yossarian forcing himself to be patient with the boy put on a smile. "Please don't be scared, I merely wish to chat, surely that's nothing to be suspicious of."
The boy looked shocked at being found out, hiding further behind the stool before slightly standing up and moving towards him.
"That's a good boy, see nothing to fear, plus you've got good old auntie Georgia here to save you in case I do anything devious," Yossarian chuckled light-heartedly, indicating towards a glaring Georgia. The boy nodded in response, glancing towards Georgia reassuringly, smothering her slightly bitter attitude towards sympathy.
"Now lad, upon her dear father's request - your great uncle - I was informed on a rather distressing rumor about this place," upon Yossarian's mention of a 'rumour' the boy tensed up, Yossarian's smile deepened. "now I merely ask, for the concern of our safety about what you know of these concerning rumors."
The lad looked down meekly to his feet, distracting himself from the question by moving his right foot around the floor. "Lad, please. I mean not to prey into matters that do not concern us, but I must know if something within the area may endanger us or not." Yossarian pressed soothingly, not trying to be overly aggressive and potentially scare the boy further into silence.
The boy looked back, his eye's almost shaking from their sockets, before retreating back to his feet. Yossarian sighed, sensing that he wasn't going to get anywhere. An almost silent voice, came out of the boy's quivering mouth.
"There's been people missen. North-wess of here, in da forests. Somethin been taken, people. The grown ups been talken to themselves about dis-"The boy stopped, his eye's glancing quickly to Yossarian and then back to Georgia again for reassurance, forcing a small smile from her, before continuing, "sayin not to go close to the big man, to the old place, cwass the river."
Yossarian leaned forward upon the boy's words, mind swirling from the new information. 'Big man' does that refer to the titan? What does he mean by the 'old place', and there have been disappearances? His brow furrowed in deep thought. There's some history behind this matter, he assumed, concern building up inside of him at the potential of the matter involving the titan. He knew it was never wise to mess with the old gods.
A memory pushed itself into his mind, a lesson from his old mentor. Her old body draped in clothes as she laid hunched over on a wooden bench, her old wavy voice hanging in the air.
"Artifacts and beings of the old orders, remanents from a forgotten pass should remain as such. Forgotten and mysterious. For they possess untold power, a power descendant to that of the land mother, Gaia, and the Skies of Uranus. A primal power, unbefitting of us humans. A primal power, that if touched could end us."
It was a common sentiment held by many of the older generations, a sentiment he agreed to. However, Olympus has remained silent for too long, the gods and goddess' drastic and harsh divine punishments were barely preached to the children anymore by their parents under the cover of night and darkness to breed fear within the future generations. The Gods and Goddess' fearful and omnipresent nature long forgotten by His generation, and thus ignorance and impotence brew.
The sudden churn of rubber against rock cut off his train of thought, the thrumming tune of a car engine turning off outside the cottage. Well, this should be fun.
Yossarian pushed himself off the stiff wooden chair and moved towards the door, already having an idea of the person on the outside. An unknown and skeptic village like this would mean none of the locals were likely to own anything as expensive like a car. That limiting the potential to a small margin, and since they were inside the party's border's it was probably a secretary of the areas party cell.
His eye's darted towards the boy - who was now back behind the stool - before opening the door. An individual - Yossarian unable to tell their gender by the short-cut hair, muscular yet defined facial features and dark-rimmed glasses covering their eye's - straightly stood just outside the cottage's small porch. They wore a bland green overcoat with straight pants, and black working boots, all of which had a splotch of dirt and a cut that was stitched together.
"So, you must be the recent visitor if I'm not mistaken." They commented blatantly, Yossarian sensing that their eyes were sizing up his appearance behind the black tinted glasses. "Tell me if I'm wrong after I'm done. You're here escorting a relative to the current owners of the house behind you. This relative is here to transport merchandise that the owner's purchased from her father. You stated your current occupation was that of a- drunk. You stated you pose no threat and that you would leave soon. Is that all correct Mr.-"
"Mr. Perthro, Yossarian Perthro," Yossarian added bitterly. He always hated the systematic and orderly function of the party, this one especially epitomising these aspects.
"Well, Yossarian Perthro-" The Secretariat went on, seemingly rolling his name in Their mouth, remembering Yossarian's name in perfect pronunciation. "-did I get anything wrong?"
"No, you got everything perfectly."
The Secretariat didn't respond but instead whipped out a notebook and pen, proceeding to write something, only looking back to Yossarian for a moment then back to their notebook. This aggravated Yossarian further, who already had little patience for the party's antics, yet held himself back not wishing to potentially create conflict.
The Secretariat finished writing, addressed Yossarian, whilst putting their pen and notebook back. "So Mr Perthro-"
"Please just call me Yossarian,"
"Mr Perthro, after interviewing the owner's of this residence I can confirm that the girl, Georgia is indeed their relative. You, however, I can't confirm. Especially you're apparent occupation as a homeless and drunk individual." They added, hidden eye's seemingly digging into Yossarian's, this annoying him more.
"I didn't know party officials interviewed every person that travelled from village to village." Yossarian stated sharply, an obvious displeasure in his tone.
The Secretariat, if noticing this didn't show it. "You are correct Mr Perthro, however, if I'm being honest this isn't any typical village. And you aren't any typical traveller are you?" They went on blatantly. Yossarian tensed his muscles, his eye's now dancing across the Cottage's premises and further across the village, his mind debating how screwed he currently was.
"No need to be on edge Mr Perthro. I have a- let's call it business with you. That depending on your answer to my question." Yossarian tensed his eye's, intrigue and fear building up and competing within him. He was silent for a moment before answering, the intrigue within him winning. "Go ahead."
"Do you have experience in the alchemical or witchcraft based arts?" They asked flatly.
"If I said yes?" Yossarian questioned, leaning in on the bars of the cottage's porch.
"Then I need your help in fixing a very big issue in this village."
"Then welcome inside," smiled Yossarian.