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Rumors spread quickly here. Anything that intrigued the envenomed tongues of gossips always did, those eager to spill secrets, to talk over whispered affairs of the courts, the little games nobility played and how one was bested at it, even down to the ravings of the mad. Nothing held sanctity here… though the boy could hardly complain especially when it came to the trio who saw fit to flit by the shop now and again. Corsets bound tightly to accentuate barely hidden curves, the dips in their attire eye catching to say the least.

The delicate flutter of fans concealing little for hardly did they speak in hushed tones. Normally whatever could be gleaned from their conversations seemed of little importance, nothing truly exciting to behold as they seemed more enraptured over who was bedding who in these lands - if their shared fascination had sunk their fangs into yet another as they so oft proclaimed. However, today was something different as they chortled behind those decorative fans. Laughing over stories of the walking dead. Skeletal fiends rooting through the graveyard.

While not completely out of place considering just what dwelt within this realm… neither was it something he saw as an every day occurrence. Morbid curiosity what spurred him to slip from the house that night long after his mother had found distraction in another order. Hopefully she wouldn’t attempt to call for him or witness the slow rattle of weaponry as he swiftly fastened it to its place before scurrying into the darkness. Paces carrying him toward the apparent necropolis spoken of. With an eye patch discarded, the mismatched hues of his gaze roamed freely over the burial grounds hoping to catch a glimpse of just what was going on here.

---

The city of the dead was rarely something that slept, during the day, the sheep corralled. They shopped and they conducted business, then as the sun died and wept its last rays of light across the horizon, the other denizens would awaken and function most the same. Then, there were those who didn't sleep, and Theodred would find himself as the later. His goods had since been packed, allowed to linger over the curve of his shoulder. The over sized hood and cloak suffocated his visage while the glyph carved mask awaited upon his hip in the interior. 

However, something else had since drawn his attention while in the bustling streets of the market. Whispers and rumors were often abundant there, but one in particular had snared his intention. Someone was raising the dead, and to add insult to injury, having the remnants dig through the crypts. It was hinted that whoever it was searched for something, though none even seemed to have an inkling of idea as to what it could be.

That had been the root of his intentions when he had set out towards the cemetary. It was nearing the hour of twilight, the very same that was rumored to be the beginning of the inncessant excavation. Thus far, his preliminary glimpse only revealed the presence of one other, though upon closer attention paid, he discovered it to be none other than the brat he'd aided in Dunmeath. A perfect chance to test his disguise, one he had invested in for such an event as traditional glamors could be detected, let alone be seen through. While had held doubts that the youth would be able to tell exactly what he was, he hoped that the mask and its enchantment would hide - faithfully - who he was. 

Placing the covering over his countenance, he would approach, his gait a comfortable, leisurely pace. "Evening." He greeted, the sound of his voice even morphed as it filtered through the hum of the red carving.