[IC Scene] Cape Cod
After listening to Lacroix's cat yowl inside the carrier for four hours in the back seat, Hector was well ready to be out of the car. The noise he'd endured on the drive to the beachside town of Yarmouth, Maine had given the elder mage a dull headache, but the pain was well worth being able to escape the oppressive weight of paranoia that came with being a soul eater in an impossibly crowded section of New York City. There were so many people there, and any one of them might be an adversary, any one of them might try to do harm to him, or worse, to his protege.
The beach would not have been his first choice for a vacation, or even his second or third, but Hector had been unable to offer protest when he saw just how much Lacroix was looking forward to a trip like this.
Perhaps he was growing soft in his elder years. Paranoid and soft, probably not a good combination.
A four bedroom, three bathroom luxury rental house with beach access was far bigger than the two men probably required, but Hector preferred the privacy of a house over a cramped hotel room. This was a real house, not the multi-story loft that their cabal called home.
After parking in the driveway, Hector turned in his seat, reached over to rest both of his palms atop his apprentice's head.
"Stay still a moment," he instructed, working quick because he knew Lacroix was probably eager to hop out of the Porsche and explore. With eyes closed, Hector focused on killing Lacroix's aura, the colors fading away to a nothingness that mirrored Hector's own. Regular humans couldn't see it anyway, but he didn't want to take any chances. No aura was suspicious, sure, but the real aura of a death mage could be, too. Hector just hoped they didn't encounter anyone on the beach but vacationing tourists.
The beach would not have been his first choice for a vacation, or even his second or third, but Hector had been unable to offer protest when he saw just how much Lacroix was looking forward to a trip like this.
Perhaps he was growing soft in his elder years. Paranoid and soft, probably not a good combination.
A four bedroom, three bathroom luxury rental house with beach access was far bigger than the two men probably required, but Hector preferred the privacy of a house over a cramped hotel room. This was a real house, not the multi-story loft that their cabal called home.
After parking in the driveway, Hector turned in his seat, reached over to rest both of his palms atop his apprentice's head.
"Stay still a moment," he instructed, working quick because he knew Lacroix was probably eager to hop out of the Porsche and explore. With eyes closed, Hector focused on killing Lacroix's aura, the colors fading away to a nothingness that mirrored Hector's own. Regular humans couldn't see it anyway, but he didn't want to take any chances. No aura was suspicious, sure, but the real aura of a death mage could be, too. Hector just hoped they didn't encounter anyone on the beach but vacationing tourists.