Bastard Undead

Have you ever…enjoyed a stroll under the cover of the night? A proper stroll, below the streetlights—the buildings and stores washing the area in a hue of gold. You haven't, I presume or maybe you've thought about it or maybe you have but I'd sorely believe the half of them were always pleasant. My, you didn't think this was going off to a pleasant analysis of our surroundings did you? No, as a matter-of-fact there was something awfully suffocating about them, something far too detached from the natural world; something cold as well. The shadows for flesh and a face decayed to bone and he probably wouldn't feel it but it was there, perhaps the only reason why he felt so subdued in this leisurely stroll through the brightness. Or maybe not, it could've been all the stuff they'd shoved into his arms like some porter boy. 

One of his arms stood wrapped around the browns of a khaki bag, a variety of items that the word 'edible' would give context to. The other arm? A second bag, less expensive looking than the other, just a bright white plastic bag in his grip. They'd been walking for a couple of minutes now and in that short of a timeframe he'd come to realise a few things, that being, he well and truly wouldn't know the first thing about going around in here. When he thought of it that way, then was it to his benefit that he was with these two? They walked up left and up the way he'd come just a few minutes prior, far from bustling but the incessant noise of rumbling engines and screeching tires didn't make it feel anything less than that. He hadn't had the greatest look around, sprinting past mildly crowded sidewalks for an alleyway at escape but now he did.

Grimly vibrant would describe it best? Beyond the sounds of the road, you wouldn't find it too difficult to catch the few distant muffles of subtle tunes, from buildings—high and low; doors wide open or vacant glass windows. It seemed the structures were meant for rest, for pleasure, for a lot of things actually. How familiar, why did that remind him of something? He frowned, just barely catching the words being spoken to him, "They never let you out or something? You been gawking this whole time"

Staring ahead of him, the larger fellow glanced back. Ah, right. A problem he hadn't thought about till now, what should he say in situations such as this? The truth was of course out of the question, paranoid perhaps but he couldn't be too careful. Escaping that hellhole had been an accomplishment he'd sorely regret forfeiting for the price of conceitedness, had his captors given up trying to find him? Them even, he couldn't be sure that everyone else had ended up dead, he'd already deluded himself into thinking the other two had made it fine so let's keep that optimism but if then; it was far more important to steer as far away as possible from the truth. 

He'd ended up here through one of that castle's abominable doors after all, the logical thought process was just how easily would it be for his captors to follow him. As a matter of fact, the more terrifying thought, had he even escaped at all? The doorway had been in the castle, whatever it was that stood behind it was likely connected in some way: direct or not. Caution was key till he fully understood this world's machinations, one of which had been flashing in front of his eyes with wild abandon. Undead were a sort of servant, slaves? He frowned, irked by that but it seemed there were equally instances of undead without masters; seemingly having lost or escaped from them somehow? The details didn't matter, it was a relief enough that having himself stick out like a sore thumb unless he found a master wasn't on the table. 

Then a proper story, a cover up that'd work perfectly was next. That, he couldn't come up with, except "Were they?"

Giving an answer without actually answering, he didn't believe he had to anyway. The opposing party seemed to get that much, staring forward again and not paying him any further mind. It continued like this for a short period of time, the noises fading but still present as the area quieted. Five, ten minutes it had been just walking? He'd made no mind to memorise the route, soaking in the vibrant nightlife till before he knew it, they stood at the front porch of another building. Wider, just as tall as the rest if not a little more so. A pretty sight of mellow lights lined its head as flanking and propped along its side was a flickering banner; 'NILBERD GROVE'

"Haah, are we done with this fiend now, Mercy?" The woman asked, standing just by the door as he stared at them. Mercy, the larger fellow he'd come to know, glanced back and then at her. "We'll let him off at the door"

She frowned, "I don't want that thing anywhere near there!"

"C'mon, ma! We haven't had to carry anything this whole way, one last leg will do"

She groaned, glaring at him as he smiled warily before she turned to open the door, "It disrespected you, teach it a lesson. Lazy oaf"

"Ma!"

"Get in, and you too!" She glared at him, huffing as he followed behind them—weightless yet awfully annoying luggage in tow.