Sivan watched the other curiously as he apologized and turned away, almost shy or embarrassed even though Sivan himself was clearly the intruder here. As awkward as this moment was, Sivan was blind to the blond's curious glances as he focused on his own unusual situation. This was not at all how he'd expected this to go, the thought of losing every possession on him not once crossing his mind as he'd stepped into the promise of a better life. His bow, precious and hand-carved from imported snakewood, enchanted to remain sturdy and yet pliable, was nowhere to be found. Was it forever lost to the sands of time? Or perhaps it was still here somewhere. Not yet fabricated? Would he have to buy it again? His clothes, he could live without. Goodness knows they were likely rank from being on his person at all times and unwashed due to his distrust of the blackened, cursed waters now flowing through all of Ederas. Or . . . would be flowing within the next ten years. Ten years was not a very long time in the grand scheme of things. Maybe killing the sorcerer would be his only real chance at salvaging anything at all . . .<br/><br/>He snapped from his thoughts as the other accepted his proffered hand in greeting, amber eyes darting up and finally fully taking in the features of the other's face . . . along with a strange mix of emotions the likes of which Sivan had nearly forgotten to exist. He was handsome, for sure, determined features, piercing eyes and a mouth that looked lonely despite its frame of tawny scruff. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last,  that the Empath was grateful few others held his gift of sensing attraction. He'd had no time for such things in the world he'd come from, wasn't even sure if he would have opportunity in this world, but he felt it nonetheless. Or maybe those were the emotions coming from the other, he realized, as two bare palms rested together for an unusually lengthy number of seconds. Their energies mingled, a light and excitement, hopefulness, passed into Sivan, refreshing in comparison to anything else he'd touched in such a long time. He felt the other calm,, as most were, despite Sivan's own current tumult of thoughts. It was inherent to what he was and not something he could avoid, almost too intimate for most. As such he usually wore gloves to avoid accidentally affecting those around. Which at the moment he clearly did not. The other broke the contact and Sivan was grateful for it, but the atmosphere in the room wavered, both men now even more unsure of themselves. As was his curse, making things more difficult than they should be for now the other was even more aware of his abilities with more proof aside from his red hair, alone. "I should be the one apologizing," he conceded. "I wasn't thinking. I try not to touch people as it can be quite . . . invasive." He floundered for a moment, watching the other's closed off posture. "But trust  me  when I say it was not my intention to find myself here in your home."<br/><br/>He didn't know where he'd expected to resurface, really. Perhaps within the catacombs of the keep, same as he'd entered. Or perhaps this was simply the only exit he'd found. What if he hadn't found any? Or what if he'd gone too far? These portals, he realized, were a dangerous business, and he doubted  that even the mage counsel had fully understood them, being desperate enough to salvage mankind even if it meant sacrificing Sivan to a loose prophecy by trusting in a magic little-understood. The man's next words made him laugh, something he hadn't bothered with for quite some time. "It seems I am to be forgiven, then, as I assure you that you aren't my target. I've been sent back to assassinate the Queen," he joked, then realized he might be taken seriously. "No . . . I uh . . . perhaps my humor was in poor taste." He shook his head. She was already dead as far as Sivan was concerned, anyways. Though ironically enough death was apparently now his only purpose, to find this sorcerer, wherever he was and whatever evils he was currently committing, and catch him off guard before he rose to power. Murder one to save the many. "This place is . . . " How could he describe it to someone who'd never seen the world he'd come from? "It's alive." Not very specific, he realized. "And that's why I'm here."<br/><br/>He wondered if perhaps he could find allies, others to help him take down such an intimidating and omnipotent power. Would it even be wise to share a word of his mission? Where exactly would he find a megalomaniac necromancer? Did he even want to? Could he even do it alone? Perhaps he should just do as intended and live out what  little years he could here in happiness before it all repeated itself. There were so many 'ifs' and other possibilities that Sivan was left feeling as if he didn't stand a chance in the world, as if the prophecy was but a steaming pile of hound shit and this was all one last blow of hilarity by fate and her cruel sense of humor. How was he even supposed to find one man when he couldn't even find his own nickers?<br/><br/>"My name? Ah, of course. My name is Kassandr Vintergaard, but you may call me Kas, if you like, Sivan Addenborn." Sivan froze, ice shooting through his veins as if he'd been entombed by it. "Kassandr . . . " He swallowed the name like sandpaper, eyes frantically scanning the other man's visage once more. 'It can't be.' This man only slightly resembled the one responsible for murdering thousands, the sadistic presence that toyed  with their dead and whose touch devoured all things good. Without the aura of death and agony about him, he seemed completely normal. How could this be? "Kassandr Vintergaard . . . " he uttered again, almost dumbfounded. He accepted the  clothes numbly, eyeing the man's back as  he stooped to collect them from the trunk. And suddenly Sivan was filled with hatred, the hunger to end this bastard who had caused insurmountable pain to countless numbers. He stood here before Sivan in this very moment, alive and smiling . . . as if he<i>deserved</i>to . . .<br/><br/>Because he hadn't done anything yet . . . He'd yet to hurt a fly. The sudden wave of indecision made the Empath sick, that he should think twice about strangling the life from this bastard and yet here he was. Faltering because of what?<br/><br/>Because he'd given Sivan his own clothes, his own shoes, and now offered him food and drink with a light in his gaze? How had Kassandr gone from this to the monster that haunted his entire existence?<br/><br/>"I . . . " Sivan busied his hands with dressing himself in rich greens that only further accentuated his bright hair. He hated it. And yet the clothes were well made and somehow fit him well enough despite being tailored to someone else. The next thing he knew, mind still stunned into silence by this turn of events, he was being bombarded with more questions. "I think I would like food and wine," he answered, as the wine would certainly help take the edge off his thoughts. "I'm not picky." He'd been living off of dog  for the past months. Of course he wasn't picky. " Once a cup and heel of fresh bread were placed before him, he nearly drained the wine in one go. "Kassandr . . . uh, Kas. I don't really know where to start. He sat at the table, eyeing the books surrounding him, the titles hinting at magical studies. So the great sorcerer had yet to become all-powerful. A monster in training. "This may take a while." His cup was now quite empty.<br/><br/>"I don't know much about the portals, myself." Perhaps  he should have asked more questions before blindly throwing himself into the past. "Only that it took seven mages of the court's counsel to open it together. And apparently all but two perished in the process." He recalled that, at least. And hoped Kassandr wouldn't ask why five mages would willingly give  their lives to open a single door. "I don't believe they truly understood it either, only out of desperation . . ." Shit. He'd said too much already and had only just started. What the Hell. He might as well finish. "They gave their lives to open this portal and likely didn't expect me to survive passing through it." A thought that left him feeling sour. On the other hand, he'd contemplated death quite often. "The Ederas I came from is not a pleasant place, Kas." The name felt so foreign to him. "Whatever curiosities you hold about these portals, I suggest you forget them." He should forget magic altogether, really. Maybe Sivan could convince him to take up another calling, one that wouldn't lead to the deaths of thousands and an army of the living dead ravaging every inch of the realm. "The only reason I agreed was for my own safety. I was more or less threatened into compliance and so here I am. Though I must say this cup of wine makes the journey almost worth it." Did it really? Or was he merely trying to make himself feel better about this twisted situation?