The fates draw their string and gently ready Kallisto's father's life in their hands. Cackling and laughing like shrews as they slowly drew the poor man's life and stretched between two long hands. Then, with the quick clip of scissors, the old man's life was ended, falling over in his fields while tending to some minor work for the night before tending to the festival. "We have done what you asked," Said the short and ugly one, "No leave us to our work!"<br/><br/>"Excellent, now to check on my little-" The figure moves to what he was looking through to the mortal world with. The bubbling cauldron showing the eyes of a small creature bobbing and weaving among the human crowds, a squirrel to be exact, and that creatures eyes saw one heck of a sight. A young man coming to the aid of a damsel, “What’s this!? What are you showing me!? Who is this and why is he touching MY Kallisto.” In a rage the figure smashed fists down and spilled the liquid in the boiling pot over on the ground, the sizzle of the magical-like potion burning the ground. “SISTERS I NEED ANOTHER ONE!”<br/><br/>“You’ve played enough with fate.” The three Moirae chimed together, “Kill him the normal way.”<br/><br/>“Wenches,” The figure of death cursed under his breath before forming an idea. “We shall wait and see, at first. Follow them and keep watch while I go talk with someone nasty.”<br/><br/>The little squirrel then moving up to the young boy and Kallisto with a cute little smile, a messenger from the gods and a token of good luck, it sat and stared at the two for awhile to see if anything would become of them.