{se} bee our guest

the difference between a garden
AND A GRAVEYARD

The sensation of being watched - or stalked - is far from foreign to a boy born and raised in the Greatwood, with all its wildness. Narrow shoulders don’t rise, but they go very still. A concentrated, purposeful cessation of movement that belies his rising attention to his surroundings. Whatever he is planning on doing is broken apart in the early stages of formation as he cuts his eyes over his shoulder, and sees long arms reaching for him. Enzo leaps to the side like a startled colt, leggy but graceful, only to spin towards his attacker and find only clasped hands and sudden stillness from the assailant.

Awkwardness is a chorus between them as the boy stares plainly, boring through the dark monocles of the skull on the stranger’s head to try and ascertain motive. “Um…hiya,” he repeats dumbly. Only to brighten and shake himself off the lingering adrenaline that insists a fight is to be had. “Are you a witch as well?” he asks eagerly instead, happy to claim the title himself after a childhood spent at Vervain’s side. The distance between them is eaten in quick strides, hand rising from beside his hip to offer itself to the woman. “I’m Enzo. Want some help catching one of those things?” He’d love to obtain one himself, perhaps their luck will be better combined.

is what you choose to put in the soil

ENZO