Fey wandered through an old grave yard, she didn’t know why she had chosen to walk through a place like this. But she needed to take her mind off things. It was a chilly night and the cool wind made her pixie like wings twitch from the cold.
Mercy always wondered his graveyard, his fingers brushing the stone, chipping their surfaces, the flowers left there wilted, and the angel appearing to cry as he passed. He was the Spirit of Misery, a being that robbed everything near him of any joy or happiness. His odd eyes lifted from the fresh grave and the amount of flowers left when he sense someone in his domain. Turning her scanned for the intruder, using the shadows to move quickly. He took to the roof of an above ground tomb for a higher vantage point, that's when he saw her, a girl with pixie wings. Such light things were rare here.