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I believe it was a Thurday night in a particularly bleak October that he appeared on my doorstep; haggard and apperently near the thin curtain of death which entices all men into its gray folds, never to be seen or heard from again. Yes, it was this dreary shroud that hovered over him as he slept in troubled agony, no doubt having dreams plagued with all manner of terrible and despicable spirit intent on driving whatever wretched soul he had to the great River Styx and its perpetual boatman. He was not splendidly dressed, nor did he have the appearance of a pauper, but rather some down and out aristocrat who had spent too long in the arms of a tavern girl and sullied his able body with too much drink. Hair that was thick and course and black as the raven's back fell into closed eyes that twitched occasionally at the start of some new and unseen terror and a hand creased from a youth of hard labor clutched at his chest, his very heart burning with both a physical and spirtual fire as he fought valiantly for his immortal soul. This was the condition that I found him in, and this was the condition with which I seemed to affliate him to for the rest our acquainted days.
After a good many laborious hour, I found him to be within the grasp of normal health again, and retired to my own room, setting him up in the empty servants quarters at the top of the stairs. Dressed in the white tunic of my father, he slept almost peacefully for half and hours time, his fits having decreased in intensity for the moment. I took great care not to disturb him from what meager calm that now possessed him, and merely gathered my things from the room, it having been an old study of mine for quite a long while.
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![.-=[P u r p l e]=-.](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/8d/ac/7dbd592e7ac8d.png?t=1190874258_5.00_00 ".-=[P u r p l e]=-.")
