Ezirael and the Magnificent Misfits

The Jungle

A mysterious figure walked among the trees, leading a pack mule and a small hunting dog through the dense jungle. He stopped and looked around, his eyes scanning the thick canopy of leaves. A bird flew by calling loudly. The man listened intently, but he heard no other sound. He pulled out an old map and held it up to the light. This was where he was supposed to be. That meant…

“Ezirael!” a voice cried out. “You’re late!”

The tall, slender figure turned to see another person approaching him quickly from down the path. He smiled at her as she caught up to him, then gave her his back as he continued looking at his map. “Hello, Lilyanna. I am not late for our meeting time, I am early for it. But you are early for meeting time, which means we have time to talk before we ever get there,” he said with a laugh. “Why do these things always happen when I cannot find my good pen? You usually bring that one, you know?”

Lilyanna looked at the neat map in Ezirael’s hand and grinned at the messy letters on it. It wasn’t hard to spot that it was from Ezirael—the letters were larger than what anyone who had learned to write properly would make them and they were written in ink that ran very far outside of the lines that marked their borders. She also knew that there was a certain beauty in them and sometimes even a kind of poetry to them … though she would never tell Ezirael that. She looked into his dark green eyes, which seemed to shine with warmth and kindness as he looked down at her from his impressive height of 6 feet 8 inches. His caramel hair was long, neatly braided and hung over his shoulder like an exotic scarf. His skin glowed with health and vigor and his strong jawline was covered with a short beard that was already starting to become pale blond after spending so much time in this sun-drenched place.

He turned back to look at the path ahead of them, one arm still holding open the map while the other reached down to scratch behind his dog’s ears with a smile on his face as he did so. Lilyanna could barely tear her eyes away from him—she had been doing this journey with him for many years now and every time she saw him she thought about how handsome he was; how intelligent; how powerful; how kind … but most of all how lonely he must be without someone else like himself in his life; someone who could love him in return; someone like …

She blinked away that thought and looked ahead towards their destination: an old temple now covered in vines and moss where she had performed many rituals over the years but had never told anyone about until recently—not even Ezirael (though she could never stay mad for long when she saw those bright green eyes looking at her). As they walked along the path together quietly, Lilyanna noticed some movement off on their right side through the thicket of thorny bushes growing alongside the trail they were following. She watched intently until she saw another figure step out into view on top of a small hill overlooking them—a man dressed in brown robes with a hooded cape looking directly at them through round glasses perched on his nose while carrying something wrapped up in cloth under one arm while waving with his free hand excitedly at them as they approached before disappearing again into the undergrowth behind him