Nothing but absolute disgust filled Alistair’s entire being, from not only seeing a new face to match the previous, but to have caught the attention of the pair and /introduced/ felt physically sickening. On a good day he could get by with his deteriorating social skillset and could manage to spit a few sentences even, but this was too much. He had already asked the smaller witch of his business, and to be asked even more questions in this.. conversation was ill inducing. “Alistair,” he grunted, feeling more and more drained. Not yet sleeping meant being even worse at carrying conversation, but he forced himself through this with gritted teeth. “He fell, I helped.” With that being said, the exhausted one basically fled from the scene, returning to his house and finding it hard to keep his breath steady. It wasn’t the soft spoken one’s fault, but a small burn of hatred was eating Alistair from his core. Why was this even happening? Just last month he could feel himself occasionally smile at the elders as they performed their tricks from over the decades. Maybe he was just tired and should sleep….

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When the red haired boy awoke after countless hours (in reality, probably 20), he wanted to clear his mind of any putrid humans and wanted to try to finally summon a familiar. In no time, Alistair was at his summoning table, copying a perfect outline from which he saw in the book he looked off of, wanting to get this one finally right. Earlier summonings for a familiar in particular hadn’t gone the best. The most he had ever gotten was a limb or two of an animal, which was unpleasant to say the least. But he wouldn’t lose hope. “Beluga, seruga…” he began his chanting as his eyes lit up in excitement. He had a good feeling about this time.