"I hope so," Mateo says to Chaele, about dispatching his own quarry and hopefully crafting a mask like theirs. "I am not much of a fighter, though. I like plants." Not that those cannot be deadly in their own way. Finishing the cake and wiping his mouth and his hands (leaving streaks of crimson on his sleeves and pants), he sticks out a little hand for them.
"My name is Mateo Taliesin," he greets, his accent lending a musicality to the words. He has two adults around that Chaele will likely know quite well at this point, but they are unlikely to come to the rescue. Mateo quite likes it that way, in situations like this one.
"My name is Mateo Taliesin," he greets, his accent lending a musicality to the words. He has two adults around that Chaele will likely know quite well at this point, but they are unlikely to come to the rescue. Mateo quite likes it that way, in situations like this one.
