[It's a young man, a goblin. Perhaps nineteen or twenty. He's alone, carrying a bundle of flowers in his arms, walking towards home. Or so Koltira presumes. He can barely discern the features of the boy's face; the color of the flowers. At this point, he understands only a quick breath, a frightened whimper. The well of blood on broken skin.
The young man drops his flowers. The petals scatter across the road. It is almost dusk, and they are alone. Koltira lifts his hand, silent, gritting his teeth so hard that he can feel them crack in his mouth. The boy begins to choke.]
LEVI -- OUTSKIRTS
The young man drops his flowers. The petals scatter across the road. It is almost dusk, and they are alone. Koltira lifts his hand, silent, gritting his teeth so hard that he can feel them crack in his mouth. The boy begins to choke.]