"It's just a castle," Pirrin mutters the mantra under his breath while scaling a wall, "living people don't guard ghosts," Pirrin whispers while slitting a knights throat. "Just a normal castle" Pirrin insists moving from shadow to shadow counting the steps between guard patrols.

"Hecktor would kill any ghosts if he saw them."

Pirrin's breath catches in his throat as a long black cloak glides around a corner-- his mind wild and near panic. Feeling like he might throw up his own heart Pirrin's muttering slips between false prayer and genuine swearing as he catches a closing side door before it locks.

"Ghost's can't hurt--" Pirrin stops suddenly. Laughter and the smell of wine. "Is that a flipping dinner party?"

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