Cáel Fianna post 1

Whistling as he walked as if he hadn't a care in the world, Cáel smiled making his way further into the graveyard. He found it amusing how people feared the dead and held so much superstition about graveyards and such. The boy supposed being in such a place at night when the fog was thick would cast an eerie feeling. There was also the grave robbers, necromancers, and muggle horror movies to blame. And let's not forget wizards making Inferi and the occaisonal delinquent who threw a party to prove he wasn't scared.

Normally the boy wouldn't have entered. Not because he felt that the place was foreboding, or that he was scared. No, Cáel usually couldn't . Most graveyards had iron wrought fences around them. Whether it started because someone a long time ago thought it would keep their dead protected or to add an illusion of security, he didn't know. Nor did he care.

Seeing the small gate open creating a break in the iron perimitor, Cáel stepped through. An itchy uncomfortable feeling settled on him almost immediately. Ignoring it, the boy pushed on. Pursing and pushing his lips out he began to whistle. Going from grave to grave, he read the birth and death dates imagining how each one might have died.
Cáel didn't know or recognize any of the names. He and his family didn't socialize with those not of their kin. In fact, none before him had ever left the clan even as briefly as this would be, to study magic elsewhere. It couldn't have been that none else had been invited. It was just that he had been the first to accept. Or to have been asked during such exciting timing.

Seeing that he was not alone, Cáel smiled deciding to have some fun. Being sure to stay out of visual range, the boy began to pitch his voice so that it carried, the direction incertain. Pretending to wail and sob, Cáel eagerly awaited the person's reaction.