With the snapping of twigs and russling of leaves, Damien pops out from the thickets of the cursed forest. His dark blue eyes adjusted to the bright sunset facing him. With one hand he brushes his black tuxedo off from all the dirt and leaves that'd become entangled. He was a strange site, someone so proper yet so filthy. He then finds a place ontop of the hill where he sits down and rummage through his bag. He then pulls out an old looking blood stained knife and starts carelessly fiddling with the tip with his finger.