Things seemed to be looking up, or so he thought, or perhaps it was because now he had hardly felt so alone with his faithful hound by his side. He had thought that little bugger had perished when he nearly did so long ago within that hell dimension. That very hell that had swallowed him whole and had no wishes in spitting him back up. Those years, years that felt like an era or lost time he could not recover. Time worked differently there, so disjointedly and operating in a unique way from the mere sunrise and setting of earth. The once lost warlock could only try to keep track and yet eventually, he gave up after day 600, a series of deep gouges in stone were the last reminder of how long he had been gone. It seemed to serve more as a decoration than anything else. Every mark was like another form of slow-moving torture, snuffing out every last bit of dwindling hope that could be squeezed. Attack after attack of those hellish creatures, some more brutal than others, each gruesome hell creature seemingly unique. As though they were handcrafted only to find new ways to break him, to shred him like ribbon, to end him. He still dreamed about them and sometimes he could swear her smelled them dwindling on that sea air. It was when that hellhound, Barney entered his life within those barren, lifeless pits, that he began to reconstruct hope again. Yet, against all odds, here he stood. His life may never be the same, he may never be the same, but he was here. The Irish warlock had gone to the very depths of hell and back and survived. That was more than anyone else could say, he was sure of it.

Now, his loyal companion was able to slip through the cracks and join him and that unruly beast seemed to enjoy every minute of it. Of course, to the naked human eye, he appeared nothing but a normal, flat coated retriever. Glossy black coat like polished obsidian, nearly all black eyes, ominous teeth, and a set of massive paws. He could not look any more mundane and yet, he was anything but. He was a massive beast, underneath that glamour that Serafina had skillfully forged him with that enchantment. She hardly cared for the beast, but she tolerated him and perhaps that was better than nothing at all. It was a miracle in itself that she even let the hound stay. How cherished that creature was to him, the very beast that had saved his life more times than he could count. If anything it gave him hope. Perhaps he had a chance, a silver of a chance in defeating that vile demon the roguish Irish warlock had owed a debt to, a debt that had yet to be paid. Yet that roguish man hardly gave up hope that one day he would live free without that very curse darkening his door. Perhaps one day, but that day was not today.

Today was nippy and begrudgingly blustery, it was hardly the best conditions to freeze his ass out on the water. At the very least the sun was out, not that he was outside to enjoy it. He was struggling with one of the worn annoying pages that had been ruined prior to him by what looked like a coffee spill, along with several ripped out pages. That good for nothing book keeper had sold him yet another dud. He could not trust that man as far as he could throw him, his eyes were odd, like they were everywhere in that store. He had it out for Brennan from the start for whatever reason the man had decided. He ran a hand through the stubble across his cheek as that first spark of frustration hit him. He was going to have a word with the shop keeper and they could settle this once and for all, he slammed that book shut as she shot up with book in tow, tucked neatly underneath his arm.

He wore his leather jacket and a pair of black pants and his well-worn laced up army boots, the most comfortable pair he owned. His hair was still somewhat tamed in comparison to his usual sea messy hair. He ruffled it up a little with his free hand as he took those steps nearly two at a time, easily navigating that boat. He could knew it like he knew the back of his own hand, every wooden clad surface shaped by his own two expert hands, lovingly sanded and stained. This was his home, this was his and perhaps his only sanctuary within Sacrosanct. Every grove, ever inch of that pristine wooden masterpiece, his pride and joy. Just as he was going to step off of that sailboat, to his surprise he caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of his dock. A woman with none too subtle pink locks, sitting at the end of her dock luring Barnabus with treats. He could hear his warning growls from here... that was until the curious dog smelled that piece of tantalizing jerky.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, he isn't exactly... people friendly." That irish brogue reaches out to warn the sitting woman, he hardly wanted to see such a pretty little thing bit. That was the very last thing he needed was for her to be attacked and then there would be some whole scene. He loathed scenes. Instinctively, the man jumps easily from his boat onto the dock with steady feet, only to find Barneyboy, to his dismay, wagging his tail, waiting intently like an obedient mundane dog wanting treats.

"Well I will damned to hell.." Brennan cursed lightly, walking with that confident stride down the dock. Utter shock struck him then when he heard that dog whine, the pleading sound. A pitiful sound he had hardly heard from him before. How his ebon nose nuded, and sniffed at the woman in a seemingly curious manner. He even started sniffing at her face with a force like he could threaten to knock her over with his zealous probing! That long tongue reaching out to give her one hell of a slobbery kiss along the side of her face. "You are a damned traitor Barney.. have you no shame?" He scoffed, half heatedly scolding his dog, shaking his head with a hint of a smirk.

The silvery blue gaze of his shifted downward to the woman with that flamingo pink hair, he hardly anticipated her to be so.... Pretty. He was ever the sucker for a pretty face. "Now I know all it takes is a pretty face and jerky to turn him. After all these years, I never thought I would see the day." He waved an idle hand, nearly rolling his eyes, raising a singular brow while that roguish grin spreads near wickedly across his face.

"A little cold for surfing, eh cotton candy haired lass, isn't it?"

Brennan O'Connell