Just because Jericho preferred being alone, did not make him unsociable. After all, the most depressed people were often the most kind. The fairy held a certain gentleness to his soul, a kindness that often drew people to him like moths to his flame, no matter how dull it was. One thing that kept him away from others was a fear of hurting them. He was dangerous, he knew it very well. The darkness inside of him, the constant storm of rage that always threatened to burst from inside of him and take out any in his path. A ticking time bomb that threatened to take out any near him. If he could limit the casualties, it was possibly the only good he would ever do in his life.

He can sense the girl approaching, more precisely, feel the shadows she casts. He can always feel them, all around him, the fairy holding dominion over what seemed to always be trying to smother him. Shadows were a tricky thing to master, creatures that dabbled in darkness tended to lose themselves in it. Jericho was no exception to this, only recently had he been able to pull himself out and back into the light. He would never be able to fully bask in the light, darkness had too strong a hold on him that it was inevitable he would fall back into old ways; be it today, tomorrow, or many a millennium from now. Darkness was patient, it could wait.

Only at the sound of her footfalls on the sand does his mahogany gaze sweep to her, a large hand pulling back the hood that covered his head in order to see her better. He surely looked like a mess, soaked to bone, black hair drenched and in complete disarray, dark patches beneath his eyes from the many nights without sleep. She was a pretty thing, long black hair and green eyes that seemed to highlight from a beautiful face. As far as he can tell, she is human, but he had been wrong before, especially when it came to picking out witches and warlocks from regular humans as they did not have as much magic to sense.

"You might ought to go buy yourself a poncho if you are going to be out here. You don't want to catch a cold," she says, her voice like a melody through the drumming of the rain with, if he wasn't crazy, hint of a scottish accent to it. Her beaming smile is infectious, and he finds himself unable to keep from offering her a smile of his own, one more reserved but no less friendly. How funny that she a mere stranger held such a concern in her voice over his well being, she didn't know him, but if she did she would no he did not deserve her kindness.

"Unless that is your intention, in which case, I can tell you that I sell remedies for such things and would gladly help you out," she continues, plopping down beside him. It was strange, but he did not try to push her away from him, even if his mind warned him about having another so close, he welcomed her company. "A pancho can only do so much," he says, his deep baritones smooth and cooler than the air that surrounded them. There is a slight simper as he motions to how soaked she was regardless of the pancho. "How do I know you're not going to drug me and sell me to the black market, hm?" he questions her, but the humor is ever present in a wink he throws her with those mesmerizing mahogany eyes.

By now he has already guessed her true identity as a witch, for they were known to sell their potions and other remedies all through out Sacrosanct. "I'm Sorcha," she introduces herself, hand reached out towards him expectantly. He is gentle as he takes her hand into his large one, almost like he fears he may shatter her like glass with even the slightest touch. "Jericho," he says, shaking her hand. Her allows for silence to fall between them both, but it is not uncomfortable as the rain and waves fill what they do not. Mahogany eyes find their waves to the ocean again as he finds peace in watching them roll in and out.

It's not very often anyone comes out here on days like this," he says, almost like he was in thought. He really didn't know what to say, the appropriate words to keep this meeting going. Conversation, it would seem, is not his strong suit.