He was long and thin, much like his daughter, but had notable strength within him. He was completely hairless, and had the same pallid skin. His sharp, gaunt face and sunken eyes loaned itself well to the image of death that the man seemed to summon up. His dark eyes read me, without giving anything out in return.
“You must be Mortarion. Your daughter has said told me a lot about you,” I respond, giving my hand out to shake. He eyes my hand, and then again at me. His huge hand engulfs mine, cold fingers leeching out warmth.
“Good things I hope,” he says quietly, shaking slowly. His voice is completely neutral, keeping me on edge.
“Of course,” I say and smile back, doing my best not to be creeped out by this man's atmosphere. We continue to stand in silence for at least a good minute. One good, agonizing minute. Finally Morticia arrives back, with her beaten up purse, and a dark grey jacket.
“Hi, Papa,” she says as she walks up giving us both a warm smile.
“Hello, child,” says Mortarion, his manner lightening up slightly with his daughter around. “Have you got everything you need?”
“Yes Papa, I have everything.” she answers
“Good. Have a good time honey,” he says as they embrace. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”