A lone figure was perched on top of the gate, his white cloak flapping in the breeze, the crimson lining like strokes made by a drunken artist as it undulated with the motions of the cloak, and often times it seemed like it had a mind of its own. the rest of him was concealed by the cloak, gloves, and odd shoes he wore, but the mechs could easily tell this young figure wasn't human, since the shoes were shaped like paws and there was a pair of bumps under the hood, each an inch long. the mechs could also divine only one thing other about the almost-apparition, the fact that it seemed to be young, his limbs still having that elegant yet clumsy gangly look about them, and the stare wasn't cold and calculating, nor was it careless He seemed genuinely curious about the approaching party, and he seemed content to sit until one of them spoke up, easy as it was to see him.