The Sketch

"What's this?" Lorcan looked at the piece of paper in his hand before he looked up at Gavril who stood beside him. They were standing on the open deck of the cabin as they both looked at the forest in front of them.

"You told me to just give you a name. But I cannot always do that," Gavril said, glancing down at the paper in Lorcan's hand. 

Lorcan raises the paper again to look at it. It was a sketch of a man dressed in ragged clothes. The hem and sleeves of his shirt looked like they needed sewing. His sleeveless blazer that reached his knees looked more like a piece of cloth that was torn in the middle and on the sides so he could drape it to his body without feeling constricted. His pants are loose and tucked in worn-out boots. His hair though not that long is messy along with his facial hair that looks longer than his hair. He is in a graveyard and is surrounded by what Lorcan could guess as spirits.