[ WP ] `` Be careful with the winds , Dear . They belong to me too . '' spoke the Elementalist .

“ Be careful with the winds, Dear, they belong to me too. ” spoke the Elementalist. 
 
 John stared at the old man, mouth agape, eyes narrowed. 
 
 “ What? ” he muttered, slightly taken aback by the sudden appearance of this strange man. 
 
 John had been warned about moving to New York. “ It's not like England. ” his friends would say, “ full of nutcases. ” He had thought his friends were just pulling his leg, or jealous, maybe, that he was getting out of the small town he'd spent his whole life trying to escape from. 
 
 “ The winds - ” the old man's eyes widened and his yellow teeth appeared behind his thin lips “ they belong to me. ” 
 
 Another pause. John continued staring at the dishevelled figure that blocked his path. 
 
 “ Do I know you? ” John spluttered. 
 
 “ You know not my name, for it changes as the seasons. ” The man moved slowly towards John. 
 
 “ Surely you have a name? ” John was still puzzled by this entire encounter, but for the life of him could not bring himself to walk away. 
 
 “ My name, Dear, is not important. ” 
 
 “ And can you stop calling me Dear, it's making me uncomfortable. ” - John was far too British for this kind of exchange. He wanted nothing more than to hang his head, apologise and walk away. Yet, he stayed. 
 
 “ Do not mock me, mortal. I am the wind in your hair, the warm sun on your face, the sweat on your brow, the sand in your toes. I am everything. ” The man's speed increased as his patter crescendoed. 
 
 The hair on John's neck rose. He suddenly felt very threatened, but kept his composure as best he could. 
 
 “ Well – erm. Well, wh-what do you want from me? ” John stammered. 
 
 “ I need to be appeased, Dear. I need an offering. ” The man drew ever closer. It was at this point he was inches away from John. 
 
 “ An offering? Oh God ” the stony defence broke “ Do n't kill me.. What can I give you? Anything, I'll do anything, just do n't hurt me. ” 
 
 “ Anything? ” he lent into John, almost is if he could smell his fear. 
 
 “ Yes, yes. Anything, just tell me what. ” 
 
 “ Let me.. See your wallet. ” 
 
 “ My wallet? ” John frowned. 
 
 “ Now! ” Shouted the man. The terror that ran through John could not be hidden. He tore through his pockets searching for his wallet, old receipts and lint decorated the floor around him. 
 “ Here. Here – take it. ” He threw the wallet into the man's hand. 
 
 With a short flourish the man took off down the street. John breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe. Safe from whatever creature had just spared his life. He took a moment to appreciate the life he still held. 
 
 Then it dawned on him. 
 
 “ Shit. ”
