Fairspell Meadow mister, i've seen scary and you ain't got his smile

He leans to close, daring with a movement that she will not allow him to make. In the instant that it takes him to dart his tounge out does she snap, turning around to grasp any part of the side of his face that she can in her teeth. It is an instinct, and it is to prove a point; her nature was even more coniving than her name. With a glutteral snarl does she release, tearing her jaw away from where it has landed and settling in a manner that shows she will not hesitate to do so again. "Don't push it," She snarls in a hiss-like warning, before dropping the tone altogether as the name clicks within her mind. After moments does she voice her query, sporting a furrowed brow and narrowed optics in her suspicion. "What do you mean, Blackfeather?" She had never known of Meldresi's absentee mate, nor of the whereabout's of Damien's father. She had never cared. Or so, she refused to see the likeness between her mortal frenemy and the object of her increasing curiosity and perhaps, affection, despite the signs that they were realitively one in the same person [lolololol]. Nevertheless, it is the origin of the particular name that strikes her awareness, for as new as the seductive being that stood before her was in her life, his name had been her redemption once upon a time. And by technicality, it still was, as she had shed her old in alliegence to the forest when she still had it's obidience. He was a ghost, truly, and in an instant, she is unable to assess how she feels about that/