The Bracken Woods this body is a natural disaster

Hex offers her a beguiling grin, the glint in his silvery-crystalline blue eyes wily. “My view isn’t half bad either,” He offers in a sly tease, eyes sweeping over what he can see of her in an appraising manner. Her jagged rock throne conceals most of her from him but Hex does not have to wait long until she descends her perch. She’s a long-legged sylph, ebony with silver dusting everything but her extremities, complete with glacial pale blue eyes. Hex’s ears cup forth and flutter back against his skull as he makes an appreciative noise in his throat. “Hex.” And subconsciously named rather aptly though the original intent was to honor his father’s adoptive mother’s memory; but if Hex has learned anything in his ascension to priesthood and eventual title of shaman it is that names hold power. The scourge's lips twitch in a sly manner, his salmon pink tongue pressing against the corner of his mouth for a brief moment. "And your name would be?" He inquires in a soft purl, ghosting towards her a few steps.