Fairspell Meadow The proof of fate that has been given to me

The unfamiliarly cold presence of another had his ashen ears dipping forward to catch the words passed from the other's lips as they revealed themself to him. The Reaper held his solemn silence for a moment before words of his own slipped from his grey maw, a deep voice rumbling from his throat. "Evening." Her smirk had not gone unnoticed, and his tail flicked uncaringly behind him. He was not frightened of her, if that was her intent - there was indeed very little that the Svartell was afraid of, and she certainly was not one of the few on the list.

He took a moment to subtly and very quickly examine the stranger's appearance with his icy gaze. Dark, silky coat, a well built figure with bright amber eyes, a stark contrast to his own cold blue orbs. Like a shadow, was she, he mused to himself. Perhaps (he gauged from her devilish grin), she was a little like the beast himself. Curious.