Barrow Fields but it turns out the way it does for everyone

caiaphas had to admit -- the sable man had an air to him that was peculiar, yet intriguing. it was not just the fractured splatter of gold that clashed with rich black that drew her eye in -- it was the male's deportment, which seemed both humble and quite self-assured at once.

she settled, though her yellow gaze never lost its sharpness as it roved over his figure, probing for any lie or dishonesty.

she found little; either he was honest, or he hid his deceit quite well -- that, or the flashiness of his pelt distracted the eye enough that it flew under the radar. she nodded at mention of the howl, finding she had heard many voices -- not all of them voices she had been able to place.

"caiaphas." she glanced him over again, and seemingly found him satisfactory, for she huffed: "and we are rusalka. you a fighter, loki?"