Firefly Glen i am flesh and i am bone

Pools of luminiferous ice swept from the glow of the fireflies back to the unnamed woman's idyllic, cold features. In her eyes, there was corruption - a cloak of warmth, and a shade of empty frigility; those eyes, in some twisted world, reminded the beast distantly of his charcoal sister. Of his life before blackfeather, before the melonii, before moonspear, however short that time had been - usually these thoughts were buried deep into cursed earth, but, in a way he'd not anticipated, a little flood of memories returned to his pallid skull. Cassipeia, his mother, Sirius... was he dead? His father was.

The Silencer brushed them away. Despite all else, his ability at concealing any mortal emotions was impeccable - another honed skill that this soldier challenged, with the eyes that masked all. Shivers of wind would stroke frigid spines, rattle the bones of dead trees, but Aries remained stoic. Unchanged. Whoever his family had been, he was among the worthy now; his loyalties had been pledged, and the midnight consort of the clan was who had raised him, in blackfeather's gory depths.

Tundra's words, ironically, slotted neatly into his own ideals. The starborn wraith was both a guard to the night and a king of the dead - he would not travel from the teekon's kingdoms, he would conjure his own plans deep within the cracks of his iron chest, where none could see until his grasp was limitless. Insatiable. "I would have too." an odd, almost welcome statement, but void of warmth; his baritones were permanently steeped in ice, as low and gruff as the rumbling of thunderclouds, which brewed in a cobalt sky.

She met his gaze.

It stirred the beast, but nothing was visible in the emptiness of his expression. Nefarious rivulets might whisper in the very depths of his watching stare, but he did not flinch. Only observed, allowed the sounds to soak into his silvery ears, anticipated; the skeletal king knew she was resisting, and wondered for the thousandth time just how long it would be before she rose up to slit his throat, or fall prey to his jaws - or, on the contrary, present something new to the table. Unpredictable. Something he had not considered. As if to offer her a taste, Aries considered casting his name to her hands - not his full name, for titles bore more power than many cared to acknowledge, but simply a snatch. After those soundless moments of simply watching, feeling the anticipation thrum in his veins, his blackened lips parted again.

"Do you have a name, or will I just refer to you as the woman from the woods?"