Cassiopeia's View back in black

The mysterious male was correct in both his assumptions. Tzila was well aware of her looks and adjusted her body language shamelessly, when she felt compelled to do so. One might easily get enthralled with her, from the way the light played off her coat, to the almost unnaturally precise way in which she sometimes moved. But they mustn't be careless. The weaver of shadows was a deadly beauty who would kill with a toxic kiss if you didn't play your cards just right.

Pleased that she had coaxed him to his feet, to come to her, she felt a small bud of pride bloom in her chest. Openly, she looked him over. Up and down, examining his musculature, his coat. Reading his every movement. His eyes caught hers, the very same shade of red that reminded her of her Warlord's stare. For his reward in coming closer, she took a single, but significant step forward. She twisted her torso, prepared so as to begin circling him, curiously. "The night and I." Her breath billowed out into the chilled air in a plume of white. "For you see, I am named after the shadows themselves." She followed through with another solo step, features soft but intense. "Tzila."