King Elk Forest born under a bad sign

He cants his head at the sultry words— words meant to intoxicate and lure in the passive ghost— Am I? he implores with eyes brewing icicles, taking another tentative step towards the druid, inky nostrils extending to take in what he can of him. Killua does not appear afraid, but seems to hold a fair amount of caution regardless, as he beholds the haunting Dracula, and his hesistance does not keep the question out of his eyes: How?

He wants very desperately to know how he impresses a man who seems much more impressive himself, but his lips purse on words he does not feel are worthy enough to say aloud. Still, his needy eyes ask: How?