Blackfeather Woods The Color Out of Space

She had cold, calculating eyes.
He didn't think there was a warmth to them, but he wasn't entirely sure what that looked like anyway.
Eldritch Nightwish eh. Sounded fancy. Culty.
Like Melonii, he guessed.

He waited for more, and she delivered.
She wanted room in his pack. Rowan smiled, "yes, of course. As long as you can abide by my few rules."
She spoke of spirits. And medicine. Naturally, both were accepted.
"Blackfeather Woods is a place for your interests. It seems your spirits may have brought you here," a soft touch of a smile. The Daedra came in many forms, he had learnt. But so many ended up here. Even those who didn't know what spoke to them.

"I'm Rowan Blackfeather," he offered up his name. It'd be rude not to after she gave hers.