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</div><span style="font-size: 26px"><b>Rhys Adaar</b></span><br/><b>Chosen By:</b>Cromm Cruach (Celtic)<br/><b>Location:</b>Forest<br/><b>Date/Time:</b>Noon, Dec 21st<br/><b>Wearing:</b>Outfit shown- except shirt is dark grey v-neck t-shirt, iron faery star and leather cord necklace, platform<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.discordapp.net%2Fattachments%2F878904166888644642%2F993849148774297700%2Funknown.png%3Fwidth%3D559%26height%3D559&amp;hash=acdb5eaa0fd73e46da03337894f9bc45" href="https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/878904166888644642/993849148774297700/unknown.png?width=559&amp;height=559" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">boots</a><br/><b>Tagging: </b>Clayton Barker (<a class="username" data-user-id="7193" data-username="Letum" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/7193/">Letum</a>)<br/><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS:</b>None<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/>Rhys watched the stranger as they stepped past the mushrooms, surveying the outfit with an amused expression. Taking another hit, he crossed a leg over the other to reveal the trio of mirrored plates along the front of his boots. He was... well, fashion was not his strong suit, clearly. The haircut was well-suited for him, at least, and the goatee defined his jawline in a flattering manner. The Georgian accent caught him off guard, blinking in surprise a second before the words registered and earned a melodious laugh. He grinned at the auburn man before him with a flash of fangs, watching Cromm circle the newcomer from the corner of his eye. It was akin to an apprehensive feral dog circling a person with a choice cut of meat, keeping just out of reach while maintaining a vested interest.<br/><br/>"You're welcome to try n' prove it." The Appalachian accent came out in a silky baritone, carrying the grin he was wearing in his tone. Rhys took another hit before offering the joint to the stranger, not turning as he spotted Cromm circling closer. Less trepidatious, more curious... typically that meant that the person wasn't dangerous at least. Within moments, the void god darted back toward him and long, clawed fingers wrapped over his shoulder. Protective wasn't quite right for whatever the fuck...<i>that</i>was. Clearing his throat to shake his head from his thoughts, he tilted his head with silver hair cascading over his shoulder in a curtain. "What's your name, stranger? You're welcome to join me at my fire." Anyone who answered blindly either had no knowledge of fae... or was knowledged enough to navigate a conversation with one. It was a fair measure of the kind of person he was up against, even though he was only fae-touched. It was enough to know whether they had stumbled blindly into fae-touched lands, or if they knew enough to be armed against his protection. The latter kind were what he was worried about. The bravado of an iron pendant wasn't always enough to protect him against those types.