Dean stood there, his skin flushed to match the darkness of the night, yet now gleaming with hints of obsidian – like some sort of eldritch drow. Looking up into the night sky, the Shadow seemed to yearn for something, as if the vast empty reaches of the universe were the only balm to his uneasy, restless spirit. Cursed to be the Shadow of a man whose glory knew only light, the amoral assassin could not help but embrace the solace of a world ruled by cold and distance – yet infected with light and warmth. Instead of the other way around.<br/><br/>“Aza is quite entertaining,” Dean said, voice sonorous yet barely carrying. “And the warrior has changed quite a bit – her personality has shifted, suggesting she was somehow cursed or manipulated. Which would explain her behaviors, at least in part. We can investigate more, once she, too, wakes from her rest. As for the elf…” Dean’s words trailed off as his eyes took in the sky, crossing from star to star, darkness to darkness. “I suspect she will not be with us much longer. No matter who she works for, no matter what her powers are – she will find our combined might able to overcome her spells and will grow bored with her games.” Another brief pause, met with a wry smile, “Hopefully after I’ve had all the fun her flesh can handle, of course.”<br/><br/>The man might have been calmer in the dark, outside, away from all temptation. But he was still what he was.<br/>