<div class="floatleft">(http://www.americanjacketsstore.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Andrew-Lee-Potts-Alice-in-Wonderland-Jacket.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>Alfred Birche<br/><strong>Alias</strong>Leshy<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Ghost,  Dark Wings, open.<br/><hr/>He stretches out again, after standing up; this time it seemed more naturally human. He felt like his clothes had been mostly dried out from his pool trip, by this point, and it was nice.  Drying off in the sun was the best. So was lazing about in the sun. Much like cats themselves, he tended to be crepuscular; dawns and dusks saw him at higher levels of activity, which waned as the day or night progressed. "Hmm. Dare I ask?" He pondered aloud... and then his eyes just diverted completely from Ghost, and focused on something acutely in the distance.<br/><br/>"Hmmm, the red-head looks interesting. Let's watch." And so Aislyn would find, perhaps without surprise, that there were others who'd run the course watching. Even from this far away, he felt something... shudder-inducing. He couldn't quite put a word to it just yet, but his interest drifted between the bird and 'the red-head'. The transformation was absolutely fascinating to watch. She seemed to maintain most of her human qualities, while borrowing only a smaller amount of the animal aspects. It felt... similar, but different enough to warrant investigation. Even without really knowing who they were, or which side they'd end up on, his interest was now heavily set upon the dark-woman. The one, without him yet knowing, felt how he did: that traditional heroism was a fetter that kept them from truly performing what they needed to do. Too much red tape.<br/><br/>When she had finished the course, he clapped his hands along with the audience.  He swayed over towards her, Ghost free to follow or run off, whatever they wished to do. The young man's approach was probably something she could feel, even if Dark Wings didn't see him; and she might not, since he skulked like a cat. However, with his approach, there was something that echoed out her call; an affinity, a bond with the 'darker' half of the cycle of life and death. The unpleasant part that people foolishly dismissed as 'bad' or 'evil'. The part they knew was absolutely essential to the balance. "Good showing." His compliment is sincere, and serene.<br/><br/>"Now, who might you be?" Curiosity flavoring his voice as he looked her over. However, his gaze was not like most men's: he cared more about where her muscles were built up, or any places where her clothing might be more worn down. Things that told him of her capacity for combat. After all, the muscles one chose to develop the most were the ones one was most likely to use in battle. After his initial assessment, he just meets her gaze, eye-to-eye.<br/><br/>The silver medallion hung out in the open, over his clothes. The metal looked almost chilled, cooler than the ambient temperature around them; fitting for the symbol of Marzanna, who was the Slavic Goddess who presided over both winter and death. The design, on close inspection, looks like it might very well have been acid-etched, rather than laser-engraved.  The simplistic style of Her depiction was a call back to ancient history. "I am Leshy." He closed his eyes as he flashed her a brilliant, yet uncanny valley Grin.  His hand was extended for a proper handshake... and if she goes for it, he makes it into a wrist-shake, like real warriors did in the 'old days'.  Though he looked built for speed and agility, his grip is fairly firm.