<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/>"Nature always has its way." He gleefully says as he watched Night muss with the red locks of the beautiful warrior. Mischief sparkled in green eyes. "And is Night not beautiful? Though I profess dusk and twilight to be the best." He attempted to use some animal mimicry noises--very good ones--to try and draw Night over to him. He doubted it would work, since the animal seemed strongly bonded to her, but he thought it worth trying.<br/><br/>"I'd be honored to see you use that blade to its fullest." No idle words or flattery there. Her danger intrigued him; begged to be understood, to be seen. No matter what sides they ended up on, he doubted he could ever think ill of her. Though he usually found himself not falling too much into first impressions, which could be deceptive, there was something... some inestimable quality that he found alluring. "And perhaps you shall see mine. Or the staff, though that is with my other effects." He may not be carrying a weapon on him, or his blade might otherwise be concealed on him. Trickery was the word of the week with him.<br/><br/>Hands slid behind his back, and seemed to grasp at something on his belt, though when his hands became present again, he held... nothing. Yet, any skilled fighter might be left with the impression that he had a 'trick' weapon of some sort; perhaps spring-loaded on his wrists, which only Aislyn would have confirmed was not possible, or perhaps in an ankle-sheathe. Maybe even the belt itself concealed the weapon, like the buckle being a punch-dagger. He would not show this card just yet.<br/><br/>"Oh sweet lady of the night, my council is the very best. Some time, perchance, give it a test? My mind is not a thing to be left at rest." He spun the words, the rhymes, with something neither mundane nor magical, but rather, much like his professed love of twilight and dusk--something 'in between'. And was the birch tree not associated with the 'bard'? Though he held none of the Celtic powers within him, as his soul was intimately tied to a power of a different culture. Still, was there not some overlap in all of the old ways?<br/><br/>"I would dearly love to exchange stories of old, that which yearns to be told, with some lovely lady, brave, beautiful, and bold." And yeah, he did just acknowledge she was beautiful. She was. She was, in fact, exactly his type, right down to the killer instincts in her. However, he has more than acknowledged her other qualities by this point.<br/><br/>He grew quiet, stepped back, giving the warrior and the wraith time to interact. She handled his own uncertainty about how to address Ghost much better than he did, and he knew she had more then that she could teach him; just as he had his own things he could teach her. Was it so strange to already be thinking of her like this? It felt as if it were already written in the stars above. When the bird disappeared into her, he seemed more intrigued. The animal talking, though? It didn't strike him as anything particularly odd, but then again, he's used to talking with big cats. It's just that he used their language.