death incarnate & night triumphant

Andras is entirely content to sit in that tree, his wings comfortably draped about him as his hazel eyes watch that sun slowly rise above the mountains. The sky turns purple, and then pink, and then orange. It was rather beautiful, he thought, though the night was still his favorite, he savored those shadows and those stars, how he longed to fly in them, to touch them. His dreaming is wrenched away from his almost as quickly as it starts as the sound of footsteps reach his delicately pointed ears. Tilting his head slightly, curiously, he watches as a woman in a robe makes her way into the clearing. He notes the surprise that lines her body as she halts before his jacket that is still lying in the middle of the meadow, and shock dances across his features as she simply picks it up and puts it on.

Who takes a random piece of clothing and wears it? Apparently, this strange woman.

Leaning forward, he curiously watches her, as she continues to move through the meadow with a sense of purpose. What was she doing? Shifting his wings slightly, he's content to watch the strange woman until an ear shattering scream rips around them. Brows raised in astonishment, he glances around quickly, unable to find the source, yet the woman rushes in a direction; towards him, his brows furrowed in confusion as she curses at something that clearly wasn't there. He wasn't naïve enough to think that this woman was crazy, perhaps she dabbled in necromancy and saw things that others couldn't see.

Yet, he's quick to hide the surprise when she turns to him announcing that he was a 'fucking demon', a spear of ice forming in her hands. Amusement dances in his eyes briefly, as he straightens even more in the tree, watching her, eternally entertained. He doesn't comment, though the woman was doing a splendid job talking to herself, as she looks between him and the space next to her. It didn't take much longer before he concluded that the woman before him was a witch, a rather skilled one if she could form her element into a weapon.

Standing gracefully on the bench, he allows her the moment to converse with thin air, before he flares his immense wings and takes to the air, descending quickly to the ground before he feels the earth beneath his feet. Snicking his wings shut with a sort of finality, he strolls over to the woman, a lazy smile adorning his features as his hands slip into his pants' pockets, his powerful muscles rippling beneath that white t-shirt, "Of course, she is. How else would I lure my prey into the forest?" his grin widens as he looks in the direction where he assumed the strange thing was that the witch was talking to; he was looking far too right.

Still, Andras halts several feet away from her as he picks an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder, flicking it to the ground, before his hand finds his pocket again. "Do tell, what kind of demon do you think I am?" he purrs, those deep lyrics entirely midnight, as if he were asking her to have a romp in the sheets rather than asking her what she thought of him. Andras was entirely imposing, his height towering over her, though he wasn't in any way hostile, he was merely amused by the turn of events. Shifting his wings slightly, he pulls them in tighter to his body, so the wind might not wrench them open. He waits, wondering how long it will take the witch to figure out that he was real. "It's impolite to steal demon's jackets," he hums his eyes alight with humor.

Andras Steinhello darling