[center] [hr][hr] [h1][color=FireBrick] Samhain Intrigues [/color][/h1] [img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/16/a5/ac/16a5ac8e72350a919eb73fc2180a6a52.jpg[/img] [hr][hr] [h2][color=FireBrick]-The Collector-[/color][/h2] [h3][color=FireBrick]-Location: The Ruined Lands-[/color][/h3] The Collector did not seem to notice the frost that formed over his robes and in his tangled beard. Nor the winds that whipped and howled through the building, building to a crescendo of might as they whirled and carried the cries of hounds and hooves of horse assumedly upon them. Shadows danced as though some flame flickered behind them, yet there was no such thing. "You might wish to hurry along mortals- kitsune." The wheezing voice should have been hardly audible over the small gale that was forming, yet it was perfectly clear. Fae magic was such. "The Lord of the Hunt approaches swift upon the hooves of his steed." Ah, did that seem true. But the kitsune would know better. For the Lord of Fall rode no beast, nor would ever require one. The hooves were of other huntsmen. Other beings who joined him upon his quest- whatever it may be. No, the King of the UnSeelie rode the very winds themselves. For there he was in all his glory as they twisted and warped. Shadows spinning along their length, ripped from what made them to wrap about each other and form a figure well over six feet high. As they dissipated and the wind calmed, pale skin appeared over a well muscled body. The Fall King was a massive figure, lean with muscle and a angular face some of those who were mortal (and some who were not) swore was carved by the hands of a god. His dark cloak of feathers was whipped about his shadowy form. For someone who was said to have been hunting he bore no armor nor weapon. A good sign for those who knew him. Donning such a thing was rare and meant a bloody fight. Both for the legendary king and the challenger. Yet the King of the UnSeelie did not stand, nor did he watch the mortals. His storm grey eyes were elsewhere, staring off into the between as they often did. Seeing something else altogether. Yggdrasil looked utterly pleased by this turn of events, though she maintained enough manners to flutter his fan before their face and look with a certain hunger at the King of Darkness. [color=ForestGreen]"It is good of you to join us, Dearest Falk. How was your hunt?"[/color] The question was merely answered with a sideways look from the Fall King- Falk. His attention turned to the Collector who bowed low to the King of Darkness. "It is good of you to come, Majesty." The Collector stated in that dead tone, ignoring Yggdrasil sputtering outburst that the Fall King was the one who was given the ambiguous title. Nearly about the speak again, the Collector was cut off as the King of the UnSeelie crossed one leg over the other knee and propped his cheek up with a fist. [color=Orange]"I am merely here to see business done, Collector."[/color] The King's voice was firm, the deepest of mysterious pools that lurked within the spaces between stars. The roll of distant storms echoed in his language, as though he was not human and like no other Fae. So very opposite of the Fair Yggdrasil. [color=Orange]"My hunt ended early thus I was able to fulfill my being here. Carry on."[/color] The Collector inclined his ancient robed head before resuming his orginal position. The storm eyes of the King fell upon Raposo, that last bit was for his servant. [color=ForestGreen]"You could at least stop by to see me, or say hello."[/color] Huffed Yggdrasil, their robes billowing about them in that rougher wind. As the great Dyrad fought to tame them to their proper form again. Earning themselves a quiet 'hello, then. I shall be saying good bye shortly' from Falk. One could almost say the two were presenting a well worn and tried dance between the two. And this was so very true. [/center]