Columbine's stance was, perhaps, overtly casual. The dark man was relaxed, the perfect image of coiled grace, against the porch railing of the mansion. He was careful not to apply too much pressure to the rickety white frame; he could not be sure how stable it truly was, and he was not a light man. The mansion that housed much of Inferni was strange in its grace. Under the strange light of the rising sun, the house looked strange and slightly ethereal, otherworldly in a sense that Columbine could not quite identify. His red hued eyes had scoured the home many times before - it would not due for a man of his heritage to exist in a place that might collapse at any moment. Then again, from the brief moments he'd spent with this woman, he could not imagine she was inclined to stay in a dwelling like that either. It was a factor of their heritage, or so he deluded himself to think - partake in the finer things in life, and carry the Lykoi name with dignity.
There was something sour about this woman, though; something he could not quite put his finger on, and he was not sure he wanted to. Columbine was not eager to dabble in things with greater power than he, and though he would not admit it out loud, this woman was quite...intimidating, especially for a woman. It was not to diminish the power of females, but he'd met too few damsels in distress during his life's tenure. Though he would not call this a particularly friendly conversation - then again, when had he a friendly conversation? - this woman intrigued him. Creatures who could radiate such confidence were appealing; though acid spilled from her tongue, Columbine quickly discovered it suited her strange beauty.
When she introduced herself, the dusky man straightened automatically; she was of higher rank than he, and he would be remiss to antagonize someone who could act as a stepping stone to power. A grin spread across his lips, not quite a smirk but not so uncharacteristic as to approach the realm of gentle. A pleasure, Halo Lykoi, Columbine murmured, dipping his head briefly before returning himself to his now straightened stance.This stance might be slightly less comfortable, but respect and games of politics demanded a different posture. He understood and accepted it. But he could not helped be irritated slightly by her sickly sweet tone; it felt like thick and uncomfortable molasses on his ears. Regardless, his voice would grow charming and low; friendly, even. It was a tone he had not adopted in what seemed like lifetimes. I find myself content here. It is wonderful to be among family, and to have a purpose. Columbine's words were simple. Like a politician, he had absolutely no desire to say something that might sour a perception of him. He was not so stupid as to assume his natural coldness would be readily embraced by coyotes of a similar nature.
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