clouds rolling in

Illusion moved silently through the undergrowth, her steps light and deliberate; her mind set on her task. The memory of her last encounter with Styrmir still lingered vividly in her mind. It had been some time since her birthday, and she found herself drawn to the promise he had made. She had made her own. She would find out if his carried any weight to it.

As she navigated through the underbrush, her sharp eyes scanned her surroundings, always alert, always calculating. She could sense something different in the air, an undercurrent of tension that piqued her interest even further. She had caught his scent, now changed with the season, so she knew she was headed in the right direction. But she wasn’t a hunter.

Eventually, she came upon a clearing where Styrmir stood, engrossed in a peculiar… ritual of sorts. My, was he religious? Illusion paused, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Styrmir's posture was tense, his movements careful. A hollow tree stump served as the focal point of his activity, its base littered with the remnants of a previous offering. The scent of decay mingled with fresh blood hit her nares, a recently slain squirrel lying next to a rotting carcass. How curious. Her heart thudded in her chest, a smile twitching at the edges of her lips.

Illusion's breath caught in her throat as she watched Styrmir work, his paw resting on the squirrel's stomach. He was… intense. His expression was a mixture of determination and unease, his eyes scrunched in concentration as he made the first incision, peeling back the pelt with practiced efficiency.

A soft smile played on Illusion's lips as she observed him. There was something almost mesmerizing about the way he moved. She liked this, liked watching him while he was unaware. She remained hidden, her presence unnoticed as she continued to watch, her mind racing with thoughts of what this ritual meant. He was alone, so it must have been a uniquely Styrmir thing to do.

As she watched him, she felt a surge of exhilaration, a promise of more to come. Whatever darkness lay within him, she wanted to explore it, to understand it, to challenge it. Her curiosity was insatiable, her resolve unshakable.

So, she stepped out into the open, with grace and a tranquil expression on her face she called out, daringly. “Have I discovered a secret of yours, Styrmir Trygg?” Her face is soft, innocent, but of course her eyes betray that as the silver pools swirl with twisted delight. She approaches, slate tail waving behind her like a banner, a giggle dripping from her maw. "What, no 'hello' for your shadow?"

"Illusion Nightwing"