Originally Posted by Moon_Called
At Caesa's question Mercutio's eyes reflect hers, lighting up with amusement. She can even see a smile crawl over his lips where his fingers don't obscure it, cupped around his chin. This must be a joke. She couldn't expect the name trick to work on a devil. Especially if a witch was asking.
"Oh, I think Benvolio will do for now," he says slyly. "I don't think I've used that one in a while.
Vashti, for her part, appears to be somewhat nervous in her surroundings. The frozen mountain bowl is far removed from her natural tropical surroundings. She peers at the crows surrounding her like a cautious duchess suddenly finding herself in the back streets of London surrounded by grubby street urchins. Noting the bird of paradise's concern, Mercutio reaches up with his free hand and absentmindedly scratches the back of her neck.
"So tell me, Ms. Caesa," he continues, ever the curious one, "what are you doing all the way down here in this frozen abyss?"
Caesa's smirk seems implacable, despite the devil's denial. Not that she truly expected an obviously savvy creature to give up his name. Her gaze drifts to Vashti, another touch of fire in this cold place. The crows continue to leer at the bird of Paradise, her lovely form reflected in their hungry eyes. Would she be good to eat, they wonder? Would her lovely feathers warm a nest in this horrid place?
In any case, Mercutio's bird need not fear - the crows belong to Caesa, and she wishes Vashti no harm. Though when that question is posed, the Witch's features darken. Only slightly, but it is enough. The fire flares violently out of nowhere, and the crows hop backward, screeching with fear. "The Huntress may call this place hers, but that does not make it so."
Her features flatten calmly. "And you, Mister Benvolio? What brings you to my crag?"