Alwynn makes a face and wipes his hand on his cloak.
"Waste of a good toffee", he complains as he tosses it aside.
He straightens and looks at the man somewhat disapprovingly, then sniffs and walks away.
"He's all yours Vinto, do what you want", he declares somewhat petulantly, and occupies himself with examining the rest of the room, stretching his wings as he does so.


Description for the new jerk what wasted a perfectly good toffee
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Alwynn is an extremely good-looking (lots of handsome with a dash of pretty) middle-aged man in his early 40s. His wrinkles are mostly smile-lines around his mouth and the corners of his eyes. He has pure white hair, a well-groomed white beard and eyes that range from ice blue to stormcloud grey depending on his mood (just now they went from a pale sky blue to an even paler grey-blue), practically exploding with sparkles. He's tall and straight with lithely muscled limbs, wearing something like a Keikogi of very fine silk the colour of the roof of the sky in late afternoon, delicately embroidered in intricate floral patterns the colour of forget-me-nots. Over this he wears a plain grey cloak, which was just shifted to the side by his large, blue-tinted white wings with a tint of pale blue which are usually hidden under it.
He staff is long, fine and carved, and he carries it like it's an extension of his own arm.
Sorta like this, but with a fancier staff and more impressive beard: