His hand moved slowly to his chest, palm against the gap between flannel and skin as he let out a mock gasp; "Well, I'll never. I'm not that old to be called that, like me calling a grown woman like you, munchkin." Gerwulf grinned; it was a childish thing that seemed to emphasize lighthearted humor as he reeled as if struck. Even for a moment, before he shook his head and moved his hand to the mechanism that was rotating his meat over the fire, adjusting it just a little as he took another breath.
The problem with the youth was that they didn't understand that the types of creatures that meant you harm usually just did so when so far into the wilds. He knew she was something special; it tickled his nostrils now that she stayed still for so long. The faceless fiends that lay in the woods would have just pounced on him, without pretense or patience for any sort of game. However, he could accept that there were just as many who would smile while raising the blade of a guillotine.
"Ah, you like the wind rushing through your... hair, while the scenery passes you by. The darkness, the breeze, the cold. It all grabs one's attention, shows that you're alive." Gerwulf smirked as he emphasized a word as well, wondering if she wanted to play this little game because she was cautious. Nascha had already scented him; perhaps she wasn't used to others to learn the musks of other shifters. Then it clicked, he raised two fingers and literally made the sound, "Navajo, I knew I'd met someone with your name before." Gerwulf chuckled, those pale green eyes leaving her to look up at the starlit sky.
"At least you're not an archer. Now, did you come out here to run? The night before the full moon, that is pretty risky," The man spoke, throwing away some of the pretense if Nascha wanted to speak more openly. Then again, perhaps she feared him as an unknown for other reasons. Like, if she were a shifter, where was her pack? Couldn't be packless, as she didn't seem old enough to survive without one. Though she could be powerful, it wouldn't be the first time he had underestimated a pretty face.
Did he just—? Her eyes narrowed on the male; even as he reeled back as if she'd struck him in response to her calling old. Magic sparking at her fingertips—hidden by the way she'd folded her arms; as if begging to be let loose—to mess with him somehow. "Hey! Just because I'm short doesn't mean—" indignation crossed her pretty features and she idly flicked her fingers in his direction. A zing of magic flaring like static to make every hair on his body stand on end—as if he'd stuck his finger in a power socket.
She snorted then—humour sparking in her golden flecked blue gaze.
He would be mistaken; if he thought she didn't understand the dangers of the world—she understood them perfectly; she just knew that the critters who called the wilds home; posed far less of a threat to someone like her—than the humans she passed by in cafés or on the streets. Humans who hated—feared the things they didn't understand; the things that were different.
She shook her head—forcing that thought down before it could take root; to spiral in front of a stranger would be the worst possible moment to lose her cool.
"Hair—sure let's go with that." She snorted; though her brow furrowed a second later. "I'm not—" did he think she was a native of some kind? It seemed that way to her—though perhaps if he'd heard her last name he'd be less sure of that.
"An archer?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the very thought. "No—definitely not. And so what if I did? Why would I worry about the moon and it's phases?" Had he caught onto the fact she was a werewolf? Had he mistakenly assumed the moon held her in it's sway? It wouldn't be the first time—though those whom assume that usually only do so because they miss the scent of magic in her blood and don't realise her twin natures.
Gerwulf couldn't help but let out a chuckle. That was when he smelled the magic and tasted it on him as his hair began to stand on end. Shivering, tingling due to the instant before he sighed and began to try to rustle his hair back down almost fruitlessly, before he licked his palm. With the moisture, it sort of helped as he heard Nascha snort, while he tried his best to get his well-styled natural hair to keep from making him look like a dog out of a bath. "Ey now, it's all fun and games until you mess with another man's hair," He chided, though it was still filled with lighthearted humor as he meant no real harm.
However, his mind did catch up with his instincts as he tried to figure out what she was now. He thought her beast, but given her mysticism, believed her magical. But she wasn't a shaman, he'd have sensed that. Weird woman, he thought, and pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he moved his eyes back down to her. Little did she know that Gerwulf knew exactly how Humans were, though his nature had mellowed over the years in comparison to someone who was newly wounded. He noted her distaste when he said archer, not native, then, as most of them prided themselves on even the hint of being the type to be able to claim a title like that.
"Well, you're a youth that is wandering the woods at the dead of night. I asked whether or not you were here for a rite; you did not deny it; however, I sense something bestial hiding within your soul. The issue is, it conflicts with what you just did... Not that it matters to me, just answering your question. If you're not bound by Máni as he rides forever, then it makes tomorrow night even more dangerous," Gerwulf outwardly spoke, just watching for her reaction. If Nascha were like him, even if it was Lycanthropy, then she'd still be able to scent him out with how much time they had been there. Musk of a lone wolf, something older and more vicious due to the shape of his curse.
A bark of outright laughter burst free—the giggling forcing her to bend double and brace her hands on her knees. It was an image that completely shattered the distant stoicism she'd been attempting to cultivate. "You should be lucky all I did was make it stand on end." She mumbled between bouts of chuckling— "I could have changed it's colour—or made it fall out entirely." It wouldn't be the first time she'd done such a thing.
Once she managed to straighten—she took a few deliberate steps closer; her bare feet making almost zero noise. As if she knew just where to step to avoid snapping a twig or crushing a leaf. Or maybe she was just light on her feet—like a predator when they stalked their prey.
She could almost see the wheels turning in his head—the thought bringing a rueful grin to her lips. It always started like this—especially with other wolves. Was she beast or was she magic? They rarely if ever rightly assumed she could be both.
"A youth? Just how young do you think I am?" She cocked her head—lifting one single eyebrow as she pinned him with a look that dared him to insult her further by claiming her a child. Then—she blew out a breath and lifted her hand; running it through the unruly waves of her dark—almost black hair.
"Look—I can see you're confused. Your nose is telling you I smell like a wolf—but your eyes just witnessed me using magic; you can even smell the magic wafting off of me." She watched him as she ticked these points off on her fingers—aware she likely had his full attention at this point. "Your instincts tell you it shouldn't be possible—but what if I told you that you were right on both fronts?"
She kept walking—stepping closer to the fire as she spoke; until the light caught on blue eyes that even as he watched—became threaded through with lupine gold. Until the gleaming colour of her wolven eyes had overtaken their natural blue. Then—she flicked her fingers and muttered a quiet incantation under her breath—turning the fire that flickered between them from a natural burnished orange—to an incongruous emerald green.
The effect only lasted a few minutes—but would be enough to prove this woman both beast and caster. "I'm out here alone at night—because I am alone. I have no coven any longer—nor a pack to call my own." She lifted her shoulders in a brief self depreciating shrug. "However; it's also true I have nothing to fear from the moon. It holds no sway over me."
Shaking his head, Gerwulf just accepted the threats as a playful thing escaping the young woman's lips. Of course, she could have done many such actions with the mystical arts. He'd met many creatures in his travels. The Fae and youths with too much power were always going to be something. They would learn with time, or they would be dead. In this case, she was safe from him unless he felt actually threatened. At least she had a sense of humor. Nascha wasn't altogether a stick in the mud from what he could tell now.
His smile almost widened when he witnessed her skills in moving, her feet barely making a noise. He liked that, survival, and the skills that came with it. That was a strong quality to have, and he admired it. When she asked how young she was thought to be, Gerwulf answered without qualms, "Civilisation would likely say legal, maybe barely out of your teens." He shrugged; it didn't really matter to him unless the situation here changed drastically. Though she was pretty, that was something that he couldn't deny and from what he could tell, Nascha knew it.
"Thank you for the information, I wasn't quite confused. Just a little intrigued," Gerwulf stated, taking what she had said in stride. It wouldn't be entirely the first time that he had met a hybrid; they were very rare, but then again, she likely hadn't met something like him before. Sure, there were werewolves, but truly cursed ones were far-fetched in their communities, like stories of bogeymen to humanity. Still, Gerwulf didn't react negatively as she came closer, still smiling jovially even as he watched as her eyes switched from lupine gold or the fires switched over to emerald hue.
"Okay, I hope that the fire isn't going to affect the taste of the meat. Been cooking that for a while now," He commented, almost nonchalantly as he let out a little sigh. Blinking, he watched Nascha and shook his head. Witches and their covens, Werewolves and their packs. "No one is truly alone, even without a coven or pack to call family. I am a wanderer, many packs would let me feast by their fires; however, the boundaries that are created cause issues." He then cocked his own head, staring at Nascha as she stood there while he sat. "The dangers of the moon aren't because of its sway on you... It is Máni' sway on me." It wasn't a threat, just a friendly statement to warn her not to be here during the full moon. His Beast only had one emotion, and that was bloodlust; he'd not want to do anything to this woman against her wishes after such an amusing meet.
