When she was still enough, a sense of electricity, of magic, gold-edged, hard, cool, lapped the air around her. The faintest scent of ozone. Even though the mask had no eyes, she seemed to see Kayneth by some other sense, and her face turned toward him unwaveringly. She gripped his hand, the firm clasp of close associates and comrades, before leaning back.

"Regrettably, I'll decline the repast," she informed him, corner of her mouth hooking in a curious smile. But her legs folded and she sat, curiously elegant despite the armour. She was straight backed, hands set upon the arms; dignified enough that it seemed a throne. "My nature restricts my diet to blood and magic."

It was clearly not meant in jest.

"But I won't keep you in suspense for the lack. Though I believe I was reasonably politic in my correspondence, I hope that I was... most clear, in what I was offering."