[Tacitus]

The man doesn't move an inch, the blade passes through his body as he disperses and his 'physical' body reforms no more than 5 feet away before Arodion, seemingly totally unaffected by the attack in the least. Another flash of lightning illuminates his features.

Sharing the same impish temperament as his smile, and hidden behind a pair of jet black shades, lay a set of twilight gray eyes, the hint of violet surrounding the inner iris shifting the true color in the light. Glancing up, one can catch the faint movement of two nimble black wings almost buried under a forest of disheveled hot pink hair. Most of his clothing looks slightly effeminate, taken from an earlier kill, the only thing that has fit him as yet. A blood red shirt and tight black pants covered in belts and straps accentuate his masculine features, while a pair of black combat boots made for a female can be seen stretching up near his knee beneath the pants.

He raised a hand to his lips, a small jet of flame forming between two fingertips. He briefly inhales and then exhales, releasing a cloud of smoke, not unlike a cigarette. The small jet of flame extinguished itself in his grasp as he finally speaks in a rather raspy, but commanding voice, "Ow. A blade wreathed in flame. I'm in so much pain." Red tendrils of some form of energy began to extend from his back and inside of his forearms. Smirking he was slowly pushed off the ground as his eyes began to glow a bright pink, "Don't judge a mage by the cover of his spellbook, and don't think mere flame or blades can harm that born of malice and hate."