The beauty contained within his face was frightening and sharp. It would seem that if you were to look at his face, mortal as it seemed in its existence, your eyes would become accustomed to the burning strength of the sun before being able to look easy at the striking contours of his face. The skin was the pale, leeched color of bleached parchment, though it held none of its expected fragility. It was stretched taught over high cheekbones, leaving desperate hollows in the flesh beneath them, shadowed by the faint flickering light overhead. His nose was sharp, a dash of flesh that heaved his face in two distinct hemispheres. The eyes that rested at the bridge of this nose were sunken, the lashes long and shrouding the eyes behind them in shadow. They held no color, or all color depending; the shade of shadows at midnight--cold and lifelessly black. His hair hung limply tied at the nape of his neck, a few ebony wisps swinging faintly in his face. But it was the smile on his face that was so awe emcompassing. The liquid heat smile that crossed his features sank deep within; pulling whomever was looking at it into his clutches. The lips were thin, like razors in his flesh; his teeth just on the edge of being bared if the smile were stretched any farther. It said he knew what was in your heart, what things you wished no one to know, what sins you pined to commit in the darkest of dark. A taunting smile, begging to be given an excuse to feast on just what you wished not be consumed. It was arrogant and powerful and it told of knowledge far beyond what anyone else could possibly know.

At nearly 6 feet in height, his shoulders were broad and strong. From them swept a sweeping white cloak, the edges torn and frayed. Holes littered the main body of the cloth, tattered and worn through, though no dirt marred the perfection of its color. His body was swathed in shadow; though covering it was a suit of purest white. It was torn in several places; the knees and shins of his trousers revealed the flesh of his spread legs, the jacket’s pockets were a danger to any small thing entrusted to them, and pale naked flesh was visible through the upper portions of his pants and shirt. None of him was soiled in any way. A tie was knotted heavily at his neck; it blew in the same breeze that toyed with his cloak. In rich contrast, it was the color of purest blood, arresting and loud against the rest of his attire.

“Hello, James.’ The voice that escaped soft and rasping was vaguely amused. He took a step to his right, the bare soles of his feet padding softly and unhindered on the rock-laden ground. He put a hand in one of his pockets, the cloak billowing out behind him despite the sudden stillness of their surroundings. A finger strayed to his face to stroke the skin beneath his lower lip, as if urging himself not to smile at a joke.

“Who are you?”

His steps did not falter even a fraction as he turned and fixed his gaze on her. The smile was a secret he would not let her know. “Who would you like me to be?”

James’s brow furrowed, “I don’t understand.” Her hand strayed toward the collar of her shirt; for some reason she felt like even a millimeter of skin was too much exposed in his presence.

A grin spread over his face and he raised a hand to his face. In a gesture no larger than a small wave, he brushed his palm over the whole of his face. The stirring of air began quicker than you can blink; a tumultuous shiver of darker nothing against the light shining from the rest of room. It encompassed the entirety of his body, without cause or noise. As the flesh of his hand rasped against his face the skin remolded and melded into that of a woman. His body folded in on itself; the male musculature melting and meshing to reform that of a female. The body that strode towards her was lush and lithe, the muscles of her arms and legs left bare at the knee by the torn hem of the dress, prevelent and smooth. She was of small stature, compact and lean. The dashing black of her brows were lifted at a hidden joke, a smirk tilting her rose colored lips at one side. Her chin had a point to it, the line of her jaw sharp. She was as harshly and spectacularly beauiful as her male counterpart. The suit replaced with a white dress, though in the same state of disrepair with holes baring pale flesh through to the light, was as pure as ivory; it contrasted darkly with miles of thick black hair billowing out behind her. The eyes were the same however, as was the smile. “If I were to say who I was,” she purred, a voice sliding out like honey in June, one wispily thin hand trailing over James’s shoulder as she circled, “would it make you any more comfortable with my presence?” James followed the woman’s progress behind her, wishing her fear wasn’t so tangible. “Would it give you precedence over my existence, James?”

James scowled. “It would do better for me to know exactly what you are, I suppose.”

The woman smiled, her mouth curving with graciously heavy lips. “What I am. What an excellent question, my dear.” She pushed her hair out of her face with a hand, and as it traveled through the mass she was once more a man. “I am the one no one likes to think about.” He took a step in James’s direction, smiling.

James retreated, her hand falling behind her in search of a doorknob.

The man continued, circling her as a shark does a wounded fish. “I am one who is feared. I am the one who haunts the shadows.” He drew a finger down the bare flesh of James’ arm. Gooseflesh shuddered across her frame and she took yet another step in retreat.

“I creep after school children, hissing terrible things in the dark.” He grinned viciously and for an instant a darker face shadowed his, blazing eyes and dripping crooked fangs. Then it was gone. “I allot lovers to meet secretly, James. I whisper lust and jealousy in their ears. It’s great fun really.”

James felt her mouth go dry as naked want filled the man’s eyes.

“I created sin, James for the mere pleasure of taunting mortals with it. I am what is dark, what calls for you in long stretches of the night."

“What do you want?”

The man stopped and stared at the floor, his eyelashes shrouding his eyes. His voice escaped in a whisper, an accusation almost. “What do I want? Why James, how kind of you to ask.”

James felt the cold steel of the doorknob graze her forearm. Clammy hands gripped at it fiercely.

“James, you wouldn’t want to leave would you?”

The steel grew hot beneath her fingers; she felt it sizzling after she released it through the back of her shirt. She threw herself forward and collided with the man. His hands slid up and covered her arms. His breath stole hers; the feel of his fingers climbing up and down the flesh over her arms and shoulders. “What do you want?”

The man stared down, eyes downcast. His smile grew broader “Nothing really, James.” He met her gaze and within, just at that moment she saw fire and brimstone. Fear filled her and all thought of struggle melted from her. “Just your soul, is all.”