(( Thank you for the compliment, m'dear. ))
"Evil...?" Neferetu appeared before her eyes, a fading form in the breeze of an aetherial stream, his scent moving in a spiral around her. She would soon learn that she was not the only assassin within this confines, but now had met an assassin bred by nature, and by magic.
"Chaotic?" A similar image had spawned behind her, black eyes reflecting the rays of light cast from his other image. They each had a distinct smell, that of peladona poison. Oh, and a cobra venom. Of course these smells could be very easily held in check, but Neferetu had pulled a dagger from one sheath, and a dart rolled between his fingers with his other hand.
The true soul identity was moving all around her, flash stepping, in and out of a reality that only the Shade Elves could travel within. It was a dangerous maneuver, but easy enough in dimensions devoid of other Shade Elves.
"Perhaps law, and good are known to you?" The voice was in an echo, sounding from all directions, and penetrating to the mind. This was no Drow, this was no common elf, as the fellow assassin would quickly learn from the power and presence of his aura. Hundreds, if not thousands of years of power in stealth and death reeked around her.
Auras, the energies which all beings create through thought, identity, existence, and something seen by the elves of Avalon and Draklor alike.
"Do not be hostile, and do not worry." Neferetu said at last in a calm voice, his fading form finally cementing itself before her eyes. The shadowy cloak moved around him, seemingly in a life all of its own, and his black hair cascaded down his back. The pointed features of cheek bones and his nose became all too apparent. Though as beautiful a creature as ever seen, Neferetu was also a living sign of what happens when one spends thousands of years in the dark. "I have no quarry with you, and am merely investigating." Neferetu explained himself, and moved into a very swift bow.
There he staid, showing that he meant no harm, though Neferetu was apt to not show his hands from within his cloak, for he still did not know if she was of the wit not to strike at him.