A spirit demon of the other world, a cold hideous being, the Winter Youkai. All, but last were the names he's been given the entire one thousand years he has existed. A pale, silver haired Japanese man, petite in size, cerulean beads called Ki snugged his neck tight, and naked in his torso; the demon had dragon tattoos coursing his arms, chest, and back. They seemed to have a mystic green glow, and occasionally traveled through out his entire body.
A bluish silver, sheathed dagger with ancient rune symbols placed at his hip, and as the Youkai stepped in Kaganochii, everything in a 15ft radius of the Winter demon would slowly begin to frost. Sitting nearest to the door, as he found a seat away from the rest of the crowd, he sat, undisturbed by the onlookers casually staring his way, possibly at all the scars that etched his body.
And sighed, a cold breath of freezing air escaped his lips.