
He had dressed in his best clothes, which was just a cleaner version of what he normally wore. As most of his clothing was white it showed dirt easily. But he couldn't stand too be overly hot. The silver markings on his arms glinted softly in the light that did actually fill the hallway he walked down. His pure white skin hid toned muscles despite his scrawny appearance. But the effect on the soft light of the castle made him appear ghost like. The weasel adjusted the necklace he kept around his wrist and tried his best to flatten out his hair. That was a losing battle considering his mass of fur that even decended down the side of his face. His claws, long black fingernails on his hands did help comb out a few tangles.
His appearance was usually enough to distract an opponant but he knew a real witch eater would care less about what he looked like in a battle. He was a fierce fighter, often trying to take on other fighters who were much larger than him. He was a swift fighter, fast and nimble. He also had very good control of his element. It was this confidence in his abilities that helped him take the final steps to the door of Moraine, the Ice Rose Blackheart. He knocked on the door then stood as straight and proper as he could. He wanted to appear as respectful....and grateful...as possible if she would be willing to train with him.