If asked, the Winter spirit would happily wax poetic about the artistry of his work. He does it often enough even when it isn't Winter. Not that, at this moment, he is overly concerned with appeasing other people, and right now he has a misconception to correct.
Reynard laughs, a short, snapping bark, and folds his arms. "That is more distant than cold, don't you agree? Dead like plastic. No. No..."
Those dark eyes that first fixed themselves on the young man narrow, locked onto the figure. There is a half grin pulling at his mouth that could, at any point, turn into a baring of teeth. And when he speaks it's almost a purr, low and rumbling, taking the utmost care in his description. "Cold... Cold is thinking about what you are about to do. Knowing how others will feel, how it will make you feel. Knowing exactly, in its full entirety, the consequences of your actions... and then doing it anyway. True coldness is calculating. It is aware. Coldness has total control and deems the responsibility of its actions worth the gain."
no subject
Reynard laughs, a short, snapping bark, and folds his arms. "That is more distant than cold, don't you agree? Dead like plastic. No. No..."
Those dark eyes that first fixed themselves on the young man narrow, locked onto the figure. There is a half grin pulling at his mouth that could, at any point, turn into a baring of teeth. And when he speaks it's almost a purr, low and rumbling, taking the utmost care in his description. "Cold... Cold is thinking about what you are about to do. Knowing how others will feel, how it will make you feel. Knowing exactly, in its full entirety, the consequences of your actions... and then doing it anyway. True coldness is calculating. It is aware. Coldness has total control and deems the responsibility of its actions worth the gain."