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[ He shakes his head; truly, he is not aware. But he has rare physical needs, and so cannot be caught in most nets of this type. ]

I do not consume.

[ Not food, anyway.

As to what he is, he just shrugs, again internally surprised that he is not instantly marked for what he is. ]

You cannot tell?

[ He forces an unnatural exhale, and frost lingers in the air, crystallizing, then melting away. ]

I am of winter, and the grave.

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