"Colder than a witches tit!" Vulcan exclaimed after leaning against the door to shut it, his hair and shoulders were covered in the White Frozen Doom and he shivvered before giving a quick glance around and shifting ever so slightly, his eyes went a little yellow, his teeth a little sharper, his hair turned into downy feathers and a slight neckline around his neck grew them as well. Vulcan wasn't sure how well these people took to shape shifting strangers, so he'd keep it on the down-low until he found out. It wouldn't be all that fun to get kicked out into the snow if they didn't like sparkly magical people.
Can't imagine they only got nice people here.
It took about half an hour for Vulcan to get out of his winter gear ( which was covering a coat hanger and making a mini-lake under it ) and by that time he was starving and warmed up considerably. Moving to take a seat in the more residential area, by the fire, the man's wife brought him the soup and a warm glass of something. Vulcan wouldn't turn down warm stuff though, and he was just about to sip it when an impossibly young boy came into the building.
Alone.
Vulcan rose an eyebrow with the glass to his lips, his fingers clutching as he leaned not-so-eligantly over the chair to watch.
He took a drink, winced slightly because it was definately one of those drinks you 'got used to.' Pure nasty. Ugh. Vulcan resisted the urge to spit the warm drink back into the cup but instead, swallowed the bitter brew and watched the kid take off his shirt. Vulcan shook his head, amazed that anyone would travel around like that. Normal people would be dead.
Squinting slightly he saw the pale skin, the lack of a pulse at his neck. Ah well. Vulcan wasn't one to judge, and even undead things needed to be warmed up. Only thing Vulcan hated on was Drow, and that was when they were messing shit up for the Luminari.
All in all, Vulcan was a fairly scary looking man. Various scars were on his face, one from underneath his left eye all the way down past his lip, making his smile crooked, quite a few were around his mouth, one was across his forehead. His fan of light blonde hair was up off his head, standing now that was more feather like than hair. A tall well built man who left his sword and other such things in a huge mound of snow just outside of town.
"Hey, Kid." Vulcan stood up out of his chair and moved his hand back and forth before it, trying to get his attention. He was a desert dweller, and didn't want to imagine how cold the kid must be. "You can have my spot for the time being, are you okay? Need a scarf or something?" The last part was said in jest, vulcan knew a scarf would do nothing, and his was wet anyway.