Of all the forms that Akivili can take, the one they like the most — the one he likes the most, anyway, when he's pretending to be a perfectly ordinary mortal human with perfectly ordinary mortal human needs — is that of a handsome young man with gray hair and gold eyes. He's nearly indistinguishable from a normal human in this form, save for the soft golden glow that seems to emanate from him whenever he is in one's peripherals (the aura seems to melt away once he's in direct focus), but sometimes, when he's angered, the light of the stars will bleed out from the outline of his body, revealing the ethereal core within.

At the moment, at least, he has no reason to be outright angry. But he is somewhat angered. Peeved, maybe, is the correct word. Miffed. Annoyed. After all, did Aha really think that Akivili wouldn't be able to see right through their tricks? What business does the Elation have, infiltrating the Express disguised as one of the new Nameless?

This is a different era for the Express, a more prosperous one. There are hundreds of Nameless on the Express, and all of them are here to do good. All of them, that is, except one burly, blue-haired man with green eyes and a simpering demeanor.

Akivili has seen right through him. He corners the "rookie Nameless" in an unused storeroom of the train, pulls him roughly by one shoulder, pins him to the wall. Looks right into that deceptively ordinary green gaze, golden eyes smouldering into them with an intoxicating mixture of fury and suspicion.

"Nice face on this vessel of yours," he murmurs coldly. "Nice body, too. What, you got tired of the tall lady with big tits? Or are you trying to appeal to my tastes?"

Akivili's grip on the man's shoulder tightens, burning with stardust and comet haze.

"Did you really think I would be fooled by this, Aha?"