I wear this crown of thorns, upon my liars chair
It cannot be said if mother recognizes the touch of a soulless son, if monster can sense monster. But, Jaidah turns as he moves toward her, his growl echoing around them and her back curves. She lowers her head to her son, tail curling against her side as she curves her back, submitting as was necessary for keeping ones head. He feathers against her, and she understands the motion is not born from affection, he truly holds no such thing within him, it is a gesture of possession. Jaidah seems to purr, a soft pleasant growl seeping from her lips as he moves against his mother's side. Yes, she loves her son, but much in the same way a demon loves a victim. He has become necessary to her, a much needed part of her now. It is not for the son anymore that she needs, no, but what he represents. He and a handful of the others - his siblings and oddly all male - have made it to the cusp of adulthood and higher. Tobias having sired a litter he does not understand, Ryne as secretive as he has always been, Covet the hapless vampire child of Moladion. These few have survived, proving to Jaidah that the ones of the Skrillex blood had been weaker, inferior somehow. Castor's children she had never kept track of, pawning them off to the highest bidder after they were weaned. Ryne and Tobias were of Demetri's blood, Covet of Cobryn's, all of them strong enough to survive the blast. Though truly, Jaidah is unaware of her youngest son's survival.
His voice brings her back from her short reverie, and her flattened ears raise slightly. She is ever cautious with him, her body still in fighting shape as she nears the later of her prime years. "Son." She repeats, calling his title to him, though it is and always will be a fruitless endeavor. "Grown, yes. Large, strong, powerful. Fit. Not for playing, no." She lists the words, pausing between each small phrase to give his mind ample time to catch and create a meaning for them. She speaks of him, his perfection, his power. One could say she rings her own bell, that she praises herself for a job well done, and truly, she does. She created utter perfection, a shining example of the dark capabilities of her bloodline. Demetri had been a perfect addition to her line, bringing in the vehement dragons and crossing them with demonic amazonians. Yes, they had created a perfect weapon, but, never would he be used as such. Instead, they had created a driving force, a true demonic entity. Dragons and demons created the darker angel before her, born of fire and fight. She prides herself on him, and always will.
Her soft green eyes meet his briefly and she utters a singular short phrase. "Play with me." It has been a long time since she had a hunting partner, a longer time still since she has eaten beside her son. And she has never hunted in this state, never been so primal when the need arose for blood and meat and bone. They think themselves so fallen, they are merely puppets now to the dark dance inside them, wicked light and terrible shadows, mother and son. Jaidah steps forward, her lips raising in a mirroring grin of her son, his features so eerily like hers. She feathers passed him, moving slowly so he understands she is no threat of injury to him, keeping her body submissive around him so he knows she is not a challenge to him. No, in this state they would both end up dead or dying, she would not fight him. Never would she fight him, unless she truly wished to die. Something was coming for the white demon, something she had not ever wanted to come, and there was a need to reconnect though she did not fully grasp this. How could one so broken understand that the dark male beside her was the spitting image of her long dead imprint? How could she understand that she wished his company to see the darkness of his eyes reflected in forest green, the ebony pelt of Demetri?
Jaidah knew only that she was hungry this abysmal balmy night, and she wanted her son - truly her favored son - to hunt with her. They would seek out the weak, the dying, and the old, and Moladion would quake with fear of the two. They say that living nightmares are the worst, the world has not yet seen Hell brought to earth, and Jaidah will bring it to them. Never before has she teamed up with her demonic spawn, and never has Moladion seen Jaidah in this state. So like him, mirroring things she has known in life because they are demanded of her, seething and chomping at the bit to let herself be free. Hackles raise slightly in excitement as she moves, leading her son, casting a glance over her shoulder to make certain he follows. Tonight will see Jaidah off the deep end, tonight she gives the world a reason for Tobias. She will show them why he is the way he is, what happened within his mind to create such a monstrosity of perfection.
They are what happens when demonic amazons flip off their switches, Tobias has always been turned off - so to speak - and Jaidah has recently had her switch broken. Natalya is the only example of a whole amazonian female, no hint of their family's madness shining in her. Jaidah waits until her son falls into step beside her to break into an easy jog, leading them to the hunting grounds to find some hapless loner, weak and sickened beyond measure. She has not asked him tonight, she has told him, the words not a command, but a demand as he demands. She knows he is as hungry as she is, knows he works the same way she works, and this will see them off. Terror will rise in the eyes of Moladion at this team, never before seen, and never to taken lightly.
full of broken thoughts that I cannot repair
female || twelve || no heart || soul of Iblis || mother of monsters || Iromar