her house sinks down to death and her course leads to the shades,
She was at peace once more. She had been given purpose once more, to hunt, to kill and to satiate the hunger that swelled within her as a parasite would. The air was thick with the scent of lust, a thick fog that shrouded the landscape but there had been another scent, one so much more delicious; the smell of the pregnant, the unborn simply awaiting their fates. They had laws, yes, which protected the born but when they were caged within the swollen abdomen, those laws were... bendable. Such a scent had called her forth from the mists of Iromar, her paws still scabbed and rubbed raw from her own teeth - she had been hungry, oh so hungry. She could only dream of the day Andras would give her the pleasure of tasting him (in more ways than one) but for the duration of fall, it had been her own flesh that had placated the churning in her gut.
She had too been called to a girl, a girl she had discovered dusted across the pelt of Dante, a male that too brushed the air around Ishtar. Imprints - a foul word to call such unworthy creatures - had to be severed in order to sustain a healthy bloodline. They were not as they should have been, their pitiful souls had been wrong to choose those that surrounded her. Perhaps she had been a traitor to some extent to execute without a warrant but after all, she had been named for the mother who birthed each and every demon, the original sin incarnate - it was only right, no? In years they would thank her, as would the rest of Moladion for the decimation of the weak, the unworthy and the rotten of blood. If mother nature could not thoroughly eradicate those born to die soon enough, then the mother of demons would do so.
Through the shade she moved, her pelt one with the darkness, each step slow and deliberate. The hunt had began the moment she had left the marshes, nose to the earth and feral yellow eyes alight with hunger. There had been a scent, frail and old but she nonetheless, this Hush he had spoken of. She followed it on and on, endlessly and ruthlessly as her stomach continued to churn and snarl in hideous anger - feed, feed, feed. She had never quite been as the others had - she'd always been more feral, more inclined to bite without a thought and wave her rear in the face of men just to gain an inch of ground. Why deny the gifts nature had given them so eagerly? Why deny a hunger that could so easily be quenched? Ishtar, Baphomet, they had brought her here for a reason and it was time such a reason was reinstated.
The wrong souls be the first and then, the Angel Queen herself and each worm that fell from her - children, grandparents, mate and spouse. The mere thought brought her pink tongue lashing over her muzzle, a ripple of ecstasy moving along her svelte figure.
Then, another, a smell foreign and intrusive to her that consumed the area. She paused but for a moment, her ears cupped forward and head slowly tilting atop its axis - male, for starters, and perhaps combined with the scent of decayed blood if her nose did not lie. It took but a moment for her mind to register it, her body becoming rigged as she began to creep forward once more, head down and tail stiff behind her in dominance. Through the thickets she could see him - tall, broad, muscles rippling beneath a cloak of darkness. There were no signs of injury upon him, no gaping wound nor the scent of infection and it made her... curious this time, a hoarse breath grating through her teeth as she stepped forward, breaking from her cover with her eyes seeking his. The moment she found them she stopped again, her entire body stiff and tongue once more lashing out across her muzzle, head falling to tilt on its opposite axis. He was peculiar. She liked peculiar - she waved her tail stiffly, perfuming the area with her own musk as one side of her lips pulled up into a wicked grin, the tips of her teeth displayed.
"Play?
A single word, quiet and gentle though she remains stiff, her muscles thick coils beneath her black fur, that single red smudge between her eyes like a bullet hole. There is a part of her that anticipated blood, perhaps even craved such a thing and yet there is another part that craves... something else.
And demons shall meet with monsters.
all who go to her cannot return and find again the paths of life |
