speak of the devil
& SHE WILL COME

She stalks this purlieu with reckless abandon, her shadowesque figure cast upon the radiant summer scenery like a blistering, unsought sore; yet none could deny the spine-tingling that such a presence brought upon them in her midst. The dark wraith was wickedly beautiful in her own measure. The subtle curves flowed smoothly along her supple figure, her face that of delicacy and sweet innocence, her coat luscious and silken. Her unworldly existence graced this new continent for the present moment - whether she would deliver her discord elsewhere was unknown as of yet.. she may enjoy it here.

The day was rather warm with the sun bearing down upon her inky pelage, only the modest breeze filtering through the trees brought her any bit of relief from the heat of the rays. Her svelte form joined with the shadows that the tall timbers cast upon the terrain to escape from the warmth of the day, her nature causing her to shy away from the light and meld with the darkness. She was not a creature of the day by birth - born of the night, though she would never know this fact to be true. Little is remembered from her previous life before this year that has passed so recently and she understand exactly why this is so.

Before her chance encounter with Samil, she knew that something was missing in her conscious memory, a fragment of her mind had left a good part of her life out and after much rumination, she understood why. In her life before this mortal shell was created, she was of divine existence among the heavens, yet she had been forsaken by her kindred and was stripped of her rank. A fallen angel among the mortals. Little more is understood from this epiphany and she has not tried to meditate on this any further as she has accepted her fate in this perishable world - though she will not leave it to be so peaceful.

Oh, Samil, where could you be? She cooed in her mind as she sauntered through the woodland, her voided eyes cast upon every moving thing until she found something of interest. The small fawn had rustled in the undergrowth of the trees and bushes, causing the succubus to freeze and direct her predatory gaze toward the slight movement just to the west. Her jowls began to drool at the thought of her fangs pressing firmly into the throat of the newborn, severing the tie of its life to this world. One paw takes a silent step forward, then the other, and she continues this cycle slowly until she is upon the nest so closely that she can see the head of the fawn just beneath a layer of foliage.

She lunges forward, her slender body sliding smoothly through the undergrowth until she is causing force from her paws onto the back of the offspring. It startles and begins to squirm wildly to get away, but the she-devil's jaws are already agape and coming down upon the frail jugular to suck the life from it. Her efforts were not in vain as the animal falls limp and Naamah is left alone in the nest of the dead fawn to feast on her prize.

N A A M A H
no soul † given to samil † no home
the mother of plagues