speak of the devil
& SHE WILL COME

She is a vision of crepuscular beauty - her night washed coat blending seamlessly with the shadows cast in repulsion of the moon's silvery light. She thrives in these abysmal spots beneath the trees, though she does not fear whom may be lurking for she knows who the true predator is. She is akin to these dark places in the manner that she is ever so alluring for those of like-minds and yet she is more than just another dweller in the darkness, she is the black widow waiting, watching from her web for the prey to succumb to the inevitable. She does not decipher who is of her type and who is not. All are equal in her mind - that is - lesser than herself and yet equal among themselves. She does not place herself on such a high pedestal purely out of the knowledge of her own allure; she knows that she is superior in some form simply because - in her mind - she is of another world entirely.

Dainty paws make steps so light and quiet that even in the hushed air of this land, none could determine her whereabouts simply on hearing alone. She is a beast molded from true grace, her movements smooth and appealing to the eye as she saunters through in solitude. Her intent for the night was not set on the prospect of slaughter, though she felt the urges beginning to toy with her ever so slightly, she could always use a little entertainment either way. The thought sent an insatiable tingle down her spine at the thought of such an eventful evening.

The landscape began to shift rapidly as she continued further, the tree shrouded territory now becoming more of a bog like terrain, the air grew still and the sound of each night crawler could be picked out from the chorus of the twilight. The unfamiliar odor of a marked terra was hanging pungent in the air. The demoness had not known where it was she was heading until this point and perhaps there was a reason for this - had she been aware that she was traveling so close to pack territory, she would have changed direction a while back. Well, what better place than to stumble across a dreary little swamp for a damnable little soul?

Her movement comes to a stop as she considers her surroundings, her tassel laying neutral and her charred eyes searching from log to stone for any sign of life. Not a moment after, though, did the slightest of sounds alert her to the approach of another. A coy smile creeps its way onto her lips slowly, her tail waving slightly at her rear as she calls to this unknown bump in the night. "Well hello darling.."

N A A M A H
no soul † given to none † no home
the mother of plagues