I am the horror you created;

the mind fuck you instigated

Perhaps the elapsed time had shrouded her stale visions of the dark one she dared to call father. In her days as a child, he had been one that she had looked upon with envy and respect, his cold demeanor driving her to become more like him. Yet the way in which he reacts to her initial response sends her mind recoiling, those devils hissing in displeasure of his tone. Her eyes narrow in irritation at his farce, taking a step forward as she raises her head in an imposing manner, her words slithering out in a demonic rasp. “Mourn is a rather strong word to consider when speaking of you.” The years that had grown between the two of them were now evident as she looks into his eyes. His attitude grates against her like nails against stone, turning her lost sense of respect to something akin to malice. She had been in solitude for so long and it is now that she is reminded why she chose to do something so drastic.

They are returning and they are not pleased.

The manner in which Abraxus presents himself to her is what begins to set them off, their vexation with his presence has them riled within her decayed mindset, and passings of promised carnage whisper behind those frozen blue and gold eyes. It is then that she moves toward the two whelps and Abraxus chooses to speak again, this time, only her eyes avert to him as she raises from her stalking position before the child. He may deny that she is correct in her assumption, but she knows. His name has not been passed among the lips of others for some time now, there is very little else he could be doing besides lazing around in the shadows or procreating, as he always seems to be doing. Yet, as he speaks again, there is promise for violence and yet she is denied the pleasure of doing so with her latest of siblings. “Weakness that begins from blood is far more dangerous than of those who linger beyond the horizon.” She speaks in a stoic manner, her glacial eyes returning to the likes of this ashen pup with revulsion before the approach of another from the shrubbery has her twisting her neck so that she may view whomever happened upon their little congregation.

It was a face that she was certain she would have never seen again, the golden crown upon her skull being a tell-tale sign that it was none other than her mother. A smirk climbs upon the demoness’ dark lips as Kiska now speaks to her, remembering the times in which her mother had been so infatuated with Devil May Cry that she had allowed him to toss the child for her wicked tongue. She cannot say that she despises the Amazonian bitch - but she is not particularly on good terms in her own mind. The very sight of her sends her devils into a chaotic frenzy of retaliation at her presence. They remember just as Stella does; that she was with Devil May Cry. A brief passing of wonder is sent through Stella’s head of where the two stand with each other now and if her mother is foolishly still pursuing the bastard.

The diabolic sneer upon her façade is the only recognition she gives to her mother as her eyes turn in the moments that the rustle of movement is heard, her head seeming to swing in slow motion as the child dives for her left foreleg and clings onto it with needle-like teeth. An infernal snarl is ripped from her vocal chords as her hackles flare up and her agape jaws angle downward to the foolish minion, ferocity in her eyes as the beasts in her skull go wild with their craving for bloodshed. She aims to clench tightly upon the child’s neck and toss her skull to and fro before releasing it to land in a heap upon the earth.

“I have not feasted with Tobias yet - but I always have the option of changing my mind, you witless little fuck..” Her sentence is growled as she stands with her head high and neck arched, each strand of fur still on end and her lips peeled back into a feral snarl.

devil of abraxus x kiska | ten years | no servitude