To Naamah, all were nameless, all were equal. Lesser than she and yet equal among themselves. Though she views this mortal world in such ways, she does not boast this opinion to all she encounters; she has not the desire nor the need to do so. She is aware of her own self-worth and that is all that is significant in her twisted mind. It is truly a shame that none other could claim themselves to be an angel of sin and some part of her takes pity on their temporal souls for this fact alone. If not for Samil, though, she may have never even given Moladion a passing glance.
Being social was never an issue with the demon queen; in fact, she had recently met another so very interesting, enough to at least spare her ignorant bliss for another day. It would certainly not be the only encounter she would have with the blue-eyed saint. On this day when the sun was gleaming across the golden varnished landscape, she chose to set out once more, black eyes squinting as she emerged from a temporary den she had dredged betwixt the large roots of a tree upon her return. It was quite a snug space but she was not bothered with this considering the fact that she and Samil were no longer comitted. Her mind wandered to him frequently, wondering who it was that he chose to lay with upon the coming night. She had been with him since she could remember - which was not too much, she will admit - and in some way she did have a love for him. But she had chosen to leave him behind when she vanished and what was between them when she did so was not there any longer upon her returning again, until she had seen his face.
It is the many scents down the river that bring her from her cozy abode on this warm afternoon; the mixture of blood, pheromones, and every individual's musk convincing her to leave from her resting place. It is only when she finds the origin of the heavy stench of blood and the redolence of another that she is fully awake, her eyes brightening as her nose scents the air, picking her way towards the kill and its killer. It is but a young wolf with ashen fur, his body scrawny from malnutrition and his muzzle buried greedily into the belly of his small meal. He is still fresh in his years, his size betraying this as he is three quarters the size of Naamah herself. She is silent on adept paws, her movements slow moving at first as she studies him before she is sent into a full out charge towards him, the only sound is of the breath escaping her lungs as she lunges for his throat. He is taken by surprise and startles backward, her jaws grasping at flesh instead of his trachea, a yelp is sent from his vocals at the sudden attack before he is retaliating. He tries to maneuver his own fangs into the top of her neck, but she is limber and pivots around him, tugging on the chunk of skin and fur that she has a hold on before he tries to strike again. His pale body moves forward in his attempt to gnash his teeth against her again, grabbing only at the tips of her fur before she is releasing her hold on him and diving inward in a split second for the kill mark.
He is weak, slowed down by his lack of energy from meals few and far between and disoriented from the sudden onslaught, he is not capable of stepping away this time and she feels her knives clasp around the thick layers of flesh, muscle, and bone. She is eager to crunch down harder, her jaws closing tighter and tighter around his trachea. He is panicked now, rasped pleas for mercy barely escaping his lungs as she suffocates him slowly. He is not fighting so vigorously now, his body slowly slumping closer to the ground, and she follows with. Their eyes meet and she watches as the life within him finally drains out, his soul now for her taking. Her hold is released and her muzzle is moved to the base of his ear, her words coming out in a whisper. "You have given it your all, but it was not enough.." It is spoken in a strange way, almost tenderly, though she is soon to move onward and begin tearing into his abdomen. A meal was a meal and the dark souled temptress does not have a definitive line between prey and predator. They were all victims to her craving.
The contentedness of her feasting was shortly disrupted by the odor of another entering the premises. The earth is soaked in cruor around the demoness and it is certain that she could not escape the potential encounter of this other being so quickly. So she remains in the minuscule, circular clearing that she has dedicated as her place of sacrifice, abysmal eyes searching for and finding the alabaster and bloodied figure just through the bushes by the river. Perhaps a little conversation could do no harm anyhow..
She is pleased with her filling enough to step away from the corpse, the blood of the other sullying her beautiful coat of night. This simply could not do. She approached the bank with ease, her movements fluid and elegant, head held regally and ears perked forward in the perfect example of what an angel should appear to be - in her terms. Dainty paws make their way into the freezing water as she cleanses herself of the others spillage, stepping further in so that her lower chest is soaking in the depths of the creek. Cloudy trails of red float aimlessly down the waterway as it washes from her silken pelage, her eyes pursuing them until she looks upon the shore at the strange female. Simply staring for a moment until the cold of the water begins to bite into her skin, only then does she part her eyes from her and turn to escape the stinging sensation that was moving up her body, promptly shaking herself when she has returned to land.
Her eyes seek to find the stranger again and a playful simper can be witnessed upon her features as she moves further up the bank. She maneuvers herself in a fashion by which none could deny as enticing - male or female. She is eager to play and a game it is that she will begin.