I call her the devil
cause she makes me wanna sin
Hey now. It’s not Shaytan’s fault that Erebor left the Dale without her. She said she’d be right back - and yes, her little deviation may have taken a tad bit longer than planned. But the child was a child, after all, and even though he was a Prince (it meant nothing to her, really), he should still mind his elders. Shaytan was his only line of defense on these excursions. How many Beqannians would love to kidnap a Princeling and hold him for ransom?
On second though...there’s been something else tentatively prodding at the back of her mind. Something that could not be sated with the bloodbath of innocents. Something that makes her want to do more. And more and moremoremore.So perhaps that kidnapping is something to put on her to-do list, so that she may slowly creep up the ranks of the devilish and deceptive minions.
Her forelegs are spotted with blood, her hooves would have been stained a dirty red-brown if the Dale’s sweetgrass hadn’t mopped it all up. Somewhere behind her lay a group of tiny corpses, their heads crushed in, or their hind legs broken and their front legs ripped off. She does not know that she is an echo of the wolves that prowled the Dale’s hills after her own kind, hunting the defenseless and innocent. If she did, she might wish for sharper teeth and claws - begging for an easier way to hunt. As it is, her tongue is happy and she will find her lips taste delicious for a day or so. Until the water washes everything off and the vicious cycle must begin again.
She appears to be much more of a Chamberling (and by association, or perhaps even personality, Valleyian) than ever before. The feel of the Valley, the smells, the air… it just feels so right, much like the Chamber does, but with vegetation. She quickly finds the black colt and draws up next to him, never giving an explanation to her brief absence or blood-stained appearance.
Some things aren’t to be talked about right now.
Shaytan
and every time she knocks
I can't help but let her in