She had grown restless. Winter seemed to have that effect upon her. Snow and ice surrounded her, and the darkness of her coat stood out in stark contrast. Naked trees and stripped underbrush offered very little in means of cover and Astarael felt exposed within its shade. Boldly still she continued on her journey, traveling farther than she had before. Boredom had been a powerful influence. Having had met a few new faces she still longed for her interest to be piqued and held. So far, every face she had stumbled upon had lacked that potential.
Lurking tirelessly within the frozen embrace of the riverside tree line, she followed the pull of her adventurous fear aura. Hungrily is snaked ahead of her, wrapping itself cruelly around any small creature foolish enough to cross its path. Satisfaction filled her as life after life was extinguished with the slightest of squeezes of her consciousness. Now fully matured, her abilities had strengthened in ways she had only dreamed of. Absently she frequently found herself contemplating if the fairies had been aware of the creature they had created when they bestowed their curse upon her. Regardless she had been granted the tools necessary to see that her purpose was secured, that creatures such as Brennen, who place themselves so high above the rest, felt the biting sting of their past mistakes and shortcomings. It was because of him that she had been inspired to travel to the mountain and challenge the will of the fairies – it was because of him that she had transformed into the demoness she had proudly become.
Framing her, the leathery wings upon her back flapped restlessly – aching to feel the soft touch of wind beneath their folds. Flying had been a newly discovered pleasure of hers, a pastime that cut her travel time in half. Atop her head her crown of horns marked her as the unmistakable queen of Sylva – her appearance abnormal compared to the majority of those who roamed Beqanna. One glance upon her frightening posture was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the weak and curiosity within those strengthened by hatred. Sylva had become, hers to protect and she was determined to see its growth. Interested in only those capable of bending the darkness to their purposes belonged there.
Her pace slowed as her ears caught the temptation of another. Rustling movement signaled that she was no longer alone. Freezing perfectly in tune to her, the red glow of her aura jotted suddenly to her right, catching the scent of the stranger immediately. Grinning ominously, she followed its trail, her steps measured and lost to the natural restlessness of the trees. Lingering just within the embrace of her shade she remained strategically placed just outside of the stranger’s sight. Her green gaze narrowed as the stretching of her aura floated above the ice to wrap itself around the bathing stallion’s frame. The roan was completely oblivious to the approach of another as the gently current of the partially frozen lake washed over the grime of his varnished coat. Curiosity peaked her interest as she watched and waited to catch his reaction to her sudden grip of terror. Tickling him in all the right places she imagined the whispering of insecurities that would soon take control of him. Was he hunter or prey? Light or dark? Soon she would know if her appetite for blood would be satisfied or reserved for another.
@[Zed]