Morty; there's that voice, with a promise of sin

[Sibella]

A single crimson leaf breaks from a limb, its descent unperturbed by a stray breeze as it floats lazily downward.  She watches as it cascades in front of her yellow, placid stare, unbothered as it comes to rest upon the vibrant bodies of its previously fallen comrades.  A soft sigh drops from her lips as a delicate hoof treads heavily upon the red body, making her way towards who knows where.  Somewhere, anywhere. Children's laughter rings nearby, but she ignores it; she has no interest in children of her own age.

Then there’s a different scuttling sound coming from somewhere closer, and it’s enough to cause her to stop, though her head turns with a look of sheer boredom.  A bush rustles it’s plum leaves and she responds by sending a slender, stygian tendril slithering rhythmically towards it’s trunk.  It passes under the foliage silently before startled chittering is heard and the rustling turns wilder.  Another sigh works its way from her lips as she retracts the shadow tendril back from the bush, clutching the tail of a startled squirrel in its inky grasp.  For now the squirrels tawny body remains attached to its bushy appendage.  As it thrashes to get away from the girl’s shadowed silhouette, she draws it closer.  It’s so close now she can smell it’s woodsy musk and see the gleam of light mirrored in it’s frenzied eyes.  And she releases it.  Clearly the creature is shocked enough to remain briefly startled before it collects its wits and tries to scramble away, though it loses traction upon the slipping leaves.  At last it gains ground and dives back to its bush, where the shadow tendril lies in wait once more.  Another startled chirp is heard as it’s dragged to her once more, repeating the cycle again and again, much to the woodland creature’s chagrin.  A newfound take on a game of cat and mouse.

Mother’s words ring in her head, urging her to practice her skills of body and mind. Explore the art of torture, sweetling.  Learn the game, play the game, master the game.  My Sibella, outright killing would be too simple for you.  The stygian girl sighs yet again, counting how many times it would take before the creature would give up.  Catch, release, 5.  Catch, release, 6.  Catch, release, 7.

@[Modicum Mortem] wanted to introduce you to pony Wednesday Addams aka Jack's adopted baby

[Modicum Mortem]

Growing, growing, growing. The forest is growing, alive with the satisfaction death gives them.

He’s been working tirelessly (no rest for the wicked, they say), building up his own ranks, keeping the bond with Loess alive, strong. He hopes Arthas was building his own kingdom. Morty would not be happy if when he went back to the cliffs, there were as few creatures there as before.

Familiar spots in the forest rear their ugly heads as he walks. Drax’s burned tree, Maugrim’s dark lake, the rotting, decayed prey of Nexu. He passes by the blood-stained beech where he’d taken Jackel’s heart and grins. His laughing lady, oh how he’ll always adore her craziness.

The sex was pretty amazing too.

He’s lost in these memories, that is, until he stumbles across a child. Black as night, with haunting yellow eyes. She seems to be controlling the shadows themselves, playing with the squirrel that tried desperately to get away from her. For a moment, he only watches - so much talent in these woods, so much evil.

“Shadow spinner,” He says calmly through the night. His blue eyes stare down at her. “Having fun?””

Modicum Mortem

@[Sibella]

[Sibella]

Catch, release, 21. Catch, release, 22. Catch, release....

The darkening woods try to hold onto their secrets, but the shadows witness all.   They are not stagnant, they are fluid and flexible, porous and volatile. And they bend to her whim; their servitude to her know no bounds as they congeal and expand with the dying light. She's not entirely surprised when she begins to feel the pulsing vibrations of the shadows rippling against her ebony hide, signaling the arrival of someone approaching; though audibly to her delicate ears they manage to remain silent.

The Stygian girl had known it would only be a matter of time before her presence would be discovered within the autumnal woods. But that fact alone does not prevent her from sighing softly, at the newcomers words.  The latest lasso upon the woodland creature constricts more than necessary, eliciting a new squeak of protest.  Despite the intrusion, she continues with the repition of her practiced routine, though this time she verbalizes her count, "23.". Another catch and release then; the creature's will begins to weaken at last, its attempts at fleeing have begun to slow.

"No." she says blandly; the only response she offers to the stranger's inquiry.

The creature still moves to get away, but it's sides heave with strained exertion.  When it scampers to the shrub this time, the coil wraps firmly around its bushy appendage, dragging it back to her waiting form. But this time, it is not released.  Sibella's placid gaze finally turns slowly to the newcomer; the features upon her face remain expressionless. Slowly her golden stare drifts across his charred body, noting the red protrusion specifically.

Her yellowed gaze remains locked upon his, meeting his icey gaze evenly while she lets the creature rest, seemingly content with holding it within her inky grasp. Until the shadows heave and crane backwards, using the squirrels tail as a makeshift handle to whip around, causing an audible crack as it's small body launches upward and away from them.  The bold stare she gives him never falters, even when the dull thud of a small, broken body is heard as it returns to the ground in the distance.  The dark girl can practically hear her mothers laugh, giggling at the child's creation of a "flying squirrel."

"Mother told me about you,"  She says flatly. "She respects you.  But I am not my mother.  And so I wonder...why should I respect you." It's not a question, but a statement. But she lets her voice lapse into silence, allowing the Sylvan king to convince her to stay within the forest as she ages.

@[Modicum Mortem]

[Modicum Mortem]

Silently, he watches her, face stark and emotionless. Her bland "no" makes the corners of his mouth twitch, ever slightly, the beginnings of a smile. She's sassy, the little one, and he suspects this brand of attitude will only grow as she ages.

The shadow spinner finally turns her head, yellow eyes staring into his icy gaze. For a long moment, they stare at each other, even as the squirrel is launched into the air, even as he hears the audible snap of its body against the thick bark of a walnut tree. He holds her haunting golden stare with his own, the showdown just beginning. 

Why should I respect you... She states, and his expression does not falter. "What purpose would you serve without me?" He asks her, blinking slowly twice. She is young, so she does not yet realize how very important this question is. The evil of Beqanna needed a purpose, some way to grow. Without it, what were they but lone hunters and tamed psychopaths?

Without a kingdom, without a purpose...they were nothing.

Modicum Mortem

@[Sibella]