Rain fell down upon her pelt, plastering it to her body and sending chills down along her spine. It wasn?t cold, but the Amenti Madame was worn down. The weight of caring for a pack was heavy, and she was starting to feel it. Her immune system felt lower, her body more prone to chills and her energy levels lower than they had previously been. By no means was the harlot weak, but she certainly had seen better days. She?d lost a bit of weight, making her slightly bony, but her thick pelt helped to conceal it. Today she was consumed by wanderlust, finding herself traversing the lands and not truly minding where she was going.

Today she found herself wandering along a wall, uncertain about what it blocked them from and where she would find herself at its end. What lay on the other side? She assumed it was greener pastures, for she knew that the general direction housed grass lands, but for now the Madame was fine with being lost in the mystery of it all. For now she was fine with being a lost soul in the rain, drenched and skinny looking, but fine for the most part.

The delicate babe slipped across unfamiliar grounds, slinking forth, a lissome doll with leggy strides, confident in her nature though still she appeared wary, uncertain of her surroundings. Where were her brothers, her sisters? Her darling family that kept her thriving, eager for them, enraged for their flesh, their affection and attention. It was they she desired, and yet she had not found them, so she hunted, prowling through the rain, her nimble figure drenched -- bones protruding, narrow hips swaying -- the thin tendrils of her coat slicked against her pale flesh. The structure beside her had all but appeared out of nowhere, a ghost -- a demon in the foggy night -- and she prowled along its length, wishing for it to end, to break down and crumble before her so that she might see the other side (as though the earth ended here, and she craved to know what the end of the world looked like). Whining in her frustration, Sev?l threw herself against it, pressing her forepaws up against the cool stone and rising up upon her hind limbs, tail lashing against supple thighs, though she could see nowhere near the top, and dropped back to the earth with an irritable curl of her lips, turning rapidly to continue along its length -- it had to end sometime.

Oh, she would not be alone for long; it was rare that the serpent found herself in isolation for long periods of time, often meeting those of different personalities and quirks. Today was no different, instead finding herself looking upon yet another angel with fur so white and pure. She eyed her like a predator might eye prey, wondering how she might come to devour this woman. She wondered if this woman was a demoness in disguise, much like Morphine, or a true na?ve little doll. She approached with all the confidence in the world, looking upon the stranger, hoping to piece together her personality as if she were a puzzle. ?What is a pretty little doll doing out by herself?? she crooned.
She would stop a respectable distance away, gaze sitting fairly upon the stranger. ?Tell me, lovely, are you a sinner or a saint?? she asked. It was a rather bold question, but the Madame cared so little for opinions. Let this stranger think her a bold whore, the fact remained that nobody could insult her with what she was. Harlot, whore, homewrecker. All were titles she was happy to claim, all names she allowed herself to be called with pleasure.

She twists, lithe and powerful, supple muscle beneath tainted flesh as she whirls, facing she who dared invade her privacy, her mind! A hiss spews from blackened lips as her heated glare falls upon the stranger, so haughty, so content with herself -- convinced she was special -- and she simply snorts, her expression cold, unimpressed. Taut muscles draw her to a rapid halt, ears pivoting forth upon her finite skull as the Lovelle observes the other like a predator watches its prey, waiting for the opportunity to strike -- to prove her own worth. "Nothing that concerns you," she spat, heathen words spewed from devil's lips as she glowers at the larger female, innately despising, loathing -- for this babe was not her family, was not worth her time. Lips curled, revealing a stained sneer across her visage, tail curling in her typical pride over the pale female's spine. "I sin, as do all others. That does not mean I will sin with you," came her supple retort, claws tearing into the softened earth below as the sodden female stood tall, brave -- brash as she always had been, testing this fool to try and cripple her resolve.

She observed her, noticing her cold and frigid, perhaps a prude or merely unimpressed. The harlot cared little; she would continue her flirtation either in an attempt to lure the woman to bed, or for her own amusement. Those who grew hot and bothered by a bit of affection were all the more entertaining, often bringing laughter to the wicked woman?s lips. ?So harsh. I was simply curious, my sweet,? she crooned. Oh, this one was cold, icy, but she announced herself a sinner. Medusa was curious, but she did not push for her response. ?Who is to say that I wanted to sin with you?? she said, although she most certainly did desire to sin with the beauty before her. ?Maybe I was just being friendly,? she proposed, perhaps coming off entirely too obnoxious.