Sirens Song

"We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict." -Jim Morrison

She wasn?t up to anything good when she was off alone, always searching for someone to manipulate and some drama to start. It?s what she did, it was her way, that sort of thing. The obsidian sire slunk through the dingy forest, her raven like pelt blending in with the inky shadows cast along with the sunset. Her footsteps were even and quiet barely making any noise on the floor that had been so carelessly disregarded by the summer sun. The brush here was thick and difficult to maneuver through if one was to be stopped by something as trivial as brush, and the tree-trops were violently entangled in one another as if they had been interrupted in the middle of a violent affair.

Violence, how the dark temptress loved that word, she didn?t prefer to be in the middle of it, No, she preferred to be the master over the puppets that she commanded. The siren was beautiful, a fact that enjoyed to flaunt for the purpose of manipulation. Tonight she was looking for fresh blood, someone new to lure into her clutches of trouble and she wondered who that poor unfortunate soul would be. Her fluid movement stopped in the shadows at the edge of a clearing, where she tipped her muzzle into the darkening sky and let out a song calling anyone who was near.

Her notes flowed from her maw, in a low musical way and as her song trailed off, she closed her mouth surveying the dark clearing with her oddly colored eyes. From here she would be able to watch unnoticed to see if anyone would answer her call.

"There is no passion so contagious as that of fear." -Michel de Montainge