The Demon Knows My Vice

The lifeless black void that had once been his eternal prison had now become as much a part of him as his own tail was. The abyss that held him captive was his home, and Moros had adapted to it to an almost frightening level. He enjoyed getting to invade the dreams of his bloodkin when they made themselves vulnerable to him, but there was just something special about them coming to visit dear grandpa Moros. Tonight another one of his descendants would pay him a visit. Like a fly getting caught in a web, she left ripples of energy in the liminal space she found herself a prisoner within, and now those vibrations were calling to the spider. For a long while, Moros did not shift or stir. He simply existed in the dark as a part of the aether, observing her as she tried to fight, to scream, to do anything while she just existed in the dark, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to sense. A wicked grin split Moros' lips. Welcome to my hell, young one.

A deep baritone chuckle echoed through the dark, seeming to come from all sides as it centered around the captured fae. Like the Devil himself had come for her and found her predicament quite amusing. Knowing she couldn't move to face him, Moros deliberately began to manifest behind her, a miasma of shadow forming together and out stepped giant ebony paws and long legs, followed by the rest of the rippling monster the crimson and red brute was. Abyssal black eyes roved over the trapped fae's form, drinking her in. She was such a petite thing—young, lithe, with curves in all the right places and so rail thin that he could see the outline of her through her fur. She wore the same colors as he did, though her fur was much more starkly defined and less graduated like his was. A pleased rumble vibrated deep within the brute's chest. Alastor certainly had a knack for making some beautiful faes, he had to give his son that.

Stepping up behind her with every heavy footfall sounding like a rumble of thunder echoing around the void, Moros came right upon the svelte fae, lowering his muzzle until he almost touched the small of her back, taking a long, savoring inhale of her scent. Delicious... Moros still reveled in being able to smell again. Soon enough, he would revel in touch and taste with her too. "How does it feel, little one, to be so hopelessly trapped in nothingness?" he spoke to her, his voice husky and low, rough around the edges with a purring lilt. He was teasing her, taunting her a bit. Here, she was his prisoner to do with as he pleased. If he wished it, she would never move until her corporeal body awoke. Maybe he'd do just that... "It's hell, isn't it? A living nightmare. Imagine living here for all time..."

Moros slowly sauntered along the length of the red and black fae's body, inspecting her from tip to tail, drinking in her feminine features. He didn't touch her quite yet, letting his eyes devour her slender form with a combination of fascination and predatory lust. How had she gotten so thin? Was Alastor starving his children? Maybe he had taught his son something after all... "What is your name, my lovely little visitor?" He wanted to know what name he'd be snarling in his hedonistic pleasures tonight.

"Moros"