DeSeer Mansion, Western Outskirts, Elevation
"I promise nothing shadow, save that I will meet you, as you request."
Giving as succinct an answer to the shadow as his statement had been to hers, she watched him go, and left him to his own devices. There was no reason to stop him, for now.
Tucking the amulet Rune had passed her safely into an empty pouch on her weapons belts, she made sure it was secure and wouldn't be lost while Fenra was sleeping and she was guarding it. For now.
For now. For now, for now for now. She was sick of ricocheting from one thing to another without any time for herself and
Caine's teeth she could still sense the murder even from here and...
Shaking her head, she walked away from the drawing room, hand on the wall to steady herself as she headed for the west wing.
The problem with becoming any degree of deity, no matter how strong or weak, was the niggle in the back of the brain, all the time, all the voices, all the needs and wants and demands... And the beloved Margrave was so far away.
Death was a treat, all that blood spilled... blood spilled in her name... dribbling, oozing and spilling, red red red... Focus. She needed focus. A focus. A channel. Cleric. What was the bloody point of holy men otherwise?
Hahaha.. holy men. Holey men.
Thoughts that fractured, she fell against the sigil door, slamming her palm onto the spike with gleeful abandon, before tottering into the darkness beyond.
Her grin as she descended drunkenly was disturbing, wide and far too toothy. Her back seemed to be rippling under the cloth of the catsuit, something writhing beneath her skin. Giggling, she pushed through the next barrier between her and Zantara's room.
As if crossing some invisible line, as his door came into sight, she was suddenly... normal... again. Pausing long enough to light a smoke and brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes, she lightly touched the handle and bade the portal to open.
"It's time, Zantara."
Three simple words as she leant against the door frame, taking her smoke from her mouth to dangle in her hand limply as she dropped her arm and exhaled, curling her tongue to allow the smoke to form a delicate ring.
Both of her eyes were red, and glowing in the dim light of the corridor outside him underground room. Breathing in, she could still smell blood, death and pain in the very stone work, whirling around her like a heady perfume.
"Won't you come and play with me, precious cleric..."
As she stared at him, she called to the blood. To her blood, in every being in the grounds. Anyone bearing it, or carrying it amidst their own, would feel the pull of the blood, the lust, the hunger. To most, it was familiar enough to ignore or brush off, but... the Lady DeSeer was on the hunt, for well known and loved prey. Her heartbeat was simply all there was, her will absolute.
For the both respected and unfortunate cleric... it would seem the bell was finally ringing for last orders, and time was up.