and we don’t need saving

We’re hell raising

She can't remember the last time she had come to the Hidden Grotto. Perhaps it was the time that she had brought Cerberus here, or was it the time she learned about her grandfather? Whichever one it was, it had been a while as Ygritte found her paws leading her towards the very sacred place that she felt the most at peace with. A soft sigh escaped her jaws as Ygritte would stop in her tracks and close her eyes. Yes she couldn't see as it was anyways but closing her eyes made it feel that much more magical as she would let her body relax and soon she was calling out, If there is anyone here, I'd like to meet you.

code by corvus / image by kim

She's alone. Hidden in the shadows, watching the stranger approach the place Banshee had first returned from hell. Her mismatched eyes blaze in the dark as she takes in the lioness drawing ever nearer — someone from the living. Once upon a time, the murderess would have loved playing a game with someone so alone, so vulnerable. But there is nothing for her to enjoy anymore. Not the stench of fear on her victim's flesh or the taste of blood on her palate. Nothing.

At first she's quiet when @Ygritte calls out; the temptation to simply melt away into nothingness is there. The desire to leave the stranger be, perhaps to find someone else worthy of a conversation. But it doesn't take long for curiosity to drag the devil out of its hiding, finally, and with a sharp intake of air, Banshee answers the call:

“I have never been told before that anyone would like to meet me.” A sneer. “But here I am.”

and we don’t need saving

We’re hell raising

Ygritte had grown accustomed to fear. Knowing it and living it every day was something she had grown to live with. Though it doesn't affect her as much anymore, Ygritte can feel the change in the air and the pull it had on her. Ears twisting on top of her head as she heard the sneer coming from the shadows and where most would have opened their eyes and would've started looking for the figure that went with the voice, Ygritte did the opposite and kept her eyes closed but instead listened and looked with her ears. Perhaps it's because no one wants to learn about you, whereas I want to learn of your history and how you came to be a ghost of Amaryllis. She would state, admitting her curiosity to @Banshee

code by corvus / image by kim

Rude little thing, wasn't she?

A sneer of vehemence curls upon Banshee's face, daring to spit and sneer in response — but her tongue remains silent, tho laced with venom as always, she can't exactly rebuff the notion that no one cared to learn of her. It wasn't as though the De'Vil woman had ever cared about others, so why should they of her?

No. She would not allow such a bloodstained legacy to simply be thrown to the wind, forgotten and trampled upon as thought it had not meant something once. As though it had not ruined lives. She draws closer, ever silent as paws merely linger inches above the surface of the ground, no need to touch and make contact. Banshee draws herself forth into what she assumes would be the lionesses' eyesight — if @Ygritte would just open her eyes, that is. A huff and a snarl from the devil.

“You're lucky I am but a ghost, as such words long ago would have had me taking that insolent tongue from you,” she growls, though she knows there is no longer a threat behind her words to truly make them something to tremble beneath. Disgusting. “What a pity that is... But if you have questions, I have nothing to hide.” She finally concedes to a conversation.

and we don’t need saving

We’re hell raising

Ygritte didn't think she was being rude, in fact she thought she was just being honest but everyone had their own opinions about others. Ears twisting as Ygritte would've expected movement, to hear it and yet there was nothing but silence until she heard @Banshee's voice nearly right in front of her. It caused her eyelids to flash open and show off the foggy gaze that caused her blindness. Were you this rude alive too? It was a question Ygritte hadn't met to ask but it had happened and it was not in the air between them. I want to learn about your history.

code by corvus / image by kim

Eyelids snap open and eyes fogged by cloudiness finally meet Banshee's eyes — ironically enough, both of them similar enough to the demoness' own blinded eye. Banshee doesn't necessarily feel surprise by the sight, but a gnawing hunger reminds her this is the kind of lion she would have hunted down and preyed upon while alive. It only frustrates her more, like a caged animal separated from its meal. Tail lashes in frustration but otherwise she does not move—

Not until she's accused of being rude.

The De'Vil sneers and curls her lips to expose fangs, even if @Ygritte couldn't see it. The warning is still there, all the same.

“There was a time when I was feared,” she snarls in a heated voice, both answering the other's question as well as her statement. “I feared none, and slaughtered those that stood in my way. Was I always this rude? Perhaps, but it was only because I earned that right by tearing out many throats.”

“Death is my friend, and hell is where I reside now.”

and we don’t need saving

We’re hell raising

Fear. It was something that Ygritte had once found herself in constantly, but now Ygritte kept herself at bay and knowing that fear was just another emotion. One that was okay to feel. But to hear that another liked to have others fear them was shocking as she would listen to the words @Banshee spoke. Ygritte didn't know what else to say to what Banshee spoke, it wasn't something she was used to. But death, that was something she knew all to well. I have seen death, it haunts my dreams. Now why did she tell that to a stranger, let alone a ghost? She didn't know.

code by corvus / image by kim

“I have seen death, it haunts my dreams.”

Banshee's eyes swivel, ghoulish gaze focused on @Ygritte — her lips, separate, inch by inch as fangs reveal themselves. Though hidden to the attention of the lioness before her, they are still there. A reminder, a threat. The words ring in Banshee's ears and she takes a breath. Nothing. There are no scents to placate her desire to interact with the world again, and the desire to scream in anger bubbles and roils in her throat.

“Death isn't anything to fear,” she lies through her teeth like a snake in the garden of eden, strangled as she is by immortality.

“Perhaps death is calling you,” she muses — a pause, before a snarl turns into a grin and she leans forwards to whisper the words, “would you like my help?” Even if the promise is fake.

and we don’t need saving

We’re hell raising

She had come here to learn about the other and yet that seemed to be the opposite of what Ygritte was really doing. Ears twisted on top of her head as she heard the fake threat and the seeress would shake her head. It may haunt my dreams but it's not calling for me. She would state truthfully. Ygritte had grown used to the constant figure of death, whether it be a lion or another creature, it had become a constant companion in her dreams. You offer it so freely, how many did you kill in your time? She was curious, but she didn't need to know.

@Banshee

code by corvus / image by kim

“So sure of that, are you?” It's a rhetorical question, scornful, but she does not expect a response. Truth be told, the demoness had never feared death when she was alive. She never dreamt of it — never thought she was so close to its noose. Thoughts filled with bloodlust never once made her believe she was close to death's door — and therefore it wasn't a surprise @Ygritte didn't also believe so.

“You offer it so freely, how many did you kill in your time?”

The question is a soft hum in her mind. Eyes close and body shudders, tongue escaping its ivory prison to lap at obsidian lips as though—

How she misses it. The taste of blood. The taste of death. The feeling of a life escaping through her jaws and the sound of the death rattle as her victims took their last breath. She lives it all in that very moment, and when she opens her eyes once more, she feels alive again. If only she could show it to the one standing before her, asking such an innocent but macabre question. Does she really wish to know?

“Many,” she finally answers, and it comes out as a breathless sigh. Hungry, once more. “The lands were soaked with blood in my wake. Death was not a numbers game. There came a time when it simply wasn't feasible to keep count.”