Xhera
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Xhera, the Huntress
SUPERNATURAL / DEMON / VAMPIRIC
PANSEXUAL — SINGLE
MAYBE OPEN FOR OOC BREEDINGS
- some sort of demon, no one really knows exactly, her kind feasts of life energy / souls / blood
- normally they enchant their prey and have it sacrifice itself to them; but Xhera is different: she is a huntress
- normally appearing very wise and mysterious but when she is hunting, she goes berserk
"Who are you?" A whisper, terrified and shaken.
A wicked smile, too many teeth and yellow eyes. "Don't worry, my dear."
A voice both soft and dreadful; it is like hearing a lullaby and knowing it'll be the last. "It will be over soon."
Before the silence sets in, a pleading cry echoes through the woods. But no birds fly hastly and no deer make for escape, as they are all well aware, that there was no use in running away. She got to you eventually. And she liked it when they ran.
Oh, how she liked it. There was nothing more than a good chase through the forest - at least not for her. She loved the rush of adrenaline through her veins and she loved the smell of blood and fear.
"The best, however", she coos, "is the sobbing sound they make when they realize they cannot escape."
She wouldn't need to hunt, she simply does it for fun. A being like her could just sit back and wait for the prey to crawl into her lap, but she's nothing like that. She doesn't want to appeal to anyone, she wants to be feared instead. She wants her name to be spoken in hushed whispers, followed by shivers and prayers spoken to gods who won't hear them anyway.
"You should pray to me instead." She smiles, seeming almost friendly until one notices the teeth. Too many of them. She licks her maw, her eyes glowing bright in the darkness. To be completely honest, she never really cared for prayers. They were a waste of air, she thought.
"If you pray, I'll only get you faster, my dear... dear... dear..."
The prey always thinks it can run. And run. And run. Escape.
It's not always wrong. Not every lion catches a zebra and sometimes the snake goes hungry. But she is neither a lion nor a snake. She is not some feral animal, hunting for the sake of survival. She is so much more and she is so much worse.
She is something that should not be - but yet she is. A monster even worse than the rest of her kind, for she finds souls to taste much sweeter when they are tortured. And unlike most of her kind, she is a hunter.
She hunts for fun. She hunts for blood. She hunts because she wants to drain life. She hunts because she wants to taste fear. She hunts mostly because she can, and sometimes she hunts to feast.
She is neither an animal nor feral. She speaks with the silver tongue of an ancient and wise creature and she fights her battles like a skilled warrior. She is an invisible threat, hunting in the shadows. She is known, but no one knows her face. However, she does not hide, but instead she walks amongst others, bearing a mask that hides the scary truth.
She keeps her name to herself and only reveals it to those she kills. And when their blood drains the earth, she wants her name to be soaked with it.
She has no interest in living an easy life. She will never choose the easiest way or the shortest path. She likes to be rewarded for her effords and she enjoys nothing more than giving it all. Her claws. Her teeth. With those, she will fight for what is hers. What she deemed to be hers.
This time around, she seems to have her eyes on you. You could try running, but remember:
"I like it when they run."
A wicked smile, too many teeth and yellow eyes. "Don't worry, my dear."
A voice both soft and dreadful; it is like hearing a lullaby and knowing it'll be the last. "It will be over soon."
Before the silence sets in, a pleading cry echoes through the woods. But no birds fly hastly and no deer make for escape, as they are all well aware, that there was no use in running away. She got to you eventually. And she liked it when they ran.
Oh, how she liked it. There was nothing more than a good chase through the forest - at least not for her. She loved the rush of adrenaline through her veins and she loved the smell of blood and fear.
"The best, however", she coos, "is the sobbing sound they make when they realize they cannot escape."
She wouldn't need to hunt, she simply does it for fun. A being like her could just sit back and wait for the prey to crawl into her lap, but she's nothing like that. She doesn't want to appeal to anyone, she wants to be feared instead. She wants her name to be spoken in hushed whispers, followed by shivers and prayers spoken to gods who won't hear them anyway.
"You should pray to me instead." She smiles, seeming almost friendly until one notices the teeth. Too many of them. She licks her maw, her eyes glowing bright in the darkness. To be completely honest, she never really cared for prayers. They were a waste of air, she thought.
"If you pray, I'll only get you faster, my dear... dear... dear..."
The prey always thinks it can run. And run. And run. Escape.
It's not always wrong. Not every lion catches a zebra and sometimes the snake goes hungry. But she is neither a lion nor a snake. She is not some feral animal, hunting for the sake of survival. She is so much more and she is so much worse.
She is something that should not be - but yet she is. A monster even worse than the rest of her kind, for she finds souls to taste much sweeter when they are tortured. And unlike most of her kind, she is a hunter.
She hunts for fun. She hunts for blood. She hunts because she wants to drain life. She hunts because she wants to taste fear. She hunts mostly because she can, and sometimes she hunts to feast.
She is neither an animal nor feral. She speaks with the silver tongue of an ancient and wise creature and she fights her battles like a skilled warrior. She is an invisible threat, hunting in the shadows. She is known, but no one knows her face. However, she does not hide, but instead she walks amongst others, bearing a mask that hides the scary truth.
She keeps her name to herself and only reveals it to those she kills. And when their blood drains the earth, she wants her name to be soaked with it.
She has no interest in living an easy life. She will never choose the easiest way or the shortest path. She likes to be rewarded for her effords and she enjoys nothing more than giving it all. Her claws. Her teeth. With those, she will fight for what is hers. What she deemed to be hers.
This time around, she seems to have her eyes on you. You could try running, but remember:
"I like it when they run."
