н ι ∂ є σ υ ѕ

i’d like to hope you’re more than just a monster…

                                  …but you don’t do yourself any favours.

❝ A magical prodigy from an early age, Li-Ming was once a standing-out pupil      of Caldeum’s prestigious Yshari Sanctum. Fully convinced she was a hero      prophesied to defeat the Legions of Hell, she left behind her teachers and      traveled the world as a renegade wizard. ❞

                                                         — a master of limitless arcane power ♛

31 DAYS OF MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES // ↳ 6. Demons

“Tis’ a lovely keep, I must say.” 

The creature purred, taking her time to examine the rustic and rather hedonistic pillar of Alliance pride. Tapestries, banners, statues, trophies. A guard looked at her disaprovingly. She winked at him. 

     “You promise? Well since you asked so NICELY, why not?”

     Reaching down, his hands pulled apart the torn material covering his leg, showing off a long cut likely caused by a sword - though it was already beginning to heal.

The Succubus giggled and ghosted the wound with fel tipped claws. Though no longer raw and dripping, it still looked painful. She would hate to see how the opponent fared.  

Disbelief. Oh, how LITTLE of it Euanthe held at any time but now she was simply brimming with it. The other was but a demon, not even the male of her kin. Yet…

Dahlias folded her arms about her chest and hmphed. She did not like this one’s attitude. Far too wise for her own good. It was insulting to be presented with the truth. The Draenei hadn’t even attempted to sugar coat her rather grating words. 

“Your responsibility.” 

Dahlias hummed. It was in the nature of a parasite to feed from its host. The Succubi was no different. Always seeking to worm her way in where she wasn’t desired. 

Silly girl. She was EVERYTHING of value. Had Dahlias a modicum of conscience she might have felt sorry for the miserable soul. Sadly, she did not. One, two, THREE steps forward and her talons danced over the Elf’s flushed cheeks.  

                                            The good thing about being a Worgen, he supposes, is that he’s got a higher resistance to dark magics. Her eyes were watchful, so he allowed her to watch as his amber eyes took on a wild glow. “Why don’t you perhaps take a step back, demon,” he suggests. There’s a warped overlay to his voice, a deepening there that sounded very much inhuman.

“         Hmn.” Her eyes fluttered to half lidded examination, smile slipping EVER SO slightly. Dahlias did not enjoy being told what to do. He was no Warlock and thus had no prowess over her mind. Still, it would be unwise to poke the wolf, so to speak. She shifted her weight to her left hoof, hand on the crest of her hip as she took one small step back. 

Massive horns had long since sprouted from his brow, though they hovered along his skin instead of actually growing from the bone. Parts of his face were sunken in and the skin was poised to flake and almost rot. All the effects of the monstrous being that had taken up residency inside of him.

Slowly, he brought down his hand to cup up along Dahlias’ chin. Much more delicate than his handling of her when he had first dominated her under his power and he made sure to lightly trace his thumb nail along her lips.

       “I have a task for you, pet.” He seemingly almost purred.

The Master’s touch, strange and foreign in its gentleness, dampened her nerves. Ever since those visions of ruination Dahlias had shied away from physical contact with him for fear it would happen again. Yet, here she was in this place of death { WITH HER G O D } and she was not worse for wear.

Slowly, her tense form relaxed as she closed her heavy lids and a content purring rumbled in her chest. Dahlias NEEDED his blessing; his approval. It was all a lesser minion could desire from their Master. She leaned into his touch, greedily savoring the warm ebb of Fel, and peered up at his mutated face beneath a thick fan of lashes.