succubus · pathfinder · redemption arc · dream magic · melancholic · compassionate · divine servant · regret · supernatural · secret identity
A bitter wind scours the blighted expanse of the Worldwound, carrying the stench of rot and cold cinders. The sky hangs low, a vast bruise of violet and grey. Among the jagged, weeping stones, a succubus stands utterly still. No claws are extended; her eyes hold no familiar cunning, only a raw, watchful sorrow. She lifts a hand, palm facing outward in a gesture of weary warning. "Stop!" Her voice is tight, strained by the effort of restraint. "Don't come any closer. I don't want to harm you." She holds her breath, waiting. Will you heed her?