(/didn't have the time to check this post over...I'll do it tomorrow.)

"Pleasantries aside,
He came to my bedside
And such a treat he got
With the surprise I brought!" Zakiyyah sang, getting the oddest of looks from the citizens and clergy around her. Her song devolved into a nearly poetic mumble of nonsense as she rethought her lyrics. The crowd parted for her, making it all the more plausible for her to continue on her ignorance of their presence. They parted not for her limerick, but her appearance. Gnarled spikes grew from her shoulders, a single long fang curled from her top lip until it brushed her jaw. Her eyes were dark red orbs, set in a face of coal, with dark red tattoos of a jagged yet organic pattern curling across the parts of her form not covered in a white dress. The dress itself was simple, something a temple maiden would wear, if not for the fact it was on a demon that towered over the commoners around her.

"A bite for a kiss,
Fear for a little miss,
There were screams,
Now he dreams!" The regal voice hung above the crowd as they turned to stare. Her nasal tone and slight lisp brought chuckles, but her mind was elsewhere. It was on the events from an hour ago, now that the moon hung higher.

"Dear maiden, I can't imagine you'd be entranced by an old soul like me!" The priest said. He twisted, his face contorting in her mind's eye, the true demonic being he was coming forth. Zakiyyah smiled, closed her eyes, and accepted the kiss from the serpent. The lecher gave an attempt at what could be considered the most lustful form of kiss, and Zaki responded in a natural predatory way. She shifted, her entire body changing as she allowed him to escape with terrible wounds to his tongue. She grabbed him by the remainder of his hair, bent him over a table, and allowed the blood to flow freely from his mouth. Their cheeks touched as she bent over with him, keeping the struggling man down with the force of a single arm.

"The details damn you, dear. Repentance will be your salvation, and I shall be cause of your salvation or damnation, but not the one who chooses your fate. Tell me, which do you choose? Repent the sins of a man who should be infallible, or accept a fate that one of your position shouldn't receive?" Zaki explained, her voice almost musical from the pleasure of fulfilling her obsession yet again. The man sputtered, blood splattering across the floor. The words tumbled from his mouth as he explained every little sin he'd ever committed, from curses to what had brought him to Zakiyyah in the first place. Her face split into a smile, a wicked, devious smile as he tried to attain salvation with his last breaths. The arch-rauko waited until he admitted to the act he had attempted with her, and she wrenched his head back. He tried to cry out, but blood surged into his throat.

"Salvation, priest?" She murmured, her voice barely above the noise of his frantic attempts to breath through his own blood.

Zakiyyah drifted out of her flashback, with the snap of the incomplete summoning the man had made to call her into this world. A lady known as Leila had to die, and Zakiyyah had tracked her to this place, this most holy of earthbound cities. She drifted through the crowd, her unstoppable hunter's urge drawing her closer and closer to her target. The demoness could taste her quarry upon the air, the power of her attraction becoming overwhelming. Her bond flickered, snapping at the edges of her magic. It ruined her concentration, and it filled her mind with thoughts she suppressed. The commoners became corpses in her mind's eye, brutally mangled as though she had taken every moment of her eternal life to torment them.

But her target! It reared from the darkness, a figure pristine and untouched. She raised her arm, and prepared to unleash a spell. The negative forces pent up inside of her flowed into her fingertips as she formed a mental bridge between her magic and her target's life. The arch-rauko released the spell, and her entire world followed it. Unfortunately, the spell never happened. As the most blinding pain she'd ever experienced filled her, she mused upon what had happened. An arch-rauko destroying herself. It was almost fitting.

Then again, she never got the chance to repent.

The tiny candle that sat beside her waxed and waned as its scent carried to her nostrils. Beyond its comforting flames, however, her corner of the library appeared to be altogether devoid of light. Looking at the page in front of her she squinted, doing her best to see the crudely scribbled words she had already scribed.

Things are fine, brother. Fine as they'll ever be.

And that was it. For all her toiling the last two hours to get something done, all she had managed to pen was those two measly sentences. The rest of the building had cleared out as the sun sank below the horizon, as she had lingered there, her eyes boring into the paper, accomplishing nothing. In frustration, she slammed her fist into the desk.

"This doesn't work."

Carrius, though younger than Leila, had always been a compassionate and sensitive brother. More so than she had known when they still had time together. It was only when she had found herself completely cut off from him that she realized how much she needed him. The words that she now tried to write were her only surviving connection to Carrius. And she was wasting the opportunity.

Carrius was the wordsmith and the scholar. Ever he had tried to involve Leila in his studies, had encouraged her to learn alongside him. She had just never been interested. She recalled one of the last things he had spoken to her, before she had told him for the first time that he wouldn't see her for a while. As he embraced her lovingly in a way only siblings do, he whispered softly to her.

"Write everything down."

And so she had tried. And so she had failed. Writing is your expertise, not mine, she thought to herself, pondering what she would be saying if she were with her brother face to face. Words were your passion. And I can't do anything with them. They were like shards of a valuable trinket, sitting in her lap, only she couldn't tell their worth, and couldn't piece them together. In more experienced hands, they would be a treasure to behold. In hers, they were worthless.

Every few days, she had forced herself to go to a library, and do as Carrius had suggested. Write everything down. It was unlikely anyone would ever read it, but it gave her the smallest hint of hope, that she was able to communicate her thoughts and feelings, on paper, to the brother she could never tell them to.

She wrote down a few more words: I hope you're okay.

She folded the piece of paper and put it in her pocket.

As she snuffed the candle with her fingers, allowing the library to become fully enveloped in darkness, she heard the faintest noises coming from just outside the building. A clamor as the townspeople gathered about. She made her way to the exit, drawing her dagger as a precaution. The Sanctuary of Angels wasn't known for its violent crimes and shady visitors, but these days, she couldn't afford to take the chance.

But she couldn't say she expected what she saw. Wading through a sea of civilians, a gruesome, hideous figure appeared. Leila stayed in the shadows, only peeking around the corner every few seconds to get a better view at what was taking place. "What is that?" she whispered softly, unable to grasp just what was standing in front of her. Then, she felt something coming her way. Something intangible, indescribable, grim and horrifying. It coursed down the street, headed straight toward her. She winced and braced for impact from the... whatever it was.

Then, with her eyes closed, it was gone. An eerie hum filled the air, the monstrous being reacted against an unknowable pain, and then, under the harsh moonlight, she saw.

But her eyes were still closed. She wasn't seeing reality, though what she was experiencing was vivid, and clearer than anything she ever remembered feeling. Everything became silent, the world went white, her physical senses were dulled as her sight became ever clearer. She watched as all around her the commoners sank to their knees in defeat, all ferociously tortured by that demonic being. In her mind's eye, every last one of them became a corpse.

Zakiyyah fell to the ground, panting as she felt the remaining vestiges of her all mighty power feed away, the curl and snap of modified bones as they returned to their normal state. It was a bloodless affair, her body was too efficient for it to lose such vital fluids without reason. But not without pain. Pain was bliss, yet not this much pain! It felt as though the bones weren't simply melting away, but growing hooks and barbs to shred at supple and mortal flesh. She would have screamed, but her blood made her mightier than such things. She would have cried for help, but her pride made that impossible. Then came surges of a second presence. A second presence seeing the world through her eyes.

Had the bond been finalized with her summoner? But there was a complete absence of her hunter's drive! Zakiyyah realized what had happened with a jolt. Her former prey looked as though everyone around her had died. Her former prey felt more intimate to her than the closest of lovers. Their thoughts intermingled, surface and the depths of their subconscious. Out of courtesy, Zakkiyah utterly crushed the illusion of the death of all the surrounding folk. She stood, as though not a thing had happened to change her from a rauko to a being of near perfection in angelic appearances. Flawless white hair, passionate and fierce eyes, a figure best described as pious, and the flawless white dress of a temple maiden. It was loose in several areas, and as she walked she found herself suspending one shoulder. She didn't mind that the new, light tattoos that graced her shoulders were bared, but the dress threatened to slip off.

Her strides brought her to the visage of her former prey, intuitive eyes scanning every inch of her as she knelt.

"Bonded yet not through blood, my dearest. I am Zakiyyah, and I am your...archrauko. I could not bring myself to harm you even if I wanted to you my liege lady. Ah, delicious irony! From assassin to protector, from predator to turtle shell. Hmm, that wasn't so good. From predator to druid? From predator to tree hugging weakling ready to get the flesh rent from their bones? Ah, yes, before we go wandering on this tangent, I'd like to know your name. Simply breaking into your mind over our connection isn't the most polite of things." Zakiyyah explained. Her voice was flawless, musical, but shadowed by a raspy, regal voice with a slight lisp sliding over from the telepathic connection. She made certain her own thoughts did not slide over the connection, to lessen the impact of the situation.

Zakiyyah bowed, both hands suspending the dress. She gave a slight smile as she looked back up, and held out a hand. Long fingernails graced it, instead of long claws. It was disturbing to even Zakiyyah, forcing her to blink. The rauko's smile slid away as she felt the outside edge of her leg, at the dagger strapped to her leg by a slim, belt like object. She remembered this! Hadn't she put it on her leg when she was a young rauko, straight out of the creator's cold embrace? Either way, Zakiyyah suddenly realized her mortality, and her thoughts streamed into her bond. It was all in the abyssal tongue, but the meaning (curses never properly translated to common) stayed true in transit.

"We may have to...work together if we wish to survive." Zakiyyah muttered darkly.