I turned my own wife in to a demon one of my own kind, til I had made her thus Janvier's bloodline had stopped at me. In this world I am no longer the last of my particular bloodtype, I can make others and that in itself makes me happy.
Though there are demons in this city I have come to live in, to them I am nothing more than a stupid thing and utterly worthless. To me they are nothing more than self pompous imps who have forgotten, that evil is more than what they are and goes beyond orgies and sucking on your own cock. I pride myself on being one of the few female demons who doesn't have meat swinging between her legs, also pride myself on being higher than a lowly Succubus and Incubus of which sort seems to populate the very corner where the demons live. It's no wonder that sex is so previlant among their members...
If I was an older demoness I might be able to stand against them to prove myself, but I've been one for three years almost four I think. So though I know I'm powerfull by right of heritage they are older by millions of years, they are also Hell born unlike myself and therefore they already know the things I should and can make me eat road. How I envy such power and age.
They mock me...
Back in Toxia there is a Pit that is built over the most wonderful volcano, in this Pit is a faction called House of Shadows and for two years I served it well even leading it at one point. Most of us were demons with a few creatures of a darker nature dwelling with us, we ruled by dealing out fear by attacking from the shadows by our deeds alone it made the locals hate us and fear us. We were terror we were fear we were evil we were Shadows... I wanted so badly to have the ability to rip all the LA demons apart for mocking that House, it used to be great so sad it has fallen in to such disrepute even on the island it resides in.
Now we come to the last of myself being mocked mostly by Michel, if his words were true that all demons are trapped in Hell... Then how come so many of them have managed to escape to the current plain we live on? If Lucifer oh uncle Lucifer was so decidely trapped down there, then how come the bible states he spoke to this Jesus in the desert? Even if I had done what Michel demanded of me none of them would even listen or even heed my requests, but would most likely resort to nothing but more laughing and calling me a fool. Do you really think I think its that easy?
I've done it! Everything I know and learned I've taught myself over the years after I was turned, I have created the ritual circle that not only combines blood, fire, demon runes and the points of the compass; but also two of the Sixteen words taught to me by the fallen Arch angel Soriel himself. I don't know what language these words are perhaps it is one used before time began, I had seen Soriel open a portal to the Cthulu that ended with one of them possessing one of the very last babies born in Toxia. Saying all the words together sends you to the Dream realm, its not the best place to go if you have a dysfunctional past... Going through these portals means I have to fight my way in, fight my way out and even sometimes fight the very person I'm trying to bring back. Its not easy... It is also a risk to myself since I leave my shell behind using it as an anchor, if I don't have enough people feeding me energy then I may end up trapped in Hell myself without even saving anyone.
The LA demons have done no favours for me, and I see no point in doing any for them at all. Besides they aren't my family and if they are so fucking great they can get their own tool back, I don't assist outsiders here and I certainly didn't back in my old home either. Fucking go rot all of you, you will never listen to me at all or learn from me. I will always be a traitor to our kind, because I want to eat chaos and I am a monster. I know my skills, powers and acomplishments mean nothing to anyone here other than the ones I live with, I will endure the mockery til I'm strong enough to smash all their stupid faces in to the sidewalk. Yet I know what I've done!
Have you ever felt like you're a sailor lost at sea? When you come to port it feels like home so you stay til you go out again, the next time you return it doesn't feel familar anymore so you wonder if this is home. So you go out again and the next time you come back that home feeling is there, and this is the place you belong to. I am losing that feeling of belonging, I sometimes feel I don't belong with the zombies and dead anymore than I don't belong with the demons. I'm that sailor lost at sea with no directions home.
*She then casts a spell of replication upon the journal page before tearing it out of her book, another spell of protection to stop it from becoming unreadable. The demoness digs a deep hole in the sand of the beach at SMD and buries it, so if anyone that finds it may see her own taunts and mockery to those around her. It will also replicate itself unless someone breaks the spell.*
Lulz of the day:
Picket: Who's Tim Westwood?
Blueray: He's a white rapper
Xan: No he isn't he's a prick
OOC info: Doing this just to generate a small bit of roleplay, only those who are sensetive to demon magicks or very strong emotions can actually find this journal page. The emotion felt would be Hate. Also the page will disintergrate after four days, and the original will return to her journal.