A dark, withered soul trapped within the body, angered that she's been forced to live within this mortal body, constantly fighting against the magic of the prior owner of the body. She was a strong one, the demoness knew that for sure. She often spent the long, boring days browsing through her mind, living her life as though she was always there in a little nook in her mind, tucked away from her view. She knew most everything about her now, her weaknesses, her flaws, her dearest treasures. The bones in the tattered mane thump against her neck as though to remind her of the constant yowling of the soul further within, bouts of rage flourishing through her veins as the battered soul tries to fight back. You still haven't learned your lesson, have you now? With a cold, hard smack of anger, the prowess's mind forces the weakling back into her confines where she trembles again, her fragile mind cracking further as the beast enters it, searching for the clowned faced mare that pollutes the girl's mind.

A horrific smile draws across her lips, stained teeth clack together, exposed to the darkness as the prowess walks on. She can smell her, hear her steps, taste her blood dripping down her lips, her strength restored with the taste of new flesh. The shadowed being follows swiftly behind the bay, ruby red eyes falling over her ebony flesh, garnished with snow and blood. Her heart had dropped when she saw how thin the woman before her was, how sickly she appeared. "She won't taste good." The tattered girl spits, but immediately regrets her decision when a dark, harsh force pushes her down further into the depths.

Dark, shadowed eyes watch as the bay slips through the ground, body thumping against the stone floors as she stumbles. As swift as night envelopes the world, the prowess looms over the entrance of the caverns, cackling madly at the fool who topples down the slope. "Oh poor Seele, can't stand proud anymore!" A voice that sounds more like claws against a chalk board rings through the tunnels, her laugh sounding like rusty metal pipes clanging together, the caves carrying the sound farther.

She dares not to dance any farther than where coarse, dead grass fades to solid stone, for fear that they may pull down to that brewing liquid, the stuff that cures those touched by disease. She knows well of the blessed liquid, the thing that heals. She had heard others being dragged down under by their loved ones, followed by the sound of splashing water, the scent of the dead fading from the caverns, leaving nothing but the sweet rejoice of families and friends as the infested return to consciousness. You will not have the same fate, my sweet.

Thick, fleshy muscles tense as a sweet as honey voice is heard, one seemingly familiar. She recalls witnessing a dark mare sing a sweet song, one that healed a comrade of the prowess's. A frown dances across her lips, body trembling in fear as she thinks of her crown falling, her pride and power slipping from between her rotted fingers. "Poor you!" The child spits once again, smearing hatred over the prowess's face. Tattered ears lay flat, another cold yet pitiful push in her direction knocks the girl from her higher position, but she can no longer muster this much energy, now close to defenseless against the child. The girl struggles forth to the controls, her once delicate voice calling out, easily recognizable if one had known her back when they called her Amara. "Seele! Please, help me!" A bout of sobbing ensues as she slinks back into her corner, shivering madly as the prowess punishes her.