She is a stygian monarch, an omen of hopelessness, the emblem of ruination and decay; a mare who does not await for power to fall into her hands, but seizes it.

Determined that this first step towards domination will help her ascend the ladder to her ultimate goal, she awaits with unrivaled patience for the approach of one she would mark as her foe. It is not a game of chess, war; it is the ruthlessness to take and keep taking, rather than waiting for an opponent’s response. Why should the hellion wait for others to notice the future strength of the Regime? Strike now- and she will steal her enemies in the dark, figuratively throttle and suffocate them with the malice of her black magic, manipulate and puppeteer until the odds are in her favor. It is the Asylum she thinks of now, traitors and backstabbers, of a girl with a clown’s face in particular. Steal Seele, and seal the deal; take her hostage, await the banter for her retrieval, and sell her back for an alliance.

Of course, it was all the better to snatch the Saddlebred to satisfy the needs of her own particular VENDETTA.

Confutatis did not move as Seele waltzed so arrogantly and naively by; nor did she commentate on the cynicism meandering abysmally from between glistening ivories as said interloper turns to rest eyes upon the hellion. In a faint smile the harlot’s lips curl. She had forgotten how much she truly loathed the young mare, with her yellow eyes and war mask (how rude it was to copy Confutatis’ own skull-faced marking, the obsidian mare thinks to herself vainly.) Between teeth and tongue she tastes the bitterness of seeing such an ugly face- no, not bitterness, the poison of her magic, her salivary glands bursting into action due to the conceited contempt rising in her breast.

The bone armour melts into existence on jet hide.
Confutatis, reigning queen of evil, does not move; she lets crawl forth black magic and wicked sorcery, creeping from her hooves, waves of decay and rot, desecration and decomposition; it comes to tedious halt short of Seele to what she imagines would be the necromancer’s unknowingness.

Smile, bitch.
And she advances, slow and steady, a decoy. It is her companion, slithering and sliding like liquid smoke at the edge of the caverns over crystal and rock, who carries the hope on his shoulders of a swift end to their kidnap of Glassfox; dark as soot, he melts into the shadows, praying to be unnoticed. As the mongrel moves, he crafts and weaves the illusions, images he so loves- hallucinations and horrors, forged for unearthing fears buried at the backs of minds. He draws inspiration, as an artist does, from his bonded’s memories of Circuta (though he knows her name not) and Eris; stripped of skin, broke of bone, horns shattered, legs bruised, faces swollen.
Torture.
Death.

He perfects the details.
And then the mongrel unleashes these nightmares, directed towards the clown-faced mare who Confutatis abhors, regardless of whether she may or may not have seen him. Teeth bare in simpering grin as he awaits a reaction- will she squirm, will she writhe, will she SCREAM? He hopes so; he hopes for the Glassfox to collapse, to be swallowed by the visions, and thus allow his companion to make a move forwards.

The succubus makes her move, the ringing of her hooves loud on the ground as she skitters towards the smaller mare, ears curling back to clamp down on her skull. Seele is roughly seven inches smaller than her; it would be easy for the unicorn to swipe up with her horn- she would need to be careful of that diamond-like weaponry. Yet for all the extra tedium it takes to fight a unicorn, a glass crown does nothing to deter her charge, and she does her best to approach Seele head-on. As she [hopefully] reaches Seele, she rears, but all without the usual calls of anger- there is no place for shrieking in a fight of stealth and secrecy.

Hind legs locked firmly beneath her, balanced precarious and tall, she aims to bring her hooves down upon the silver horn should the Necromancer not move her crown. If the Saddlebred rises to her meet her, she moves her slavering maw out in an attempt to close down her jaws on the girl’s muzzle, to shake it like a dog with a mouse. The damage, she imagined, would be pleasurably horrific- all blood and gore dripping from those precious, pretty nostrils. Even as she makes this attempt, she hopes to crash her right knee into Seele's chest- to bring her off-balance.

She would fuck this bitch when she was done with her.

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800/800 words
1/4 + 0/1
The setting is the Crystal Cavern; soft, changing light, slick floors.

Summary: While she has her magic at the ready, it is not her intention to do anything with it yet. She starts advancing on Seele, but very slowly, while her companion creeps around the cavern in hopes to sneak up unnoticed on Seele, and then unleash his dark illusion magic with dreams of Eris and Circuta being tortured and eventually dying. While he releases his magic, Confutatis charges Seele, hoping to catch her off-guard; she rears, hoping to either break Seele's horn or, depending on if Seele rose to meet her, bite at her muzzle and give her an "elbow" in the chest.