From somewhere in the depths of your memory, the name comes to you. DarkEmpress, the wind whispers as it caresses your shoulders, twines through the spines along your nape. DarkEmpress, the weeds exalt as your bloody, broken hooves traipse aimlessly among them. DarkEmpress. You are the DarkEmpress. You are darkness. You are salvation. You are terror. You are greatness. You are all that this world may come to know and need, and you will bring those living in the light to their proper place as your servants in the dark. This you have promised the imagined masses that gathered before you, cheering your name, chanting your title to the heavens and the absent gods that fled before your glory. For you are the DarkEmpress, the Ruler of All, the Exalted One...

You lurk among the shadows, your black body blending effortlessly, the perfect accent to your black soul. Your eyes are deep, soulless pits, set in the surfacing skull and lacking their famous amber glow. There is only darkness there now, but somehow that is as unsettling as your orange gaze was - it seems like many moons ago, and for all you know it may be, but somewhere deep down, you know that it was not so long ago that you were well, and whole, and different. An angry laugh bubbles forth, spewing spittle and blood into the dying bushes before you. You were becoming weak. No more.

The ground flattens ahead, and an answering cackle floats on the wind. At first you think that it is only an echo of your glorious tones, but it does not end, does not fade, and it is then that the stallion catches your eye. Oh, how horrid he looks, all teeth and spikes and wings - but it is alluring, and you find yourself drawing closer, admiring the strength that is the stallion. You imagine you must look disheveled next to his reptilian glory, but no matter - you will prove your worth, even before he has challenged you. "Why, darling!" you squeal, excitement permeating your honeyed vocals. "What a wonderful costume! You simply must show me how it works." A feral grin splits your features, oddly wide and gleaming now that your bone is all that shows. You don't think it will frighten him, though.

You dance to the side, your movements an awkward, stumbling sashay to the right. The wind blows into your face and you relish the feeling. DarkEmpress, it insists, and you are determined to prove yourself. You grow closer, closer, attempting to approach at a subtle angle towards the stallion's left side. Your first attack comes in the form of clacking teeth attempting to clamp onto the steed's left wing and yank; you wheel to continue the motion whether the attack hits or not, and as you push yourself into a lazy canter away, you strike out with your hind legs, aiming for the left side of the face or neck. Is he ready to play? You are.

---

[Wraith Appearance: Psyche's body has taken on the appearance of a rotting corpse. Her right foreleg is almost entirely bone and muscle, the flesh and skin having begun to slough off. Her left hing leg is covered in blood which continuously seeps from a large gash along her left hindquarter, but is largely intact. The wound crawls with maggots. Her face is perhaps the most changed, as the majority of it has 'melted' away, leaving the top line of her head as only skull. Her eye sockets are empty. Large clumps of mane have fallen out or been torn away, and long, needle-thin, venomous spines have begun to grow back in its place. Her tail is a bloody stump; one may assume that it has been chewed off.]

[Attack: 1/3 | Closing Defense: 0/1]

@[tag]
"Talk talk talk."