𝐈 ' 𝐯 𝐞 𝐬 𝐞 𝐞 𝐧 𝐲 𝐨 𝐮 𝐫 𝐟 𝐚 𝐜 𝐞 𝐛 𝐞 𝐟 𝐨 𝐫 𝐞 𝐦 𝐲 𝐟 𝐫 𝐢 𝐞 𝐧 𝐝 , 𝐛 𝐮 𝐭 𝐈 𝐝 𝐨 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐤 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 𝐢 𝐟 𝐲 𝐨 𝐮 𝐤 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 𝐰 𝐡 𝐨 𝐈 𝐚 𝐦 .
She meets him eye for eye, a slow breath pluming her exhale white whilst she stoically observes, lashes panning down with each flutter. From boot to crown, seeing him but then not him. Fei knows another predator is in her midst and it seethes and boils beneath mortal bindings and the sheer void of appetance whets her tongue with longing, it pines hard and deep and thick and it's just enough to make her squirm whilst her bemused simper falls away into a concerned lapse of a frown. Every nuance tumbles and collides till it forms into a singular construct and label: dangerous. Punctuated and bruised and old.
The black dog relinquishes her glare in favour of mortal graces -- for though she is horrid, and the Doctor is an abomination at best, she can barely stand the sight of that thing -- and heaves a solid growl that churns away inside her throat, catching against her teeth till it whistles harmlessly into the cold.
Magic pulsated around this girl, a bit manic and bright, colours that bled profusely within the eye of the canine now glancing through the entire company provided. Fei spared a second longer to gather her bearings, lingering past insipid candor and glided her tongue against her sharp teeth and now chapped lips before she swiped the pad of her thumb against her pout and snapped her attention to.
"I am," Fei drawled, slow intonations and sluggish responses tempting her voice to sunder away from howls and chuffing rejoinders. Appreciation fled across her countenance whilst she dropped her crossed gestures and bent at the waist in likeness, following in juncture to the hell-born man and performed an old custom. Not bad, a little formal, rigid, but tinged in grace and genuine fluidity and respect that Fei took to with finesse. Though she had no greeting or intention of speaking his name aloud, for the epitaph of Atticus Cléirich was one well adorned into her memory of dossiers gleaned and pried, a wealth of an infamous tale shrouded this man and Fei's eyes visibly coloured in feminine appraisal.
Oh, but then another one speaks and Fei turns sudden and open, eyes then close before they pinch into a glare, narrowed and perplexed till familiarity dawns them in shades of warmth.
"Nestor," the dog beams, barb wired smiles and gleaming teeth that snap around his name. Fei was a solitary creature, bidden to the company only by the command of an Alpha in times of need, however this demonspawn was a frequent companion in the centuries of their respective existences. When loneliness capped to listless and dreary souls lost within limbo or a forlorn purgatory, often did Fei cross the path of ice and jagged cold to share space and time with a creature plagued with Eternity like she, trinkets of chained dead and tombs of kings in her mind's eye whenever she met his gaze. She then preforms a mock curtsy with plucking the hem of her sweater dress and one ankle crossed behind the other when she dips slight, head canted and hair flowing over her shoulder. Fei did so for the amusement of one particular lace adorned creature -- to say it was a woman would've been kind, but over the years Fei has yet to really understand the Demoness and thus keeps her acknowledgement as is -- and attempts to listen in as Atticus details their dispatch.
However it's nothing to temper the bristling at her nape when she goes on the prowl, the lilting voice warped to her nerves and ticking across her spine in the rasp of a winter touch. Fei shakes out her discomfort and paces herself away from the queer company of their wizard, she has seen contracts like these before but never ones quite so eccentric. Their mass seems useful but she steps around the bobblings delicately upon her clawed toes and inches towards the house rapt with taint and stagnant malice.
Whilst the others prepare, Fei takes strides onto the porch, her posture lax whilst her eyes glimmer to silver coins, pressed white and silver around the edges liken to a swollen luminescence. Nestor is right of course, something had indeed passed through the gates of blood and bone and crossing that threshold throws her ambiance askew; tilted and slanted wherein the thick weaves of her hair almost writhe in an unseen breeze. As - Sal, was it? - prattles on in a lazy tune, Fei ghosts slight and almost wills her truer self to embark ahead, knowing that the black dog she is could pass between these shadows and lingering summons of magical stains, however she stalls and glances outside to where Nestor is lurking about, seemingly enthralled by his own findings.
The energy of demonic sin positions against Fei's own vivacity, buffing and chaffing against her flesh and fur. It flows and ebbs in thick waves with a stench not entirely unlike her own signature when passing through mortal chasms. It's curious in comparison and coils within her mind as she passes through the living room and sniffs close to the scorch marks marring the late woman's furniture, the walls displaying the same damage from what Fei can only gauge as the sheer pressure from the ritual airs. The decorum is entirely conventional, something plucked from a home edition page, complimentary colours and hues, pieces collected from the previous decade obviously but still within taste.
With her eyes aglow, she seems to be looking, searching, for something, something that is not quite there and missing. Fei stalks through the home and glides her claws against the walls, scraping light and inhales sharp to breathe in the cold and death - head tilted. It's quiet, much too quiet, the silence plucks on her nerves and frays them apart - she tilts her head another way, curious canine habits - and here, not quite into the room where her body had been found, she stops.
"I don't hear her," she whispers. "Dead souls linger where they have passed on with the chains of their life and sins." Her gaze drops and flickers, a growl suspended within her admission. "But I don't see or hear her, all that she should be and was is entirely gone."
The black dog crosses that threshold into the room with pittering claws and flickering eyes, her face alight in wonderment as the lingering energy of the ritual seethes against her. Fei snarls around the withering smell of the magic used here and that's when she sees it. Swollen lines of black warped harsh and thick into the wall, bleeding scrawls flush against smoldering remains that have eaten away at the symbol burning and somehow pulsating with meaning; a mark, a crest, a memento of the damned. Within she rears at the sight and parts her lips, a breath heaving past her pointed teeth in a slick pant.
"There, see that." Fei dares not to press closer, for something here wars against the very thing that she is. Memory fluctuates and conjours bone festooned faces of goats upon the mortal remains of a man, three there are with inverted insignia's blazoned and burned into deadened flesh, all the way to the heart do they blaze and stay and pulse alive. Women dance madly into the night and impale themselves upon the horns of a ram with the pelts of black dogs worn over their breasts and their deadened faces adorned upon them like crowns of bereaved queens. Fei howls in mourning around the fires that lick away at her paws --
"Atticus, Doctor -- someone." She banishes these horrid visions away and is careful not to cast her eyes upon Sal - for she should never look upon her visage with ethereal regard. "Do we have something to trace this..."