Blood-Feud

Altered States

"Women always worry about things that men forget; men always worry about things women remember."

- Albert Einstein

Stoic well beyond reproach and as thoroughly versed as a master vampiress of her sage experience could possibly have been with most any and every variation of demonology currently known to have existed, Grace managed to remain calm and detached while she watched the ravenetic demoness seated across from her as the same demoness watched her in return with cool yet utterly unreserved and calculated care while she continued to polish one after another of her many long and without doubt well honed double edged razor sharp blades in the outer room of the home that had been acquired for this particular operation as a base camp of sorts.

Or nest, she mused with a faint nod to the particular flavor of demonae across from her who were known to lay their spawn in well hidden and vastly overprotected aviaries to be raised as a flocked pack not entirely unlike that of their lycan cousins who may have done the same not so long ago.

Where they differed rather dramatically was that while most lycans of any known flavor had become far more civilized with most everything that they did, ravenetic demons retained much if not all of their original voracious and extremely well practiced and rather tenaciously vicious tendencies.

If there was blood to be spilled, what they did not drink their fair share of, they bathed in while they devoured most any form and flavor of meat down to the very bone no matter what the prey may have been that had gotten them there.

To a fault they were all Norse-like athletic women over six feet tall with hair tightly braided that reached to their waist in a mane like shower not entirely unlike that of their relentless and powerful blood witch leader Nichoelia Niku Danubi Radu.

Perhaps in response to having been required to wear clothing while among their more civilized mortal neighbors, this particular flock of ravenettes had apparently resorted to short leather combat skirts and strapped leather tops with boots that rose to cover their knees with subtle studded straps bound tightly around their legs and thighs that connected the entire ensemble to the high collar neck wrap as if in a leather web of sorts.

All that and the wrist to upper arm wraps that left their shoulders bear more often than not served to distract most anyone who may have had the utter misfortune to have seen them from the retractable clawed nails of each finger and thumb on both hands.

Most confused their large folded bat like wings for a black cape until they were fully extended when flight was called for and they had not yet morphed into their more common raven form that was far more vicious hawk or eagle than common black vulture.

The owners, long past having cared one way or the other were buried in the basement where they would remain until someone else decided to remove what little remained of them if they were ever discovered.

"Why put them away...?" Grace finally offered to break the stare-down duel with a bored sigh.

She had noticed that the demoness appeared to have been setting all of her sheathed weapons to one side in a neat pile upon a cloth which had been spread out to wrap them.

Not that something of her demonic kind needed such utensils to do what she was fully capable of with her own built in claws, it was clear that she was separating herself from most if not all of the tools of her trade.

The demoness did not reply other than to have sat back and crossed her legs while her intertwined hands rested over her bare stomach as she simply watched and continued to wait.