bionicfemme

Echos from the past barely reach my ears as I descend into darkness. I ride on unfurling a different colored banner, speaking in riddles.

This is the art of war, in which all things are fair.

Dark powers are birthed from the ability to change one's manner and speech at will, to coincide with the thoughts of the desired. To embody them.

A summoning.

A Familiar.

I bear a crest of the house of never-was.