Oded | Naamah
Succubi were unstable, insatiable creatures and this one was no different. Her need and impatience oozed off her like a thick, malevolent fog. She was wrapped in flickering, frenetic energy and she darted ahead, but not so far that he lost sight of her. Clearly she understood his purpose here. He would protect her, of course, for the Cirque.
The quarters were hung with restless spirits and broken dreams, though it was clear the mortals had put work into making them appear fashionable for their clientele. Naamah darted forward to the shadows and then came the invitation, but to what? Her needs were different than his. Oded sheathed his sword and drew out his knife instead, slipping into the shadows without a sound.
Lambs? He frowned, reaching out to grasp her wrist. We are to seek out the source of magic, not amusement, little sister. Touching her yielded no images. His own kind were not as forthcoming as mortals. What are you playing at? What is it you desire?