Asmod
Owner of Saints and Sinners
The night was dark, the moon full, as was the club. Old werewolves, calm ones padded through the warehouse fully furred. A faun speaks to a human, watching her blush. Bees huddle in a booth, being too loud but not loud enough.
And above it all and yet right in the centre is Asmod, dancing, beat throbbing through her, one tail wound stiffly around a stockinged leg, the our twirling like a streamer. Fire dancers move on stage with the band, some heavy rock thing she picked for the night.
And above it all and yet right in the centre is Asmod, dancing, beat throbbing through her, one tail wound stiffly around a stockinged leg, the our twirling like a streamer. Fire dancers move on stage with the band, some heavy rock thing she picked for the night.