When the great bull murdered the moon the malformed dementia eaten dreams within spilled out of the wound. Among the oceans of salt blood where the moons murderers would drown dream coalesced into will and She was born in the image of the strongest personality among all the new demons. She divided the rest into seven tribes and granted them dominion over the parasites of the new world. These days shes a shadow of herself, broken by the self imposed expectations she could never live up to; she paid the serpent to convince her the she was dead. Her name was forgotten by all including herself. Now the corpse of She rest in the demon built city on the moons open wounds where they still worship and pray that one day their mother would rule once more. Pandemonium regnat, hail to She on high, and hail to dead Re.
Me and my snakes shinnanigans
- She/They
Minors do not interact. Just be respectful and we’ll probably get on fine.