As a child, this was not an aspect of her mother’s inheritance she had dabbled in. Indeed, the urges were there - had been since before she was born. However, it was not until that evening that the adolescent hybrid had truly let loose to such a degree. She was angry, beyond it. The anger bellowed from a place she could not pinpoint. It ravaged her every cell. The room had been filled with numerous demons who had rebelled against Lucifer, wanting nothing more than to harness the girl’s power for their own personal gain. Alexandrea had drained them all, dry. Blood dripping from her mouth in a disturbing fashion, she allowed her golden glowing eyes to scan over the sea of dead bodies she had created.
Of course, this was not her first time baring witness to such a scene, but it surely had been different. This was bred from pure violence, an unquenchable thirst for carnage and blood. The wrath coursing through her veins so sinfully had sought this carnage, but it was not enough to keep it at bay. She was still irrefutably hostile. The whole room quaked with her fury, her unrelenting power. The whispers of static, angel radio in her head yelled at her, informing her that she was an abomination, an outright sin against nature, against God. This was not news to her, but the voices - this time, were so loud. Infuriated, she raked her hands through her chestnut locks which resembled the fire that burned within her - a fire unable to be extinguished. Her gaze diverted from the bodies as turns to find her beloved father walking into the expansive front room. She needed to let it out, for the longer the anger festered, the more it raddled her bones, boiled her tainted blood. That anger merged with an insidious euphoria she could not quantify. Usually, his presence would illicit a soothing calm. This was not the case then. In that moment, in only fueled her irascibility. Snarling, her hands balled into fists. She was heated, high, a hellion like no other.
“Dad, go away!” She yelled, her voice booming throughout every inch of the place they called home. It was the first time she did not want him near - her own unpredictability breeding this newfound need for isolation. She was afraid of what she might do, and while she had never wished her father harm before, now - she was quite literally out for blood, and the consequences, she shuddered to think about. “Now!”
Alexandrea had no idea how this would turn, what damage she would begin to do. But every molecule in her craved destruction, in a way she had never experienced. A stray rogue demon made the fatal mistake of entering the home then, and instantly, her attention no longer remained on ushering her father away. In a matter of seconds, the demon was thrown against the wall by telekinesis. In a fit of rage, the demon’s poor, unfortunate vessel became ripped to shreds without her even having to touch him. In a blur, she is at the demon’s throat, ripping into him with her bear teeth and draining him of whatever blood remained. It was as if pouring gasoline on an unkempt fire. It only made her affliction worse.
When the demolished remnants of his body fell to the ground, the whispers grew louder in her head - as did everything else. Her eyes return to her father, eyes glowing even brighter, her clothing splattered in sanguine fluid. Raising a hand at her father, she flings him through the entryway. The sound of the large wooden door which blocked the entryway off seemed to quiet the voices, if only for a moment. As her violence persists, she felt better. This was a bad sign. She had to get him to go. She just had to, before it got worse.
