▌▌infernue
► That's new.
She's not sure why or how, but this is new and it's not new in a sense that she's never caught sight of one before, but new in a sense that she's never caught one while she wasn't dreaming. There was never a time to be out of harm's way when you lived in a city of débauche, they were everywhere in France during the times she'd spent there.
Most of them exuded a soft scent, that was when they were using their powers on you at least. Hayeon had come in contact with just two personally, and it hadn't been in good terms. They'd been there to get rid of her, she didn't take to it kindly, and it didn't end just as well either. She was the last one to take a swift of the intoxicating smell they used to lure humans in when they fell in a deep slumber.
What her mind wondered the most was how old was she, how much of her power was she aware of, most of them did not figure it out quickly. Even born Lycans had to wait until the newborn showed signs of getting the werewolve genes before deciding that it had done so. Especially when it was an hybrid child, the more she thought about it, the more she was realising that she could have been born differently. But she'd come out, and as her father had loved to retell the tale of how she'd first gotten her claws--she'd become a terrifying baby when she first smelled his dripping blood. But it hadn't been anything bad, just a knife wound, quickly healed.
Not that her nine months old self could have known that.
But the matter was no to that, although it was a pleasant memory. The matter was to the woman who stood in front of her desk and that she wanted to know why she was in the parlor. She did not look like the type to want to taint her skin with a permanent mark.
"How old are you?" She looked no older than the required age to be able to do so as well. Although her question would have been more directed to how many years the succubus had, not the young girl in front of her. But she wouldn't just around letting other creatures know what she was that easily.
