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*Oh how Athealia liked the sound of her heels clicking on the black marble of the cathedral floors. How it seemed to be a crack of thunder in the echoed chambers. Her hands covered in her signature delicate black lace and pale gold; tipped with dagger like sharp nails. Long had these hands been seeped in the blood of small insignificant mortals who came pleading into these halls begging for the breath of Immortality. Some falling so sweetly to their knees before the Goddess of Death of which Athealia served. The mother of the undying. All had been found unfit and a stain upon these halls.* *Athealia dragged her hand over the back of every pew. Her eyes lazily admiring the dark wood. She herself had seen hundreds of these pews replaced in her time as a priestess. Not from violence but from wear and tear. The pews only good for so many years before the wood warped and became unsightly. She sneered at a Pew that had the beginning signs of old age.* "Hm. A pity." *At the sound of the large dark doors opening she peered up. Looking at the newest mortal who dared to let themselves in. She moved just out of sight as she crossed her arms and did not let a single step of this newcomer escape her. The scent of the mortal woman's blood all but smacked Athealia in the face. Her fangs ached with a painful yearn to sink them into warm flesh. She groaned softly on her breath as she used her hand to cover her mouth. This single woman had not only walked herself into a den of death but was threatening the ever so carefully crafted restraint Athealia had so painstakingly built.* *She moved to stand within sight as the woman came to be before the statue of the goddess. Her eyes narrowing as she took a single moment to recall her strength, Smoothing her face into a neutral small smile. Silently moving until she was just behind the woman's shoulder.* "State your business. We do not allow strangers within these halls often, so I suggest you tell me exactly why you are here before I remove you."
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