#congrats! you have achieved...hungry racoon in your closet

[dxsole]

That would comfort her; Iona was never entirely sure which category she was meant to be sorted into. Mankind had called them beasts, damned harpies that picked at the fly-infested corpses of their brothers on the battlefield. But did she not walk on two feet like them? Did she not think like them? Did she not speak to them in their own tongue?

"We are very old." As old as the crumbling structures back in her homeland. She remembered when those temples were erected, when they were occupied, and when they were torn down. Birth, life, and destruction all in one memory. "I am a daughter of Nyx. We were the ravens of the gods." She always liked that particular description. Those big, black birds always seemed so regal in their perches— very befitting for the children of a goddess. "Now I have no one. But I still must feed." Clearly, as she keeps gnawing at that hand. She bites through it like cheese until she's at the wrist, snapping the bone there just as easily as the rest.

She could polish off the entire body within three hours without even having to loosen a button. Her hunger was neverending and never perfectly satisfied. "I have not heard of a tupilaq." Although the word was very fun to say (not that her expression changed from the unblinking calm). As she chews thoughtfully, she thinks about what this all may mean. He is alone as well. A creature like her, according to him. And he seemed to kill many people. She did not know yet what drove him specifically, but she gets his point before he even makes the offer.

It's been like this for centuries, even with the few killers who stumbled upon her. They marveled. Some attempted to cage her— the difference between them and this tupilaq was obvious though; he didn't seem to be slipping into madness the longer he spoke to her. No hint of anger or mania in his voice. No twitching of the eye, no shakiness in his breathing. He was immune to her.

Very interesting. "...I do live on the streets...but I am not made for soft and warm." No, she had been born and lived in a dark, cold cave until she finally gathered enough courage to step into the light. "If you wish to provide lodging," There's another bite and chew. "a closet will do."

"And I can promise obedience. And I can promise loyalty...to an extent." She's at the elbow now, her neck twisting to accommodate the round end of the ulna before there's a resounding crunch. "If you are ever killed, it would be my honor to eat you."

"Hello." He approached her like one would a wild animal— she's seen it countless times before. It wasn't their fault; it was inevitable that everyone who saw what she did would assume she might bite if they ventured too close. Luckily for everyone, she never sinks her teeth into living flesh.

He does assure her that he isn't trying to take her dinner and her grip on the corpse loosens. "Then for that, I am grateful. I am very hungry."

Her eyes were the first indicator to most that she wasn't quite right; dark sclera with copper-pink pupils that seemed to catch on to even the most minuscule amounts of light to flash like a wolf's in the night. The second indicator was always her voice; flat affect regardless of the situation, almost tinny. Her dear, celestial mother didn't want her daughters to perfectly mimic Prometheus' creations after all.

While he assessed her, continuing to look her over like a prize horse, Iona took the brief moment of silence to bite a finger off their mutual friend, chewing thoughtfully and quietly crunching through the delicate bones, eventually swallowing it down without so much as a blink.

He puts his own fingers close to her mouth and she allows it, if only because his vibrant, living flesh would be unappetizing. "I am not a thing. I am a Keres." And it's not a surprise he's yet to meet another of her kind— after so many years, all of her sisters have died off. For some, the old Greeks knew how to properly kill them and destroyed them in their prime.

For others, the fear of venturing out of their forgotten cavern proved to be their downfall, leaving them to starve and decay, one consuming the other until none were left. Iona supposes she's lucky to have decided to brave the light of humanity instead of staying stuck in the darkness.

"There are none like me left." A sad sentiment but one she has grown to accept after all these centuries. "...I am not afraid but I also do not know who you are. Perhaps I am meant to be afraid." Her dark eyes dart to the corpse. "Was I not meant to eat them? You left them to the elements...to decay. You should have known the scavengers would come for them. The flies, the rats, and me."