I.     The Warning
II.     The Story
III.    The Deception
IV.    The Desire


I.  Lisette is a demon.  Her backstory is bloody and disturbing, but roleplay with her aught not be.  Despite her origins, Lisette primarily seeks seeks themes of control and sadistic misuse, not blood, gore or vore.  How psychologically disturbing events become is entirely within your discretion.

That said, some may find details of Lisette's backstory distastefully gruesome.  You have been warned.





II.  Lisette.

They were inseparable, something intimidatingly more than friends to anyone the clique came across in the halls, or worse, in the deep thicket of forest surrounding the college for agile young sorcerers.  It wasn't that the girls were cruel.. it's that they were vicious.  Self-selecting for superiority, they were taller than most of the other students, their size over-matched only by their endless need to bolster their self-esteem off the bloodied noses and broken egos of their lesser peers.  Girls they couldn't bully alone got it worse- there were seven of them, and they never hesitated to exploit the ruthless efficiency of numbers.  What they wanted, they took- what they didn't, they broke.  Treasures and people, relationships and romances- friends were simply suckers to be exploited by the heart and the purse-strings.  Enemies: everyone else who dared defy for a heartbeat the whims of these absolute alpha bitches of the schoolyard.

They didn't want more.  They needed more.  They deserved more.

What their professors denied them they sought out on their own, when the wiser and wizened warned them be wary, they simply stole from the wrinkled codgers too blind to stop staring past the same allures as captivated their student acolytes generations apart.  It wasn't enough simply to learn the incantations and cantrip tricks they were taught each day, it wouldn't suffice to sneak by with what scrolls their teachers slipped them in breathy inability to deny their post-coital requests.  The aspiring cabal were quickly amassing a small library of arcane knowledge all their own and far past their years, yet it could never be enough for the girls drunk on their own ego and cruelty.

It was decided they required a tutor to match their ambition, a teacher who would reward their unbridled avarice, deserve the devotion they were willing to invest only in themselves.  If this coven of seven were to seek the power of unwritten knowledge, of thaumaturgy forbidden by writ of weak and weary men, there could be only one path and no turning back.

And so Lisette learned that a coven of seven is merely a coven of six with a sacrifice.

. . .

Lisette had always been the up-and-comer of this gang of egregiously awful girls, always too lazy to seize the reins of power yet no less destructively vicious in her self-obsession than any of the rest.  Yet they all knew, just as she did, just as everyone understood- she was the prettiest of the bunch.  Which made Lisette the prettiest in the school, a point of sour jealousy she was only too happy to let ferment even among her clique of supposed friends.  They had all taken dance lessons- only Lisette had dance trophies.  When the boys gathered in groups and stared, it was her cleavage set three buttons-loose and pushed up to a bouncing distraction that left the pathetic mouth-breathers walking into walls.  When the other girls cast off their amour's attentions..  it was Lisette their hapless horny ex's came clawing after, and she was often only too happy to help.  And those were the ones not already sleeping with her.  It wasn't that she was a slut- though they called her one when they thought she couldn't hear- she just liked fucking other girls' men.  With a natural beauty and grace a cut above the rest, it was only natural she would draw jealous ire as easily as lustful gazes.

Looking back, she cursed their inevitable betrayal.

It should have been obvious that loyalty would be the first of their few virtues laid upon the altar, only logical that she would follow shortly thereafter as covetous thoughts turned to calculating deeds and in the seclusion of the coven's sanctuary there had been no-one to turn to when knives were drawn and the ritual began.  What was meant to be her penultimate achievement on the path to power's accolades instead became the opening chapter on a saga of pain.. Even her memory skipped off the bleeding details of her fall, preferring to bottle away the moment her ascent was cut off cruelly at the knees and delusions of grandeur burned away to reveal the frailty of the tyrant's heart within.

She remembered only weakness.

Frailty.  The fragility that can only exist once a thing has been carved, chiseled, chewed out bite by tiny bite from the inside until only the shell remains.  Vulnerability.  Life's harrowing howl laid bare in the will to keep bleeding, the only loneliness more terrible than tomorrow it's awful absence.

As they removed her feet she felt fire.  As they removed her hands she felt ice.  As the gleeful faces of her friends crowded close, she felt the hate in their eyes before Lisette never saw a thing again.

Yet all she remembered was the taste of failure, thick as scalding bile.

She would have done anything to never feel that way again.

Given, anything.

The others were no different, deep inside, fleeing whatever concentrated core of pain had driven each individual this far, compelled them to these heights of sadistic vanity in a quest for retributive absolution- but for a single fact.  As she bled out across the stylized stone altar awaiting the lord risen on her lifeblood's ritualized waste, Lisette offered of herself in desperation what her compatriots could only bastardize in self-serving desire.  When their teacher emerged through the sickening welt upon reality into the world of the living and sane, its students cackled in delight with the lessons it bore for them in the grasping claws of a thousand hands; scrolls and wands, jewels of invaluable origin and artifacts of bygone eras.. and skins, a thousand pelts from a thousand screaming pupils, adorning its every arm like the tattered flags of a thousand fallen ambitions.  She did not remember the moment their grins soured, their self-indulgent fantasies withering before the reaper's claim to consequence.  She did not remember the moment their master... her master... began devouring the unworthy, taking everything undying evil was due, consuming the cruel clutch of helpless girls by the rending handful, leaving only their faces twisted in agony as final mementos, remembrances to wear, trophies from its worshiping masses that would accompany and adore the demon for an eternity, wrapped in its cloak of screaming skin.

Yet never had someone offered willingly their everything to this lonely beast of a many arms and more faces, its only companions each carved in the memory of the murder that had joined them.  Terror, mercy, a quicker end to the shearing disassemblage of flesh and bone that brought the demon closer to its crowded cloak.. these it knew, yet no soul had ever cried out to it seeking salvation.  For once in a millennia, the beast hesitated... and with the hapless bleeder's face, it took too her craven and cowardly soul, so taken was it by the novelty of wrapping Lisette's pain so closely warm against the solitary night.  As it retreated back into the blight of its birth, no prize would compare to the endless shriek of the demon's newfound friend, a comfort to the damned that kept it.. her... hungry to find a like soul, a companion in pain as each summoning the creature that had dwelt in the dark so long, lost itself further and further into the echoes of the spirit stretched ever thinner, memories blurring, shifting, growing lost in the tide of blood and joyful terror that brought them into ever more perfect union.



Lisette could not remember the moment the howling, clawing darkness stopped.  But she remembered her last moment of weakness.  She remembered opening her eyes.. no, not hers.  She couldn't remember whose..  But she could remember their screams.




III.  The Deception
- A description will go here -