She was beautiful. She was treacherous. Her heart was as black as her slick hide, without the pattern of red spots.
In ancient Top, this salamander lived and played. Her games went further than the proper ways. Much, much further. Past death, again and again.
Artwar, biowar, transformation: Plagues. She was one of the agents of the creation of Strangevirus, a mover an enabler a seducer. Body rotting in a by-blow of a struggle between the early Virus and the other clades of Top, she subsumed herself into the Virus. Fragmented, shattered, destroyed, dead-past-dead.
Later on, she was Sosael. Later on, she was Atazael. There were many names. Many deaths.
Or so she claimed, when she was torn from within the butterfly. So the story goes.
Or is there?
Recently she has seemed to change. She has displayed signs of pliable submission and care for others. She has offtimes taken on the aspect of something that belongs in Charm: wrapped in shining vinyl, or even made of it, wearing a mask that bears a faint smile. Variously, this is attributed to the work of Celiel, Haruki, Reverend, XOR, Theeka, to time spent in the love-tubs of the Briar Patch Correctional Institute, to midnight midday dances in Strangecharm... Something may be healing inside her ancient, broken heart at last.
She still wraps herself in ominousness, in omens and darkness; her reputation still has some truth. Ever is she glad to serve your need to tear something apart; she cares neither for her body or for another death. But she does not seek suffering as much, not now.
ibael was the first mask to change; it has spread to this older memory now.
She has stopped reminding everyone how much she lies.