Misery could only let out a soft laugh at Sal's antics. The girl was utterly adorable, and sweet. And she looks just like him. Damian, forever the inner voice of her darker thoughts. Misery was determined to like, and love the little girl that eagerly pranced about. Her appearance had nothing to do with her personality. Damian had looked like Tak, but he hadn't damned her. Damian had saved her. He should have known better than anyone that looks meant little. But she knew he had his own vendetta's against Salvaged. A lover turned enemy was never a good memory.
"Why don't you show me around? Go a little slow though, kleine blume, your oma is not as fast as she once was." Misery nudged her bad leg with her cane slightly, a rueful grin on her face. Speed had once been the very little wolves only real fighting asset, but Meth had taken that. Misery had adapted though, she found powerful, adoring creatures like Lark to fight her battles. And she loved him for that. Misery fought her wars with quiet words, not weapons. God was with her though, so Misery didn't let her wounds or frailty keep her from a good bit of fighting.
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