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Despite being frail and incredibly small physically, the white lady was blissfully unafraid of the world around her. One did not survive the things she had without coming to one of two conclusions - either being blessed, or cursed - and Misery as of her later years, had decided she was blessed. Born in darkness, to He Who Walks Behind the Rows, the dark god Tak, she had been born to evil. But age had turned her, twisted her, and she stood a gleaming ghost, basking in the redemptive light of Ankh. But her heart would always belong to the dark one. Her family thought her holy and redeemed - but she was blacker than ever, deep down. But Misery had simply decided after surviving numerous pyres mostly unscathed - one of which she had willingly thrown herself on to save the silver necklace around her throat - she was invulnerable to death. One day Tak would crawl from the dark skies and he would tear her to pieces - but otherwise, Misery was simply certain she could not die.
The pretty lady before her eyes is adorned. Scar marks in an intricate spiral, earrings in her perked ears, Misery found them all lovely. Her own tattoo - a branded scar in the mark of a triskele, stood out in sharp shades of malachite against her white fur. The only jewelry she wore was a slightly rounded inverted cross - grabbing things from burning bodies tended to warp, shockingly. Her left hand still had the burn-scar in the shape of the cross. Sometimes she stared at it for hours in a kind of dark trance. Go play with the coyotes, Misery. Maybe you can come see me soon. Beloved Damian, taunting her into death defying feats. Maybe it was her own suicidal desires - he stood beyond the veil and she so missed him - but she was certain she could walk into the heart of the territory and be fine. Most coyotes weren't fond of tearing old ladies to shred...at least she thought so. Besides, Kaena, the beautiful Queen of the coyotes was a friend. "Ah, probably be best not to make the coyotes mad. They don't like the wolves." Idle chatter really, what coyote would like a wolf? "The name's Misery D'Angelo." A faint, yellow-toothed grin offered as she studied the pretty lady. "So just what on this godforsaking world has you so down?" Simple, genuine curiosity. It had been a long time since she had walked the lands - it would do best to make friends.