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Kismet ruled them all. Each D'Angelo seemed destined to be chased by ghosts. Maybe it was the fervor in which they worshiped their Gods, or maybe it was a simple curse. Some D'Angelo's could have passed for saints, but many were like the ghostly white female who approached the young pup. A sinner, the darkest kind of devils. The old female moved carefully, the day was cold and her aching joints had not been kind the past evening. The puppy was hard at work constructing a snow pup, and Misery couldn't help but grin at the sight.
She looks like Jude. Damian's voice, quiet and gently sinister. The ghostly girl did vaguely resemble her long dead son. Light and pretty, but Jude's eyes had been the color of blood. The skinny wolf offered a smile to the girl and folded her hands over the head of her slick black cane. "Very good little snow wolf there, lil'bit. Is it for anyone in particular?"
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