Sorry for delay! And yes. Misery likes to thug flowers. 
She's gangster that way! She's also in optime form yaaay two feets!
The old female knew well of figments and the ghosts that could haunt a tortured mind. The ghost of her dead lover, the Crimson King of Chimera lived within her. His voice was as much a part of her as her breath and her heart. Powerful footsteps could be heard and her sharp ears swiveled to pick out the direction of the sounds. Some of her senses failed her - her right in particular was spotty, but she could still hear sharply. Her golden green eyes widened faintly as she looked at the beast that approached, and she could only hope his intentions were good. Misery was as small and thin as a luperci could get, and this beast seemed destined to be a Goliath. "'Ello there, big fellow."
The female's gaze was cautious as she crossed her hands over the sleek black cane she carried, the tip firmly crushing the offending flower into the earth. The fellow looked harmless enough, he didn't seem to be of an unctuous visage. He had the body of a creature used to surviving, and she could respect that. Fat, lazy creatures were normally of little interest to the old female. It was the wraith-thin survivors, the scarred big beasts that fascinated her. The road weary always had the greatest stories to tell.
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