Coveting Strength(Thara/Mat)

The journey to his manor would not be a difficult one, nor hard to find truthfully. For as she made her intentions known in the world to seek out the Patriach, it was almost like a gravitational pull that called to her. Despite never having been there she could easily know the direction, the winds themselves whispering to her. Fragments of ancient demonic tongue which only the eldest of demons may know, for as she walked through the Nation of Thoughts the intoxicating presence of The Patriarch reached out to her.

By the time she arrived, she would feel the innate effects of being in his proximity. Her innate demonic desires bubbling inside of her, beckoning her to follow them. Every step serving to further ignite that fire which may be inside of her. All that remained for her to do was to reach out towards the door, and knock. The outside of it a restrained, yet well kept appearance which lacked all the flair that younger demons oh so loved.

But it was clear that what she desired, what she craved, was behind the door.

When she opened the doors to his lair, there was a rush of power. An intoxication more potent then the strongest drugs one may acquire on earth. Furthermore, the house held an almost regal but restrained appearance, a long purple carpet which led to a staircase. The area opening into a lobby which seemed to hold various artifacts of different cultures, couches and tables adorning the room. It seemed the owner of the house was a man of taste if not a collector of artifacts.

However, the man she searched for would be lounging on a couch. The purple and white toga he wore lazily drapped around him, whilest he held a goblet. As he tilted the cup filled with some type of deep red liquid towards his mouth, drinking deep of it, before slowly lowering it. A pleased hum escaping his as his head turned to look upon the intruder upon his domain. Both of his eyes possessing blackened sclera, and crimson irises. A soft glow to them as he spoke.

"I felt the call of a young demon." His voice was that of honey, silky smooth despite the baritone behind it. A dry humor to his voice as he observed the woman. For her however, his presence seemed to reach out to her placing at ease. Or rather it would provided she choose not to resist or possessed sufficient will to deny his presence. As he lowered the goblet to place fully on the table in front of him, his gazed focused utterly on her.

"So tell me, young demon, why you have so sought The Devourer."

Walking through the manor of the patriarch, Thara found herself drawn in by the nigh regal appearance of the furniture. Heading into the lobby, her eyes found themselves spellbound by the artifacts from various cultures of the world. It nearly reminded her of the decorations at her own home, albeit his held a certain type of humility and class. Admittedly, hers was overtly opulent, as was befitting an existence of avarice.

The covetous demon touched one of the artifacts out of curiosity before once more feeling an elusive yet intoxicating allure, encouraging her to seek out it's origin. Thara felt that ever familiar presence, turning to the man lounging on his couch.

His aura was unlike any other demon she had met so far within the realm of Vicara. It lacked the imposing nature of a demon who wished to strike fear. His was a calming embrace that attracted one to the source. Most would perhaps feel offended at a random demon entering their home without permission but he seemed to take it in stride. Was this what he desired? Had he been the one guiding her to his home? Was it a trap? Would she die? Steeling herself from the thought momentarily, she would approach him, gazing into those arcane eyes. She was wavering within his presence, her will hardly resisting his pull. Still, if nothing else her eyes were resolute.


"I have sought you out, devourer, because I desire strength. From the mental realm to the physical realm, I wish to step into the glory of my existence as a Danava of Avarice."

A bark of laughter erupted from the ancient demon, his roaring voice growing in tone and volume until it filled the halls. In this moment it seemed his voice bounced upon the walls, surrounding and embracing her in it's demonic warmth. It seemed he was amused by what she said, or perhaps the boldness to step direcrtly into the jaws of the beast. The young demons where always the most fun to play with, to observe, and see their growth in real time. The Danava of Avarice. What a curious little bird she was.

"Tell me, demoness, have you ever heard this saying." The deep rolling voice of his spoke, his head leaning back in his chair as he allowed his tongue to flick out to the side. Unnaturally long as it sought to lick up a droplet which hung at the corner of his mouth. His eyes not even on her, as he stared at the ceiling. "Gratitude looks to the Past and love to the Present; fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead.” He'd quote the saying, something he quite enjoyed before finally turning his heavy gaze upon her.

"What a beautiful thing you are, a young demon whom has cast aside all reason and thought to chase their ambitions. I love it!" His voice roared with another laugh which seemed to penetrate into the world, seeking to worm it's way into her very core. As the air it's self seemed to shake from his laugh. "What is your name, so I may take note of it? Speak it loudly, and clearly, with all the passion you can muster. Yell it! Put it into this world! Speak!"

The world almost seemed to distort around his words, as he lifted the goblet to his lips once more drinking deep of the crimson liquid. Before holding it out to her, waiting for her reply.