It hadn't been a very long journey, but emerging from hell was always a task that took a vast amount of energy. On earth, Lamia used her sense to hone in on her target. She didn't want to wait until he was asleep, however, she would wait until he drifted off to show herself. Slithering through his quarters in her slender snake form, black scales slid down her back flickering indigo with the light of the moon above. A black tongue darted out, tasting the air a few moments before deciding it was safe to move. She was looking for a distinctive smell, and this was the best form to use to do so.<br/><br/>When she finally found his cot, she could've smirked. "Perfect." Sliding over rocks she came in contact with she curled up on a few boulders nearby and waited. Soon her prey would drift to sleep...<br/><br/><i>In her head, there rang a voice. It was omnipresent and seemed like it would be forever. "You had better return with that rune Lamia." her master urged, using that soft yet threatening voice she feared. She would never tell him that it made her heart race with adreneline, and not the sort she liked. The succubus was quick to get excited with the prospect of danger, but not when his magic was so tightly laced with hers. It could, indeed, be described as fear though he probably already knew. If she found that rune, he would let her free from his shackles and she would no longer be his puppet. Her power would be her own to use.</i><br/><br/>Discreetly, she linked her powers with Dorian's mind and then it happened. Darkness fell through darkness, the dream world setting into his mind. Soon he would realize he had no control. Also, while she existed within his world, he wouldn't wake easily.<br/><br/><i>"Playtime..."</i>she uttered in her own mind, her physical form dissolving as another manifested in Dorian's dream realm.<br/><br/>She brought him to a place where she could feed off the negativity and darkness, and hopefully nobody would discover them. The graveyard was gratifying as silence engulfed it in the form of shadows and negative space. Negative places lured her in as such and empowered her. Looming over the graveyard was a statue of an angel, arms outstretched to mourn the many losses of the dreadful place. Dorian was bound beneath it, shadows binding his wrists like ropes against a statue, descending from it's wings. In front of him was a marble path...<br/><br/>The sillhoutte of the woman drew closer to him. The sound of leather boots clicked on the marble in a constant rhythm along with the sway of the woman's steps. The boots themselves reached to her thigh. A small bit of flesh showed at the top of her thigh before the short material of her dress took over. The blackness hugged her curves as though it was glued to her skin, a small portion of her cleavage baring at her well endowed chest. Her skin was extremely pale, porcelain. As if you could carve cold white marble and breathe life into it. It flickered nearly white under the light of the moon above her.<br/><br/>A small nightly breeze drifted across the area, tangling her shoulder-blade length hair in a scarlett web lightly across her face, then fell flat to her shoulders. She was a beautiful creature, really, and it was odd to see her in such a negative area. But this was where she found most of her pleasures, be it assassination, murder or silence. Her mahogany eyes showed a tad bit of amusement as she the path towards him, glancing at her quaint business material that lay chained up, parallel to her path.<br/><br/>"Why, hello Dorian." Her voice was silky. Thick, as though molasses and other sweet things could move through the air. She ran her tongue over his pearly fangs, smirking as she stopped in front of him, eyes peering into his, as though they were seeking to pierce they very depths of his soul.