http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u66/TrinityDemonia/Ravens world/AdultAgatha2.jpg "Thick, inky tendrils fell coiled about her face like writhing serpents. The frigid fingers of November rustled the ebony locks that docked at her lower back, dots of snow placing kisses upon her ghostly palor.Agatha knew that the Reverends would say that it was the glacial breath of the Gods, just another pox upon a community that was rife with sin. However the gelid weather may have crippled the other people and stunted the harvests, it did not even induce a shiver within her waifish form. Her acromatic eyes had caused great fear and rumor amongst the townsfolk, and would have earned her a death shortly following a birth that extiguished the life of her forebearer if the wrath of the deities themselves hadn't wrought the land in terrible hardship. Agatha was borne of great purpose, but even as she walked the cobblestone path toward the townsquare in contemplation, she had not a theory to this higher calling, her destiny was unclear as her milky irises. So why did the Gods intervene? She beheld the impoverished peoples, humble stores that were halted in construction because of a lack of materials and workers. The path most traveled led to a tiny fane, which was located at the furthest outreaches of the town almost like a shameful secret. A community stifled of will and expression, the peoples journied the briared path, paying no mind of how the thorns ravaged their church attire, clutching but the last fraying threads of hope to their bosom. For most, optimism was dead and interred in a Beggar's grave. Upon arriving to their seats, the people would ask forgiveness of their transgressions, and pray for freedom from the shackles of sin. They hoped that their earnest confessions would not fall upon deaf ear, and grant them favor with the Gods so that nothing more would befall their families.Agatha showed disdain for her fellow townspeople for her heart was black and besmirched of the Devil's paw, and it was her namesake afterall. The start of a wicked grin played upon her black laquered lips, whilst she mused of malicious acts that would further torment those who were unfortunate enough to dwell within the flimsy walls. Agatha Disdain delighted in the sufferings of the people, it was like a drug that gave her a high unmatched by anything else in her ordinary life. She was but an ever devouring maw for this drug, greedily taking within herself the pain and sorrows of those around her. She would eavesdrop at the tavern, where most had been given false courage off of the drinks they sipped, and divulged their problems for the world to hear. Even now as she stood over the noxious contents of her bubbling brew, she found it within herself to let a scornful cackle surge up her throat.Agatha had weakened them, and for some she had severed their faith in the Gods. This brought her unparalleled joy, if one as cold as her was capable of that emotion. She had squashed all but dreams of children, their innocence as toxious as the poisons that seeped through her own malignant veins."