Heartstring

Many demons who rise to these ranks are home grown in their own special little hellfires. This one was no exception, but she herself would prove to be quite exceptional.

Naomi was one of the special individuals who had all the makings of a high ranking demon on birth, but none of the apparent makings of such. In fact, she was such a recluse that she decided to run away from home...and realm, in order to find a place that would prove to be less intimidating.

The realm of Earth was apparently her location of choice.

Growing up, and providing for herself with all the neat little tricks and spells that could get her by, she found a niche in working with threads and became a well known seamstress even when she was young. She worked on everything from clothing to, eventually, body modification after a time, tattoos and body stitches and the like. Things were looking up as she worked her way to the status of a young, talented woman, when everything literally went up in flames.

It took them years, time, and lots of bodies, but Naomi's time to come home had finally arrived. An AWOL demon was quite a worrisome thing, and there was no guarantee that someone even as tame as her wouldn't attract some unwanted attention at some point. So, the conclusion was that, without anything to hold dear in the land of humans, she would come home with little complaints.

This was quite the misinformed conclusion.

Demons sent to find her started disappearing. Encounters went without further report and sightings of her, still roaming free, were flooding in daily. Naomi was finding her stride as a demon, now, an unfortunate turn of events that left her a seeming monster that could no longer call any place home.

When she was finally captured, with the aid of a few instated archdemons and a couple grunts to act as bait, they could see what Naomi was starting to become. A form so long hidden beneath the guise of humanity was breaking out and morphing with her fear and anger. Twisted skin protruding into thrones and horns, flesh writhing and groping for food, once bright, innocent eyes now clouded and empty, seeing nothing but foe and food.

To seal her again and bring her back to some kind of stability, they used her own trademark against her, hacking off the excess and sewing her form shut back into a literal skeleton of what she once was. There was no guarantee that she would ever be the same again, let alone open her eyes again.

Time passed, and her body was continually monitored for any signs of progress. Eventually, one inquisitive nurse tugged lightly at the line of stitches that ran from spot where her mouth used to be down over her belly, and watched in horror as a numerous flood of fleshy appendages erupted to claim him.

Upon absorbing its latest meal, Naomi's body immediately filled out once more, still slight and underfed, but once again functioning. Restrained, and sealed once more, she found what had become of her rampage on the plane above, and slowly came to accept her place as the demon that she was, and as the monster she was born to forever be.

The decision was reached, years later, to place her in the position of Arch Demon, namely of Lust. Why the decision had been reached to put her there is unknown, but it could be attributed to her longing to find some modicum of perfection outside of her own twisted self image, and closer to the life she had as a wolf in sheep's clothing. She still carries around the suitcase containing her sewing items and portable tattoo device, modifying her own body every day and offering free service to anyone who desires it.

Though she is certainly above wearing the same outfit every day, she does keep one article of clothing on her at all times, at least until she has decided to either consume or bed somebody, in which she will insist on the lights being off. She keeps a scarf wrapped snugly over her mouth, a very stylish one of a deep crimson embedded with stitched patterns of her own designs, blooming from heart in the very center of the scarf. And though her frame is slight, it is by no means brittle-seeming, a grace still carried about her form and her deep aquamarine eyes.