In every sense of the word, Genevieve was a predator. She had the patience, the drive, the hunger, and though her clanmates were off limits, she often times behaved as if they were to-be victims of her hunt. She had trained herself to lie in wait, hardly moving, every instinct screaming to kill and kill and kill and kill until there was nobody left for her to sink her claws into. She hadn’t taken any lives in such a long time and admittedly, she was anxious. Well, as anxious as a being made only to hate and feed could be. Any other emotions stemmed from Margaery (or Maarit... or even the ever elusive Ingrid who had just stirred).

Flicking a tail, Genevieve threw open her door, a wicked grin curving her chocolate hued lips. She had heard someone scamper near the door and ever the antagonizer, quickly made her move. [color=#b14767]”Hello, sugar,” She cooed venomously, copper gaze studying Gordon intently. Ah yes, the one who was unnerved by her. This should be fun, incredibly fun. [color=#b14767]”Going somewhere?”