Born from ash and fire, death and life; light and dark. Darkness adorns her form, from nose to tail tip; yet the only thing shattering this nothingness upon her from which was what she had been blessed with. The fire element had taken a whole new meaning for the ebony fea; starting from the middle of her spine it spread down and up her back ranging from a volatile blue, to a deep and then softer violet, taking it's hold upon her form in it's fiery array. A few thin and thickening cracks make their way from about barely mid way down her back, gripping it's way down along her legs, neck and chest area; dripping with it's hot volatile lava. The cracks join with burning socks upon her feet, small cracks weaving this way and that about them; each step leaving a burning wolf mark behind. Her face is also marred in this way, burning and ever bright; the lava seems to flow and settled just under a thin layer of skin. Starting from the nose, it reaches out like a curved wicked hand, the farther it goes from her muzzle to the back of her head and neck, the less the lava is visible and thickening cracks take their place; tainting her chest.

A pair of crude, hellish horns protrude out from either side of her skull; just settling between her upper ears and the rest of her head, curving outwards in a wicked way, it curves inward as it makes it's way up and out from her skull. Thicker at the base as it extends outward, extending into two sharp wicked points, the back points curve back towards over the horn, while the forward ones extending downward and out towards her hellish muzzle. Her thick 'busy' tail shares the same trait, but starting from the butt and extending out towards the tail tip; as it did the blackness once more took it's domain over her, leaving cracks behind where one can barely see the flowing lava underneath. A thick ebony mane makes it self known from the top of her skull, just starting between her ears on the forehead, extending down her spine to the starting of her tail, thin flowing lava cracks can be ween through the individual hairs that grow out ward from her spine.

She is true hatred embodied, a presence of flame and fury, not one that loathes out of some greater conviction, but one that hungers solely for destruction; destroyer, she is violence and anger. She does not deceive, she does not lie, for her motives are startlingly clear and exceptionally hostile to those who don't relish the same simmering rage she displays, and even those who do, are seldom spared, for long.

An avatar of crackling flame and brimstone, her body rolls with plumes of smoke between her blood chilling howls, for her fiery pitch and hellfire call is iconic and unique unto her.

What drives her to commit such acts without mercy, one can only imagine; true bloodlust? Does such a thing exist? Perhaps, and many would make the argument Angelus is one of those few who feels nothing but the thrill of death and flame in her wake; a firestorm across a forest, one that cackles as it burns and consumes.

Perhaps years past she would be different, but here and now, it is clear only anger and hunger rule her. Torment having been bestowed upon her by those just as merciless, her survival was solely because she proved even more terrifying than her captors and corruptors; the same ones who fueled her hatred were the same ones she threw first into the flames that now wreath her.

Everyone has their story right? Then again, so did Angelus; her birthing hadn't been one from between a loving paring between father and mother. It had been forced, brutal thing between both male and female. The female had been one of utter beauty with a fiery pelt and temper to match; having been naught but a slave, to her captors, caught, sold and traded after a long lasting pack war. She had been untamable, unwilling, unyielding in her fiery passion and hated towards the ones who branded her as a mere plaything something to be used and then left behind, again and again. It was until she had been given to her third captor, dubbed as Abbas lord of his pack and undisputed ruler. He took no mate, seeing no women ever being worthy by his side; the female sex was below him and his fellow pack mates. They were used for both breeding wants and needs, lust, desire, whatever the case maybe.

Thus, once Vesta was bought by Asmodeus he took the fiery lady to his own den; she was fed and watered; even allowed to rest for the day. Once the night approached, so did the lord of the nine hells. Making his attentions clear, she fought and bravely but she was soon bested and held down by a pair of members within the pack while Abbas took her, in her most vulnerable state. Even so the pair didn't leave without scorched marks marring their faces and paws; once the deed was done they left and Vesta was left in the den, chained and forbidden to leave the den. That night, the fiery robbed and tempered women cried her self into a fitful sleep, her nightmares plagued by Asmodeus and what had been done.

Time passed and her womb grew with the life that had been seeded within it, to her horror; she was bearing the demons spawn yet she could not find it in her self to end her own life or that of her own offspring, however violently and brutally they had been given to her. The lord Asmodeus was gladdened by the news and she saw a unnatural kind side to the hellish brute, despite what had done to her, in time, she grew to care for him, as they spent more and more time together rather then a part. A morbid sort of love happened between the two; others in the pack snickered and believed their leader weak fro what he had wrought between them. Time and again, he rose to the to, killing traitors, banishing others, or simply out right killing those that disrespected him and now his mistress; Vesta.

Things went on and they returned to normal in the pack, despite the occasional disputes, but this was normal. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months; Vesta's sides swelled with the life tucked safely away in er womb. There, the pups grew and grew, until the faithful day that they had been awaiting; finally happened. The moon hung high in the sky, painted red with the fresh time of the harvest and what a harvest it would be and yet also a omen, of ill towards all. The first to be born was a strong little ale, mirror his fathers appearance, while having his loving mothers blue eyes. A second son was born, that of a mixture of the parents; both having a fiery and dark pelt a pair of two toned eyes to match. Last and not lest, the hybrid was born - at first to their horror for it would seem one of them had a hybrid lineage, the likely candidate was the father; Asmodeus, but this was not true, it was from her fiery mother Vesta; that spurred this Hybrid form forth from her fertile womb.

In time, as each pup proved to age slowly throughout the weeks and despite the Hybrid among them; the pair grew to love their little spawn. Even if Angelus had to be separated from the rest and given to a nurse maid; for the pup had quite a violent streak in her. When near her siblings, even in her blind state, she would attack them; not that she could do much harm at the time due to her milk teeth and even still developing body. Angelus fiery element was of little use against anyone at this young age, much less her teeth yet Angelus still insisted on attacking her siblings when ever near; they had noted as well, things could easily set off the blind pup into fits of rage.