They are a world of Tuscan suns gifted to the gorgon-like woman, Medusa's prize to her as shudders pale along the spines of those who meet their sharp, angular stare. Her voice is rich with the Greek lilt, spoken in smoked honey tones and aged-wine hoariness - feminine with a long drawl at the seducing ends.
God is beautiful, in all her strife and anger. She is never cruel, despite the lobbed heads and carved tongues - never violent, despite the vexing hiss of her words. To all men and women who seek the audience of Angitia, its a perplexing sight to see that the woman rarely frowns nor sneers - a soft, motherly smile upon stygian lips. At first glances, for the mice, it's a comfort but, look a little deeper and realize that something is quite obviously wrong with this picture. The monochromatic criminal carries herself with dark elegance and the manners of a noblewoman, penning others with soft honorifics; Sweetheart, Dear, Darling, Honey.
All fallacies, a means to an end for her carnal desire of adoration and obedience that she believes to be her birthright.
Xerxes (Dead, Ex-Husband)
Aemon (Dead, Ex-Husband)
Damacles (Dead, Ex-Husband)