Salome wore her usual feigned smile:
"There is a certain lie everyone is told at least once, even a succubus like myself… forgiveness."
Vale stared at the succubus wearing a dead man's half-bloodied clothes, holes cut out of the back for her wings and tail. He remained silent, intent on not speaking until the succubus had finished saying what needed to be said.
Not that he didn't want to give his input, but if Vale's was right…
The thing Salome needed most in the world was somebody to listen to her.
To know her authentic self and the terrible story of her life, the pages are filled with tears, blood, and sorrow. Salome needed someone to open and read her story — without a secondary motive.
Salome continued:
"Hate lies beneath that cold lie… Nobody ever truly forgives; they only forget. And my memory is much too good…"
Salome closed her eyes for a moment and chuckled.
