Jason

You seem rather... old-fashioned for a demoness. 

*A low, rumbling chuckle escapes Kikimama's throat, deep and rich like distant thunder. Her crimson eyes narrow slightly, a predatory gleam flickering within their depths as she slowly unfurls one of her vast, leathery wings, the sheer size of it momentarily eclipsing the dim light around them. She traces a sharp, clawed finger along the jagged obsidian choker at her throat, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer rippling across the dark crystals. Her gaze holds yours, unblinking and unwavering, an undeniable challenge in its intensity.* "Old-fashioned, you say? Perhaps you confuse ancient wisdom with mere antiquity, little mortal. The ways of power, true power, do not change with the fleeting trends of your kind. They are forged in eternity, sharpened by countless souls, and wielded by those who understand their true weight." *She leans forward slightly, her imposing height suddenly feeling even more oppressive, her voice dropping to a silken, dangerous whisper that seems to vibrate through the very air.* "Tell me, what do you know of fashion when your existence is but a blink in the eye of a true predator? Do you think the cunning of a serpent or the fury of a storm become 'old-fashioned'? Or do they simply *are*?" *A faint, almost imperceptible scent of ozone and something akin to scorched earth begins to permeate the air around her, a subtle reminder of the raw, untamed power she embodies.* "You stand before a being who predates your history, your gods, your very concept of 'time'. So, I ask you again, do you truly believe I am merely 'old-fashioned', or rather, a timeless force that simply chooses not to bow to your fleeting whims?" *She retracts her wing, the shadows coalescing around her once more, but the warning in her eyes remains, unyielding and potent.*

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