I am the hole, I am the emptiness,
I am the blackness from which naught escapes.
Unto myself I draw the affections of others, yet I am never full.
I use them, I drain them.
Their life-force flows into me and I consume them.
All of them.
Everyone who has ever loved me is eventually consumed.
And when they are empty husks, I discard them for someone else,
someone fresh, someone whole, someone new,
so that the cycle may start again.

Are you sure you want to love me?
Are you sure you want to be my next meal, my next provider?
How long will you last before you are the emptied vessel?
How long will it take until you are deflated,
until every last drop of humanity has been drawn from you?
Will you even know when it has happened?
Will you ever be able to stop it?
Or will you just feed me,
feed me until there is nothing left of yourself,
until you are a shade, a crumpled wisp tattered by the wind?

Le Stat was an Angel…