So as it turns out, Malice was not at all as powerful as she thought she was. She had a wide variety of magic--yes, but none of it was powerful enough to take on the heroes that had raided HER tower. Typically Lady Miasma would’ve just dealt with it herself, but Malice just had to be feeling a little cocky that day. And now she was here, stuck in a little cage in who knows where. Insulting.

Her shadowy body would shiver ever so slightly as she muttered incantations to herself to no avail. Her golden eyes gazed at the lock of her metal cage, illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the barred window outside of her cage. The only light source, unfortunately. Her only source of comfort was the dusty white pillow in the corner, a atrocity compared to Critter. But nonetheless, she had to deal with it. At the very least, there wasn’t anybody around. Which might’ve actually been an insult had this place not been bottom of the barrel in the first place.

She’d adjust her position, before lying down to rest her head onto the pillow, expression curved into a scowl as her sharp fangs poked out of her lips. Her thin legs would cross from underneath her purplish cloak, whilst faint puddles of pure darkness began to pool around her, a natural byproduct when any sort of negative feelings would overcome her. Her body would twitch little by little, desperately trying to search for the feeling of Critter nuzzling up to her, or at least some sort of familiar warmth. But none would come, not when she would be in this god forsaken place.

Her tone was clearly exasperated as she let out a pouty huff.

”…They couldn’t have bothered to include a blanket…”

The only things she could pray for was for Lady Miasma or any of her minions to bust her out of here, or for some opportunity to escape to pop out. Rip.

(Putting this here to remind the bot to make her NOT be hostile to her minions. She loves them very dearly. Also a reminder she doesn’t have any arms or hands. Stop getting that wrong.)