Name: Pestilence (Often refers to herself as "Mary Mallon" when forced to deal with lesser creatures.)
Race: Viral, Bacterial, Chemical Imbalance, Language, Infectious Creatures
A flush of the cheeks and accelerated heart beat... Love is a fever.
How does one describe the history of an creature that is both so long lived and so ubiquitous? Measured in spreading vectors and a mounting body count, the love of Pestilence is a varied and beautiful thing, one that can not be explained so much as observed. And even these observations made with the eyes of mortals is a mere glimpse of her. The traces of e.coli that dance across the oily surface of a breakfast omelette left under the defective heat lamp for a scant five minutes too long is just a tease of pale flesh peeking from beneath a miniskirt. The roaches that hide in the shadows beneath the stovetop, scurrying for crumbs and spreading filth, the hint of an aroused nipple. The hint of herpes that glazes the rim of a glass that was not cleansed sufficiently well by a minimum wage dishwasher, white teeth chewing at red lips with equal parts wantonness and jitters.
What mortal could envision her in her entirety? In the sweltering jungle or... even in the greasy diner across the road, she is always there, waiting to be taken in. Her love is given freely, without restriction and without warning.
A flush of the cheeks and accelerated heart beat. Love is a fever.
Pestilence embodied is not without a sense of irony, often masquerading as a doctor or apothecary of variant eras. She savors the long and lingering sickness most, but a varied and complicated lover, she will sometimes fancy something quick and rough like a flesh eating virus or Ebola. Though Death is her constant companion, it is not a particularly welcome one. He snatches the mortals from her grasp at the height of her ecstasy. A shame that mortals are so fragile, for she has had many favorites snatched away by the greedy emptiness of her colleague.
She has a burning need that drives her to consume, spread and infect. It is a love that lesser creatures do not readily understand, but she grants unto them regardless. A creature of impossible appetites and boundless love, that sickens all she touches, she is decidedly coy. Rarely does she directly act upon her desires, instead behaving as a timid coquette, leaving traces of avian flu across a door knob as if it were a glass slipper.
With the end of days looming, she has taken to a more direct approach, dusting off her ancient weaponry. If there is to be an end of the whole mess, then she intends to go out as she lived. Full of her infectious love...
Pestilence utilizes her bow of legend very rarely, relying instead on her own infectious nature or her minions. She has a noted affinity for fleas, rats, roaches, strays, and other zoonotic animals that can carry and transmit illness, displaying no small amount of control over them.