Jazrael had never really appreciated the powers her position in the Reaper’s realm had afforded her until she was unable to use the majority of them. She had defied Dalanesca’s orders more times than she had been welcome to, and the goddess had finally made good on her promise to make the demon pay for the wrong doings she had committed. The worst of which was now her lack of movement, so to speak. No longer was she able to leap from one body to another, exiting just as her host expired, or when she grew tired of her appearance. Fortunately for the demon, the body she found herself in now was one of her favorites that she had ever inhabited. A pretty face, a slender frame with curves in all the right places, and long, beautiful hair falling to the middle of her back - in fact, the hair of the woman’s body she had taken over quite reminded her of Lady Dalanesca’s, and the Siren was someone she admired, even if she had committed a few acts of defiance.
While she couldn’t blame her employer, so to speak, for punishing her. She had been given multiple warnings and had continuously gotten away with nothing more than a few harsh words from the goddess - but that had changed with her last transgression. The goddess had finally had enough,and her punishment had been swift, yet just. Jazrael still retained many of her defining characteristscs and powers. Her eyes still changed if she wasn’t careful, but she couldn’t leave her body. She was still much stronger than any mortal, which allowed her to defend herself - which was rather important. She didn’t heal as quickly now, and she was afraid that she would perish along with her bodily vessel if she was wounded too badly.
The fear of that, of death, was enough to give her caution. WIth that, she had decided that she would do her duty as Dalanesca had told her - help undo other wrongdoings that contradicted what the goddess stood for. One of the many wrongdoings that irked the goddess to no end were senseless murders. While Dalanesca was the goddess of Death, she hated senseless killing. It flooded the underworld with more souls than were meant to be there. So, naturally, when a string of dead clients began popping up at a brothel in Vilpamolan, she found her way there and decided she would get to the bottom of who, or what, was behind the deaths.
It had been rather easy for her to find the brothel, and even easier to get a job there. Many of the girls were scared off when clients began dying, so the madame running the place had found her short staffed. After a week or so of employment, Jazrael had begun to suspect that it was not a human behind the murders, but rather a succubus - and this pushed her to want to solve the mystery even further. Dalanesca would be furious when she found out that one of her succubi was sending undeserving souls to Inferos, and if Jazrael brought the culprit to justice, there was a chance that the goddess would see this as a redemption and put her back in her good graces.
Under the guise of the name Ana Maria, affecting an Adelunan accent, Jazrael sat on a chaise lounge in the parlor of the brothel - one of the finer establishments in Vilpamolan. A glass of a sweet southern wine sat on the table beside her, nearly untouched. She had grown rather tired of the taste in the time she had been there, but it was more for show than anything. She hated the attire she donned - she wore a large necklace with many silver chains that hung down low, covering her chest, and a thin silver chain around her waist with many sheer scarves hanging down in the manner of a skirt - an effort from the madame to entice the clients with her Adelunan charm, no doubt.
This was her routine. She’d handle clients for a part of the day, and after the last she would snoop about a bit, trying to sniff out the culprit behind the murders - but she had only gotten so far, and seemed to hit dead ends at nearly every turn.
