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	.: Badhbi Mór Ríoghna :. Name: Badhbi Mór Ríoghna Meaning: The Mór Ríoghna is perhaps better known as the Morrígan -- the Irish triple goddess often associated with warfare and death. Badhbh, or Badb, is the most prominent aspect of the triple goddess, the others being Macha and (most of the time) Nemain. Badb was the entity who caused confusion among soldiers to move the tide of battle to her favored side. Her name was also occasionally used synonymously with that of the Banshee, the supernatural being that foreshadowed death. ID: EU167F Gender: Female Rank: Script Writer Breed: Lapine Type: Mix (End x Desire) Lineage: Jesuifini x Ibkaea Accessories: None Mutations: Feathered wings Notes: Her desire is Death. Not death. Death. She's enamored with the idea of the grim reaper, and fascinated with death, although she herself has no desire to die. .: On a Pale Horse :. Death. The Grim Reaper. The Pale Horseman. Bill Door, for crying out loud... Ah, she wished she could meet him. If there was only some way she could call him to her, she was sure that she could gain his affection. How was it possible that she could love him so much without ever meeting him, idolize him, need him, without him reciprocating in some way? But alas, the only way to truly meet him was to die...and that, she did not want. She wanted only to know him, to see him, to know that he loved her, to be part of something above the usual mortal realm. But if he appeared to her as she was on the brink of death, he would simply kill her and be done with it. She would be just another customer, another soul to check off the list; and that would truly be an eternal torture, the one thing that could never heal, even under the influence of oblivion. "Where are you?" She whispered into the darkness, but there was no response. There was never a response, no matter how hard she tried or how forcibly she focused her thoughts on summoning this one, single entity. Doomed to mourn for the only one she couldn't reach... O, woe is her, this pitiful creature of morbid fascinations. Death loomed at the end of her path just as he loomed at the end of all others; but such a being as this, she could never hope to stir the heart of. For the Pale Horse's rider is, indeed, a tough nut to crack...good luck, young one, for you have inadvertently carved for yourself a destiny of disappointment...