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The Femme Fatale never walks - she slinks. She never
talks, but whispers or husks. Her beauty, combined with a
sharp mind, turns normally hard-hearted villains into putty
in her hands. She loves being able to manipulate people -
particularly men - but can't help feeling contempt for
anyone stupid enough to be manipulated. The Femme Fatale
considers life a battlefield on which only the strong
survive and knows her physical allure is a potent weapon in
that combat. As a result, she regards other women who could
compete with her in this regard, as personal enemies.
However, beauty and wit are not her only weapons - she is
also a competent combatant, for the times they don't
suffice. She has just one chink in the armour of her self
regard. Deep down, she knows the men in her life are all
scumbags, and that her success will last only as long as her
beauty. She yearns to find a strong but decent guy who will
see through to her inner self - a yearning sometimes strong
enough to make her throw caution (and common sense) to the
winds.
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