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Wait! What's this? Another picture of this otherwise psychotic dragoness enjoying herself? Or thinking that she's enjoying herself. Raziela has strange tastes in music, and her urges to dance are more compulsive than willing, as her demoness comrade, Samael, is about to find out...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSj7W8…

{{}}

Having been banned from the poolside for nearly killing a Cabana boy with a bullet-velocity beer can to the head, Samael and Raziela decided to explore the other amenities provided by the resort. When they entered the sprawling dance floor of laminated wood and garish lights, they were reminded all too quickly of their past venture with a certain assignment.

"Well," Samael said, the demoness curling her lip at the middle-aged menagerie of brokers and retail managers, "at least there aren't any of those fur-fuckers like the last club we trashed. Mostly human by the looks of it."

"Yeah," Raziela said absently, the dragoness' vision drifting along the scene. "Though they are wearing them."

"Wearing what?"

"Dead animals. Is that a fetish too?"

"No," Samael said, her face slackening at Raziela's naivete. "It's called a fashion statement."

"So could we wear human skins if we wanted to?"

"Don't tempt me. I'm finding the bar. This music sucks." She made a few steps towards a bamboo mock-up when she turned to the dragoness. The pop music had cut out, was replaced by a jaunty, Venice-inspired beat rife with drums, acoustic guitars, and accordions.

Samael shook her head at Raziela: the dragoness was gazing, hypnotized by the beat. "The hell are you staring at?"

"What...what is this?" Raziela looked down at her own flank and shrieked. Her tail had started flicking and swaying to the music. "What's happening?"

Samael sneered. "What are you..." It donned on her. "Jesus on a hooker! Are you dancing?"

"NO!" Raziela's hips began to awkwardly bounce. "What's...what's happening to me?"

"Damn it, Raziela! I came here for an Adios Motherfucker 151, not to get jiggy with the fucking intermission music."

Raziela whimpered. She brought her wrists together, made a rhythmic wringing with them as she wiggled. "Sammy! I'm scared!"

"Look, stay calm. I'll get help..." She reevaluated her prior words. "No I won't. Look, just..." She spotted a couple who were a few paces from Raziela, the two sharing a chuckle at the dragoness' squirming jig. "RAZZY! SIX O' CLOCK!"

"WHERE?" She spun, her tail side-swiping the couple across the dance floor and into a formica table brimming with punch bowls, the sweet nectar casting waves of crimson upon the laminated floor. This act of violence, accidental as it was, abated the dragoness' tension. "Oh," she said, placated. "That was fun." She called to Samael, "IS THIS WHAT DANCING IS?" She shimmied her way over to a younger male, who was gawking with the mortification of someone who just witnessed their cat getting launched out of a potato cannon. "Hey Mister! Wanna dance?"

The man's eyes bulged up at the eight-foot dragoness. "Um, no thank-"

"DO THE RAZZY!" She tail-swiped him with such force that the man completed an involuntary back-flip midair before crashing into a buffet table. "FEEL MY BEAT!" She called to Samael, "SAMMY! JOIN ME!"

Samael glowered at her. "That's...that's not a..." She waved off the dragoness and made her way to the bar, where she plopped herself on a stool and beckoned the bartender with a middle-finger.

The bartender, a willowy blonde with glazed blue eyes approached the demoness, her stare aimed at Raziela. "Is that your friend?"

"My friend's name is Adios Motherfucker 151. We're real close."

The bartender shifted her incredulity between Samael and Raziela. "Is she doing that deliberately?"

"No. Not at all. Maybe you'd like to give her some pointers?"

"No! No! I'll get you your drink."

"That's what I thought." Samael pinched her brow and let out a low growl, tried to ignore the cries of alarm as Raziela continued her maiming boogie.

{{}}

On another note, I'm not sure why I've been drawing Samael and Raziela so much. I guess it's my way of "venting" to alleviate my growing misanthropy. Kinda converse considering the point of venting, but these two make me happy. Remember, fellow artists and writers: just because you're not happy doesn't mean your characters can't be!

Description
Wait! What's this? Another picture of this otherwise psychotic dragoness enjoying herself? Or thinking that she's enjoying herself. Raziela has strange tastes in music, and her urges to dance are more compulsive than willing, as her demoness comrade, Samael, is about to find out...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSj7W8…

{{}}

Having been banned from the poolside for nearly killing a Cabana boy with a bullet-velocity beer can to the head, Samael and Raziela decided to explore the other amenities provided by the resort. When they entered the sprawling dance floor of laminated wood and garish lights, they were reminded all too quickly of their past venture with a certain assignment.

"Well," Samael said, the demoness curling her lip at the middle-aged menagerie of brokers and retail managers, "at least there aren't any of those fur-fuckers like the last club we trashed. Mostly human by the looks of it."

"Yeah," Raziela said absently, the dragoness' vision drifting along the scene. "Though they are wearing them."

"Wearing what?"

"Dead animals. Is that a fetish too?"

"No," Samael said, her face slackening at Raziela's naivete. "It's called a fashion statement."

"So could we wear human skins if we wanted to?"

"Don't tempt me. I'm finding the bar. This music sucks." She made a few steps towards a bamboo mock-up when she turned to the dragoness. The pop music had cut out, was replaced by a jaunty, Venice-inspired beat rife with drums, acoustic guitars, and accordions.

Samael shook her head at Raziela: the dragoness was gazing, hypnotized by the beat. "The hell are you staring at?"

"What...what is this?" Raziela looked down at her own flank and shrieked. Her tail had started flicking and swaying to the music. "What's happening?"

Samael sneered. "What are you..." It donned on her. "Jesus on a hooker! Are you dancing?"

"NO!" Raziela's hips began to awkwardly bounce. "What's...what's happening to me?"

"Damn it, Raziela! I came here for an Adios Motherfucker 151, not to get jiggy with the fucking intermission music."

Raziela whimpered. She brought her wrists together, made a rhythmic wringing with them as she wiggled. "Sammy! I'm scared!"

"Look, stay calm. I'll get help..." She reevaluated her prior words. "No I won't. Look, just..." She spotted a couple who were a few paces from Raziela, the two sharing a chuckle at the dragoness' squirming jig. "RAZZY! SIX O' CLOCK!"

"WHERE?" She spun, her tail side-swiping the couple across the dance floor and into a formica table brimming with punch bowls, the sweet nectar casting waves of crimson upon the laminated floor. This act of violence, accidental as it was, abated the dragoness' tension. "Oh," she said, placated. "That was fun." She called to Samael, "IS THIS WHAT DANCING IS?" She shimmied her way over to a younger male, who was gawking with the mortification of someone who just witnessed their cat getting launched out of a potato cannon. "Hey Mister! Wanna dance?"

The man's eyes bulged up at the eight-foot dragoness. "Um, no thank-"

"DO THE RAZZY!" She tail-swiped him with such force that the man completed an involuntary back-flip midair before crashing into a buffet table. "FEEL MY BEAT!" She called to Samael, "SAMMY! JOIN ME!"

Samael glowered at her. "That's...that's not a..." She waved off the dragoness and made her way to the bar, where she plopped herself on a stool and beckoned the bartender with a middle-finger.

The bartender, a willowy blonde with glazed blue eyes approached the demoness, her stare aimed at Raziela. "Is that your friend?"

"My friend's name is Adios Motherfucker 151. We're real close."

The bartender shifted her incredulity between Samael and Raziela. "Is she doing that deliberately?"

"No. Not at all. Maybe you'd like to give her some pointers?"

"No! No! I'll get you your drink."

"That's what I thought." Samael pinched her brow and let out a low growl, tried to ignore the cries of alarm as Raziela continued her maiming boogie.

{{}}

On another note, I'm not sure why I've been drawing Samael and Raziela so much. I guess it's my way of "venting" to alleviate my growing misanthropy. Kinda converse considering the point of venting, but these two make me happy. Remember, fellow artists and writers: just because you're not happy doesn't mean your characters can't be!