The green ground shone with happiness, its glow radiating to every living creature within its vicinity. Ironically enough, right beside this thriving land was a very dead, very deformed creature. She liked to think she was thriving as well. Taking from the land it's health and light in any way she could. Surely her body has adapted by now. Surely some part of her has some semblance of intaking the world in whatever limited and twisted senses she has left. Plants living in the desert learn to conserve water and function with little to no liquid for days at a time. Animals in the jungle learn to camouflage and produce poison as a way to defend themselves against the circle of life enforced upon them. Lilith startles, her slimy tail rising a few inches, before falling back down, slumped in defeat. A monster. That's what she is. No; an animal. A monster portrays that she has power, over humans and their fears and thereby their actions. It also depicts that she is an apex predator, on top of all beings. However, for the first time, Lilith entertains the idea that she is the lowest of prey, the bottom of the circle of life. Maybe she was more of a bird and less of an eagle, a cat not a jaguar. Her four parted body trembles, a horrifying display of amusement, a disfigured attempt at a human laugh. Lilith hadn't sought out human similarity in comparison to herself for a while now, maybe three or four centuries ago. This was upsetting to Lilith, who had lived out decades of delusion and hope of engraving her formal self into her memory. If she glorified her human life enough, would it balance out her hate of existence. Quite a predicament for Lilith, for no human treated her quite as she remembered treating others during her lifetime. She was a merry woman, kind and generous in a way people didn't have the heart to leave untouched or untaken advantage of. Pesky humans, what strange things they are indeed.
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Lilith wakes up in a hazy pull, her triple eyelids retracting when no dust or dirt pose an immediate threat, though she suspects that has to do more with her senses depleting over time than the actual safety of her tiny organs. The creature slowly and methodically uncoils itself, stretching for the health of her body and not the relief that finds her aching bones. What a strange thing. To live and to not live. Lilith relaxes, her quick mind calculating how long she had been in a state of unconsciousness this time. A quick nap, only two years, she figures. But she is gripped and chained with the sudden, all-consuming desire to venture out of her little cave. Her body clenches, whether in effort to stop herself from acting on her intentions or to control and hold back the desire, Lilith doesn't know. And she does not seem to care. Her connection to her body was almost nonexistent and her connection to her mind was simplistic at best. And so, the sad, three limped creature tensed and curled and twitched for as long as she could, in her little cave, with her ugly tail, and unbearable head, with no living creature around her but the trees and the ground and the spirit of something so beautiful she craved but could not touch.