She stands before you, alone but surrounded. Her arms tattooed with the tears of those who have fallen before her, she's clothed in the finest of silks. Her voice is like a Siren's, terrifying but so alluring. She sees but she does not hear, she hears but she does not see. She's anger and joy, she's hate and she's love, she's wrath and she's sadness. She's all of these, yet she's nothing, a shadow.
She's what you fear most when the lights go out, yet at moments of despair, you cry to her for a quicker end. She is all of nothing, and nothing at all.
Her skin is of ivory, her eyes sweet emeralds, her hair is of spun ink.
To man she is the end, to others the beginning of forever, her name; La Vedova Nera.
The Black Widow.
