Demon parasites scare people. While they are usually portrayed here in a sympathetic light, it helps to have the safety and detachment of distance. For those who live in a world where hives rise and fall, where a single bite can leave you bound for life to a person you have never met, the sound of succubat wings or the scuttling of a crown crab can be a terrifying thing.

Fears of the influence of succubats can be impossible to overcome. Friends and even family suddenly uprooting themselves to go join a hive tell you that this is their choice, that they've never been happier than they are now, that they wish you could see that and join them. Of course, that's what a demon impersonating them would say, too. The harder the host pleads, the less believable the 'act' becomes.

The concerns are not entirely unfounded. A hive is, by necessity, an ever-growing organization whose central goal must always be acquisition of resources. A hive does not keep to itself, and it's not a problem that will go away if you ignore it long enough. Wherever a single bat is found, a hundred more lurk. When a hive moves into an area, succubats will inevitably become more and more commonplace, giving the impression that the community itself is being captured and twisted in the hive's own image. Even when a hive queen professes to fight evil, and has sworn to eschew the more problematic methods others have employed in the past, they are still a queen, and they still carry all the baggage that entails. The cheap costume, the staged heroics, the feigned sincerity, the weird body double, it could all just be a ruse, a set of bizarre distractions while she makes her move. Swearing not to use crown crabs just means she's laying more of those bats, and those are way harder to avoid. Who knows what else she could be hiding?

Art: InertRen (original)