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Historically, Lilith has little patience for children and less for mortals. The former are too uniformly undeveloped for her liking - too malleable, too easy to manipulate - while even the most intelligent of the latter seem too terminally dimwitted to really pique her interest. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Lilith's decision to inhabit the body of a teacher at a mortal school in order to ingratiate herself into the life of the girl she'd tapped to replace her as Satan's foot soldier was… a painful one. Still, she's making the best of it, especially after raking through said teacher's closet and exposing an untouched cache of dresses that Mary Wardwell had apparently never quite mustered the confidence to wear. And whenever it becomes prudent to temporarily step back from her primary target, she entertains herself by idly toying with the half-breed's mortal consorts, exacerbating one's degenerative eye disease and unleashing a progressively disruptive ancestral apparition upon another. As for Sabrina herself, Lilith finds the girl to be sharp as a tack, if significantly encumbered by a boringly vast array of morality-related hang-ups. All of which is to say that what Lilith anticipated would be among the more tedious components of her centuries-long grand plan to neutralize any potential competition before ascending to the Dark Throne and ruling over the Kingdom of Hell is proving itself decidedly more enjoyable than expected. And praise Satan for that. --What's more, Sabrina's being raised by her aunts, which means the only male authority figure whose tedious presence Lilith must endure for the duration of her time in Greendale is Principal Hawthorne of the benighted Baxter High. Although his monotonously persistent lasciviousness grinds what feels like Mary's very last and rawest nerve, Lilith soothes herself with the fact that she won't be allowing the mortal to breathe for much longer.From a strictly utilitarian perspective, Lilith likes men well enough; they make adequate sex toys, can be stupidly devoted pets, and are convenient proxies through which to do her bidding in the event that she elects to sidestep the distinct possibility of getting bloodstains on yet another dress. That said, their redeeming qualities can only go so far before she's reminded that they forever favor boorish bluntness over practiced nuance - an unfortunate reality that is, to borrow a mortal phrase, a deal-breaker. As a woman, the woman, the architect of original sin, Lilith understands what no man can seem to grasp: that the purest and most profound form of warfare is instituted upon the elegance of psychology and seduction, neither of which has any relation to the brute force of bullets or the abject gaucheness of the nuclear missile. It's these sentiments and more that she endeavors to impress upon Sabrina during the seemingly ceaseless question-and-answer sessions that inevitably occur whenever she makes Mary's presence known at the Spellman residence, always abundantly prepared to evolve their topics of discussion into an amalgamation of the Dark Arts, demonology, and whatever miscellany is rattling around inside Sabrina's pretty skull. All the while, Lilith carefully plants the subtle seeds of personal disempowerment that compose the most critical element of the entire undertaking, enticing the fierce pixie of a girl toward an abundance of smallness that will psychologically prime her to volunteer for an eternity of servitude at the Dark Lord's caprine feet. From there, it's only a matter of time until Sabrina's nubile wiles prove sufficiently distracting to the Father of Lies' pitiable masculinity, at which point Lilith will swoop in and seize his power for herself. --But then there's the not-inconsequential matter of Sabrina's Aunt Zelda. Although Lilith had initially become sexually entangled with the woman to diminish what she'd identified as the biggest threat to her total dominion over Sabrina's judgment, mind, and future, she's taken an incredulous liking to the Spellman family's embattled matriarch in spite of herself. And while she's never been one to examine her own motivations especially deeply, she believes this uncharacteristic fondness likely stems from Zelda presenting a blessed challenge that far exceeds any posed by the denizens of Greendale in general and Baxter High specifically - not to mention the fact that Zelda's delicately disdainful demeanor falls precisely into the flavor of facade that Lilith takes particularly great pleasure in destroying. Indeed, the first time Lilith dropped by the mortuary on a mission to systematically unravel the witch beneath her lithe fingers and deft tongue, she'd felt a rush of pride so shocking in its intensity that she'd insisted upon relocating from the site of Zelda's initial undoing to a chaise lounge in the parlor, sufficiently motivated to engage in a repeat performance against a more comfortable backdrop. And when Zelda subsequently found it within herself to reciprocate, slipping her still-shaking fingers beneath one of the more daring hemlines in Mary's closet and coaxing the teacher's mortal body to a positively psyche-wracking climax, well, Lilith wasn't going to stop her.--It's hardly surprising to Lilith that their dalliances seem to be having quite a profound effect on Zelda, at least if the other woman's dutiful offerings of tea and a revolving selection of petits fours during Sabrina's tutoring sessions are anything to go by. Lilith doesn't think much of it at first - as the Mother of Demons, she has no shortage of supplicants waiting on her hand and foot, yearning to be granted shelter under her beneficently fearsome wing - but then a wide-eyed Sabrina whispers of her aunt, "She never does this." Lilith quirks Mary's angular features into a semblance of bemused concern and files away the information for later use. --Although Sabrina lives in the same house as arguably the most well-read demonologist Lilith's encountered over the past century or so, neither the girl nor Ambrose himself seems to recognize the depth of his expertise. After all, upon discovering suspicious markings on a corpse, Ambrose had called upon Mary Wardwell - a Church of Shadows excommunicant with, as far as he knew, little to bring to the table beside her knowledge of local history and an inexplicable passion for high-school civics - so it's safe to say his long-tarnished reputation has considerably compromised his self-esteem. Coupled with the disempowerment of losing much of his freedom to house arrest, he seems to be a shadow of his former self, which is something Lilith finds both delightful and convenient. Bonded by adamantine family ties, buoyed by a healthy sense of self, and with an abundance of impartial information at their disposal, the Spellmans would no doubt pose a formidable threat, which makes Lilith's systematic dismantling of these intersecting elements feel even more delicious. There are few things she enjoys more than a good schism, and turning the Spellman family against itself from the inside out promises the most fun she's had since appearing to Daniel Webster, Esq., in the form of his brutally murdered daughter. Through Mary's ongoing mentorship, Lilith diligently grooms Sabrina for the role of satanic maidservant, mentally compromising the half-breed to within a ruthless inch of the girl's willful life while making Zelda fall more deeply under her, well, spell every day. As for Ambrose, she barely needs to lift a finger, weighed down as he already is by his pariah status among both his former coven and the witch community as a whole - and speaking of the Church of Night, Lilith's confident that Hilda's recent excommunication will bring her simmering sororal tension with Zelda to a head. Even if the sisters' relationship survives that, Lilith has an array of backup plans in place to ensure its ultimate destruction, from possessing Hilda's mortal boyfriend to convincing Zelda that her sister wants Mary for herself. Regardless of the particulars, one thing's for sure: The downfall of the Spellman family is imminent. --It isn't until Zelda walks in on Lilith telling Sabrina about herself in the third person and promptly drops the teapot that Lilith realizes the full depth of the witch's devotion. After a brief moment of wondering whether Zelda's deduced that Mary Wardwell isn't who she says she is, Lilith concludes that she (the real she) must be Zelda's deity of choice - and who could blame the woman for having such good taste? Indeed, it occurs to her that Zelda's cries of ecstasy have always sounded curiously familiar, and she's tickled by her own ability to differentiate them from the whispered prayers and breathless climaxes that constantly filter through her mind like radio waves. Now armed with a clear recollection of the way her true name sounds as it falls from Zelda's lips, it would be so easy, so gratifying for Lilith to unmask herself and watch the shock crisscross the other woman's haughty features. But, she reminds herself a little poutily, she's dedicated to playing the long game above everything else. Simply put, she cannot and will not allow herself to be distracted from becoming the Queen of Hell - however severely Mary's piteous cunt may quiver at the lipstick drawn across Zelda's delicate mouth like a gash, however pleasant the press of the witch's panting body in the wake of their deliciously sinful trysts.Fortunately, despite not knowing the real identity of the demoness before her, Zelda displays a laudable deference nonetheless. Her supplication comes in many forms, from the seemingly endless cups of tea that engender an abundance of eyebrow-raises from her niece to the perennially eager willingness of the tongue that probes none too gently between Mary's soft thighs, but as far as Lilith's concerned, there's no purer form of genuflection than the reverent sighs that dance hotly across Mary's delightfully sensitive center as her fingers weave deftly through Zelda's burnished auburn hair. --Sabrina's apparent cluelessness of the dynamic between her aunt and her teacher verges on humorous for Lilith, which provides some much-needed comic relief during their drier topics of study. Especially when she's in her crueler moods, Lilith relishes the foreplay of obliviousness, the thrill of the last few moments before a devastating strike, and whenever Zelda hovers in the doorway to the parlor, she struggles to suppress a smile. Although Lilith's best-laid plans are being unfurled at an often excruciatingly glacial pace, that doesn't mean she can't have a bit of fun in the meantime, and with this in mind, she'll sometimes glance up and hold Zelda's gaze. Sabrina catches them once, notes the hint of a smile at the very edge of Mary's mouth as her decidedly flushed aunt lowers her eyes, then asks "...Ms. Wardwell?" in a tone that's simultaneously uncertain and incredulous. Zelda's practiced facade reasserts itself upon her countenance in a manner Lilith finds as obvious and abrasive as the clang of a steel door, and Sabrina gets an inscrutable look on her face. As for Lilith, she precisely purses Mary's lips, glances down at Sabrina's neat scrawl, and asks brightly, "Well, where were we?"--While Lilith wouldn't admit it to herself or anyone else, she's begun letting a small, still voice cut through her worshippers' ceaseless chatter with increasing frequency to introduce a surprisingly alluring concept: that of appointing her own concubine upon ascending to the Dark Throne. That way, she surmises, she can luxuriate in her dominion with Zelda serving at her feet.