From the moment she was born, Villanelle was a beautiful creature. Her silver eyes flash like an unworn ring, the blue of her hide shimmers beneath even the softest of lights, the ebony of her markings outlining the blue in such a way that it looks like a night sky. Her smile is gorgeous and devilish, like the charming curl of a rosy-cheeked toddler’s hair. Her parents are terribly adept at creating the marvelous and the dangerous—Nell being the perfect combination of the two.
That beauty is a poison, though—one that teaches the filly hate like no child should know.
She supposes the girl before is just as beautiful as she, but the edges of her eyes soften at her childish smile. A wandering thought of Why can’t I be like that? drills a throbbing behind her eyes, and she lets that envy turn into something vicious.
“Well maybe you should go somewhere else.” This she slides in between the sentences Lovewell floats in Nell’s direction. Her voice calm and her gaze level, she cocks her head with a sly smile. She thinks it would be satisfying to send this girl away, but then she realizes she does not know what she would do in this big meadow all by herself—a strange loneliness creeps up her throat.
“My name is Villanelle,” she replies, cocking her head to the right and sliding a darkly playful gaze over Lovewell’s sides. Her hooves leave little u-shaped impressions in the dirt when she steps closer to the swirl-covered filly. Where she settles her left hoof impatiently digs a small hole into the earth.
“Why are you named that?” she murmurs, then stretches her muzzle to brush against Lovewell’s in an instinctive greeting.
@[lovewell]