A rose in the rain [any]

[violence]

violence

She has reveled in her uniqueness, her few brief interactions had been with horses less extravagant than she. Of course, she was raised amongst the strange - her mother a magician draped in shadow and splendor, her father a monster with a feral tongue who often stank of blood.
Neither of them use their abilities to the fullest, a fact she bemoans. She’s begged her mother for more, to make her stronger, make her fiercer, but mother denies her, instead speaking dreamy-eyed of her strange night-faith, the kind of thing Violence wants no part in. She does not look for gods or goddesses as her mother does. Rather, she looks for her own entertainment.

She hopes to have found that in the stallion, boring as he may seem - her instincts had called to him, and she had obeyed. And perhaps she was right in doing so, because with his introduction he speaks of his own power, though she sees no bones scattered about him.
“Then where are your bones?” She asks what she thinks is the obvious, for why not use a power?
(It’s part of the reason why she’s so strong at such a young age - she’s always played with the bones, made them dance for her.)
“I can do other things, too,” she says, smiling. It’s a wicked, playful smile. She is less refined with her possession, finding most too boring to possess (she’d loved being in her father’s mind, a wild snarling thing that had only thought hunt and meat, but mother had put a stop to it soon enough). But refined or not, she is not afraid to use it. So she touches at his mind, lightly, lets him feel her prodding fingers, picking inside his consciousness like a locksmith. She does not possess him fully, and immediately retreats to her own lest her bone-beast collapse without her to hold it aloft.
“See?”
Her eyes are dancing.

“I’m bored as well,” she says, and the creature nods its assessment.
“And you aren’t boring. If you really are a necromancer. You could be fun.”
She realizes she knows his name, now - both from his introduction and from her brief foray into his mind.
“My name is Violence.”
A fitting name, really.

I’d stay the hand of god, but war is on your lips

apologies for any typos, this was written in google docs on the dl in this meeting room
also if you don't want her to possess him just ignore that she was just being a show off