She is young. She is an embodiment of youthful potential. One day, in time to come, Helleborn will offer her body to the dark male. It will not be for love (at least not on her end) and she will take his seed, manipulate and bring forth a child.
But this will not happen for some time. The pale lavender eyes look to the haunted ones of the stallion who has offered his home to the mare-child.She does not smile for the lack of interest in pleasing him is quite prevalent across her young features. Instead she halts her movement so he may near her. The delicate poll is altered so she may look to her companion as they stand near the tang of sulfur and flora. This would be her new home. Inevitably, he would be her stallion.
The lass does not understand sex truthfully nor the motives of stallions behind the drive to conquer and subdue. Helleborn will scoff at such ideas when she is older. The striped girl had more to offer than a simple wet spot between her legs. So much more than the 'xx' chromosome and a womb in which to incubate a bastard.
But that was also for another day.
The ombre tinted dove looks to the taller beast. Her eyes are lacking, voided and empty. She is unamused and hardened to the ways of Beqanna even at her age. A child of sinister potential, of perversion, of rabid fucking.
Oh Helleborn
"What's your name?" She realizes her lack of introduction as well as his. She does not attempt to give her name till she is safely under his watchful eye in his home before quipping the inquiry. Her tones are low, monotone as long lashes fall over her young eyes. Her soul is much too old, too wise for her own damn good.
HELLEBORN
light up the world as i fall asleep