What to do / I'm black and blue ANY

[Ajatar]

ajatar

devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest;
angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.

Ajatar regards the hellhound with bold faced curiosity, in a way that only an innocent child could. Though Ajatar is no longer a child - her sinewy limbs of adolescence have morphed into the stout, thick limbs of her ancestors. She is every bit Harmonia and Carnage's child, down to the smokey black exterior. She lacks their carnal rage (for now) and instead is filled with self loathing and sadness. That sadness, it seems, is easy to detect, for the hellhound smells her out in a way that only they could.

The hellhound is mildly familiar, though Ajatar cannot place why. There's something strikingly equuid about him, something that rings a bell far in the recesses of her mind. With all that's gone on these days there's no surprise she's almost completely forgotten her childhood, the quiet days of Pangea running the edges of the kingdom, hoping for something more. Hoping to escape her mother. The thought of her mother is unwelcomed, so she pushes it down and shudders.

Of course - he must be one of those shape shifters. He is a horse in a hellhound body, or perhaps the other way around. Ajatar knows what it's like to feel desperate in your own skin.

"The worst," she admits. Despite herself she is still youthful and innocent, and telling her woes to a stranger is not brought with embarrassment but relief. "I lost a friend recently, and it was all my fault," she laments.