08-26-2016, 10:56 AM
Her mind is still too feral to comprehend such abstract concepts as fate and destiny. Things simply are, in Charnel’s world, and they are not things she often questions. Violence sometimes comes into her mind, makes her hunt and hurt (both others and herself), because it is the way things are. Charnel is a monster because she simply is.
Mostly, it’s easy, to live this way, accepting and unquestioning.
Sometimes – like today – there is something rattling in the back of her mind, a stone in her shoe, a nagging sense of something she does not have the words for. Something missing. Something wanting to be found, unearthed; if only she had the tools to dig it up.
She watches him approach, and for a moment she catches his scent and her fetal mind cries out in hunger - meat! - but she quashes that thought immediately, buries it back down where it belongs. Once the initial assessment is gone, she notes the gender - male, unique, for Charnel lives with women and a monster who is known as it - and notes the color, a green that hurts the eyes, unlike the earthy greens she is used to. She notices other things – like her, he lacks a mane, though there is no armor in its place. Like her, the lips curve oddly, though where her maw is harder, almost beaklike, his is merely split and strange.
“Hello,” she says the words carefully, for the language still feels heavy and strange in her mouth, then, “I’m Char…nel.”
Her name is not meant to be said from her odd lips – a cruel joke, really.