08-29-2016, 04:33 PM
She has watched mother grow fat again, watched Violence roll her wild eyes and make comments in a low (yet loud, obvious) voice that she hopes she can just destroy this one. Mother says Violence is jealous, but Charnel doesn’t know why, not when Violence is whip-smart and beautiful; and powerful, so powerful, a bone-goddess. Violence does not share her desire to be a monster with Charnel, when Violence wants to be a monster she simply slips into Charnel, and Charnel is her monster.
She’s good, really. Good for her. Ready to make her happy, to elicit the dulcet praise of her sister.
(Even if she hurts Charnel, sometimes. A lot of times. She loves her.)
She watches the thing approach, notes a similar roundness to her belly. She is curious; this creature, humpbacked and larger, wooly fur. Her reptile brain surges forth, hungry, thinks meat, so much meat, but she quiets it. She is good at quieting it, even if a hunger persists constantly in her belly, low and never sated.
She speaks, and it’s slow and slurred (like me, Charnel thinks, almost gleeful). She appreciates the slow speech, it gives her longer to listen, to translate the words into something she can understand.
“Yes,” she says, and she grins, too, though you can barely tell, given her odd and beaklike mouth.
“I’m Char…nel,” she says. So slow to say the name. She looks at the creature, curious and eager.
Monster, meet monster.