violence
Violence likes the darkness. She is not exactly bred for it, the way she supposes her more monstrous siblings are – and lord, her mother must be ecstatic - but Violence does as well in darkness as she does in daylight, and that is well enough. Her only annoyance is that it’s harder to see her bone-thing, for her vision is not meant for this glumness even if her soul is, so she finds herself leaning on touch, running her lips over the curves of her macabre pet, making sure its grotesque parts fit with one another. She does not mess with her creation in the darkness, but still keeps it animated, walking at her side. A waste of her powers, you could say, but Violence prefers the dryness of bone to the wet squelch of dead flesh, and besides, what else is she to do with her powers, if not show off?
She moves to the tune of clanking bone through the forest, and she intends to move past the dark mare, as she has moved past so many others. Violence is not friendly, her friendliness only manifests when she wants something.
Yet…
Yet something about the mare catches her attention. She reminds her of someone, though she cannot say who. So she pauses, and looks her over. She is black and unremarkable looking, much like Violence herself, though this mare lacks a bone menagerie at her side, as most horses do.
“Hello,” Violence says, cautious, still trying to place why something in the mare calls to her, “have we met before?”
these violent delights bring violent ends
@[Nostromo]