violence
She doesn’t recognize the name, but does it matter? She does not have her family tree memorized (such a thing would be a daunting task indeed), after all. What matters is her instincts tell her there is something about this mare, and that is enough. She thinks of her sisters, how they yielded to her, how her own father yielded.
(Mother was the only one who did not, and to whom Violence did not attempt. She and mother did not get along.)
“Akari,” she repeats, “what an interesting name.”
It’s an unfamiliar word, unlike her own name, which she is eager to share with the mare.
“My name is Violence,” she says, then, although the mare didn’t ask, she gestures to her bone creature, “and this thing doesn’t have a name.”
She’ll give it names, sometimes, try out different things, but nothing ever fits for long. Her creation is ever-evolving, so why shouldn’t the same go for its name?
“You seem unhappy, Akari,” she says. In truth, nothing is particularly off about this mare – and besides, Violence is certainly no empath – but she knows, as a rule, many horses are unhappy, so it’s a line she’s cheerful enough to go with. She steps closer. Just a little. Just to get a closer look, to better see what she may have to work with.
these violent delights bring violent ends
@[Nostromo]