violence
She is bitter.
She is bitter because she has a sister now – alien, like their father, though with metallic wings that stretch tall. She is everything Violence begged mother to make her – gruesome and terrifying, teeth capable of tearing flesh asunder, mouth clacking that awful alien noises, the bird-like trills of their father.
And the sister is stupid.
She does nothing with what she is, she skulks about and is nothing.
Violence makes her do things, sometimes – settles into her mind, pilots that terrifying vessel about, screeching and tearing. A monster, at least on the outside.
With this body she can smell their fear, a bitter and tangible scent, and she savors it.
Sister is good practice for Violence’s other skill. While the necromancy came natural, like breathing, the possession is harder. Dealing with living things always is.
But she possesses her sister often (mother doesn’t like it, pushes her out when she notices, but Violence is very clever and their mother is not), practices on her weak and malleable mind, and she gets better.
Still, possession is tiring, even on such empty stupid things as her sister. So tonight it’s just Violence – Violence and the bones, the strange misshapen creature she’s created from a piecemeal of bones. She used to make new ones daily, but this one has been with her for weeks, while she perfects it.
It clacks beside her, tethered, and she stalks the meadow, bitter and bored, til she sees him – a rotting thing, dead but somehow standing, and she is intrigued. Tentative, she reaches out with her necromancy, and feels something - a moment of connection before she is spat back out – and it’s proof enough that he is alive.
Alive, but also dead.
She smiles, wide like a shark.
“You,” she says, “are very interesting.”
I’d stay the hand of god, but war is on your lips
@[insane]. tagging you on purpose this time :p