violence
She has come to realize she is above them.
She is no magician like her mother, no monster like her father, but she carries about her a sort of wicked cunning, and inside her she carries other things: the ability to speak bones from the earth, the ability to creep inside their minds.
She prefers the former, and has a talent for it. She prefers bones to rotted flesh, pulls them from the ground and creatures great creatures, things with the skull of a horse and the body of wolves or pumas, gives them horns and teeth and claws. She keeps these creations as companions, makes them walk beside her, the clacking of bones soothing.
One such creature stays beside her now. It’s almost instinct, now, keeping it animated and walking – easy as breathing. She walks in stride with a monstrosity, head high, proud. She is given a wide berth, for even if there are creatures more powerful than she, there is a certain feverish glint in her eye that makes her easy to be avoided.
She’s half-grown, two years now, body not quite filled. She lacks the sharp angles of her mother, is far more equine in her mortal body (a fact she bemoans, and even though she begs mother will not make her a monster, so she does what she can). She’s tried to find a skull that fits over hers, like armor, but has yet to stumble upon anything fitting. So she is forced to be plain – well, plain as one can be walking alongside a strange bone-thing with an endlessly grinning skull.
She grins, too.
She grins when she sees the girl – younger than her – who has been left alone.
“Hello,” she says, “would you like to meet my friend?”
Behind her, a bones clack and clamor.
I’d stay the hand of god, but war is on your lips
remember in plots we said they were gonna meet i finally got around to it <3