03-08-2017, 12:59 PM
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It is like those paintings rendered of small children, holding the hand of the boogeyman with no fear. Wide eyed, reassured, they clutch the paw of the very beast meant to frighten them and look right into the canvas. That's how Ajatar stands now, no bit of fear in her small, naive body - just the wide eyed curiosity that only a child so close to the darkness can have. She finds his sharp edges soothing, because they remind her of her own. While others would see him for what he is - horns and cloven hooved, the very signs of The Beast - she sees nothing. She didn't know her father, Carnage, but she has an inkling nothing could be worse than him.
Or her mother.
He inquires after her name, and then after her mother. She gives her name willingly, she knows nothing of leverage. "Ajatar," she says readily. Perhaps she'd be more pliable if Harmonia wasn't her mother, but she knows there are snakes in the grass. She just confuses them as something akin to her due to her own snake scales. At the mention of her mother her shoulders roll in a great motion of indifference, though she's not yet learned farce. She cares, if only to keep an eye on her lest she pop up unexpected.
"She has her magic again," she says, a fact she knows but does not truly understand. Magic. What a strange thing, what term with no imagery to her. This is all the answer she supposes he needs, because a horse with her magic restored is whole again. Perhaps he knows this, perhaps he has magic of his own. She suspects so, she can see the flicker of it behind his eyes. It reminded her of herself when she tries to keep it at bay.
"What do you have?" she asks, not failing to notice him reigning it in. Did she upset him? What did she do to trigger it? Anger triggered her, but he doesn't seem angry now.
Or her mother.
He inquires after her name, and then after her mother. She gives her name willingly, she knows nothing of leverage. "Ajatar," she says readily. Perhaps she'd be more pliable if Harmonia wasn't her mother, but she knows there are snakes in the grass. She just confuses them as something akin to her due to her own snake scales. At the mention of her mother her shoulders roll in a great motion of indifference, though she's not yet learned farce. She cares, if only to keep an eye on her lest she pop up unexpected.
"She has her magic again," she says, a fact she knows but does not truly understand. Magic. What a strange thing, what term with no imagery to her. This is all the answer she supposes he needs, because a horse with her magic restored is whole again. Perhaps he knows this, perhaps he has magic of his own. She suspects so, she can see the flicker of it behind his eyes. It reminded her of herself when she tries to keep it at bay.
"What do you have?" she asks, not failing to notice him reigning it in. Did she upset him? What did she do to trigger it? Anger triggered her, but he doesn't seem angry now.
a j a t a r