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

violence

There is a feeling, as the mare looks at her. It is familiar, a tingle in the back of her mind, and her heart beats faster but she does not know why. It is that same odd sense of things familiar yet not familiar, a warped sort of déjà vu, and oh, Violence is intrigued now!
Still, the mare only says no and Violence sighs, because she is curious now, and her curiosity can be a dangerous thing when not handled correctly. Because there is something still, in the heaviness of her words, that rings familiar.
Violence does not move, but she sends her bone-thing closer. Just a step or two, to gauge the dark mare’s reaction. She is tempted to have it touch her, but refrains for now. She must be patient, but she finds patience so fruistrating.

She moves – not closer, but lateral, trying to see more of the mare, to unlock the reason behind this strange familiarity. She still cannot find it, but senses it’s there, some hidden image she only needs to look at the right way in order to make it pop into sharp relief.
“And yet…” she says, “I feel as if I know you. Something familiar in you, something…”
A soft clacking noise as the bones shift. A tension in the mare’s jaw, and suddenly, Violence sees it.
“You remind me of my sisters,” she says, “except they’re a bunch of monsters.”

these violent delights bring violent ends