If there is one injustice in this world, it is the fact that her brother's rumbling, beautiful voice is impeded by his majestic tusks. But her name, or rather her nickname, is so perfectly easy for him to pronounce that Romina cannot be bothered by it. It is how it should be, after all, and she falls into the singular syllable like a linen blanket wrapped round her shoulders. Perhaps a bit rough, but pleasant and soothing nonetheless against the cold of the north. A happy hum escapes her smiling lips as the smooth curve of his tusk rubs against the curve of her lithe neck, and she presses into the touch like a feline, her lithe tail brushing against him in answering proprietary touch. She likely takes too much pleasure in the different textures and temperatures of his body, but they are already mutated and outcasted from normality. What she seeks from his mind, body, and soul cannot be perceived as any more or less sinful than what fate has already doomed them with. He is the only one devoted to her, the only one who understands and loves her, and so she is the vulture that defends her prize against every mildly interested party.

They come together as if roosting, staring into one another's eyes until the world fades away and they are simply the only ones left. Romina and Ru'in. Ru and Ro. The rest can burn, and she watches with a squirm of pleasure in her belly as he scoffs around his horns. The beauty's visage crumples into something hateful and disgusted as he relays this news to her, a spark of vengeance already taking root in the warm autumn shades of her eyes. "They are unimaginative with their crafts," she huffs, not so rude as to spit or hiss this mockery of their works. They do not deserve her vitriol, not yet. And not when her dearest brother calls upon the metals of the earth, a dancing deer leaping about before crumbling beneath his displeasure, back to particles. Romina croons and presses little kisses to his face in blatant praise.

"See? Even in moments your creations are so much more beautiful, Ru," she breathes, wishing he had not destroyed it so quickly. It truly had been beautiful, after all. "You are too good for them, brother. Deimos is blind if he thinks your age should keep you from his ranks," and here enters her displeasure, the burn of her eyes returning from the warm coals they had become. "And I will do whatever it takes to let you craft." The flint of her eyes sparks, and though his desires are somewhat secondary to her own, they are still placed far higher than anyone else on the mortal plane. Her plans and his needs were the only factors that mattered to Romina.

A soft, plaintive sigh leaves the girl as her passion momentarily dwindles, eyes returning to the bronze filaments dusting across the cavern floor. "They will all say we are too young. How stupid of them." Romina didn't even know what she wanted to do with her life, if she were forced to take upon herself one of the regimented roles of the herdlands. She was no healer, and had never fought with anything beyond her mind and her barbed tongue. Perhaps she could follow in her mother's and aunt's steps to pursue the life of a thief and phantom, but even that was not entirely satisfactory. Romina wanted to be a ground breaker. She did not want to simply be the shadow of her mother's ghost.

"We should just leave," she spat unhappily, tail lashing against her dainty hocks. "You can take all the information you want from any of the other herd crafters, and we can leave this place. Travel until we find something we desire." The frown lifted slightly from her lips as she moved to nudge their muzzles together, shamelessly demanding his comfort. "Just the two of us. We don't need anybody else."


Romina
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is where I love you