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A hand combs through his hair, gently smoothing it down and into places. It's relaxing, one of the few calm rituals he often finds himself happy to indulge in. Perhaps simply because of how quiet it is.
"You're quite beautiful, you know." She hums, almost sweetly. "You remind me of myself when I was younger. In some ways."
It's praise so he takes it, letting it sit with him so snugly for a moment. Her hands come down and trace his jaw line, fingers meeting at his chin before sliding back to his shoulder.
"Even if you lose all of this, there's not doubt that you'll be a fine young man. Make it an asset. If you are desirable, prey will be easier to catch. It is...one of the few ways humans are similar to our ancestors."
He's not entirely sure what she really means by that, but he doesn't want to question her. If she approves of him, then that is enough. If it is his appearance that earns him attention, then he must accept it. So long as he seems like less of a failure.
"...they will kill you." She leans forward, wrapping her arms around him loosely. "When they know what you are, they will attack without mercy. Beauty makes them hesitate. I'd like you to remember that."
He nods slowly. That is what some hypnotists do, isn't it? Make themselves appear beautiful enough to stay a hand. He's told he'll understand that more when he's older - why such a thing would work that way. He understands that things can be pretty, but he'd moreso use that to describe clothing or the night sky. Ah, perhaps then that is why. He wouldn't dare tear up a beautiful shirt and in the same way, one would not wish to harm a beautiful face.
And for he himself to be that gorgeous object...that would be quite the protection indeed.
He'd never thought about himself that way before, not that he looks at himself much at all. There have been comments about his looks before him it's always 'you look so much like her'. And, he supposes then, that this means he can be elegant. This means he can be absolutely terrifying.
But it wins him approval. It ensures that he is seen and sometimes loved, yet does not always stay a hand. Then that is why he should learn to utilise it. If he can not gain acceptance through success, then he should embrace his so called beauty until he has to be adored. Until she can not dismiss him and is this gentle with him always.
To be adored is their right, that's what she tells him. If not willingly, than forcibly. And of course, he wants that. Of course he desires to be looked at and praised, so perhaps this is simply another avenue to achieve that.
It's nice to be hugged. Hers are different, but it is affection nonetheless so he takes it. How she holds him like a precious vase instead of in her powerful grip. Instead of not at all.
"You're such a lovely boy," she likes to coo, a sound he's sure will remain in his head forever. "It's almost sad you'll be so tall someday. But you'll always listen, won't you?"
He's not sure why, but he's certain he will. Certain that despite everything, he will always hold her words close with no chance of truly letting go. They will dig into him and he will be grateful.
Because what is there to ever deny her?
He will always have his destiny. To rule over the cattle will be a want burned into his mind until he loses that entirely, and thus, she will continue to linger. She will continue to praise and guide and mock him until he forgets her entirely and even after. For every time he catches his reflection, it reminds him.
Looks are important. His are an asset. A face like this will protect him someday, somehow.
A hand combs through his hair as he stares at himself. All his angles, those terribly masculine features that define him so handsomely. Something inside grows hollow. Pulling on a strand, he sighs. He needs a haircut.