Aaron clearly does not like him, but Kaj is not intimidated nor sorry for his behavior. Why should he be, after all? He had spoken honestly, and if Aaron did not respect their equal levels and Kaj's experience and age, then it was his loss and Mirage's problem, for Kaj would not let the youngling charge stupidly into the borders of the Foothills, right into the paws of the Grey. Cooly he observed the smaller male, an old and resigned look upon his features. "You speak truth, child. It is for Mirage to decide, as we are not allies and in fact enemies status-wise. But Aaron, I ask you; had I been foalhood friends with one of the Basin soldiers, perhaps one who was not racist and merely a part of the herd, would you find it wise for me to go charging thoughtlessly in and demand an explanation? After all, I am in enemy territory. They have fought against me, hate my kind, even if my foalhood friend does not. Clearly these friends of yours do not value those bonds as highly as you may, they attacked your home, your family, did they not?" Kaj's disapproving tones settled into worn and weary ones, a soft sigh escaping. He is old, today. He feels the weight of so much upon his strong shoulders, and it is starting to become too much with all the events unfolding at once. "I have a dear friend within those borders too. If you truly wish to go, I advise you to seek the council of our Dragonheart, and call for them outside the borders, singularly. If you wish to I will come with, I desire to see my friend, he was not at the invasion from what I could see, but safety lies within numbers." Crown shook and another sigh crossed his lips, pale azures faded and glossy with the weight of knowledge and responsibility. Let the child be angry at him, despise him. In time, he too would be broken and burned, and he would grow stronger and harder to make up for it. Kaj had, at least. Most souls could not handle the tear and torture of the world, so they patched themselves up and braced their shoulders, strengthened, and prayed for a little more wisdom. It was not his place any longer. Let Aaron speak to the Dragonheart, let him approach Mirage with the desire to check upon his friends. Kaj would speak no more upon the subject, lines heavy and thick on his face despite still being well within his prime. Youth still clung within his body, his bones. Instead he turns to his darling sister, disparaged by the war she has so bravely fought, curled beneath the feathered boughs of her darling. She has grown, today. Kaj only wishes it had not been brought about in such a tragic way. The eyes of her mate fall upon him, and Kaj offers a comely smile. He seems to recognize his behavior, something Kaj has yet to encounter, and already he is beginning to like this protective, clearly loving steed that guards his little sister so well. "A fine name, Quilyan. Your beloved has been a great companion of mine, I fondly consider her a sister; I hope you and I can grow close similarly, knightly Quilyan." The warmth returns to his features, vivid pale blues sparkling, lips quirking in an honest, encouraging smile. Resplendence trusts this brute enough to huddle beneath the appendage she feared so much, and so Kaj will trust him the same. Inside, he had a feeling the stag would prove him true, cement the faith Kaj had already gifted him.

Kahlua seemed shaken by the turmoil of the meeting, which had been riddled with angst since formation. Despairing, when one considered how tenuous their harmony was with the invasion already. She spoke not to him, instead to Quilyan, who murmured quietly to Kaj in a manner he was happily surprised to behold. Was this stag like him, and those of his home? If so, he would be the one Helovian who did not baffle and astound the pale golden giant. Kindly he smiled, head bobbing shortly in approval. Lately he has been speaking so much, so unlike him. Words were not his strong point, as an action based brute, and yet he spoke with such eloquence one would not believe such. It made him feel odd, for he was not normally in the company of ones so talkative. In his chest he ached, longed for Ink. Oh how he missed his mute companion, the youth that he had taken under his wing, the one that had accepted him, given him the symbol of the lion to forever rest inscribed in the smudge of his art across Kaj's canvas. Ink was one of the few who understood. In order to make others understand, he had to speak so very much, and it wasn't something the aureate angel had grown used to. Not yet. Though with how much he was doing already, it was likely within a season or two he would adjust to that level.

Then he heard it, a sound not usually prevalent within the Edge.

Wing beats.

Invasion still heavy on his mind, Kaj looked to the skies, handsome visage hard and cold as a feminine voice rang out. Mocking, almost euphoric or hysteric, manic. Clearly she did not know where they were, and his boughs rose from his sides to spread slowly, silently, across the expanse around him. He would not alert her by letting the air shift too loudly. Not that it mattered much, for moments later Aaron returned her call, and only then did Kaj see the pure horror and panic upon his little sister's sweet face. No time for words to comfort Kahlua, to question Aaron. Quilyan was the only other bewinged being, but Kaj's eyes turned to hard slivers of aquamarine and he positioned himself face to face with the painted lad. "You keep her safe, Quilyan." Love for Resplendence, anger at the intruder, and a silent plea accompanied his words, making it come out like an order, though it was one he knew Quilyan would have no trouble keeping. Spinning upon his haunches he lifted his front end off the ground, leaping forth in a running start and beating the wind with his wings. Branches crushed against his massive muscled canvas, unnoticed. A snarl twisted his features. He knew these skies, these treetops, far better than the wicked maiden that called out in such a hideously sweet tone. Bursting out of the canvas of twigs still struggling to bud with life, he hovered heavily like a hummingbird drinking nectar from a flower. Muscles strained at this action, hindquarters dropped low and loose, and slight sweat touched his coat, but the heavy pound of his wings was a threatening sound, a dangerous warning. Baby blues caught sight of the sparkling siren, for how could he not see her in this darkness, lit only by the patron of their land? From his throat came a sound, primal and strong, used in times before cognitive behavior changed them all. A scream, a challenge, a lion's roar into the night meant for the ears of his slighter prey. No words were needed in that moment. The lion had emerged from the calm surface of his behavior, teeth bared in threat and tail whipping, claws desperate to sink into the canvas of that which had burned him. In a single motion he dropped his wings in a mighty shove and headed straight towards the bright, sparkling beacon. "LEAVE!" The mighty lion roared, massive hooves curled and aimed for her, mighty wings and giant frame diving for her. She was tiny in comparison, a mouse in the paws of more than a mere housecat. He may be slower, but he was just as agile from his Andalusian blood, and his blows would shake her bones like an earthquake. She would not threaten his beloved sister and her darling. She would not intrude upon his homeland, clearly sweaty and scraped from a fight, seeking more blood.

Kaj bared his teeth in the pale light she and the moon exuded, glinting like the fangs of the mighty African predator his dear friend had heralded him as. Fight beside me, Ink. Let me protect the ones I love, in the way I was unable to protect you. Help me, help me keep her away from the family you let me join, keep her from harming the ones you and I love so dearly and served so loyally. Fight or flight, impact or dodge, Kaj was not letting this fake temptress out of his sight or far from his reach. He would never touch earth again, fly until his muscles gave out and his wings crumpled like a mistreated origami crane, if it meant his brethren were safe from her claws. For in his blood rushed the waters of the ocean's end, and in his chest his heart pounded out the rhythm of the waves upon the cliffs, and his wings stirred the mists that shrouded the home he had bled and suffered for. Their blood was more precious than his. They had crowned him, loved him, believed in him. He was their WingLeader. Crimson would fall from his body for them and not a single drop would be missed. He would offer himself for slaughter, torture, anything within the gates of hell and psychotic scheming if it ensured the health of the people that had given him their shoulders and warmth. The Edge lives in us all. You are forever a part of it. Forever ingrained, remembered. Let her come. Let her kill him, should she prove herself able. With his last breath he would only profess his love for his people, and die with a bloody smile upon his features.

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Notes: So sorry for the wait!
WC: 1,784