Kianzo

Stars hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.

Sharp, angry blue eyes dart to the jaws that began to awn along her back; large fiery wolves’ jowls that mirrored the ashen hyena jaws at this own chest. His ears, already tilted back, pinned flush with the gold of his crest, disappearing into the long, thick black strands there as she responded to him in hisses of their own language. And because it was in their own tongue, it cut through him faster and deeper than if she had spoken in the common tongue.

His gaze grew so sharp that it fractured, blue gems giving way beneath the whetstone of hateful anger, as her mocking laugh ripped through the air that was so heavily weighted between all the siblings. But, ever proud and ever in love, his breaking and shattering gaze met her angry glare as her head grew high and eye grew dark.

“You left me.”

He flinched, a wince running through him as he felt her words drive a wedge into the the thin fissure between them, in him, breaking wide open the small splinter that had formed with his absence. “No,” was his deep, whisper response—but her tirade for words trucked over his single syllable. A soft, pained breath pushed out of his flared nostrils—though he dared not breathe beyond that as he watched his sister continue to spiral away from him—out of control.

So his scent of smoke was delayed, and it was only when heat his leg that his eyes glanced down to find a small, swirling vortex of fire beside him. He blinked at it, before his gaze jerked back to Kiada, about to remark or comment about the magic she was apparently using—

“Things will never be the as they once were.”

Another breath, this one an audible snort, pushed out of the colt. His ears, which had tipped towards the flames, tilted back and his lips parted slightly. Pain and panic and fear and anger all clamored louder and louder in his chest and pressed against his skull. And then Kiada was running, leaving him. Instinct set in, a colt driven by anger and fear.

So he turned on the twin siblings, a delicate fawnling and her chained beast. “This is your fault,” he spat the words—it is easier for a young mind to turn on others than admit its own faults and transgressions, “You—,” his narrowing, hateful gaze sharpened on Ru’in, “You stupid—”

But his words were cut off as ash burst from his chest, jowls of angry ashen hyenas hungry for the poor beast’s throat. With silent screams they attempted to lunge towards Ru’in, intent on their prey. Similarly, Keusi’s teeth snapped on more and more bones in the meager pile they had gathered—but her snarls were not silent.

And neither was her hatred, for suddenly a terrible and terrifying force pulsed from her body. One that caused a yip of glee to punctuate her snarls. And this newfound magic, manifested by Kianzo’s loathing, seemed to head straight for Ru’in and the close-by Romina.