Listen to them, the children of the night;
what music they make.

The dark princeling relaxed, allowing his sister’s gentle lips at his ear to calm the tumultuous crashing of anger, betrayal, and fractious excitement that had exploded in his small, ashen chest the moment he had awoken to their father. ”We might be able to find something that benefits us.” And, as she was his mirror and other half, she tempered him. Where he had the hate to hurt their father; she had the subtly to manipulate. And so he slowly settled into Kia’s side, letting her take him down this scheming path; he found calm in it.

But, at his father’s rebuke, rage instantly rose and overwhelmed any calming emotion he might have felt from leaning into sister’s silken warmth. The heatless tickles of her flames near his spine did nothing to calm the sudden, blazing hate that spat from his black-masked face. Black-rimmed, small ears pin flush with his skull— “Does she not faithfully follow you and share your emotions?”

And his ears unpinned, tilting towards his cub. Even when Kiada had abandoned him for whatever adventures she sought, his hyena cub at been at his heels. Facing the she-ghost-whore on the salt flats; meeting and facing their uncle’s ominous sanity. Bright sapphire eyes dart to his cub in begrudging accession. He did owe the striped, golden cub-bitch a name.

His ears splayed in annoyance at the maudlin explanation for Kia’s vulture’s name. He just refrained from rolling his eyes; the heavy stare of his sire and his light (but stingingly true) rebuke stopped him from his normally churlish behavior. His sharp gaze watched Kia’s back, knowing that her true reaction to the naming of her precious vulture would show in the flames there.

But then it was his turn. Or, more appropriately, his companion’s turn. The colt was entirely mentally prepared to scoff at whatever sentimental name the Elephant King had deigned to give his companion. He would name her himself, away from his sire’s prying eyes.

”Keusi.”

That was, until, his father actually named the cub. And it was a name that came without mawkish words or warm, navy gazes. The colt’s bright, sharp stare darted to his father—only to find that his attention was back on mother. But something stirred in his barrel—something like respect. But, to the colt, such a feeling was too alien and strange to name.

“Keusi,” the colt whispered quietly to his cub. And the hyena yipped back, sharp teeth exposed in a toothy grin.

Kiada & Kianzo