Kianzo

I loathe your prayer. I wallow in sin. Let the nightmare begin.

His head tilted sharply—absence had made his own heart grown darker…but perhaps fonder, too, if he really thought about it.

His ears tilted backwards, “She wasn’t looking for me at the Endless Blue. She was with Ru’in,” he spat the name, an unsurprising amount of malice put into the word. “I wouldn’t stop looking for her,” he continued, a surly hypotheses that he, in his youth, is foolhardy enough to declare. But, as always, there is an edge to his deep voice; as if to imply that this proclamation was more than just a young colt’s promise.

But, despite the simmering dissent in his words, the thought of Kiada being ’desperate’…of finding Thranduil to help find him. One can nearly hear the icy angry cracking at the warmth of affection that flood past the dam of indifference and isolation he had built in his small chest. Keusi gave a small yip in response—she’s not sure she likes this feeling, she was much happier with the two of them, alone, and on the angry prowl. Her sharp gaze narrowed, flicked to the aloof golden, before crouching and ready to unleash this uncertain annoyance on the cerndyr—

’No.’

The command rang strong and firm through their bond, keeping her paws tethered to the blood-soaked carcass. She whined and gnashed her teeth—but the dark prince is not looking at her. He is looking staring at the Laurelin. His black rimmed ears twitch at the name he gives him—a fitting name, a title. A harbinger of success and power. All things the colt aspires and years for. The colt, unknowingly, plays right into the Laurelin’s expert, well-practiced hooves.

His ashen chest puffs out slightly, as if to emphasize that he was deserving of such a title. And he is given a choice—a choice phrased in a challenge that he willing answered, “I am no coward, Laurelin,” again, his hoof strikes out, hitting the Qilin’s mangled flesh, “I am a Prince, and I will have my Princess beside me. I deserve this, and so does she—not some monstrous filth.”

Though the word he used—’hiding’—it rankles him, so he tacks on, “I was not ‘hiding’,” he snorted, “I was hunting the Minotaur.” Though from any other colt, such a boast would be just that: a boast; however, with Kianzo, the dark conviction and ambition in his voice revealed that it was more of a promise. He also, more quietly, added, “We found our companions here…” his deep voice trailed off as he glanced away, into the mists, and began to start out of the Labyrinth. Though his ears followed Thranduil, making sure that the gold would accompany him.

Keusi, hungry eyes still on Haldir, ripped a bronze antler from her meal and carried it in her mouth. Her sharp teeth made dangerous creaks around it as she trotted darkly after the prince.