He watches with intensity, or as much intensity that Kult can muster. Truly on the outside his dark black eyes displayed nothing, they only reflected like mirrors what was before them. In this case the fire, the rolling tendrils of smoke on flesh. He listened to the sizzle, his ears perked to find the noise, his nose found that the smell was repugnant. An unpleasant scent that one, but he did not shy away or leave. Instead he crept closer, a moth to flame, head tilting at obscene angles to peek at the activity.
His sister did not move, nor flinch, relishing the pain. Claiming the fire, taking it into herself before withdrawing. She chides the boy, the brother, what had he expected? He too wondered, what was supposed to happen? The flames consume her? A wise brother would know better. They did not hurt family, not their brothers and sisters. Had he made that mistake, they would have pushed him from the cliff, did fire help him fly?
It does not come to that, blinking as she pulls away, so he too backs up looking her over. Not a burn. His head pulls back to the boy, Raelynx, the fire having licked clean his coat. He had an idea, a game to play, one they all might enjoy. “Seals?” he questions, the animals barking heard from the beach below. What would happen when their skin was burned? Did it smell just as foul? Would it sizzle and crack? He wanted to know, more importantly he wanted to see. He would even help them corner one, guide it away from the others. Oh, he loved to play games, now only to get this brother to play too.
