let's hang together, Kushiel & Namaah

[Kushiel]

Kushiel felt his heart constrict a little when his sister wobbled over to him. He never considered himself a huge softy, but apparently he is. All these years he spent cultivating a too cool to care demeanor came crashing down around the hooves of a little girl.

It’s not a new story.

But still, as he reached his nose for the girl he couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him. Is he mine? His chuckling continued, and he chucked the child under her chin, his muzzle nearly the size of her whole face.

“Why yes, little one, I believe he is.” This is a bad start, a very bad start. He will not be viewed as an authority figure if they carry on in this manner. He had imagined trespassing on his mother’s hospitality so he could raise his sister in his image. That won’t happen if he doesn’t get it together. However, the little girl continued, and again he had to fight a laugh. He managed to suppress it, but couldn’t help the grin struggling for supremacy on his face. His sister is so serious in her musing that he would hate to discourage her. Someone had to be serious in this family. He and Gallows certainly hadn’t managed that feat. 

“No, no I think you must be mistaken.” He measured Namaah with his nose, then looked her up and down.

“You’re definitely a peanut, but I’ll call you Namaah if you wish.” He winked at her, because even then he knew he was lying. He was still going to call her Peanut, and Sugar Plum, and every other ridiculous name he could come up with to undermine her dignity. However, apparently she had plenty opinions of her own, and he snorted, pretending to be affronted. He looked around at Gallows.

“Did you hear that, Ma?” He did note the slightly whiney quality to his voice and wasn’t embarrassed. Namaah had been alive a whole five minutes and already she was telling him about their ma.

“Mama is very picky. But thankfully, I’ve already been approved. Or at least, she can’t change her mind now. I’m your brother goofy girl. My name is Kushiel.” He then proceeded to ruffle her forelock unforgivably. Let her try to be dignified now, with a messed up forelock. Even as he was tousling her hair he noted her question and his lips quirked into a smile.

“Why, you are Peanut.” He was being intentionally vague, and intentionally calling her Peanut. It’s time this kid learned who was boss.