It would have been easy to miss, the difference between “Ollie” and “Olivier”; perhaps, if he wasn’t so sensitive to it, he would have missed it. Certainly Dagny does. But even before the stranger continues on to name their parents, which even Dagny could not have missed, Olivier has stiffened beside her, alerting her to the unusual words coming from the purplish man she has brought them to. The gold boy draws himself to his full height, ears starting to turn slightly back towards his head, immediately thinking ‘threat’ and trying to get ready to defend them. She is different – she is excited by this new thing, by him knowing what shouldn’t be known. She goes to step forward again, eager, but he leans into her and flicks a glance her way, a glare that keeps her from moving forward.
They are adults, but it is strange to think of themselves as “great” aunts and uncles – they are certainly not that old. But of course words are only words, and relations can be a convoluted thing. Though Cy was one of the few mares to whom Brennen returned multiple times, she was not one of the few to whom he returned due to emotional attachment, and so there were many years between Oksana and the twins, and many again before the youngest full-sibling was born. Plenty of time for Oksana to have a family who had families and have him be not that much younger than them.
Ollie’s ears flatten the rest of the way to touch his skull when the words come back around to him, bristling at the label of ‘wrong’ – until his horn is suddenly there, weighty against his head and so right – and then it is gone. His eyes are wide, unsettled, still half-ready to leap to their defense. In contrast her eyes are wide with delight, green gaze flicking back and forth between her twin and the other boy, this relative of theirs. They are no strangers to the gifts Beqanna can bestow on its residents, how could they be with their extended family as varied as it is, but this is something they have never seen.
“How do you know about us? We’ve never met!” Dagny’s voice is bright and curious, friendly still. (It takes a lot more than a demonstration of so-far harmless magic to make her anything but friendly.) Nearly at the same time, so that their voices overlap, he speaks as well. “How did you do that?” Unlike her, there are threads of tension, aggression, and just the faintest hint of fear in his deep, quiet voice. Fear makes many aggressive, and the fear that this might be something dangerous he can’t defend them from is well enough to make Olivier border on aggression. Dagny returns his sharp glare from earlier, and then smiles gently back at Woolf. “Don’t mind him. He thinks you might want to hurt us – but I’m sure you don’t.”
Sorry I took forever, I forgot to subscribe to this thread and then forgot to check for replies. :|