01-26-2017, 07:56 AM
Kilte
R
the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
S
trange how companionship spreads from abandonment. Beqanna was rife with young souls who had been shirked by their parents – products of rape, or lack of interest, or the pure fact that mother just had a child each year and at some point, they had to grow up and on their own. And then there were the angels who stepped in, who spread their wings like a safe haven and provided comfort and care. Did Circinae have a past like this too? Was she once an angel and protector like Raeg’n? The ease and lackadaisical, easy conversation seemed to hint at such – although Kilter wouldn’t be one to know. His experience with adults had been a too busy mother, a corrupt father, silent Ruan, imprisoning Death, and his Angel. Even his Angel had been tepid at first (although tepid could be exchanged for wary, on guard for danger) - she handled Kilter like a responsibility sometimes, eat – sleep – shelter – danger, and was just beginning to crack open her outer shell – share smiles with him, soft nudges, and tender teasing.
His Angel shrugged – an answer she could not give – and Kilter responded with a small tightening of his brow before looking to Circinae for an answer. It came in the form of a peel of laughter, easy and light hearted. Kilter’s eyes widened with an innocent disbelief- she had called Kilter interesting. Interesting ; a word he had never been described as before. His mother was interesting; morphing to a Jurassic creature at will, his siblings were interesting; gifted with the ability to talk without speech, his father was interesting; an all-powerful being, his Angel was interesting; a gift from the gods. But he? He was just a silver sliver in life. He was barely surviving at best (at least no longer half dead). He had no special ability, no powerful position; he was even identical in look to his sibling. Interesting was not what he would call himself- and so he made a face, half concentration and half doubt.
So she was not an angel, just magnificently colored. Kilter sighed, the proposition of two angels had been exciting – Raeg’n could have finally had a friend like her. But he understood, sometimes it was just the way things were. “My father could change colors, but never like a peacock. I’m not as interesting as anything like you or him or my Angel.” Kilter remembered vaguely his mother explaining to his brother, who so adamantly asked why he couldn’t look like father instead of the triplets – his father changed his coat so they would all look just like mother. The things men did for women.
Circy is quick to push past Kilter’s impending disappointment and carries on the conversation. Kilter shrugs, peeking towards Raeg’n, unsure if he’s equipped to handle this question. “Death hasn’t come for me yet, so my Angel thought we could explore. Death’s home doesn’t have much.” Again, Kilter looks to Raeg’n - unsure of what next. He had never been taught socialization very well, his life had been spent with the wolves, and body language and calling out to one another had been the best he knew.
eight and topsail’s timid telekinetic