He was one of The Children, and that was everything.
Kult swayed as he walked, a rolling unnatural gait. Predetory, prowling, his nape slung low dipping his head towards the earth. He was young, very young, but he wouldn't be coddled, wouldn't be dictated by some worrisome Dam. Most of them wouldn't, his brothers and sisters, they were many. He was colored a dull, lackluster bay, with no shine whatsoever. His only distinguishing mark, his only mark period, was an irregular star strongly resembling the letter 'x'. It sat half covered by his ebon mane, between two flat black eyes.
With that look, one might never know Kult had anything going on upstairs. Might mistake him for some brand of simpleton.
Such a blank stare for such a young man, concerning if your life was rainbows and wishes. Not so much when your momma encouraged your deviance, smiled at each kill. Why you say? To watch them die of course. It was a favor, to be released from the cage of the physical plane, to obtain the divine at the other end. He had right to make that decision, they all did, they were absolute.
It was written in iron, made true by the statue that lingered in the cove. Solidified by the teaching of the Mothers, they could all achieve salvation, if they were faithful, if they did works for him.
He walked pointedly to the other male, his dial not even turning to take in the reptillian form of the female. As he neared, stopping just short of the black figure, he finally spoke. The saints they would recoil at his voice, an assured, un-childlike speech."I want to play a game,"a simple sentence, but it did not bode of chase or frolicking. No, the other would know exactly what sort of frivolity he was into. The boy could recognize a black heart anywhere.
