do you think God stays in his heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he has created?
He does not know what it means to love and perhaps he never will, but there is a bloom of warmth in his chest when Litotes arrives and calls Ghaul his. The boy’s ears perk up and he smiles pleasantly. This one is his father, then? He turns his reptilian head and watches this splash of red as a soft purr builds in his chest. Between Dawn’s warmth and each of them trying to groom the blood from his body, he finds himself entirely pleased with the circumstances. Perhaps it’s the attention or simply the way they seem to care for him already. Either way, the corners of his lips maintain their smile effortlessly.
A little leathery ear turns when Dawn mentions the word ‘hunt’, making him snap his teeth again excitedly. “Hunt,” he repeats, little talons eagerly tearing up the snow and ground at the thought of a fresh meal. The colt snorts softly at his father at his comment, sending a puff of white into the air before it dissipates between them. “You are strange.” He feels his way to his father, running his nose over the stallion’s face to map the curves of his features and memorize them. Litotes’ skin is soft, unlike Ghaul’s, and he finds it odd that his father is more like the Dawn woman than him.
Perhaps he is strange. Unfortunate.
If the queen’s mention of Bible’s passing had any effect on the newborn boy, he doesn’t show it. He’s entirely consumed by learning their faces and the idea of capturing his own food. There doesn’t seem to be a morsel of remorse or sorrow tucked into the corners of his soul when he replaces himself against Dawn’s side. She calls him strong and his chest puffs a little at the compliment. He likes this word, he thinks with another fanged smile.
“A name?” he repeats curiously, only now realizing that they have one while he does not. Dawn and Litotes. His head turns left and right repeatedly to watch them as they seem to consider options for him. Meanwhile, he merely tries to figure out what the Dawn woman is to him. A makeshift mother? She’s warm and soft, which he likes, and she even wants to take him hunting. Could all three of them track prey together, then? The thought delights him, clearly, judging by the wide smile across his small, blood-stained face.
@[litotes] @[Dawn]