the hills have eyes.

. . .


The other boy didn't exactly jump at the fact. Perhaps something of his father's darkness was known? If so - the boy was obviously still in the dark about the details. He didn't sound shocked, nor did he sound excited; Basilisk seemed to appreciate the situation and understand it's meaning. Good. That meant Cross wouldn't have to go into it. They were on the same page.

"Well, three that I know of. Sons of Keki, my adopted elder sister. Tiber and Peri have dispersed to go off wandering on their own, but Kairos is still around." Yeah the name was too similar for comfort. Cross didn't know what Keki had been thinking there. The poor kid already looked enough like the bastard that had sired him - why had she given him the name to go with? Cross didn't like to tell tales or dwell on such things -after all he might've just been imagining it- but it seemed like Keki was a little headshy of her dark pelted son. Cross didn't like it. Kairos was like him. The two of them were all that had stuck around of their litters, and, in Cross's mind at least, they were something like brothers-in-arms. They'd both been there that day. They'd seen the same things. Only with one important difference - Cross had been struck frozen with fear, while Kairos had had the guts to leap up and snap at their attack while shouting for him to run. Cross gave a mental shake of his head at the very thought. Whoever Kairos's father was, the boy was close kin in Cross's book.

A feeling which, might in time spread to this purple eyed youngster. A sentiment which sparked Cross's next words. His tone changed, growing a little quieter and a little more grim. He was being personal now. "Look, we've all got the burdens of being a legacy. Some of us just get heavier ones than others," he gave a casual shrug of black tipped shoulders. He'd only said a bit about who he was - and he was willing to tell more, but this at least hinted that he didn't have a heaven-worthy background either. Not in some ways at least. But he didn't dwell on the bad. The youth leaned back on one elbow and let the barest hint of a lazy grin lick his muzzle. "But I like you Basil; I hope you won't crack under yours." It was a rare display of good feeling - usually kept towards family. But then again, in a way, this youth was. Or could be if he chose it.



. . .