wicked games

*Lark* · 03-20-2015, 11:41 AM

He and his littermates, though fiercely loyal to one another, were drastically different. Lark was not at all timid like Finch, nor was he an herbalist like Starling; he was no where near as sweet as Sparrow, and definitely not as energetic as Shrike. Despite this, they were his brothers and sisters and nothing would ever change that, as far as he was concerned.

When the man introduced himself, he nodded. A friend of his fathers. "Okay. Why haven't I heard of you, then?" he'd ask, the boy's question a bit scathing, though unintentionally so. He had been growing a bit more abrasive as of late, finding it difficult to think before he spoke, and even more challenging to keep a thought to himself when it had begun to burn on his tongue. Lark's head turned to the side as he eyed the man, honestly curious. If he was not family, why would he claim to be like an uncle, especially having not been around for most of his childhood thus far?

He'd ask his name then, saying his parents were amazing. Lark would nod in quick agreement. Of course they were amazing; he wouldn't use such a flowery word to describe them, but it worked. "I know," he replied sternly. "I'm Lark Destruction." Though his surname was a given, it would feel strange to exclude it, for it was his name that defined him and shaped him to who he was becoming.

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