bury me in your memory . joining

[j a c k .]

in a place like this, his very existence is a challenge unto death. living, breathing in defiance of the crushing weight of the world that presses down into his bones, the rictus grin that stretches across his maw is a show of that. the quick to come mask of a sly, easygoing kodkod is only displaced by the set of his pacing, which stops at the sight of the other's approach.

"aine," he taste the other's name on his tongue, and feels the power of the name resonate. it is rare for fae to give their name so freely, yet it seems custom here, or maybe they have not been taught the value of such a name. he gives a single bow in greeting, acknowledgement towards the other. the slight twinkle in his eye is the only telling of knowledge, a connection forged. "it is a pleasure to meet you," young one is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it out, it does not befit a gentlemen to assume, it does not befit him of the entitlement either. with the magik folk it is even harder still to pinpoint an age. something he won't try and define on young aine.

"i find myself at a disadvantage," he admits softly, his voice bringing with it a faux almost boyish cheekiness that settles onto his frame as easy as breathing. "i have traveled without a home for quite some time, looking for a place in need of some a kodkod such as myself" and though the slow lazy blink that accompanies these words is a show of foux trust- arrogance in part and confidence in his own strength, the feeling of rot tinges the air, and with it a shadow overdrops along the two smaller fae.

he looks up and spots the void-taste in the air of a carnivore, and does not flinch. though truly alarming it was the taste of the place that seemed to eminate from the next stranger. death, rot, decay, and the unflinching otherfellow tells of a familiarity, at least in a sense. he finds it a for shadowing if his new duties, and accepts it with the grace only his family could hold. Jack is not new to war, and the stranger feels like an after-image, an echo of such catastrophe.

"you may call this one jack" he names himself in the way that is natural to him. Dealing with his family all of thier names are known, and his is known by them. jack is his true name, but it is in giving a name the way you say it that holds power. Aine is so small, and looks young, but he knows that even he is smaller than most other cats, even still he has no troubles with simple tom-cats, has not had any trouble made.

It's the taste of desert, of war here that makes an egarness of youth spread through him. His loyalty is bought easily enough, through war and glory. At least for the moment, it seems so.

/Mobile