Kestros
(#59592732)
Level 25 Wildclaw
Familiar
Chocolate Ferret
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Plague.
Male Wildclaw
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
4.33 m
Wingspan
5.09 m
Weight
661.44 kg
Genetics
Coal
Skink
Skink
Red
Trail
Trail
Vermilion
Runes
Runes
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Wildclaw
Max Level
STR
8
AGI
9
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
6
MND
6
Biography
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xx
✥ K E S T R O S ✥
 THE STYGIAN VIROLOGIST Son of Scythe and Sickle Cheerful // Kind-hearted // Whimsical Lonesome // Spoiled // Reclusive TRINKETS ╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮
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STATS
STR ██████░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ INT ███████████░░░░░░░░░ AGI ███████░░░░░░░░░░░░░ MAG █░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ CHA ████████████████░░░░ VIT ███░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
S P E C I E S
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bio ❧ Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est
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notes ❧ Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est
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trivia ❧ Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. Ut vis fastidii forensibus. Eos iriure dolorum vocibus te, his et nonumy possit. Eros possit feugait id sea, paulo intellegebat te. Ridens detracto has in. Cu decore veritus efficiendi mei, nostro equidem est eu. Fabulas rationibus ut eam, at errem laboramus duo. Appetere platonem comprehensam nam te. Tempor recusabo in. Eam an luptatum facilisis, no ignota reprehendunt eam. Quo ad unum natum labore, torquatos neglegentur contentiones pro ut, id facilis molestie insolens est
R E C E N T ❈ F O R T U N E S
"Question here lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, nisl voluptatibus mel an. "    Pleasure/Excitement... Adaptability/Dependence... Danger/Ominous... | x |
Kestros Rais Oyama
A Starlit Trip Through Yalan wrote:
The twinkling lights slowly light the sky like a thousand fireflies. The city of Zhengyu never saw the strange concept known as daylight, but the stars always seemed to swarm more voraciously after the bright scorch of the larger lanterns were drawn down from the lofty posts that kept the streets well-lit before the hazy stir of nightlife descended upon the mostly sleeping streets.
Kestros hugs the small shopping packages to his chest. The cant of his sanguine eyes avert from those lantern-lit streets to follow the bright singing of swarming stars instead.
It was strange, seeing Zhengyu’s constellations from the streets below instead of the pretty prison of his room. Like a hurried enough pace could reach wherever the fireflies were journeying to, where the horizon met the scorched earth.
The scent of newly cooked zongzi sweeps down the lantern-lit streets of the Yalan district, distracting him from the path he’d meant to take. The young teenager couldn’t help but follow the delicious smell, his arms careful not to lose their grip on his packages. … maybe he could get a few for the Azalea, surely he’d be able to carry it. He’d been practicing so very hard with Saintie, and had been told he’d been developing… well, some amount of muscles, anyway.
It isn’t long before Kestros slips away from his thoughts, his gaze snapping around at the surroundings that are no longer familiar. The layout of the city seemed so much more… simple, looking at it from above. There was none of the chaos nor the crowds, from so high up. It looked more like a hatchling’s playset than somewhere those unaware might get lost.
The disorienting sway of bright wings rustle across Kestros’s vision as pretty strangers laughed and danced down the streets, busily-stacked decorated wooden carts rolling back and forth carrying a multitude of wares. The bright colors and constant movement make the world hazy, as though the young prince were staring at the world through the wafting smoke of a military pyre.
It’s difficult to keep track of all the winding turns that his feet take as he follows the wafting of that out-of-season festival scent through the diaphanous fabric that hangs low over the restaurant storefronts, dancing around the legs of the faceless crows enjoying the district’s sweetly sung nightlife. By the time he glimpses the origin of those scents he has very little idea of where he is, suddenly stopping to stare upon the lowered stoop of a smoky restaurant with its wide-open door leading into a dark firelit interior beyond. Like the little flickering wings of the stars above have swept down from the sky to harmonize with the little lanterns that delve into the restaurant’s depths.
Just how much money had he brought with him? Not very much. Not when he hadn’t wanted poor, overworked Vel Dai Illicia to notice and worry about his constant adventuring.
Escaping from her watchful, pretty eyes had never been an easy task growing up, but it’d become ever more challenging as the Azalea commander slowly learned his tricks. If he’d asked the kind-eyed guards watching his room for more than a paltry amount of the royal funds,, then they’d know to perch yellow-bannered wings outside his balcony to send armored feet slipping after him into the night.
The sound of laughter shudders Kestros out of his counting, the sizzling of delicious meats and the clinking of glasses, a world of casual merriment that the young, isolated prince scarcely knew existed.
The stretch of the little prince’s arms draws the covered songsteel closer to his chest even with the wrapped packages in the way. The silent singing of the metal provides a paltry reassurance in the confusing dissonance of the strange, bustling street corner.
Just how foolish he’d been, to think that someone like him was brave enough to venture into these foreign confluences of swinging feathers and laughing smiles so far from the palace without the shrouding wings of the Azalea to keep him from getting lost.
Yet, it was hard to regret the decision. Not when the next breath fills his lungs with wagashi, and his attention slips away from the restaurant to find that sweet, reassuring scent.
The larger city beyond the palace’s walls wasn’t all that scary. Not enough to keep him from constantly ducking over the railing of his room or around the ornate entry doors when everyone’s attention was on the arrival of one of his siblings.
The freedom of having no one’s eyes there to watch for his next failure. Not having to smile so brightly when he inevitably faltered and fell down on his face so no one would worry. That in and of itself thrums through his viral blood with an irrepressible happiness, his mouth twitching and curling with the secret mischief of anonymity.
“Watch out -“
The sudden shout sends Kestros stumbling backwards as the sudden blur of bright colors at the edge of his vision becomes nearly everything he can see. The sharp clatter of heavy chimera paws scrabble far too close to him, and he cringes while desperately trying to hold the precious gifts close.
A second passes. Then another and the world still hasn’t faded away into pain.
Kestros cracks open an eye, hunched over and cringed to protect the packages in his arms. The world fades around the edges despite his effluvial heritage at the soft, pulsating light that whispers sea-flung dirges at the corners of his mind.
The rippling of water-hued feathers shielding him delve deeper into bloodstained hues at the edges, a darkly leathered hand mere inches from the dripping teeth stretching from the hulking muscles that Kestros had nearly walked directly beneath. The hypnotized creature sways gently with those unsung melodies of this strange, watery version of the Caged Consciousness technique, while the rider above tries to wrest its maw away from them, giving stuttered apologies at the unexpected intervention.
Kestros fights to draw air into his lungs, his gaze blinking far too many times to keep frightened tears from spilling out. Don’t be stupid, Kestros. Don’t be useless. It was a simple mistake, no one is there to see. No one who might judge and tell Mother, at least, or worse, fetch Katar Rais Kmeria to make things better for him.
A bright smile fights across the little prince’s features, his voice reflexively chirping out an apology at the rider, bowing his head in several deep apologies to augment his words. Even as his heart threatens to pound right out of his chest.
“Are you alright?”
Kestros’s eyes peek open to see a flash of dark, messy curls towering above him before a feathered hat obscures them, seeming to have momentarily fallen in the commotion. It’s hard to see much of the stranger’s face, with his high collar hiding almost everything except the lavender-lit gaze twinkling out from beneath the shadows of the weathered hat’s edge.
The fearful squeak that escapes him is utterly demeaning, and he tries to straighten up and formulate intelligent words to follow swiftly and redeem him. “Uh - … er. I, uh.”
The heavy, smoky edges of a laugh curl through the night air, the shadows not quite obscuring the sharp, amused quirk of the stranger’s brow. “Don’t speak all at once, little one. You’re safe now.”
The accept slips strangely over Kestros’s ears, like a deep, melodic strain distorted beneath ever-shifting waves. It’s at once hypnotizing and pings every alarm bell that Vel Dai Illicia had taught him. And yet, the stranger was the only reason that he hadn’t been trampled by his own stupidity. And surely the guards wouldn’t have allowed anyone so dangerous within Zhengyu’s gates.
A sharp cry could no doubt bring even off-duty members of the Scarlet Guard descending upon them, so he lightly clears his throat and puts on his most charming I’m-Brave-Please-Don’t-Eat-Me expression. It’s modeled after Kalis Rais Oyama’s casual arrogance, the way his elder brother occupies a room like everything in it wanted to be around him, yet. The confidence had never really fit well on his far younger, more innocently smiling features.
“Th - thank you, for saving my life.” …. oh no. Just why would he say that? It wasn’t like his life had been in danger, just his dignity. Even so, he turns that smile up a notch, like he’s pretending to be Kalis Rais Oyama avoiding a rather hearty smack from Vel Dai Illicia. “Sorry, I was just - uhm. A. Little lost, is all.”
The twinkling of those eyes slant toward the end of the street, as the stranger sways with dirtied leathers absently caught in the tossing night winds that sweep heat in from the Scarred Wastelands. “Aye, you look a bit lost.” A heavy descend of weathered fingers tap at Kestros’s shoulders. The intrusion makes him tense and bristle, but the stranger doesn’t seem to care, instead idly shoving him away from the busy center of the street where he’d nearly been run over. “Now, where’d you belong, anyway?”
Kestros ducks his head almost sheepishly, his gaze swiftly checking for any possible exits in case he needs to run. Maybe he should consider standing and fighting, but he was fairly certain that even a hatchling could bowl him over with enough of a head start. Time to try diplomacy and seeming helpless instead. Not that it was much of an act. “Uhm,” he says, with a bright smile. “N - nowhere, I suppose. Not right now, anyway. Everyone I know is... rather busy.”
Busy looking for him, that is. No doubt Kestros’s absence had been detected by the Azalea guards and several necks threatened to find his whereabouts before something happened to him. Maybe he should feel guilty for that? But he was getting them presents, so it was hard to muster up enough guilt to ask for someone to summon the nearest guard to stop the search.
“Ahuh.” The words sound lazily drawled and skeptical as the stranger perches his shoulder back against a closed storefront, his wings casually spreading to draw watery feathers across Kestros’s vision. At first, he thinks he’s being trapped, before he realizes - … that the wings are keeping people from running him over again. And apparently, keeping people from noticing him and bothering him with how he was feeling as well.
The quiet tittering of several crows passing by flutter colorful fans at the stranger to try to coax him into a dance. They pay very little attention to the younger crow hiding behind the lazy stretch of those much larger wings. It was… a little nice, actually. It let him catch his breath, at least, closing his eyes several times fast to swallow back the panic welling in his throat.
At least, until the stranger’s keen gaze has turned an amused glance down at him. “... what are all those?”
“Uh.” It takes Kestros several seconds to remember the harsh crush of the packages tucked up close against his chest. The small boxes clutch just a bit closer for a moment, before he loosens them and tries to fix the pressure-warped edges. “Some, uh. Sugar sculptures and snacks, for my friends.” The gaze hasn’t averted from him, so he tries to offer a sheepish smile. “I, uh. I wanted it to be a surprise. So I went, shopping... by myself.”
Was that something normal for someone his age to do? Kestros wasn’t really sure. But it sounded like a good enough excuse, as true as it was.
The languid tip of the stranger’s hat lowers beneath his fingers, giving a wordless greeting to the sweetly giggling voices that try unsuccessfully to draw him into their dance. There’s a low laugh that sounds like dark velvet scraped over blackened lungs. Like the villains from one of Vel Dai Illicia’s stories, who seem charming except they’re secretly disgusting and mean to kidnap tiny princes and roast them over slowly-turning stakes.
“... an’ you’re just daydreaming instead of keeping your eyes open, is it?”
The distraction allows Kestros to gently prop his back against the colorful wooden railing behind him, his gaze sweeping up the stranger to check for hidden weapons. Which, there likely are: he can see the slight sway of the heavy leathers at the stranger’s side, like there might be sickle-hooked blades there,, and the boots have been drawn up over the edge of trousers that have a slight knife-like indentation there. The dark leathers seem to be swept low enough to approximate a Zhengyu style, without adhering to their clothing norms, but that just made it easier for the paltry weapons sweep. Not someone who he wanted to fight with, then.
Kestros can only guess from the light scent of baijiu beneath the sharp, masculine scent of leather and the briny sea that the stranger had been leaving the steps of the low-hanging restaurant he’d been staring at, when he’d seen the impending disaster weighing heavy in the street.
It seems an accurate enough assumption, with the small clinking of fiery baijiu bottles dangling from the stranger’s fingers, sweeping down under his coat to hook for storage. They look decorative, as though expensive enough to be given as presents, with little colored tassels hanging from the stoppered mouths.
Maybe his reflexes might be slowed enough, then. Were he to… Kestros didn’t know what he might do, but he wasn’t really feeling anxious to find out.
At the lack of an answer, the stranger abruptly pushes himself off the wall to start heading toward a more brightly lit Yalan street, with a small crook of his fingers to indicate that Kestros should follow. “Follow me, little one,” comes the lazy drawl, muffled from his high collar into the crook of his other hand. “I’ll get you somewhere you know.”
It only takes half a second of staring at the laughing, carousing crowds winding down the street he’d unknowingly walked into the middle of for him to decide to follow. Just long enough to get somewhere safer, right. Where maybe he recognized something other than the starlit fireflies swarming across the skies above him, beckoning him to follow them further away from the palace’s safety.
“Just who are you buying those for?”
Kestros asks the question before he can think better of it, his feet scurrying to dodge around the heavy metal-toed boots that seem to cut a swath through the hazy, bright crowds. It seemed a strange present to be getting for people as… undignified as the stranger looked. It was a consumable, to be certain: a lesser tier of present. But it was also expensive enough to wipe out a few paychecks, which made it far more intense than the sweetly smelling confectionaries in Kestros’s arms.
“Eh. Some friends.” Dark shadows disguise what little of the stranger’s expression is visible as glances behind him as though to check if Kestros was still following after him. Like a wayward, frightened cat trying to escape the worse predators behind them. How pathetic Katar Rais Kmeria would think he was, if he knew. The stranger’s eyes crinkle with a lazy wink slanted over his shoulder at him. “Why should I tell you, when you’re not gonna share your secrets with me?”
A quiet, offended scoff escapes Kestros with a skeptical narrowing of his eyes. “I suppose that’s fair,” he hedges, because Don’t-You-Know-Who-I-Am wouldn’t exactly be a smart move to pull, out here in the middle of an outer district when he didn’t want to be found by the guards. “Are you sure you don’t want some payment for helping me? I can -”
The swaying of heavy, smoke-tinged leathers obscures the light stretching ahead of them, the main streets of the Yalan district almost coming into view. The languid drag of hooked fingers angles down the stranger’s collar to expose a breath soaking up the sweet and savory scents of the backstreets. The tucking of the collar beneath the stranger’s chin reveals strange dark features that look unnatural in the night-touched city.
“Did I ask for money?”
The metal click of a foreign device hooks up in the stranger’s leatherbound fingers, bursting a sudden flicker of heat from the flame that lights upon its raised edge. It vaguely reminds him of something he’d seen Kalis Rais Oyama with once before, though the lazy searching through the stranger’s pockets makes the intent more clear. Especially as a small waver of the night sky is distorted with the smoke that rises up from between the stranger’s half-closed mouth.
“Keep close.” The next exhale steams out heavily from the stranger’s teeth as though purging out blackened lungs. It makes Kestros cringe from the scent, his nose wrinkling as scorn gets caught in his throat and stuffed down in exchange for another smile. The foreign cigarette slips away from the stranger’s mouth as a wicked smile is turned down onto Kestros. “Don’t want somebody out there to eat you, little one.”
Kestros can’t quite help the disapproving snort that escapes him. The young prince’s head tips upwards, trying to exert some of that regal posturing that he’d never really learned how to wield as well as his many older siblings. “... that isn’t very good for you,” he informs the stranger, stepping forward to walk with slightly more confidence, the packages shifting carefully in his arms so they won’t fall.
The reward for his curt disapproval is a deep, smoke-tinged laugh. “... yeah?” the stranger asks, sounding indulgent. Like maybe he’d never heard that before, thanks for telling him something new, kid. It makes Kestros’s wings bristle just a bit. Not because it’s rude, but because he hates it when people remind him that he’s not nearly as smart as those around him. “Well. Sometimes, when you’re grown up an’ weighed down by the troubles of life,, you do things that aren’t great for you to keep your mind clear.”
The words seem to distract Kestros just a bit from his displeasure. It’s a statement he hasn’t heard before, but one that makes enough sense, looking at the rest of his family. Maybe that was why he managed to slip out so often. Because they were all dealing with their own troubles in ways that he didn’t have enough life experience to understand. “... what’s on your mind? That’s, uhm. Making you so troubled, that is.”
The stranger tilts his mouth with a sharp hint of teeth as a rough, lackadaisical snort rumbles from his throat. The answer comes easily, with a casual wink accompanying the puff of smoke from his lazy smile.
“... my friends’re really ******' hot an’ seeing them laugh makes a poor ******* needs a smoke.”
The strangled noise that escapes Kestros’s lungs makes him hack, a burst of unexpected laughter welling up in his throat. The disapproval on his face matches his confused stuttering as his steps hasten to keep up with the stranger’s meandering strides. “That’s - …. you, I’m certain they can’t be that - are you -”
“I’m joking,” the stranger interrupts, devilish laughter escaping out with his words. “... well, mostly joking, anyway.” The slightest shoulder hooks up his shoulder, his shadowed eyes rolling up to the lanterns hanging above them. “No, there’s this kid that I’ve been told to work with. Seems afraid of ******' everything an’ still wants to wield a sword. Just feels like I’m setting them up for a real nasty fall. Even if Dai Illicia usually knows what the **** he’s asking of me.”
Kestros nearly stumbles over his own feet with his surprise. The gaze he tilts up to the stranger is less critical than before, more quietly assessing. Would the seven Scarlet Guard Divisions accept such a strange, foreign brigand into one of their ranks?
From the bright blue and scarlet wings, dripping down like water-soaked blood with several smaller eyes along the ridge, the only commander he could suspect that he was referring to was Lance Dai Illicia. But the sweet, mild-mannered commander was so… dignified and regal, surely far beyond having any association with such uncivilized strangers. Kestros found it hard to believe that one of Katar Rais Kmeria’s friends could be so familiar with this man. Much less the quiet, calm Jackdaw whose eyes always held laughter and kindness for others.
“Maybe…” Kestros’s words hesitate. If this stranger was… somehow related to the Scarlet Guards, then he oughtn’t be so rude to him. But he wasn’t particularly used to giving advice, not when he was so painfully aware of how ill-equipped he was for forming useful opinions. At least, opinions that weren’t colored with his… usual failure and naivety. “It’s possible, uhm. That maybe they were always headed for that fall that you’re worried about?
“If they’re so determined to stop being preyed on by others… it doesn’t sound like. Someone not teaching them something would keep them from trying to escape that.” Kestros very lightly readjusts the little packages in his arms, with all their tiny, bent edges. “It’s not your job to stop them from taking the path they want, is it? It’s much more useful to help someone survive the path they want then make them change it.”
The wind gently rustles the bright feathers in the stranger’s cap. “... could be, I suppose.” The lazy tilt of his head lets the lantern light above them illuminate his features, seeming far more thoughtful and uncertain than Kestros had expected. An attentive patience lurks there that might have explained the grace that Kestros was getting from him. “Just why would they be so hellbent on learning a blade, when they’d clearly rather be sitting somewhere - baking *****’ bread or something?”
Kestros lightly ducks his head, a soft hum winding out from his lungs as he considers these words. It’s at last ground that seems familiar to him, thoughts that his own have tread enough to keep himself from stuttering so hard over them.
“It’s the weakest people who are more aware of their own fragility, isn’t it?” Kestros lightly tucks several strands of hair around his glasses, to keep the wind from whipping them across his vision. “The whole world reminds them of it with every step they take, just a step behind other people.” The young prince is dimly aware of the attention that’s swiveled down to him as he speaks, his own eyes gently settled on the stones ahead of them.
“It’s a never-ending deluge of reminders. That your steps must be taken beneath the stronger wings of others.” The slightest glance quirks up toward the Illicia, Kestros’s throat clearing awkwardly as he realizes how much he’s speaking. “Maybe they grew tired of living like that?”
For a long moment, there’s no response. The stranger’s steady gaze has been focused on Kestros with a quiet, predatory skepticism as he considers each of the words, seeming to chew them down to sense the rhythm between them. Then, a low, considering hum spreads from the stranger’s throat, sounding more like a growl.
“... maybe,” he grouches, sounding not quite convinced. The slightest squint of the stranger’s eyes seem to consider the words once more, before his leatherbound hand sweeps the brim of his hat away from his face. It pins back against the long, messy curls of his hair, never quite falling off, but giving him a better glimpse of the world around him.
Or perhaps, just the lanterns gently swaying in the wind above them, the stranger’s expression contorted with the effort of trying to consider this other, foreign world that Kestros’s words had described. “Not really a good enough reason to die over, though.”
“Isn’t that what you’re for?” The gentle tilt of Kestros’s head accompanies his hesitant smile. It’s hard to smile genuinely when he’s so frightened - but the stranger doesn’t seem nearly as intimidating, with the light illuminating his almost petulant expression. “To make sure that they can grow strong enough to survive what it takes, to reach that freedom? So they can -”
“- ... make him proud, yeah.”
The young prince’s brows jump up at the interruption. The swift ducking of his head seeks to obscure his surprise at the end of his sentence. … to serve the Hari Kmeria, was what he’d been about to say. It... didn’t sound like the stranger was talking about his Mother, though. Nor could he imagine his brother having earned the loyalty of such a... roughly spoken brigand.
Even so. It’s hardly his business, and something tells Kestros that maybe he shouldn’t pick a fight over someone not immediately thinking of his parents, instead of - whoever this mysterious he the stranger was thinking of. Kestros adds just a bit more perk in his step, hiding a small, slightly confused smile that’s as reflexive as breathing. It helps, to smile when confused or scared.
“Hm. It sounds like you’ve come to your own answer, doesn’t it?”
The surprised laughter sounds almost barked, the expression angled down at him clearly reading, you sneaky little ****. “... yeah, I guess,” the stranger drawls around another drag of the cigarette with a slothful crook of his teeth radiating his approval. A heavy hand that smells just a bit too much like baijiu and salty brine ruffles through Kestros’s hair, leaving it mussed as the young prince squawks and tries to duck away. “Aren’t you pretty smart for a kid. Where were you headed, anyway?”
“Oh.” The realization that the shops around them look familiar now, that he can see the distantly lit overhangs of the palace, settles with a deep comfort into his bones. Safety reached, at long last. Kestros stops, clearing his throat as he tilts his head up with as much confidence as he can manage. “I think I can make it from here. … are you certain you don’t want anything for helping me?”
“Nah.” The stranger slants a rugged wink down at him, pushing his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat with only the cigarette hanging out between two fingers. A lazy shuddering of his wings stretches out behind the stranger as he angles his head over to track Kestros’s averted gaze. And when he notices that he’s staring at the elegant silhouette of the Zhengyu palace, gives a rather amused snort. “Just say a good word for me to whoever you’re getting those pretty sweets for, will you? If that’s where you’re headed next.”
Kestros quickly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. This time, far more awkwardly than before. Ah, yes. What a subtle way to avoid being recognized, little runaway. Just stare at the high-profile place where you belong without making up any other story to contradict that rather obvious glance. Kestros idly shuffles his weight between his feet, offering a sheepish smile. “... I’ll be sure to do that, uh -”
The stranger winds his tongue across the sharp teeth of his smile. “Vega Vi Illicia Linturna,” he drawls, and ah, there it is. Illicia. Just how such an uncivilized stranger managed to get that, Kestros wasn’t certain, but maybe the Hyacinth Division was a bit more allowing than others.
Even still, the unusual act of attaching his old identity to the new one - … it struck Kestros as strange and unwelcome, in a world of people who adhered to his Mother’s strict and efficient culture with its expected norms and ever-present order.
Perhaps there was a gentle line between gratitude and disapproval Kestros could walk, though. A polite middle ground that might make him feel just a little bit better for nearly being knocked over by a cart-driver and having to get rescued by a… very strange Illicia.
Kestros smiles brightly as he rocks back on his heels. The cutest tilt of his head accompanies his soft, sheepish laugh. “... of course,” he demurs, blinking wide, innocent eyes up at the helpful stranger. “I’ll be certain to let Vel Dai Illicia know you helped me, Vi Illicia.”
The fleeting barely-hidden horror that contorts the brigand’s face nearly makes him break his smile with bright, maybe a bit awful laughter.
Kestros makes certain to pronounce the stranger’s name perfectly when Vel Dai Illicia is at the very height of her anxiety and panic when he’s found.
And then he presents her with her own little sugar sculpture modeled after Katar Rais Kmeria’s face for her to squeal over.
Following the little fireflies had been more than worth the trouble, after all.
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This dragon doesn't eat Plants.
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