you're a fireracker, aren't you sparky? noct, nayl, any.

[Taren]

taren

you're a real firecracker, aren't you sparky?

There was nothing more confusing than the short life Taren has lived thus far. Being shot out of a magical cannon that exploded like jizz on a beach was not a way a child begins a normal life. And for a child with such an experimental temper as Taren, he eventually crawled around with his mother off the Beach and into the inner portions of this place that his father had called Be—Qua—Anna. Odd place. But thank the good fucking Lord, because he was tired of shaking sand out of his rather sensitive little boy parts.
 
It was irritating him, dammit.
 
They followed the coastline north, through the plains, sampling and tasting of the different vegetations that were about—not Taren, naturally, he wants only his Milkies—and flashes of memory and images came before him. Ashley’s memories and scents assailed his senses, and immediately a familiar scent hit his nostrils. He knows where he is.
 
He thinks.
 
 “Something smells strange. I’ve been here before,” he thinks aloud, shaking his shocked yellow tail behind him.
 
He is not used to being so short… and being so limited in power—though powerful he was in his own right—what used to be Ashley is now just a hot-headed little boy with a loud mouth on him. And he has stuck himself to his mother like glue. And he doesn’t like it one bit. This should be easy he says to himself. It’s always easier than this. It has been before.
 
And yet, the times are so radically changed.
 
A king with a teet in his mouth, whether he likes it or not.
 
“Fuck it I KNOW I have seen these plants before,” he says even louder, not caring in the least that that kind of language may not have been appropriate for a young child to spout off. All the experience in the world cannot stop a child from being simply what he is.
 
Taren hides in Nocturnal’s shadow as they come up on the coastline again, and he sees more water. He shudders, his ears going back. He does NOT want sand up his ass again. Too itchy.
 
“Mother, have you gotten us lost again? We just LEFT the Beach.”
 
And then a tummy rumble. Such a big badass, in a tiny little fuzzy body. Taren looks up at his mother, striking yellow eyes looking at her innocently, coyly.
 
“Also, I’m hungry. Milkies?”
 
So undignified. But at least the 24 hour buffet is good.