Till the world ends {any}

[Kushiel]

The air was getting colder, and Kushiel was pretty certain the skinny fellow before him couldn’t stand so much as a whisper of a cold front. They would have to park him by the flaming tree and hope he managed to weather the storm. Kushiel, though he could be toasty and warm all year around, still lost a bit of weight in the winter. He made it up come spring, but this guy didn’t seem like he had any extra to lose.

But still the gray stallion liked the other man’s spirit. Kushiel’s doubtful expression broke into an over wide, toothy grin at the his words. Kushiel knew a thing or two about rotten dads. Granted, he’d never actually met his own rotten father, but he’d heard enough stories to last a lifetime. Then, of course, they was the problem of being unable to spit without hitting a half sibling. It made his shameless flirting awkward at times, like a long succession of family reunions in which he was always the pervert uncle.

“Way to stick it to him. You can do mine next, if it’s not out of your system.” By “it”, he meant murderous rage and patricide. Kushiel could relate to that as well. Normally a brooding, melodramatic blowhard, Kushiel could be stirred into action when the prodding was acute enough.

There were, however, a few things that Kushiel held especially dear. His mother was one of those things. Needless to say, he bitched and moaned about her on a nearly consistent basis, but that said little about the true depth of his affection for her. Their relationship was unusual, to say the very least, but it was one built on mutual affection and a steadfast belief that nearly everyone else was a boring pain in ass. They were indoctrinating Kushiel’s baby sister into that way of thinking. The big stallion thought it was going rather well. She fit right in. He did, however, fix the new stallion with a warning look.

“My mother is a saint. A lunatic, but a saint.” Kushiel knew that was not true. Gallows was, far, far from a saint. She had, however, managed to raise him to adulthood, and that was a feat few others could be accomplished. A less steadfast woman probably would have left him to die. But still, this other stallion couldn’t be held responsible for being unaware of the many virtues of Gallows. Kushiel moved to return his smirk then noticed the other stallion’s pointed canines. He groaned loudly.

“Dear lord. Don’t tell me you’re a bunny killer. We already have one of those and she’s an unforgivable pain in my ass.” He was, of course, talking about Shaytan, the deranged mare who’d tried to chase him away from the burning tree like he was a common criminal. She was also known to behead and eat the occasional rabbit. Kushiel harrumphed with a great deal of indigence.

“That’s probably why you’re so skinny. There are no nutrients in rabbits, man.” There, problem solved. Another life saved, thanks to Kushiel.