oh baby, I have not been kind
He listened to the boy's thoughts as they looked each other over. Something about being a prince, something else about his mom-queen, and another thing about Leviathans and convicts, and really, none of it made any sense to him so he dismissed it easily as the usual prattle people sorted through as they drew connections and created memories.
At least his voice was nice.
He certainly didn't think he had any relation to whoever that convict was despite the boy assuming it. His father definitely wasn't one, and he had no idea what a Leviathan even was, and their family had no connection to any of Dad's relatives, thank goodness. He supposed one of them could've been that convict pretty easily. They were all pretty worthless, it had seemed so far. But they absolutely weren't from anywhere called Leviatha or anything. Never heard of it.
The rich ochre boy greeted him silently with a dip of his head, examining him back in kind until their eyes met - silver to golden brown. And yeah, his hair had been lifted in the breeze too, dark against the burnt gold of his neck. Kharon still held a smile, curious to know more about him and why he stayed so silent as he turned away as if they were done so soon.
Kharon's question caught him though, kept him here a moment longer and he was glad for that. Which was strange. He hadn't enjoyed another's company yet though save for his sisters' or his dads'.
Those? the boy thought clearly, as if he were answering aloud, as if he were used to speaking in his mind to people. Kharon frowned softly and pulled back to see better, tracing the pattern again with his eyes as the other explained silently. From my mothers. Solace's blue, from her father, and Kagerus' leopard print markings which she inherited from her grand mother... He was smiling though, soft and warm, and that would have to be answer enough.
Kharon mirrored it, smiling softly, a little crookedly. "You don't speak?" he asked him. He'd never met someone that didn't speak. There was only two outside of family that knew of his telepathy, a family secret of a sort, and so this may get interesting for them. It was a curse he kept to himself, practiced in the way of hiding recognition and reaction to other's thoughts. He wasn't about to change it just for this boy's daily challenge. He didn't even know him.
"Do you like it here?" he continued, glancing around and admiring the island. It wasn't Ischia, it wasn't home, but it was pretty damn close. It would suffice until the plague was cleared. Still had sand and beach and ocean, clear skies and sunshine to bathe in. "We're from Ischia," his grey eyes slid back to his quiet stranger, "but we're staying until our family estate is safe again." He'd been a prince too in a way, he realized. They hadn't viewed themselves as royalty though, just badass and beautiful and keeping the place clear of riffraff. But the title suited him just fine. A silver prince and a gold prince.
Maybe after the world was no longer so ruined he would be a prince again.
I wish I could scrape away the dirt that's on my mind