Firefly Glen some place we called home

Cypress was quiet as he settled down and regained his composure. There were tears winking at the corners of his eyes, ostensibly from the outburst of his laughter, but he couldn’t deny that getting so hysterical had weakened the locks on those emotions he normally kept safely locked away. There was a reason the raven was often so stoic and stern — it wasn’t entirely a matter of his natural tendencies. He looked anxiously at Rian when Rannoch made the proposal they’d been talking about only a couple of nights ago, ticking his tongue thoughtfully against his tight-locked incisors — counting them to keep from freaking out. “Rian Frostfur,” he murmured to himself, liking it a lot better than “Rian O’Malley” but feeling it might be too brash to say so. He couldn’t help cracking a grin when Rian made his quip, though, believing that it was true even though he was too polite to say so. Sighing to himself, he rolled over onto his back and blew out a breath. “Sure feels better when you two’re around,” he murmured to himself, looking up at the stars and trying mightily not to hate his cousins and his aunt for leaving Rian or think of his own parents, dead and staring. It was a sight that Rannoch would never see, and Cy was thankful for that — but it was also a little lonely, not being able to vent about it to anyone lest they imagine it for themselves.