Stavanger Bay Mummified my teenage dreams

If not for the simplicity in saying half his name, Kevlyn would have been stumped and may have responded with something less than helpful. Fortunately for Caiaphas and probably himself as well, Kevlyn did know his name, and also knew what she meant when she said the word. Verrine prompted him often to say it, as he prompted all his children to say theirs. They knew the smallest collection of words at the age of one month and three days, chief among them being ma and da, but third on Kevlyn's list was his much-adored name.

"Kev!" he brightly chirruped from somewhere in Caiaphas' shadow. He craned his head back but found that she was too tall for him to see all the way to her eyes. Instinct told him that he didn't want to meet her eyes, anyway. "Kev, kev, kev, kev," he repeated jovially, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he chanted it.