Qeya River Sing for the hill

He felt her sink against him, ice melting against warm stone. He’d never been one to reach out and offer such simple and platonic gestures, but fatherhood had taught him a gentler way. He did not know women well enough to be able to comfort her further without implying desire, so he remained as a still, but comfortable pillow. 

Until, of course, she spoke the name she had been given. He snorted unexpectedly, startling even himself with how loud it sounded in the cavern. He inhaled a breath through his teeth, grimacing at his own rudeness. Sorry, I- He blurted, cutting himself off before he made things worse. 

Stone Crier? 

Stone Crier? He echoed the narrator’s statement like a good puppet. I….Like…Whyyyy? He asked. As in you yell at rocks or- wait, did he make you cry in here and then name you Stone Crier? I don’t- he doesn’t get it Fuck I’m sorry, I just… He shrugged as gently as he could. His voice became small. I like Senka better. But if it keeps you or me from getting beat up… Because that was the world they lived in, now. Accept having their faces shoved in the dirt and  being given new names, or else. 

He called me “Sheep Killer,” ‘cause he asked what I did ‘before’ and that’s what I said.” He said. I feel like it’s supposed to be like…A dig at my masculinity or whatever, considering he’s called Sun Eater and all…I should’ve told him something more badass, He said, flicking a small pebble away with his foot.

Surprisingly, he felt more like himself than he had in days, taking a risk and saying out loud how he really felt. Still, there was danger in confession, and he fell silent, shrinking back into the new reality they shared. 

You can call me Ksura still…When it’s just us. 

Their own little form of rebellion- if she would dare to take part.