Ira watched Jinx’s reaction to his once coveted mannerism of thinking, not sure what he was expecting, or rather, what he was hoping for from her, only that he was waiting for…something. He watched her contemplate it with ravenous milky blue eyes, before what he more commonly associated with relief wash over him when she told him that it was an ‘interesting concept’. She did not mock him for it, neither did she on what was the opposite end of that spectrum to Ira, attempt to convince him that how he thought was wrong, that love was something to be cherished in an attempt to smother him with something he inherently did not want. Of course, she had said herself to him that she had no tolerance for love (or so this was what Ira chose to take away from it) and Ira had settled contently with the idea that she would not force this destroying emotion, concept - whatever it was - upon him. Lips parted to suck in the cold, stinging air as he drew it within his body, feeling it travel through his windpipes and into his lungs, the sickeningly sweet tickle of decay that was coming from Tark. It was possible he had begun to smell like that even in life, subtly, and that Ira immune by the scent of death, blood and decay that had lingered in the crevices of his lungs even weeks after putting as much distance from Red Keep as they could, had not noticed.
"Know my crows?" Ira repeated her words, testing them out on his tongue, all the while contemplating the idea she had teased into his brain. He had almost asked her what need he would have for crows (despite that she had given a few reasons) when he could just have wolves do that (after all, was that not the purpose of the Hunters?) but the idea of capturing a infant or injured avian and nursing it (or nursing it back to health), all the while earning it’s trust and unrequited affection was…intoxicating to the child, never mind that he could barely take care of himself let alone a bird. Nevertheless, Ira doubted he would forget such an idea, not while it remained a novelty to him. He wanted it, and that was good enough. For now. "Will any avian do?" He inquired, attempting to keep pace with Jinx, figuring if he didn’t have to get specific, he might go for something equally as fierce. A raven. A hawk. Unless his interest faded into oblivion when something else rushed in to tempt him. "A king can have whatever avian he wants." Ira informed her in a childish matter-of-fact tone, before the subject sort of vanished with her following word - maybe not from her mind, but from his, for the moment.
She introduced herself as Jinx, and added that he could call her ‘Mambo’ if he wished, though the child pouted some, not liking that he had been given the option of either or without any influence from her. What was the point of a name if she didn’t go by the one she wanted too? At least this was what he had been trying to convince everyone when he had decided he had wanted to be called ‘Aethon’ instead of Ira. Ira sounded like such a girls name to him; and everyone knew girls were yucky. Except Jinx. She didn’t particularly strike him as ‘yucky’ - probably because he was stubbornly determined to keep thinking of her as a Warrior Goddess. "Which do you want me to call you?" Ira prodded unabashed, because in this instance his childish mind needed direction; needed her to make the decision for him. "Princeling. I like that," Ira spoke enthusiastically and then trailed off in consideration, whiskers quivering slightly. "Aethon. It’s what I want to be called instead of Ira." He told her sternly, though of course, Jinx was free to call him what she wished. What Ira failed to understand at that point and time in his young life was that just because he wanted something did not automatically mean she had to conform to his wishes (this went with virtually anyone he tried to boss around).
Ira was young and had much to learn yet.