Gendry is pretty certain the first time he sees the little slip of a thing, that both the boy and his daemon have a death wish. There's two other boys, one with a large rat for a daemon and the other a green-eyed butcher-bird, but that doesn't stop the little raggedy looking urchin from clenching his thin hands in anger at the fat one's taunting; his daemon changing quickly from a field mouse into a spotted big cat. The resulting hiss from it making both older lads laugh nervously.
He and Orla share a look, and before she can temper him against it, Gendry's stalking over to them.
Orla trots after him, her form taking that of a doe-her favourite-and as Gendry pushed in front of the littler one, she very nearly trampled the over-sized rat at the fat boy's feet.
"You like picking on the little ones, do you?" he demands, deliberately drawing himself to his full height. Gendry knows himself to be bigger than most boys his age, and these ones are no different. "When I hit that steel it sings," he stalks forward, and the two boys and their daemons shuffle backwards. "Are you gonna sing when I hit you?" Gendry demands, and the fat one shakes his head quickly, turning away and pulling his friend along with him.
The little one turns back to he and Orla, his daemon now back to the form of a sun-kissed field mouse upon his shoulder. "Thank you," he says sullenly, but there's a musical note to his voice. Gendry narrows his eyes-there's something not quite right with that, he sounds too much like a girl-but nods and turns to leave.
"W-wait! Please," the boy scurries to his side, his daemon blinking warm brown eyes up at Gendry.
"Could we walk with you?" He asks, and Gendry freezes; it's rare for a daemon to speak to a person, but that's not what makes him uneasy. The boy's daemon is male.
The boy stills as well, turns steel-grey eyes to glare at the soul on his shoulder. "Sorry Arry," the creature says, and burrows his way back down the boy's shirt.
Those grey eyes move back to Gendry, and he repeats his daemon's words. "We won't be any trouble, I swear it."
Gendry frowns, turns to Orla. She nods her delicate head, wide eyes turning to the field mouse already staring at her.
"What's your name?" Orla asks, everything she is centred on these two urchins. Gendry watches as the field mouse switches forms to a sleek black cat, as the boy shrugs him off of his shoulders to walk on the ground.
"I'm Caedy," he supplies with an eager air, and Orla takes it in stride; never mind it's probably a lie. Gendry flicks his eyes back to the boy, only to find grey ones already staring up at him.
"My name's Arry," the boy says, hand absently playing with the sword at his hip. It's as skinny as he is, Gendry thinks. "What's yours?"
He was never all that good at taking, Orla got that gift. "Where'd you get that sword?" he asks instead, and the boy-Arry-burrs up at the mention of the steel on his hip.
"It's mine," he snaps defensively. "It was a gift."
Gendry snorts, getting a glare from Orla, who'd turned to eye them both. "Stole it more like."
Arry glares at him, long face stern and angry. "It was a gift from my brother, stupid," he snaps, makes to say something else, but stops himself and stomps away, plucking Caedy from where he sits on Orla's back. He doesn't even seem to notice how his fingers brush Orla's hide, but Gendry does.
It's a strange feeling, but nothing at all how others describe it being. They say that it's repulsive, that it feels like you've been violated.
But all Gendry feels is a strange mix of happiness and concern over the whole situation.
Minya:Oh hai there guys. Been a while, no? How are you, I wonder? Because I've now got feels over the potential this thing has, and the fact that I probably won't hit the mark. But anywho, carry on.