art by crypsis
There had been no real indoctrination. Ezekiel had spoken of his faith, and of his god, but never demanded Max follow anything. Once, when he had asked him about it, Ezekiel had just smiled in that peculiar way of his and said that faith had to be found, not taught. Max didn’t understand him then, and certainly didn’t now. Others had faith here—he had seen Angel wearing a cross, and heard Helotes mention a god—but his outlook on these things had been tainted by Boreas and their madness.
He followed her gaze to the horses, and one ear flicked at the names. They were far too familiar, and a low rumble grew in his chest. A shadow crossed his face. “People like that aren’t right,” he affirmed, repeating what Ezekiel had told him over and over again. His weight shifted, pressing down against her to remind himself (and perhaps her) that someone else was there. In doing so, he looked back at her, and stared hard at her ears. They hardly looked rabbit-like to him.
“I think Zeke’s ears were bigger than yours,” he said suddenly, and smiled toothily at the thought of the blonde with giant rabbit ears.
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