Irirangi means spirit voice...
So... daemons?
The day Hanna’s parents die is the day Iri finally settles. He hates to think of the specifics, but the flutter and beat of her great black wings haunts the worst of his nightmares.
--
It’s not so much the green skin and glowing eyes and stitches that gives the dead man away as the lack of a daemon of his own. Hanna makes sure to look up and down the hall for one before declaring, “YOU’RE DEAD!”
The man gives him a faintly perturbed kind of look and agrees that yes, he is probably dead. Hanna winces and apologizes for being so blunt, but the other seems resigned to the fact and merely shrugs lightly before wandering in.
--
The dead man - Tecumseh at last naming - knows Hanna is a witch of some kind, but it’s still unsettling to watch him move about his tiny apartment alone.
It’s two days before the raven reappears, settling on the windowsill much to the dead man’s muted surprise. She tilts her head and ruffles her feathers, somehow managing to sigh through the narrow slits in her beak. “Another stray?” she asks, her voice surprisingly husky and mature considering the redheaded boy she belongs to.
Tecumseh shakes his head and wishes Hanna would come back and explain. He really is not a fan of the way she keeps peering at him, turning her head to take him in one eye at a time.
--
When Hanna finally reappears from his rather suspect ‘errands’, the raven shrieks a high note in greeting and makes herself comfortable as a warm, black ball of feathers sunk in the boy’s red hair. They babble at each other as Hanna puts away a few groceries, his voice high and quick compared to his daemon’s slow, easy rasp.
Tecumseh hangs to one side, wondering if perhaps he’s intruding, if perhaps he misunderstood Hanna’s invitation. It isn’t until he’s about to grab his fedora and slip out the door that the boy stumbles out of the kitchen grinning brilliantly. “Hey, Callen, I think we got a case!”
The dead man feels the faintest hint of a smile tug at his cheeks.
The day Hanna’s parents die is the day Iri finally settles. He hates to think of the specifics, but the flutter and beat of her great black wings haunts the worst of his nightmares.
--
It’s not so much the green skin and glowing eyes and stitches that gives the dead man away as the lack of a daemon of his own. Hanna makes sure to look up and down the hall for one before declaring, “YOU’RE DEAD!”
The man gives him a faintly perturbed kind of look and agrees that yes, he is probably dead. Hanna winces and apologizes for being so blunt, but the other seems resigned to the fact and merely shrugs lightly before wandering in.
--
The dead man - Tecumseh at last naming - knows Hanna is a witch of some kind, but it’s still unsettling to watch him move about his tiny apartment alone.
It’s two days before the raven reappears, settling on the windowsill much to the dead man’s muted surprise. She tilts her head and ruffles her feathers, somehow managing to sigh through the narrow slits in her beak. “Another stray?” she asks, her voice surprisingly husky and mature considering the redheaded boy she belongs to.
Tecumseh shakes his head and wishes Hanna would come back and explain. He really is not a fan of the way she keeps peering at him, turning her head to take him in one eye at a time.
--
When Hanna finally reappears from his rather suspect ‘errands’, the raven shrieks a high note in greeting and makes herself comfortable as a warm, black ball of feathers sunk in the boy’s red hair. They babble at each other as Hanna puts away a few groceries, his voice high and quick compared to his daemon’s slow, easy rasp.
Tecumseh hangs to one side, wondering if perhaps he’s intruding, if perhaps he misunderstood Hanna’s invitation. It isn’t until he’s about to grab his fedora and slip out the door that the boy stumbles out of the kitchen grinning brilliantly. “Hey, Callen, I think we got a case!”
The dead man feels the faintest hint of a smile tug at his cheeks.