Renaissance, Medieval, Baroque, Jove.

The names kept going back and forth in Ren's mind.

Brother, sister, sister, brother.

Of course, if he went in order from oldest to youngest, it would have been Renaissance, Medieval, Jove, then Baroque, but Jove was not technically blood related.

Not that this made any difference in the slightest to Ren, who thought of the foxfire as more of a brother than Medieval had ever been a sister to him. He was happy with Jove, playing the part of an overbearing, overly affectionate, and overly protective older brother with gusto. It was a good thing the boil was used to Ren's antics, and the type of person who did not get upset when Ren bounded into his room and proceeded to flop onto his bed and just fall asleep there, without any warning.

And now his parents had had another kid. A ghoul, from what Medieval had told him. Ren had gone home to meet her, on his way back to school with his head resting against the glass of the train. Rain streaked in long drops down the class, his breath fogging across the smooth surface.

He almost hadn't gone. His parents being what they were, he had not wanted to see the child they were going to raise in the home he had grown up in.

The air was cold. He closed his eyes.


"Don't just stand there, Renaissance. Come closer."

"Mother..."

The eyes that met his were not the hard gold ones that he had expected to see; had always seen, even in his dreams, his nightmares. These eyes were still cold, still with their icy, penetrating stare, but the edges seemed blurred, softened somehow.

He did not understand.

"Renaissance."

Caught in the doorway, looking into the room that belonged to his parents, he had hesitated, not wanting to set foot inside. Beside the enormous, grand, four-poster bed with its crimson silk sheets and gold hangings stood the mirror reflection of Ren - minus the freckles. Medieval was looking at him with an inscrutable expression, as always, one hand absently twisting the ring on her right index finger.

She glanced down at the bed. Ren had followed her gaze.

"Come here, Renaissance."

His mother's voice was strong, despite her weary disposition, eyes boring a hole into her son. Cautiously he had stepped forward, his gaze not on his mother, but on the tiny bundle held in her arms.

One more step. Then another. He could see more clearly now, barely a foot from the bed.

The bundle wriggled. There was a soft mewling sound.

His mother looked up. "Would you like to hold her?"

It was not really a question. He had swallowed hard, blinking at the abrupt nature, then took a startled step back as Medieval reached down, picked up the bundle, and deposited it carefully into his arms.

She was much smaller than he had expected, his little sister.

Tiny hands clenched and unclenched the edge of the blanket, eyes closed, breath coming out in very soft motions. She felt warm - very warm, her dark skin a strong contrast to the pastel pink of her blanket. There was the traditional pale gold hair; it would most likely darken as she grew older.

And there, just below her eyes and sprinkled across her cheeks, were tiny dots, like a dusting of cinnamon.


There was a sharp screech of metal on metal as the train came to a stop, Ren wincing at the abrupt shake out of his thoughts. He reached a hand up, pushing golden brown strands away from his face, and stood, stretching out stiff limbs. A moment later he had descended the train, making his way back towards Amityville.


"What's her name?"

"...Baroque."

"...it's pretty."


His dorm was the same as he had left it earlier that morning. His owlpard, perched on his desk, made a small hoot of greeting, and Rhys bounced towards him, climbing up to rest on the edge of the bed. Ren sat down, reaching to untie one boot, then the next, tossing them haphazardly onto the floor. Without bothering to change, he crawled back onto his bed, flopping down onto his back, wings fluttering.


"You have another sister now, Renaissance."


He had left quickly, not wanting to be in the presence of his parents for much longer. Nothing that they said could change how he felt about them; nothing they did would make him think any differently for the two people who had made his life a living hell.

Ren's lashes flickered, already giving into the exhaustion of the trip. But his mind was not focused on sleep, for once. Instead, as his eyes closed, the images that flashed through his mind were a small face, dark lashes, and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of a tiny nose.