Information

Kensington
Legacy Name: Kensington

The Chibi Irion
Owner: Vespertine

Age: 12 years, 1 month, 5 days

Born: March 28th, 2012

Adopted: 12 years, 1 month, 5 days ago

Adopted: March 28th, 2012

Statistics

• Level: 47
   
• Strength: 10
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 22
   
• Health: 70
   
• HP: 0/70
   
• Intelligence: 0
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

"Light the last one, I dare you!"
"What, this one that says 'Mega Ultra Power Sparkly Rocket'? Are you sure?"
"'es! Light it, Carsy, pwease?"

The jollin turned a little pale under his spectrum markings. Even for Carsin, a creature totally devoid of common sense, letting off half a dozen boxes of fireworks in the garden with Paradise Circus, his partner in rainbow-coloured crime, didn't seem to fulfil Merryweather's request to "look after Kensy for the afternoon... responsibly, please". Still, a dare was a dare. Carsin lit the fuse and moved cautiously back to join the ontra and their infant charge behind a tree. The firework spluttered crazily, flew off, hit one of the trees, and turned straight for the house. The jollin and ontra flung themselves to the ground, on top of the baby irion. An outraged squawk went unheard over the noise of shattering glass, a series of deafening bangs, and an unbelievable cacophony of noise from Orrery's birds, now clearly very awake despite the covers on their cages.

The ontra and the jollin looked at each other in horror. "Oh shiii-"

"What the sweet heaven is going on here?" called a melodious but unbelievably stern voice. Paradise Circus shut his eyes and attempted to conceal himself behind a rapidly-conjured spectrum trail. Carsin just sunk his head between both paws. Hiberner Toujours was home. This could not end well for any of them.

"We are all in sooo much trouble," muttered the ontra. The baby irion grinned sweetly. "Kensy not in trouble," he stated sunnily. "You in trouble, Merry say you in charge. I not ever in trouble, Aunty Bernie loves me lots." He scampered out from behind the tree, rumpled and a little muddy, to nestle lovingly into the pristine plumage of the glacier lain. Her expression hardened even more as she carefully picked a stray twig out of the baby irion's wing feathers, which she had painstakingly cleaned only a few hours ago.

His erstwhile babysitters groaned a last futile prayer for deliverance as the lain opened her beak to berate them. Kensington was right; they were in trouble, and he wasn't.

------

Hiberner Toujours has always had a gift for finding lost little creatures, but even Notorious Lightning was shocked at the condition of the bundle of dirt, bones and feathers that she found cowering under a stall at the farmers' market one afternoon. Some gentle questioning revealed that yes, this was indeed a baby irion, no, he didn't know where his family was or where he had come from, and one of the bundles of mud and leaves clinging to his fur was a baby autumn dragon, equally lost and hungry-looking. A long bath and a very large meal later, the family home had a new resident, and the infant, christened Kensington by Flora after the stall he was found under, had a new, if strange, family.

From the first, Hiberner was wildly protective of the new addition, as she is of all small, lost things, and whilst she was at work, he was committed to the tender care of Merryweather. In return, Kensington adores his "Aunty Bernie" and "Aunty Merry". As the baby of the family, he is roundly spoiled by everyone, and is invariably to be found either cuddling into one of the family, or in search of mischief with his faithful little dragon trailing behind. Kensy always seems to find mischief pretty easily; he reeked for a week after trying to bath with all of Flora's favourite bath salts at once, and Angharad will never forget his efforts to help her bake macarons. There is only one cloud in his sunshiny horizon; he is still too little to be able to fly, and few weeks pass without him sadly inquiring of Hrafn when he will be "big 'nough to fly". The enormous nightmare irion has a huge soft spot for his tiny friend, and whenever Hiberner's vigilance can be evaded, Kensy goes for a ride through the sky, gripping tightly to Hrafn's back with his little claws.

Kensy idolises his huge dark friend, but perhaps his favourite companion of all is the oddly lovable Woolington. Hanadama's gift of a box of old toys, lovingly repaired by Merryweather, delighted Kensy for months. One day, Santa Clara found Kensy in the stair cupboard, sniffling and poking at an old, patched ruffie toy with his beak. Kensy explained to Clara his heartache: his favourite ruffie was "not real; can't play like real". Clara whistled softly and Liberty Theatre ghosted into view. Kensy has never felt any fear of the ghostly antlephore, only wonder at his strange nature. Liberty silently touched his great, glowing hoof to the battered old toy, and as if by magic, the toy ruffie breathed in, grew larger, sat up and shook his ears, to Kensy's utter delight. The family's initial disquiet at this happening was never shared by the baby irion, who spends his days running and playing with his "real doggy" in the garden, in between naps, snacks, and all the mischief one very small irion can make.

In that book which is my memory,
On the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you,
Appear the words, ‘Here begins a new life’

― Dante Alighieri, La Vita Nuova

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