that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
Firion has few talents, but the least of them is honesty. He has never known how to be honest. Not with himself and certainly not with those people that he meets. He prefers it that way. Prefers to keep a thick shield of lies between himself and every one else—even his mother and father. Maybe especially them. And certainly this girl before him who is more predator than prey and looks at him with such sharp eyes.
It takes everything within him to not rise to the challenge in her eyes.
To play pretend at this overly arrogant prince of a man, rolling his athletic shoulder as though it does not decay every night. As though he has not a care in the world and not ash on his tongue.
When she shifts, he takes a step back, something flashing across his eyes and his chest tightening with an instinctual fear. It speaks to the years of honing himself into something controlled and excellent in the game of pretend that it only lasts a moment. Within a breath, he recognizes her colors and markings and he bets on her control instead of her temper. He plants his feet and his sharp-toothed smile comes again.
When she shifts back, he feels that tightness loosen, if only just a little. “You are easily infuriated,” he counters lightly, wondering if perhaps it is dumb to provoke someone who has the ability to take on multiple shapes. It is perhaps silly, dangerous, but he finds that he can’t stop himself. It goes against everything that he thinks wise—every rule that he has made for himself over the years—but he remains.
A crooked pull of his mouth.
“You’re the first person to talk to me twice.”
And somehow the truth pierces through, even with his languid draw.
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@[Mazikeen]