that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
Firion has always associated Mazikeen with fire, with flame. If not for the obvious connection to the very element that stitches across her body, if not for her temper that raged at the barest hint of oxygen to set it aflame, then for its ravenous hunger for life. She was a wildfire that would consume everything in her path. A firestorm that would destroy any that stood in her way. It had been him, once upon a time.
But the woman that stands before him now is ice.
Cold and unfeeling. Unmoving.
It chills the parts of him that remain, bring some of his old self rising to the surface beyond the thick layer of magic that has encased it. He hums in his throat, a low, thoughtful sound, and considers for a moment diving into her mind to see what has changed. It would be easy, he knows. He could split her head open like a melon and take what was there for his own, but for all of his flaws, his sense of privacy was not yet tarnished. So he remained firmly planted outside, his golden eyes contemplative as he considers her.
“I believe it has always been the case that things between us would grow more uneven before they ever evened out,” he says, tone nearly flat. A quirk at the corner of his velvet mouth. “We have yet to be evenly matched in the times you have tried to kill me.” It goes unspoken that he is not the same jaguar boy that he was. That he had gifts he could use now. But he would not lift them against her.
A weakness, perhaps.
The thunder continues to rumble in the back of his mind as he circles back to the thought of her dying again, multiple times, and he cannot stop the frown that overtakes his features. The way his lips pull down in the corner, brow furrowing. “Why have you made death your constant companion, Maze?” Her nickname comes before he can stop it. He takes a step forward before he can stop that too.
“What happened?”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@Mazikeen