that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
His magic is a constant ache between his shoulders, but none more so than during the day. It begins like a dull throbbing behind his eyes and it slowly grows the longer that the sun hangs in the sky. It expands and expands, feeding on itself in an endless loop—until he is nearly blind with the agony of it. He does his best to expend small pieces of energy, which he finds helps. Small bits of magic that twist and turn and are a release valve, but the light always ends up agonizing regardless, and he does not learn to cope.
So when dusk comes, Firion always finds himself wound tight. The tension fizzles along the surface of him and there is a desperation to sink into the night. To cut his teeth on the evening hours until all of his magic has righted himself, the world has turned upright, and he is himself again.
Tonight, it occurs in the form of a chase.
As the sun begins to make its descent, he swallows himself up and turns into a floating ball of flame. Burning blue, he bobs and weaves through the forest, all the pieces of him roaring to life with every second that he floats along. And when he feels the presence of another give chase, he is spurred into life. He moves faster and faster, thrilled to find that the other keeps pace with him, pushes him onward.
He could fly for hours, he thinks, nearly dizzy with relief as the energy that has simmered within him all day finally finds reprieve. As he shoots around a corner, he continues, never giving pause but realizing too late that he had pinched the path before him and teleported to the end of the forest. Bobbing in the air for several seconds, contemplative, he reaches out with his magic, sending the shadows skittering forward. He waits for a moment, then two, until the answer comes back to him and then pops back toward her.
This time as one of the shadows stretching long and forward before her.
He arrives just in time to hear her whisper and the more playful aspect of his personality sparks to life. If he could grin, he would, but instead he just lets his voice whisper through her mind.
“Only the ones that I can win.”
And if she were to pay attention, perhaps she would notice the shadows warp unnaturally.
Perhaps.
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@Cheri