this is my pity party ; any

[The Tin Man]

Hearts will never be practical,
until they can be unbreakable.
(But I still want one.)

The Tin Man doesn't know what exactly is happening by now, aside from the obvious fact that he must have caught the plague. He's been running a fever and his head hurts. He can make himself eat at least some of the time, but if it's not the coughing that slows him down, it's the nosebleed.

So the stallion finds himself back in Loess, wandering towards a flickering light that he only somewhat thinks is real--fever tends to mess with your head, after all. It's not until the heat of the fire rushes through his sweaty mane that he stops; but at least he was too zoned out to get close in the first place.

"Oh wait." The Tin Man paws the ground. "You're real. I'm sorry." Even the quick apology has wrecked his throat, and a few wheezing coughs rattle in his chest. "Yeah, it's a good thing you got fire-magic. I caught something off a giant lizard."

The Tin Man