[private] Out of touch, are we out of time?

[firion]

FIRION

Firion was not fit company these days. Not that he ever classified himself as anything like it, but now, he knew he was especially poor. It was only in the tender moments with Mazikeen that he felt the edges softened, the rawness of it muted. When she was away though—when she was gone—it flooded back onto him with a ferocity that was unmatched. He could drown in that kind of loss, he thinks, when he wakes and realizes that his mother is still gone. When he thinks of how she had looked on that riverbank.

It haunts him and drives him out of his new home—her home—to the forest. To the shadows that trail him and then become him. To the moonlight that sets him glowing soft as he weaves through the forest fully formed. He slips from a corporeal form to something less tangible, wisps of darkness that still feel the same ache as before. It clenches at his heart no matter how he looks. It drives him mad regardless.

So he comes back to himself just in time to stumble upon the young body.

His eyes widen slightly and then narrow and he feels something like panic rise in him—a desperate need to protect the boy from the roughened edges and overpowering grief that floods through him. He is a tsunami of unchecked emotions and he knows his grip on it is weak at best, harrowingly loose.

“Fyr,” he manages, voice raw and gritty. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

so as our grief falls flat and hollow upon a billion blooded seas
all our worst ideas are borrowed (you do and don't belong to me)