that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
Firion doesn’t know what he’s made for.
Once, he thought he was a thing made for leisure and love and adventure. He was, after all, a creature born from love—dark though it may be. He thought perhaps he was brought into this world to enjoy the spoils of it. A gift from parents who had done nothing but suffer. He thought perhaps he was to be their sunset. A family life cloaked in ease. But it had been a fool’s dream—a child’s wish.
Because he had instead suffered, just as his parents before him.
The curse had found him and everything he had thought he had known as a child had twisted upon itself. he had been cast to the night and watched, again and again and again, as the sun set and death came upon him. And when he had finally lifted the curse? Only more death had come. More tragedy.
But, with her, he does his best to forget. He tries to be the son of leisure and ease that he had once thought was possible. He smiles gently at her and watches as she stares in awe at the moon that he pulls down and lets dance around her. It strikes a chord within him at the way it affects her and something in him eases, a tension that he is not always aware that he is holding. Perhaps the truth of him that he squirrels away. The boy that he desperately hides behind insult or flirtation or by simply running away.
Firion lets that boy shine for a moment from his demonic face, the handsome angles smoothing.
“Magic,” he replies simply, flexing his powers once more so that the moonlight cascades down once more and then splinters into a million pieces. The fragmented light swirls around them like fireflies, illuminating her face and weaving between them. His breath catches as he tries to remember the last time he let himself simply enjoy something—let alone enjoy the gifts that Beqanna had thrust upon him.
He smiles at her, nearly boyish.
“Do you like it?”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@[Elodie]