that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
He laughs then and it’s one of the few genuine laughs he has given in his life—something real and throaty. Something that explodes from deep in his chest, that burrows into the veins of him as thought it could become part of who he is and then expand. His golden eyes flash light and bright as though he does not shield the darkest parts of him from her, as though he does not keep them tucked in the furthest corners. “You may be the only person who knows me like this,” he says, hedging his answer and not saying that she is the only one who knows him truly—because even he does not know what that means.
He doesn’t know what it means to know him.
Does that mean knowing the cruel parts of him that goaded Mazikeen?
The part of him that hunted blindly at night?
The part of him that flirts and smiles with Iridian here?
The part of him that walks quietly alongside his angelic mother?
That learned to hunt by his panther-father’s side?
He doesn’t even know which of him is the truth any longer.
But she knows this side of him and it is one of his favorite parts of himself so he is glad for it. Glad that she knows this and not the darker sides—the parts that decay and peel away and rot in the shadows. So he grins, easily, feeling his breath catch when she touches his shoulders and glorious wings sprout forward. They look like those that his mother carries, although dipped in molten gold instead of dove-white, and he turns his full attention toward Iridian again, appreciation shining through every small angle of his face.
“They’re perfect,” he breathes, taking a step and adjusting the weight of them, surprised by the ease with which his body adapts. But she says this is a dream and that makes sense so he doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead he takes a running leap forward and then springs off the ground, finding that his wings fling wide and catch him aloft, the breeze running beneath them. Instinctually, he flaps them and carries himself higher and higher, as if he could fly into the sun—as if he could let the heat swallow him whole.
Laughing, he angles back down, arcing toward the dream girl so that he could follow her once more.
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
