that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
He hadn’t been in his right mind during most of the quest so, save his mother, the other participants are lost on him. He doesn’t remember their faces and although there is certainly a way that he could leverage his new power to learn them, he finds he doesn’t have an appetite for it. He has no real desire to revisit that trip to the underworld—those hours spent trying to battle the curse to be useful enough to save them all. But he doesn’t need that recognition to spark his interest as the kelpie woman approaches him.
Firion finds that he can nearly smell the saltwater on her, and he smiles wolfish in her direction.
“It sounds like you knew that I was,” he quips, feeling the memories of it tugging at him, sliding beneath the surface of him like a strain—a reminder that just the right move would result in pain. That same recognition pulls him further from the shadows, unable to face the truth of his new magic just yet. The curse with a different face. A power pulling from a well of darkness he would never outrun—not now.
Before he can answer her second question though, his attention is caught by the stallion who approaches. There’s something that sparks in his mind, something in the back of his mind that responds to the particular angles of Ledger’s face. His father never spoke of Magnus—not after…not after all that had happened—but Firion’s magic responds to the familial bond. Not enough to rise to his actual consciousness (his father’s earlier escapades were certainly too numerous to make him aware of his every half-sibling, let alone every niece of nephew) but enough that he stares perhaps a second longer.
Shaking the obtrusive feeling, he notes the way that his companion winds around his legs, taking on the shadowy form of a jaguar—misting on the edges and blurring where it leans against him. “I have had all the moments I could possibly ever need,” he replies, voice just a touch darker, roughened on the edges as he rolls his spotted shoulders. Turning his golden gaze back to the mare, he frowns for a second.
“I don’t know how much I did,” an honest answer, for once, from him.
His eyes flick up to the moon that peeks through the clouds, setting that golden glow on him.
“But the darkness is temporary this time.”
For everyone but him, he thinks, but this goes unsaid.
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@[Sabal]