[open] buried it where bones are buried

[firion]

that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried

It was refreshing to have a conversation with someone who says exactly what they mean and what they think. He appreciates the way that she doesn’t try to hide or pretend otherwise and his amusement sparks when she casts him a wink—not bothering to hide her flirtation. It’s enough that he forgets about the bear who had been part of their conversation but moments ago, sinking his attention instead in this moment.

He’s quiet as he listens to her talk, thinking about her answer with a press of his golden lips together. After a second, he rolls his shoulders. “I can understand that,” he admits. “Although I don’t think there’s something entirely selfish about wanting to be useful. I think that’s just a byproduct of living.”

Firion certainly knew what it was like to want to be useful.

To want to be anything but the useless, cursed waste he became every night.

As she turns the question back toward him, he grows somber again, a frown growing between his brows as he follows her gaze up to the moon that hangs above them. His lips quirk at her answer, feeling both a bone-deep ache at the way he had missed the sun and a foundational resentment of the same thing now.

How strange to love and hate something at the same time.

“I missed feeling fully alive,” he answers, not trying to be cryptic but unable to find a better way to phrase that without going too deep down a path he couldn’t back out of. “It took the best of me with it.”

so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried

@[Sabal]