[private] When did the colors fill in the spaces where there were none?

[Fyr]

I'll settle for the ghost of you.

There had been a thought that it might feel strange. Having Lilybee lean against him, that is. Part of him had wondered if she might start to sizzle the moment he made contact, if by merely touching him would turn her aflame. That was silly of course, Aela had touched him many times but she, too, was also a fire wielder of sorts. He is both relieved and disappointed when she simply settles against him, unharmed. There is an itch building at his neck, the flames of anxiety longing to spiral unchecked along his shoulders but he resists the call. Instead, he tries to focus on the sound of her soft breathing, the gentle rush of water before them, the tension in his muscles that begins to unclench as he becomes more comfortable with the situation he’s found himself in.

The silence returns and he finds it even more peaceful than before, now that she leans into him. It’s becoming difficult to ignore the glint of her golden markings, the clean fresh scent of her that floods his nostrils and stirs something primal and confusing. The itch is becoming unbearable, much like that constant throb in the back of his head, but he finds a way to release it without harming her or moving her.

Over the surface of the river, he sends his flames. They spread and grow until they follow every bend and curve before them. Then his fire begins to sprout until the river hosts a blanket of enflamed wildflowers that spark and smoke and mirror what he had once seen at home. A trick he had mastered since he had first tried in the Forest with Firion or back in the annihilated field of flowers he had kept in the Pampas. It seems fitting then, that she asks about his family. A muscle spasms across his chest and through his shoulder but he stays put, keeping his yellow gaze firmly on the river of floral fire before him. “Aela is my only family.” He starts but halts, because it’s not exactly true.

“She adopted me when I was very young.” He says quietly after a long pause. He had never spoken about this before with anyone. Not even Liesma. So it becomes difficult to proceed and there is tension in his voice when he finally continues. “My mother didn’t want me and left me in the Den, she found me there.” He leaves out the reason of why. Why he had been abandoned and how awful his time in the adoption den had been. “I suppose if I had any family besides her it would be the others of the Pampas. Obscene, Skander… All of them.” And that is a truth in itself but he hesitates again. There is still something else.

“I’ve met my father a few times. At least, Aela believed him to be my father.” Fyr, now, believed it too. It was shameful really how he had denied it before, deflecting in ignorance. To look at Firion was to look at Fyr and vice versa. They were different enough but the similarities were too many to be denied. “He taught me how to do this. Except with shadows instead of fire.” He ends quietly, giving only a slight gesture of his muzzle in the direction of the flickering flowers. 

FYR

Photo by Little Willow Art

@Lillibet