[open] buried it where bones are buried

[firion]

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

If Firion feels anything more toward Ledger, he no longer lets it show. His manages to white-knuckle control over his fleeting rage, bringing it to heel, so that he can stare impassively at his nephew, golden eyes hard but unemotive. When he offers his help, Firion just grunts, a noncommittal kind of noise. He is not sure that he has complete control over his magic, but he certainly has more control over it than he had over the curse—and, like all young things, he remains oblivious to what else could be learned.

So he lets the one-eyed stallion retreat from the pair and, gladly, turns his attention toward the kelpie.

“I happen to love an opinion on a woman,” he grins, sharp teeth glinting as the light catches it, only growing more sober as the conversation turns back toward the mountain. The shadows flex around them, moving in time with the conversation as he thinks back to the quest—what he had lost. What he had been given. He wonders if, in a way, he misses the curse but promptly dismisses the thought.

What was there to possibly miss?

“It wasn’t anything that I couldn’t pay,” he answers, not trying to be cryptic but unsure about how else to answer the question. Trying to reposition the conversation to focus more on her, he pivots it again, feeling the shadow creature nestle into his back and begin to snooze quietly. “What brought you to the mountain that day?” His golden eyes are sharp but his expression remains pensive. “Everyone had their own reasons for answering the call,” he continues, “but I find myself curious about what yours could be.”

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

@[Sabal]