[private] I know it goes from bad to worse

[firion]

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

Not even magic makes the sting of death shake off easily. It settles into his bones, a deep ache that he hates feels familiar. It’s a pattern he knows. One that knows him, as well. It plays along the edges of his mind, whispering to him of the time where death was all he knew, and he fights against the way that it wants to sour his mood. The fear and loathing writhing in his belly—reminding him of how powerless he had once been. He wrinkles his nose and shifts, trying to breathe in deep to remind himself that he can.

She brings him back though—her jabs causing his eyes to flick upward and study her face, one corner of his golden mouth pulling into a smirk. “I have been nothing but pleasant to you,” he quips, rolling one of his spotted shoulders. “I am well-known for being the best of company. Ask around.” He laughs a little. “In fact, my mother is a literal angel, so you know there’s no doubt that I am the same.”

It’s a bitter joke that tastes like acid on his tongue, but he smiles around it.

At her next question though, his face grows more somber. It’s not the kind of question that he wants to treat casually, not even in front of her—someone he has always felt the need to stay armored around. So he looks her in the eye, holding her fiery gaze for a second. “Death always hurts, Mazikeen.” There is no coy smile or laughter now. Just raw, honest truth. “Not even magic has been able to take that way.”

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

@[Mazikeen]