that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
As her markings spark to life again, Firion feels something like relief sweep through him. It is a relief to know that he can still induce that in her—that no matter where the conversation will go, he will always manage to find a way to bring it back to this. It only serves to deepen his smirk, to ease the tension in his belly, and he cocks a back leg, ignoring the ripple of pain that races through him as death holds on.
At her incredulous face, he laughs—unable to stop himself from reacting. He is tempted to peek inside her mind and figure out the connection. Learn for himself exactly where she had met his mother. But he has a morsel of decency left so he refrains, instead tilting his head to the side and considering her. “I am indeed the son of Ryatah and Atrox.” The formality of it makes him grin, no less for thinking of his parents—the duo tucked away in Hyaline, as far as he knew. “I take it that you know of them.”
But his amusement faces into a frown as she considers her.
“You died?” There’s something that sparks in him—something like rage, or fear, or both—that he cannot quite dampen. His shadows explode around him in barely controlled blast, a wash of cold air that he pulls back with considerable effort. He grits his teeth as his anger licks up the back of his throat, brightening his already crushed gold eyes. “What happened?” Not that he should care, he thinks.
Her life was never part of his own.
He had been careful to avoid just that.
But the idea of her lying somewhere, the life ripped away from her, turns his stomach. He tastes acid as it fills his mouth. It’s enough to set him on edge that he doesn’t laugh at her last jab or rise to it.
Instead he just answers simply:
“I lost most of my soul a long time ago. It, unfortunately, never stopped mattering.”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@[Mazikeen]