[private] saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to; wishbone

[firion]

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

It’s exhilarating to have someone surge next to him—to not be in this race alone. It stirs something in him, something primal and reaching, and he growls under his breath in reaction to it, feeling the way that his muscles strain and his breath grows ragged. Firion can practically feel her own anger, her own dark emotions looming over them like a storm cloud. He recognizes them. Sees them reflected back.

Because he feels them too.

The sorrow, the loss, the endless fury.

Thunder crackles over them, lashing out across the sky from clouds that hadn’t been there but a second before. He grits his teeth as he weaves and between one step and another, he shifts—his body racing forward as a cheetah this time. His stride grows even longer, haunches launching him forward as his body collapses on itself and then stretches out. His magic reaches out to her once more with the shadows, that demonic energy that crackles between them as he gives her the temporary power to shift too, if she wants.

There’s something swelling him, a pressure building that he knows he can’t ignore. He can’t outrun this. Can’t just close his eyes to it. If he doesn’t release this pent up energy here and now, it’s not going to just be the earth trampled beneath his feet. There won’t be anywhere for him to hide from the destruction that he will let loose. So he runs. He leaps forward, body pushing past the point of exhaustion, and he sinks his teeth into this stranger who runs next to him—who flies forward with just as much desperation as he.

Come on, his voice laces through her mind, his lips not moving. We’re not done yet.

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

@[Wishbone]