[private] that day even the sun was afraid of you; sam pony

[firion]

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

There is a tenderness to her as she approaches and the different parts of Firion rise to acknowledge it. The part that comes first is his cynicism. It is cruel and cutting and it rises up his throat quickly. He feels the edge of his hunger, that need to squash the light within her. He can feel the shadows wrap around his throat as he practically tastes the despair that he could drag out of her. The ways that he could make her break. All of the ways that he has learned to break others over the years—none more than himself.

But it is not the only part of him that rises its weary head.

His mother’s son also comes. The boy who was quick to laughter and eager for adventure. Who loved his mother’s gentle glow and quiet voice—her softness, even amongst the darkness of her life. His love for his mother’s softness stays his hand and gentles his harsh features as he acknowledges her fully.

“I prefer the moon to the sun,” he answers honestly, although perhaps it is not honest to say that he likes the night. It is his domain now—perhaps always was—but he does not love it. Is charged by it. Thrilled by it. But does not love it. Does not prefer it over the sunshine he will ache for for the rest of his days.

There is a sadness to his smile as he casts his golden gaze to her, studying her flames.

“I wonder if it missed you back,” his smile turns crooked, flirtation sharpening his features as he falls back into the ease of that persona. It was so much easier to pretend to be this casual ruffian than his own self. It always would be. He leans down, whispering conspiratorially. “Would you like me to ask it?”

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

@[elodie]