that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
Her softness tempers the demon that bites and scratches under the surface. She is like his mother. Like Iridian. She is a soft, sweet thing and although he is a clumsy man, he has always had a desire to shield such things from the truth of him. So he does a little longer. He does his best to not be the cursed boy that he had been or the damned stallion he had grown up to be. He does his best to be anything but what he was. He molds himself into someone kind and gentle, someone who lets her talk to the moon.
Someone who watches her with soft eyes, ignoring everything that rages within him.
“I don’t think the moon would answer how you think,” he muses, glancing upward at it. Gently, he lets his magic wind upward until the light brightens into a nearly living thing. A silvery thing, the threads of which dance downward and around Elodie. He lets them wash over her like silk, raining down in a dry wash of milky light that cups her cheek, glides underneath her chin—and within that silvery light, he infuses a sweet melody. Something a touch melancholy. A touch gentle. A longing, loving noise.
He smiles before lifting his eyes upward. “It sounds to me like it missed you,” his voice is quiet, wondering what it would be like to be missed. To have someone ache for him. He has only really known how to hide himself or burn bridges. Getting lost in the in-between. So he lets the silence between them stretch for a moment before he answers her question, his tail flicking against his hocks like a twitch.
“It’s complicated,” he hedges, unwilling to dive too deep into the truth.
“I would have told you how much I preferred the sun once, but it never preferred me.”
He turns his gaze back to her. “Most things I prefer are like that.”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
@[elodie]