i fell in love with a war
”I’m not exactly sure. That’s part of the problem,”” He starts, keeping his dark eyes glued to the mass of danger hovering above the man wobbling on the bridge. ”I came to try and help wake Ghilio. My unit’s dragging me to my first Flowerbirth festival and they say this is part of the tradition.” Which in this specific moment Icarus is now dreading.
The miniature dragon is cute in the way a poisonous flower must be beautiful to its victims. Its trilling, lilting chirp causes Icarus to flinch again, hand flicking on his sword, face contorting an a heartbeat of utter, absolute fear before he can master himself again.
The man on the bridge places another shaky leg in front of the other on the creaky bridge, and Icarus has to commend his bravery even though he’s clearly a madman and/or cursed. To be bonded to a creature of such immense destruction? And to call it a best friend? Icarus suppressed a shudder. Under the man’s feet, the bridge freaks and sways, and the wet bursts of wind blow Icarus’ collection of curls whisping around his pale face.
”And you’re… content with that? The bonding?” Icarus asks, drifting a hand up to rub at the burning canyons of his scars on his chest. The little creature is small, with stubby little legs and beating winds, and it occurs to Icarus that he should perhaps be more terrified at the plummeting canyon ahead of him rather than this stumpy thing, but his mind is echoing old visions of blood and flame and walls crumbling, half in memory, half in the misty stretch of Ourwoud, and he can’t quite drag his body all the way to the present.
”Dragons are dangerous,” He says quietly, more to himself than the man.
The miniature dragon is cute in the way a poisonous flower must be beautiful to its victims. Its trilling, lilting chirp causes Icarus to flinch again, hand flicking on his sword, face contorting an a heartbeat of utter, absolute fear before he can master himself again.
The man on the bridge places another shaky leg in front of the other on the creaky bridge, and Icarus has to commend his bravery even though he’s clearly a madman and/or cursed. To be bonded to a creature of such immense destruction? And to call it a best friend? Icarus suppressed a shudder. Under the man’s feet, the bridge freaks and sways, and the wet bursts of wind blow Icarus’ collection of curls whisping around his pale face.
”And you’re… content with that? The bonding?” Icarus asks, drifting a hand up to rub at the burning canyons of his scars on his chest. The little creature is small, with stubby little legs and beating winds, and it occurs to Icarus that he should perhaps be more terrified at the plummeting canyon ahead of him rather than this stumpy thing, but his mind is echoing old visions of blood and flame and walls crumbling, half in memory, half in the misty stretch of Ourwoud, and he can’t quite drag his body all the way to the present.
”Dragons are dangerous,” He says quietly, more to himself than the man.
Icarus
and nobody told me it ended
