slow burning to the ground

if i let go, would you hold on, would we fly?

is it safer if we just say that we tried?

It’s gone, the panther is gone, dissolved into nothing and whatever’s left behind. His mind is still reeling, however, as Haai returns to him — her head brushing against his left arm as he leans forward, nausea rippling up again. Zuriels there, healing him just enough to be able to walk without blood gushing out with every step. But fuck, his body hurts, his mind is fracturing, trying to grasp and latch onto anything he can.

Haai goes and gathers his daggers for him, keeping them tight in her maw, and Sunjata moves to stand. Wobbly and shakily, nearly tripping over a foot as he grits his teeth in his frustration. His heart is thundering and he’s not sure if it’s because of exertion or if he’s still trying to catch up with all the electricity forced through his body. His arm and chest are sore, mind an absolute shitshow, but he manages to stand even if he staggers a bit. He’s gotta get home, and so he bites the bullet — sucking down a huge breath of air trying to fan the flames of the deep seething frustration, anger, and pain that wages war within him.

He takes one step, and it goes slow, and Haai seeks out Zephyr — trying to corral the smuggler to help Sunjata get somewhere that's not a cold beach.

are we laughing at the danger?

are we dancing after death, you and I?