copper bones and smoke feathers

It's taken a lifetime to lose my way

All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand

Edges and peaks no longer so sharp angled along the outline of ridges, and Deimos wondered if he missed it – the way they rose and defied, distinct and proud. Perhaps, even now, they still held their sense of boldness, but were far less furtive; the tunnels and mines along a widened expanse, so that if he traversed high enough in his plumage there’d be nothing but endless trails of where hunters, cannibals, and treasure seekers had wandered for decades. Maybe an outcropping of where a frost giant remained dormant. Maybe a tunnel where an ivory dragon lingered over its hoard.

But none of those things were in their periphery today – not as he held out his arm to Cordelia along the trail, amidst the aperture, scouring for rumored mushrooms. “How are you feeling?” came on a measured, careful notion – wanting to ensure the exertion wasn’t too much or overwhelming. They’d only be going so far as the mouth of the first cave, as dusk slid into evening, so that the rumors of glowing properties might be beheld quickly and efficiently.

Belial and Zuriel made their own kind of traveling duo behind them, the unicorn watching and scrutinizing, while the peryton made loud, obnoxious hoots, capable of ensuring any predators stayed away by sheer annoyance and irritation.

I'm fine in the fire

I feed on the friction