who we are and all that we're trying to be
Lanterns for the dead: a haunting conflagration again and again, especially with the increase in lights for those expired, gone, souls sent away. His mind curled and coiled back to the inevitable wake of LongNight, those like Cera, extinguished without a chance, an opportunity, to set purpose and goals into fruition, and those like Adam, like Peter, mistakes and measures not calculated marring their wake. On a feral sigh, on whims of acceptance, on the notion that they’d be doing this for eternity, he maneuvered along the shop, bringing forth other hues of paint from their home, dropping them amongst the others Amalia had already gathered. He was a present, but quiet, supportive force along the bakery, snagging a few cookies, considering the materials, pondering if anything else would be required, if he’d be able to supply it readily (creation magic unwieldly and uncertain nowadays, as if it was as temperamental as the rest of this forsaken earth).
There and ready, all the same.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
