[His hands close on the magician's shoulders and his lips part around a cry of triumph, one that abruptly gives out around surprise as Asra falls, takes him with him. His back hits the cool damp of the grass and the air rushes out of him with a soft oomf, face turned up towards the glittering and unfamiliar stars.
Then he's laughing, a sound like molten gold, and for one bright moment there's no sign of clustering darkness, or heaviness in him. Only the lit-up recklessness and intoxication of a brilliant festival night..]
Now there's a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.
[He says it, but his voice is free from bitterness.]
no subject
Then he's laughing, a sound like molten gold, and for one bright moment there's no sign of clustering darkness, or heaviness in him. Only the lit-up recklessness and intoxication of a brilliant festival night..]
Now there's a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.
[He says it, but his voice is free from bitterness.]