it's breaking up my bones
Aion had cut off his wings once.
They had been broken, useless; he’d had no choice, he had to survive and he couldn’t in that state. So he had taken a blade and cut them off.
That day, and every day since, he had regretted that action.
It may have saved his life, but it had also killed a part of him. He’d learned to live with it, to carry on with a new life, but there had always been something missing. With time, he had managed to convince himself that he was fine, even happy, with how things were. But had he been?
He’d never considered himself a lucky man, let alone blessed. If gods existed, surely they must hate him. They’d cursed him from birth, scorned every breath he took, tore his life apart (or had he done that himself?)
And yet… they had not taken his life. He had found Eros, found love and at least some semblance of joy. He had been given a new pair of wings, and although their ghostly appearance at times seemed mocking, at other times they seemed to glow like hope. If that wasn’t a sign, perhaps he was simply blind.
Please.
He tears his gaze away from her wing and finds her staring, wide-eyed and trembling. His heart stutters.
When was the last time someone looked at him like that, the last time someone asked him for help?
He finds himself talking without knowing what he was planning on saying; but the words come out before he can stop them, before he can think about taking them back. Aion steps closer, almost close enough to touch.
“I’ll help you.” I’ll do my best. You won’t turn out like me. He’s making a promise to her, but it feels like he’s making another to himself.
The magic is flowing out of him seemingly on its own, reaching out for her broken wing. He hasn’t used it before, hadn’t understood it. Aion doesn’t know how to control or stop the magic that leeches from his body like water seeping through cloth; it does so of its own accord, finding her broken bones like it knew already where to look. His body feels suddenly cold, his breath turning frosty. Can she feel it, too? The way his magic places itself like an ice pack over her wing, targeting the break, stronger than any normal ice would be? If his magic were to strike true, it would numb the targeted area enough to ease her pain, and perhaps her panic along with it. He doesn't know yet if it will work, but something inside assures him that it would.
It wasn’t a mend by any means; but at least a numbed joint would hurt less.
“It shouldn’t hurt quite so bad now. Do you mind if I take a look?”
He still can’t decide if she’s lucky to have fallen so near to the Night Court, or unlucky to be so far from the Dusk Court. A part of him is still doubtful that luck even exists, that all his life was nothing more than happenstance. But as he reaches for her wing, wanting to stretch it out and assess it, he finds himself thinking out loud.
“Do you believe in luck, Ianthe?”
@ianthe !
walk. "talk."
I wanted to leave it vague; but aion has an active magic that allows him to cool/numb injuries, you're welcome to write it out as working or failing, whichever you choose c:
