LOCATION: lord’s of dust LETTER TO: @captain-dawnlight
To fight was all he ever knew. Fight against this world, with fingers that sunk into his pale ribs, and slowly pulled him into the earth. Head barley above the water for as long as he could remember. Short breaths, catching the back of his throat. Maybe it was the cheap liquor he drank by the gallons, alone in those quarters of his as the crew slowly patched up. Gunshots ringing in his ears. Blood on his hands. He looks closer, it’s just rust. Copper, staining between his fingers, and lingering on everything he touched.
The door slams behind him, heavy footsteps carrying him into the bar. Chatter stilling in the air for a moment, before rustling back to life. Every inch of him demands war.
For the fallen.
His eyes something dark, swallowed by gunpowder as he storms to Cian who sits alone. Nursing a drink- his wound. Ford doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care to stop to notice as he grasps the back of his collar and drags him from the barstool. “Somewhere private. Now.”