Wanna Frog the Do-Re-Mi song?
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(5 — 3 — 2 — repeat from the start, end before brackets)
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Whump month!! I tried to make it a sort of mix between both days 1 and 2 but i really just ended up focusing on the burn part of it so.. just day one! (thank you to @cirrus-ghoulette for making this!)
GHOST BC WHUMP MONTH DAY 1: BURNS
Characters featured: Sparrow (OC), with a mention of Dew
CWS: Burns, Blisters, Improper burn care, Improper wound care, Blood
Summary: Sparrow finally gets a chance to harness her fire.
Sparrow had never been one with magic.
She’d seen her family and peers use it as second nature, from making cool breezes in the pits of gluttony to warming a cauldron with their own hands in the cold nights that had followed the scorching hot days. She’d seen her friends hunt, an air ghoul removing the air from an animal’s lungs as a fire ghoulette swooped in to cook the flesh. And yet- her magic could not manifest. Close to barely grasp, but not enough to harness, to bring up to her fingertips or any form of her body, until she was pulled out into the cold, yet welcoming Earth. During her visits with the other ghouls, she’d learned about the instruments the Ministry had possessed; Items enchanted to give that small boost to allow the powers to flow out. From then on, he had begun to search for a guitar- the Element of fire, the one he couldn’t reach. In the cover of darkness, the ghoulette had snuck into Dew’s room.
And now, the Stratocaster was in her hands, the low light of the practice room making it harder to see- It’d be too risky to put the lights all the way on, after all. She’d pulled out a spare pick and tabs for a random song- Which one didn't matter, she just had to let the warmth out, to pull the fire out from the depths of her soul and harness it, like everyone else did.
Her hands slowly went to the strings, holding and playing over and over again, trying to engage with the embers deep in her chest, in her soul, in her being. She kept her hands steady, even when the heat had begun to rise up, her brown eyes lighting up in the process, leaning into it to bring it up further- just as the many, many people had told a younger her to do.
The excitement was short-lived, the joy suddenly turning into pain, a scorching, burning pain as he felt a scream bubbling in his throat, keeping it down and instead trying to play more- maybe the more he played, the more he could control it, as the fire crackled its way through her veins and made its way onto her hands, the heat causing the strings to begin to melt through, snapping them string by string, the metal snapping against her soft hands and allowing for crimson to seep down, with painful licks of fire peeking out from the wounds as she tossed the Stratocaster away, her hands palms up with fire dancing its way up her arms- unable to stop the force even as she tried to pull away from the connection, her breathing quick and pained, stifling the pained exclamations as they tried to bubble up but she wouldn't dare whine or yell, this was her fault and her fault alone.
Maybe she should have tried air, she should have taken a synth or keytar or something other than this, but it was too late.
It took her fifteen minutes in order to calm the raging element down enough, the licks of fire against her forearms dissipating into discolored skin and small blisters that would most likely grow in the morning, but she couldn't care, leaving the discarded guitar as she stumbled back to her room in the dead of night, trying to not gain anyone's attention, even if nobody was there, she had to be sure. This was her own fault, she'd deal with it in the morning, maybe grab some burn creams out of the infirmary or something, but as her head hit the pillow it had all fell to black, as her body attempted to gain the energy to fix the mess she'd made.
Sparrow had woken up late to the sounds of banter outside her room, unable to understand, she groggily stood up, staring at the burns in the mirror, the blisters unsightly, the wounds on her hand a bit cauterized, but not enough to quit the bleeding, which it had done the night prior, leaving crimson stains on the bed. She pulled together an outfit as the conversations outside continued, a black t-shirt with stars on it, blue jeans, and a gray jacket, wincing as the fabric brushed against the burns, taking a couple of breaths as the pain rippled through the forearms.
After it had become a bit more bearable, she went out to join the banter of the others, her wings occasionally twitching as the fabric had continued to rub against the burns.
It was her own fault, her own carelessness. She'd take care of it soon enough, maybe.
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