Redtail Rise and god knows i can make ammends

The taste of dust had been settling in his mouth all evening as the seasons are brung to their knees for each other. He reaches for the last of the warmth within his armor-plated heart and garners it close; he can barely stand the gelid chills along the meridian of his form. These sensations are familiar, likeness to when Mahler called his name or when the amethyst gaze of Phaedra gauges him under distrustful scrutiny.
( i'll promise them that i can change — )
maybe today his heart would mesh into a mess of all-things cottony while pining for a nearness to love and bring something back to share ( or non-spit cowled herbs for both ).

He had the pleasure to chance upon the little rockhopper today, and ruminate about the allure of moss-shawled boulders. “When I sit on these, my butt is much more comfortable then on a flat rock,” he would add as she probed and prodded them all. Massively one-sided he thought shrugging, perhaps the seelie girl perceived talking as an unneeded nicety. He would have agreed. Stone-girl was good companion, but not what he wanted, needed.

He'd always been infatuated with the blackened spires of the rise;
a fire had brushed thru here many a moon ago one would say. Astraeus can only spit at the idea Condor returned here, and those others that had loitered around far too long and even after his warnings. These charcoal ruins are familiar, that wolf he sees now, familiar! And then it is under ink-washed boughs and the irregular palpitations of his heart, remembrance raps the door with its knuckles, come for a visit:
dreamless, pants wetting fear, a myriad a cry for vati, the taste of metal, watercolors — no, that's blood.

Buzzard had the temerity to return here after all,
he refuses to make the same mistake of letting Condor get away, or yell nothings into the air in fathomless fear, 
so in turn Astraeus in turn promised to threaten with the his own teeth, remembering their own, putrid breath licking his nostrils—

he wanted her head, her heart, and her hubris in its entire, hunt this bête aux yeux rouges forever.

after this thread; lmk if minor marble pp isnt alright! im also ok with this being short
wc: 367