there is no greater pain
or punishment than memory

The sun did not bother Quinn anymore. Not unless he wanted it to. He doesn't know where the power comes from, nor why. But it was there now, and he had noticed it on a day that was particularly bright and beautiful and mocking everything he was going through. He'd just thought about dimming it down, sucking the warmth from the sky. So he did. Quite on accident, but since then, he had learned to control it better. Like the electricity that he had acquired along the way. There were moments when that one made him uneasy, but it was all in his head, and what did any of that matter right now? There were more important things going on in his life. A quest to settle, though he was still on the fence about all that. He did not know where he would end up for that.

Nothing really rode on that outcome, though. Not anymore. It was just another choice to make, debating on his own inner morals and guidelines; whatever was left of them. Deciding how much trouble he wanted to stir up for himself. He did need something to do with his time. Distractions. Then again, when did he not need that? Of course before the recent days, he had needed things to do simply to keep himself out of too much trouble. To cut down the risks by keeping himself busy. And now? That wasn't the case anymore. What was left to risk? Nothing. Not a thing. His life was meaningless, and he would come back again and again. There was no risk there. He was empty and hollow again, but what else was new? He would go on. Take risks. Stir shit up, because what else was there?

Bigger picture? Things did not often change. Quinn found himself in the same situations over and over, no matter how many times he tried to change his path or do something different. It circled back around to this feeling that was consuming him. No end in sight, and why was it that every time he had started to resign himself to that fate that something else happened? Something that gave him hope and snatched it away again? He was tired of going through it all, but he had been telling himself that everything was temporary. Nothing could last, and perhaps that was the right way to keep looking at everything. All was fleeting. But for now, he was powerful, and he could decide what his fate was otherwise. He would. He just needed time to figure that part out.

Quinn was settled against a tree trunk, the harpy eagles resting in the branches above with a few of the pigeons. A few of them linger in the grass, pecking away while Glowstick noses them aside when it suits him to do so. Mostly, however, it's quiet save for the chirping here and there, and whatever life is going on around them all. Corca was wrapped around his neck, and only the skunk and The Crow was missing from the bunch. No reason for that, except that Quinn hadn't been able to duck away from the flock and Corca when he went for a ride. There was no purpose to any of this; he was just glad to be out and about with grass underfoot instead of water everywhere. Of course Quinn has to open his eyes at the sound of hooves coming closer. "Just like driftwood." His mouth quirks up.

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