[ Marco doesn't, per se, believe in a God in the traditional sense. But a sweep of something like thank god rushes through his chest all the same as he descends toward the graves and sees the crumpled form still there. Still there. ]

[ There. Here. ]

[ He reaches the ground already changing back, half man and half fire, stumbling just once to balance sandal against talon. Then he's in a half sprint, dropping to his knees in the dirt and hauling Ace off the grave and into his arms. He knows Ace, knows him in a stronger way than family or nakama could really explain, and he doesn't bother to reach carefully, to touch a shoulder, to be wary of startling the other man. Fuck that. He just hauls his brother back by the shoulders and turns him so they're chest to chest, holding the other man as he shakes. ]