[private] i would've crossed the stars

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you There is an unfamiliar face in her mind, and Gale frowns. A blue-eyed stallion. He only Sees him and does not catch the name, and decides that this must be someone against whom Mazikeen has a grudge. Should Gale bring her his head, he wonders? Or would she want to kill him herself? He’s about to ask, but then she’s talking again, and it is rather difficult to focus on what he’s saying when she slides herself against him. Take Sickle themselves? There’s a flash of a bleeding Obscene, and then she voices the same thought that had passed through his own mind a moment ago. Wishbone is still alive, that much he is sure of. But enough time has passed since he’s heard news of Tephra, and he wonders if she even still rules. Only one way to find out, he thinks, even if it means leaving Hyaline. Gale tilts his head so that he can rest more comfortably against Mazikeen, his neck across her back in an effort to focus. But her soft touch against his skin continues to distract him, and Gale’s slow breathing begins to grow ragged. His mind has been elsewhere, on the dry well he finds when he reaches for his magic. Gale had reached for the first stone of the well, and pulled strength from his physical manifestation. An old wound reopens on Gale’s left leg, but it’s enough for him to See through Sickle’s eyes, just for an instant, and finds a very long-eared face. Gale is not sure if this is fate or the hand of his host’s ancestors, but there is no doubt in his voice as he presses his lips against Mazikeen’s cheek: “In a few days.” How long can his sister hold on to Sickle, Gale wonders? He doubts that Wishbone had hampered the girl’s shifting. Will she be difficult to capture? To keep? “It’ll be a girl,” Gale says, and this time the magic is pulled from time itself, and a sprinkling of pale hairs appear to mark the passing of time and the shortening of his lifespan. A small thing for an immortal, really, and he hardly feels it as he turns to whisper against her ear: “Let’s go celebrate.” Soon he’ll be feeding on the terror of a stranger, and the anticipation nearly has him slavering.

@Mazikeen