[private] each time the feeling fades

[Gale]

i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me The fae’s mention of riddles pulls the scowl on Gale’s forehead tighter, both at the other’s continued flippancy and the uncomfortable parallel with his own concerns. The difference, of course, being that the brindle creature does not enjoy riddles in the slightest. It wants answers, and Obscene’s is not satisfying. The long white claws of his forelimbs knead irritably at the burnt earth beneath them, stilling only when the Prince boredly announces his inexperience with murder. A strange confession, but one that makes sense when he continues. Obscene is attempting to protect someone, and the Curse’s suspicions regarding an ulterior motive had been correct. The Empathy makes the notion understandable, but does not soften the sneer of disgust that sours his handsome face, the genuine reaction of the black-souled thing to his opponent’s admission of weakness. He is still not certain what the long-eared fae is capable of, but as he watches the blunt teeth become pointed fangs, the Cursed creature destroys its last vestiges of caution. Whatever Obscene is, he can surely die. Gale leaps forward, still mostly equine, but with jaws that open far too wide, intending to close around the black horse’s throat as his front limbs rise up to claw at Obscene’s chest and shoulders. GALE

@Obscene