the wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
{drunk and driven by the devil's hunger}
He watches her with mild fascination, finding her interaction with the faux Falls intriguing. She wades into the water he conjures for her, closes her eyes, and seems to find some level of comfort within it. Was it always so easy to assuage a hurt? Could something you knew was fake ease the pain of loss? It was more questions that he carefully tucked away, yearning for the answer, although he himself would never be able to truly understand the reasoning behind it. Logically, none of what she did made any sense.
Still, he kept up the mirage for her sake, ignoring the small pang along his shoulder, the mulberry stallion having grown long accustomed to the sacrifices he made to call upon his magic. While he was buoyed by his family lines, he knew there was a price for it all; it had never been something he was unwilling to pay.
(If only, if only, Bright was there and still had her powers.)
“Interesting,” is all he says at first, tilting his heavy head to the side. “And the joy? It is that worth it to you? Worth the risk of the pain?” His brow furrowed in concentration. “I cannot imagine anything being worth losing that much control over your own self, over your own destiny. You are willingly handing over the power of your own life.” It was utter foolishness to him, but he could see it was something that she took seriously and so he pried no more, letting her have her own choices. Perhaps one day she would see the error of her ways—the foolishness of her choices—but he wouldn’t convince her of that today.
“Is there anything else you would like to see?” The mirage was not difficult to uphold, but it was also not a wholly small magic either and he would not be able to hold onto it forever. Why he offered was beyond him, but he reasoned it was the least he could ask.
Woolf
