Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
Mazikeen snarls a threat, and the Curse laughs.
“I will very much enjoy your attempts,” it says against her ear, and this time it uses Gale’s voice, a slower and gentler tone. It retracts its claws and draws her nearer with the rough pads of its leonine paws, and as it has its rough and selfish way with her, it is an absolutely perfect imitation of Gale, right down to the kiss it presses to her nose at the end.
Afterwards, it stretches lazily, glancing to its left where Mazikeen stands. Her orange eyes are closed, and it cannot see if she is crying. Boring. The coppery smell of blood perfumes the air, and the Curse yawns, and with a glance up toward the sun speaks in a casual tone.
“Well, it’s daytime, and a deal is a deal.”
The lion collapses, shifting as it does to a brindle horse. Gale is too exhausted to hold onto shifting magic, or to any magic at all. His glowing markings brighten, his conscious dimming of them released, and Erne circles overhead in slow and concerned spirals.
Gale wakes slowly.
There is an ache in his head like a flaming thorn, burning him from within. The Curse. He recognizes this sick nausea as a remnant of being possessed by the darkness. His eyes are closed, and though he knows it will burn to open them he does it anyway. Seeing is better than blackness.
Mazikeen is there, just at the edge of his vision. He isn’t sure how he knows it is Mazikeen (the wind is not in his favor and he’s never seen her in this shape or color), but there is no doubt in his aching mind that the blurred figure is his beloved.
“Maze?” He asks, his voice soft. Gale catches sight of the blood that remains where his claws had shifted to hooves, and a deep inhale reveals that it is her blood, and he blinks as rapidly as he can to clear his vision, but even that is worn and used up by the Curse. He lifts his head, then tries and fails to stand up. His heart is beating much too fast, and he manages to stand on his second attempt but can’t quite make his tired legs walk toward her.
“Why are you a gryffen?” He asks, confused. Before she can answer, he realizes that he’s finally been freed to remember, freed to speak, the words pour from him like water down the rocky slope. “Maze, I think the Curse is worse than I thought. I think it’s taking my memory more often than I thought and making me do things I would normally never do. I don’t remember a lot of things.”
@[Mazikeen]
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