Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
The ache in his head remains constant, unaffected by the regenerative abilities that so easily heal physical wounds. It feels as though he is being split apart, like a coconut fallen onto hard stone, but he cannot tell one piece from the other. The cool brush of air against his eyes burns as if it carries hot sand, and Gale winces and closes his eyes.
Only to open them again, because that is the smell of fresh blood, and it is Mazikeen’s.
Dripping down her forelegs, the source covered by a pair of feathered wings he’s not seen before. She has come closer as Gale struggles to stand, and though he is sure she is ready to support him, her nearness comes with a fresh wave of scents, and Gale’s blue eyes widen and he falls still as he takes them in.
What has just happened?
His thoughts spin in ten million directions, and he closes his eyes. It’s worse, Mazikeen says, and without thinking he presses back against her touch, the long bridge of his nose against her neck. Her white skin smells of blood and sex and things that are 'better if he doesn’t remember', and a single shuddering sob breaks from his chest. Only one, because he is too tired for more.
As if her words summon the weariness, his limbs grow heavy, and his closed eyelids feel as though they have been filled with heavy stones. Mazikeen is bleeding and he (he?) had some part in it, and some part of him wonders why she is still able to stand so near to him, wonders why she has not fled.
“This is not the Curse that killed my parents,” Gale breathes against her white neck. “This is something different, something...” His voice grows fainter as he drifts off. His slipping head wakes him an instant later, but he cannot stop his legs from dropping beneath him, and he is murmuring apologies as he falls into a fitful sleep.
@[Mazikeen]
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