Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
This time will be different, she promises, this time she will keep her word. Her query about blame elicits a soft laugh, one that rumbles in Gale’s chest as it continues to press kisses along her throat rather than answer, enjoying this moment of submission.
Mazikeen is duplicitous and dangerous, and had the Curse been aware of her tendencies and attachment to Gale it would have chosen a host with far less baggage. She has outwitted it more times than any other, forced it to change plans and tactics, delayed and forced deviations at every turn.
It should have tried to kill her as soon as the children were viable. The Curse knows that now. Ripping out the children as well as her heart and eyes might have led to a more permanent death, but there is no changing the past.
She is still a danger to it, likely the source of its eventual and inevitable demise, but perhaps this tactic will succeed where others have failed. It certainly seems more enjoyable than any other method.
The way she asks if there is anything it wants sends a pleasant shiver down its spine. The words are gritted, but she asks anyway, and the knowledge of how it must pain her to say the words makes them sound all the sweeter. They’d sealed their deal with more than kisses last time, but now the Curse only smooths the curve of her check before pulling away.
“Not tonight,” it tells her with a dark smile that does not belong on Gale’s face. “But you do still owe me a child, and it’ll be far easier if I don’t have to hunt you down to settle that debt come fall.”
Easier for her, it means.
It would enjoy the chase, of course, but the image of Mazikeen coming willingly (well, as willingly as one can under threat of all they love destroyed) is equally delightful.
“Now. Go say goodbye to your friend.”
Another smile, and a dismissive gesture.
@[Mazikeen]
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