07-02-2021, 08:10 PM
mazikeen
At first, when Mazikeen wakes up hungry, she’s disappointed that Gale continues to slumber. She wastes some time watching him, entertaining herself by telling his unconscious form how their second hunt might have repeated some particular favourite moments from the first (almost exclusively inspired by what came after he took them to Hyaline) before she feels the need to rise and distract herself. It is instinct to brush a kiss against his cheek before leaving, memories seeping in of other days when she had watched him sleep and done the same. There is no sting of pain, no flash of sadness as she considers these thoughts.
She no longer wishes that Gale would return. He surely wouldn’t like her as she is now and he’d probably apologize to her over it. That little thought infuriates her and she almost turns back to the sleeping Gale to see whether tearing him apart will rid her of him forever. Perhaps this is her moment, as he recovers, but she chooses not to even try.
Mazikeen wants to kill him but that is a day in a hazy future. She’d once said she would do it when he became too much - but her definition of that threshold keeps evolving. Now she isn’t sure she even has a limit.
Instead of feasting on him, she focuses on filling her hunger in other ways. She tries grazing, only to find no satisfaction in the awkward way it sits in her stomach and makes her feel sick. It’ll be meat again, then. And maybe forever more. So she hunts for the deer he had mentioned, finding their speed a thrilling challenge until she is finally able to wrench the leg out from under one and snap it. As she eats, the bloodlust subdued without Gale there to inflame it, she thinks of encouraging the others to leave the rest of this herd. Leave the swiftest to breed and make fleet-footed children.
Though her mind occasionally drifts to where Gale sleeps, there is no instinct to return to check on him. She isn’t worried and she doubts the Curse will be taken out by the cold or a fluke avalanche (though these thoughts bring some delight to consider as she bathes in the cold lake).
There’s no supernatural tingling at the base of her spine to let her know he’s awake - she simply turns her head while prowling through the freezing rain as a thick-coated smilodon and spots him. A small smile grows instantly. Anger isn’t in her first thoughts, though it waits patiently beneath the surface to be drawn out. She feels a thrill instead, marvelling at him, and feeling again that possessive thrum. He is hers.
She has not forgotten how he told her she was too dangerous to keep alive and this knowledge delights her in ways she cannot explain.
Mazikeen moves forward to close the gap between them with confidence she has never had come to her so easily with him. Whatever uncertainty she feels is minimal and it does not stop her prowling movements as she fluidly shifts into her horse self, crowned with her glowing horns and with her red-orange gaze locked on him. She presses close, brushing a greeting against his neck. “About time you woke up.”
She no longer wishes that Gale would return. He surely wouldn’t like her as she is now and he’d probably apologize to her over it. That little thought infuriates her and she almost turns back to the sleeping Gale to see whether tearing him apart will rid her of him forever. Perhaps this is her moment, as he recovers, but she chooses not to even try.
Mazikeen wants to kill him but that is a day in a hazy future. She’d once said she would do it when he became too much - but her definition of that threshold keeps evolving. Now she isn’t sure she even has a limit.
Instead of feasting on him, she focuses on filling her hunger in other ways. She tries grazing, only to find no satisfaction in the awkward way it sits in her stomach and makes her feel sick. It’ll be meat again, then. And maybe forever more. So she hunts for the deer he had mentioned, finding their speed a thrilling challenge until she is finally able to wrench the leg out from under one and snap it. As she eats, the bloodlust subdued without Gale there to inflame it, she thinks of encouraging the others to leave the rest of this herd. Leave the swiftest to breed and make fleet-footed children.
Though her mind occasionally drifts to where Gale sleeps, there is no instinct to return to check on him. She isn’t worried and she doubts the Curse will be taken out by the cold or a fluke avalanche (though these thoughts bring some delight to consider as she bathes in the cold lake).
There’s no supernatural tingling at the base of her spine to let her know he’s awake - she simply turns her head while prowling through the freezing rain as a thick-coated smilodon and spots him. A small smile grows instantly. Anger isn’t in her first thoughts, though it waits patiently beneath the surface to be drawn out. She feels a thrill instead, marvelling at him, and feeling again that possessive thrum. He is hers.
She has not forgotten how he told her she was too dangerous to keep alive and this knowledge delights her in ways she cannot explain.
Mazikeen moves forward to close the gap between them with confidence she has never had come to her so easily with him. Whatever uncertainty she feels is minimal and it does not stop her prowling movements as she fluidly shifts into her horse self, crowned with her glowing horns and with her red-orange gaze locked on him. She presses close, brushing a greeting against his neck. “About time you woke up.”
@Gale