[private] i'll be back at it, bad habits die hard

[Gale]

@Ryatah

i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me Winter has been mild in the common lands, and horses stand alone or in small groups, grazing on the brown grasses or standing out of the wind to talk. He drifts through them, pausing now and again to pursue an intriguing worry or frustration, but never straying long from his pursuit. Gale wears the shape of something lean and tall, with legs having a few too many joints. A long nose trails the ground, and wide erect ears flicker every way in search of sounds. His quarry is not far ahead. He’d immediately recognized the glittering trail of the angel when he’d crossed it. Her scent grows stronger - had she lingered here perhaps, engaged in conversation. Ahead, a pale glow illuminates the winter bare branches of the trees along the river bank. “Ryatah,” he says, her name feeling somehow strange as he says it aloud for the first time. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought, and drawing closer to her, shifts into the more familiar shape of a brindled navy horse. The sharp claws of his winged forelimbs dig into the earth as he moves nearer still. At last he finds her where the rolling Riverlands meet the sweeping open land of the Field. She’s going somewhere and he appears in front of the glittering angel, cutting off her progress with a delighted smile. “Ryatah.” This time he says it more smoothly, and it comes more easily from his physical mouth than the shadowy thing he’d been a moment before. “Fancy finding you here.” GALE