Gale
run away with me--
lost souls and reverie
running wild and running free
Both, she answers, and Gale glances back at her over one striped shoulder. She can take many shapes, it seems, and the resemblance to the pale Hyalinian shifter he had had recently battled is too coincidental to avoid a comment. “You must get along well with Mazikeen,” he says, thinking of the pale mare. He clenches the wrist of his right wing without conscious thought, the memory of sharp teeth piercing his flesh still vivid and recent.
The way she shrugs, as though taking on another shape is a simple as taking to the sky, brings a wry crinkling to the edges of Gale’s bright blue eyes, a half-formed smile that brightens into something lighter as the Whale she speaks of comes into view.
“You’ve seen a whale?” he asks, but for Gale the question is mostly rhetorical – if she’s the ability to take any shape, surely she is familiar with all animals? “Someone made one out of trees, a long time ago. It’s still here, even after all the hurricanes and storms.” The view is still blocked by the purple and yellow canopy of Islandres palms, and Gale’s dark ears catch the eagerness in her voice.
He is fairly sure that it had involved some sort of magic, but exactly what type he’s not sure. There are horses that can manipulate the natural world, he knows. Perhaps some of them are especially skilled at bending wood to their will?
@[breach]
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