Mazikeen watches Ciri carefully, finding that she doesn’t trust the other mare. Maybe it is simply the fact that there is something from the Curse inside of her, a piece of him brought back into Hyaline. Just thinking about that makes her skin crawl and she wishes she wasn’t alone by the lake with this near-stranger anymore. How much of Ciri’s coldness was her, and how much of it was him? Either way, the winged mare could be a threat to the shaky peace that has settled on the mountains over the last season. The shaky peace that Mazikeen had found for herself.
So she holds onto the smilodon shape, feeling a little better for it, and her lips curl back in a brief display of annoyance when Ciri cuts her off and sharply asks if she’s just unwilling to help. Her ears twitch at the accusation as well, hurt flashing across her expression before she can get a handle on it. She will not fall apart right now, even though she’s painfully aware that Ciri likely doesn’t even know the full extent of what crimes Mazikeen believes she’s made.
She steps to the side when the other mare moves closer, not quite away but keeping something of a distance between her and Ciri (or her and that thing inside of Ciri). Mazikeen would sit, pretend to be at ease, but her body is so tense right now she’s not entirely sure she’d be able to.
“You’ve got a really interesting way of asking for my help.” She can’t help but remark after the obvious grimace that accompanies the word please. With a sigh, her gaze drifts out over the lake - though she still watches Ciri in her periphery. “The only advantage I ever had over the Curse now lives in you. And even when he had it, I still couldn’t make him stay dead no matter how many times I tried.” Well, once she had regretted it, the second time had been an accident, but the third time she had actually been trying. And even after trying to shove every good feeling through their bond and dropping him on the mountainside like a bird trying to open a clam on sharp rocks, he still didn’t stay dead.
Mazikeen turns her head back to Ciri and her eyes are shining with tears as she tries to get the other mare to understand that she wasn’t downplaying her limitations. Even the fights she had won against the Curse had still been losses. “I can shapeshift and I glow when I’m angry. That’s it, Ciri. That’s the extent of my talents. It’s enough for a lot but… but not for this. I can’t… take that out of you.”
And there was a part of Mazikeen that didn’t want this to be her fight anymore. Hadn’t she devoted enough of her life to it? Hadn’t she given up enough of herself, how much more would be asked of her? Was it so unreasonable to want it to be someone else’s problem now?
But, of course, that part was small. She would do what she could, and she hoped that with help this time she might manage not to lose herself in the process.
“If you can find a way to put… to put that back into him, I’ll help bring him down.” Probably, though she keeps that thought inside. There’s no telling whether Gale’s affection for her would still be a weakness after their last interaction, but it might be their best shot. She still had a promise to keep, after all.
@Ciri