[TAKEOVER] It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose.

[Gale]

i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me He wakes near dawn, his head pillowed on what remains of a yellow nereid. Rising to his feet, the white haired stallion shakes his head, shedding sand and water from his navy hide. The shadows that had pooled around his body as he slept on his side sink now to write beneath him, moving as he does, twining through and around his legs like snakes - or tentacles. He considers searching again for Fenwe and Islay, but if they are on the island they are in its depths, well-hidden even from Gale’s prying Eyes. Wise of them, he thinks as he makes his way down the shoreline, kicking at the water to see if any of Ischia’s bioluminescent waters have drifted to Islandres during the night. The sound of laughter catches the brindle’s attention. Raising his head and narrowing his eyes he Sees - far in the distance and just within hearing range - two creatures moving. Could it be the chiefs, he wonders, has Fate stepped in again? But no, he finds when he draws nearer, it is just a little boy who is thinking vividly of the Pampas, the images in his mind as easy to pluck as the ripe fruit of a grapple tree. How very unfortunate for him. Though the Tephran waterfall has taken his battle scars, there is no mistaking the blue-eyed stallion for anything but a warrior. An Islandres warrior, even, for his body has become entirely black, matching that of the blue-eyed osprey who lands. “What are you doing on my island, little boy?” He asks, his voice sounding almost amused, though his cold expression and icy eyes are anything but. Maybe this is one of the Prince’s progeny, he thinks, though Gale senses nothing Fae about the boy. Maybe he’ll take the child’s golden head along with him when he visits the Pampas to fetch his daughter, a gift for the long-eared Prince. GALE

@Picard