[mature] as out of my control as anything has ever been

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you The shadow that Mazikeen should cast is destroyed by her incandescent fury, and even if Gale had bothered to open his eyes, there would have been no way to know she was following after him so closely. One moment he is in cold darkness, tormented by nauseating memories, and the next moment Mazikeen is pinning him against the mountainside. The brindle stallion can feel where each of her sharp talons dig into his navy hide, and though Gale draws in on himself in agony, he does not otherwise attempt to free himself. The lightning strains against his grasp, but he does not heal himself. No more magic. No more magic. No more magic. Gale repeats the phrase to himself, feeling the rapid pulsing of his heart, and the way the blood seeps from the gashes in his skin that the white dragon’s talons have torn deep into his flesh. She does not stop, bellowing a question meant for a monster that no longer inhabits his body. He’d met Malik, told him of the Curse breaking, and in all his fretting about what might happen afterwards, never once had it occurred to Gale that Mazikeen wouldn’t believe the curse broken. Yet as she screams loudly enough that he can feel the pain in his ears, Gale realizes that what he knows (and what he has slowly begun to remember) of the Curse makes this just the sort of thing the creature would attempt. “It’s m–” His voice chokes off, the lightning attempting to use his distraction to flicker down his sides and neck and belly to heal where the dragon has clawed him. But he catches it, tucking it back with the rest and leaving no space for darkness in its absence. “It’s me.” He tries again, his voice muffled by the snow and the effort it takes to speak with a dragon pinning him to the mountainside. “It’s not…” He speaks with each quick exhale, knowing she has no reason to believe him. “It’s me,” inhale, “so kill me,” inhale, “or get off.” @Mazikeen