[open] i took a sleeping pill and cant think of a title

[Gale]

Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free   Unfortunately for Midsommar, Gale is always looking closely. But he is rarely sure what he is looking for, having lost the sound in his remembered images. He can picture a thousand faces he has never seen, experiencing a range of emotions he cannot name. Though the brindle knows from Eyas that they were part of their childhood lessons in diplomacy, the value in them is lost to him. Midsommar is feeling something but he’s not certain what it is. She’s not frowning though, and she’s not run away. It must not something terrible then, and he saved from asking by the quick way her gaze snaps to where Malachi has gone. The pegasus takes that moment of broken eye contact to look back down at his absent reflection, a release the bits of magic that made it so. In the water, he sees Erne stretch his black wings, and Midsommar look back toward him. Raising his head, his bright eyes meet hers just in time to hear that she thinks he is pretty too, and that she likes his mane. There’s a brief shadow that passes behind his eyes, a sharp memory of his father, but then it is washed away in the warmth that comes from the compliment she’d meant it to be. “Thank you,” he replies, saved from chattering more but Midsommar’s elaboration about her home. She is not from the Silver Cove after all, it seems, but from Pangea itself. There are monsters in Pangeaa, Gale thinks, but apparently there are creatures like Midsommar as well. He begins to wonder how much truth the rumors hold. What is Islandres like, she asks, and Gale thinks of the last time he was asked that. “It was described to me as peace and quiet, and it is, but it is also beautiful. I could show you, here, if you’d like?” His offer indicates the use of some magics, and he waits curiously for an answer in the affirmative before showing her the same visual memory that he’d shared with Aedan and Jesla: Islandres from the air. The island is a riot of color, ringed by black sand beaches and accented by the turquoise of the inner lakes and waterways. The mountain at the heart is a sister to Tephra’s, Erne had told him, but it has slept for a dozen generations longer than its sibling. The reason for the colorful trees and plants escapes Gale, as does the pitch-black coloration of the resident animals, but they are part of what endears the place to him. “Erne has excellent fishing there. The grazing there is good too; the lavender grass is my favorite.” @[midsommar]