06-01-2021, 05:18 PM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Although she is familiar with the curses that lived inside Longclaw and Wolfbane, she isn’t as certain about this one. Her memories of Longclaw’s version made the Curse seem brazen and less strategic. She had known when the Curse was controlling the blue stallion’s body, and she had watched as Longclaw’s moments of sanity happened less often. Wolfbane’s had been less obvious than his father’s, but Wishbone had noticed it nonetheless. It was impossible to ignore the predatory curl of his voice, or the way his eyes snagged across every inch of her body in ways they had never done before.
This Curse, though; Wishbone isn’t sure if she’s talking to the true Gale or not.
The unknowns make her nervous, and the purple mare is certain it’s all because of the twins. She has no fear for her own life. She’s died once already and a near-death experience left her strangely alive, so Wishbone is confident she could handle what the Curse may throw at her. But Sickle and Malik… She had promised Mazikeen that she would protect the twins with her life, but deeper than that Wishbone has come to love them as her own children.
Her love is ferocious, but it also makes her apprehensive. Especially when the one thing she is protecting them from somehow ends up in her waterfall. The purple mare forces herself to think about Wolfbane as Gale asks about him. Picturing the golden stallion helps calm her down, and she focuses on crafting the perfect image of Wolfbane in her mind’s eye. “Yes, I did. We grew up together in this jungle.” Her childhood feels like another life (in some ways, it truly was another life), and her glowing amber eyes grow soft as she remembers Lilliana’s explanation of the winged stallion’s death. “I was sorry to hear about his passing, and your mother’s, too.”
She has to leave her condolences where they are, with that simple phrase, or she might find herself unlocking too many memories to share with someone who may or may not be a curse. It’s an exhausting game — the unknown — and Wishbone wonders briefly how her orange-eyed friend was able to keep it up for so long. She assumes love finds a way to pull through, but the thought is dark and pitiful as her eyes trace the curved horns atop Gale’s head.
Wishbone’s skin prickles at the blue stallion’s next comment. So the Curse did control Gale at night, but gave him freedom during the day? And she wonders what the Curse does at night to make Gale have to heal himself every morning. She imagines it can’t be anything good. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, the weight of everything she’s trying not to say pressing toward her lips. Finally, she says, “I’m glad the falls have been able to help, then.” Wishbone tries to make the words sound as casual as possible, but she can’t help the way they come out — straightforward, edged with practiced restraint, and slow.
She tries to divert Gale’s attention away from her tone of voice by asking in a polite voice, “Is there anything that brings you to Tephra, aside from the healing waters?”
This Curse, though; Wishbone isn’t sure if she’s talking to the true Gale or not.
The unknowns make her nervous, and the purple mare is certain it’s all because of the twins. She has no fear for her own life. She’s died once already and a near-death experience left her strangely alive, so Wishbone is confident she could handle what the Curse may throw at her. But Sickle and Malik… She had promised Mazikeen that she would protect the twins with her life, but deeper than that Wishbone has come to love them as her own children.
Her love is ferocious, but it also makes her apprehensive. Especially when the one thing she is protecting them from somehow ends up in her waterfall. The purple mare forces herself to think about Wolfbane as Gale asks about him. Picturing the golden stallion helps calm her down, and she focuses on crafting the perfect image of Wolfbane in her mind’s eye. “Yes, I did. We grew up together in this jungle.” Her childhood feels like another life (in some ways, it truly was another life), and her glowing amber eyes grow soft as she remembers Lilliana’s explanation of the winged stallion’s death. “I was sorry to hear about his passing, and your mother’s, too.”
She has to leave her condolences where they are, with that simple phrase, or she might find herself unlocking too many memories to share with someone who may or may not be a curse. It’s an exhausting game — the unknown — and Wishbone wonders briefly how her orange-eyed friend was able to keep it up for so long. She assumes love finds a way to pull through, but the thought is dark and pitiful as her eyes trace the curved horns atop Gale’s head.
Wishbone’s skin prickles at the blue stallion’s next comment. So the Curse did control Gale at night, but gave him freedom during the day? And she wonders what the Curse does at night to make Gale have to heal himself every morning. She imagines it can’t be anything good. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, the weight of everything she’s trying not to say pressing toward her lips. Finally, she says, “I’m glad the falls have been able to help, then.” Wishbone tries to make the words sound as casual as possible, but she can’t help the way they come out — straightforward, edged with practiced restraint, and slow.
She tries to divert Gale’s attention away from her tone of voice by asking in a polite voice, “Is there anything that brings you to Tephra, aside from the healing waters?”
@[Gale]