Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
The Curse feels the warmth of her touch on Gale’s striped neck, pleasant in the cool night. She does not recoil from him the way that Mazikeen does, or seem suspicious at all.
It licks its lips, and Gale’s weight shifts. This opportunity is too good to pass up - it could have her throat crushedbetween Gale’s sharp teeth before she had time to scream. Yet just before it moves, it feels that same electric charge in the air.
This time it is sure that she has reached for her stars, and it is equally sure that she is fearful. It rarely bothers to imitate Gale anymore, and the tone of its voice is sharper than the dreamy stallion’s had been. Is that what has alerted her? Or is it perhaps the way that the night has pulled away much of his good looks, leaving him hollow cheeked and frail?
“I feel marvelous,” it tells her, and the grin that reveals Gale’s sharp white teeth is genuine. It leans back, no longer preparing to leap at her. Gale does not look marvelous, but Ciri is watching the osprey rather than the brindle warrior.
The bird returns her stare for stare, until suddenly it is not there at all. The Curse has finished looking at her stars, having gotten no better idea of how useful they might be.
“Are those much use in a fight?” It asks, gesturing at the glowing galaxies that hover overhead. “Or more for decoration?”
@[Ciri]
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