[open] I want auroras and sad prose, anyone

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Gale would prefer to drive most everyone out, the angels included. This is apparent on his face, making no effort to appear polite and cordial as he scowls at the glowing creature in front of him. He has seen the angels in the company of the black panther shifter, and though he’d rather they were gone Gale has also become accustomed to avoiding them in the years since his arrival in Hyaline. Well, he thinks, Mazikeen won’t need the angel to save her a third time. Gale has taken responsibility for that. There is no answering smile on his own face, only a narrowing of his impossibly blue eyes. ‘Would you rather I was dead?’ She asks plainly, and something like surprise flashes across them for just an instant. Perhaps it was even just a flicker of lightning. “No.” Gale answers, the word short and cold as the air around them, because he has learned caution from his experiences. He’s inflicted fewer wounds upon his spouse since his own death. And though he’s not yet realized it yet, he’s not slain another horse since the Ischian mare from whom he’d taken the water wings that appear - just for a moment - at his sides. Flashes of magic are less common than lightning, but he’s no stranger to suppressing them. They are there and gone within the space of a few heartbeats, and Gale ignores them entirely as he reaches toward Ryatah with his magic. Her bones have felt magic before, and Gale visibly recoils when he recognizes the source. The shadows within him originate in part from the Dark God. The cursed creature takes another step back, and the frown on his face is deepened by the awareness of Powers still far out of his reach. Is there a chance that her presence might draw Carnage’s attention, Gale wonders? Perhaps it would be better for her to be dead after all. Or perhaps gone? Or keeping her here might even be some form of protection? The thoughts swirl inside his head, the next always just out of reach as he tries to make sense of them. Soft tendrils of shadow dance at the edges of his vision. Gale sees them, knows what they signify, and the edge of his lip rises in a snarl of frustration. He glances up to meet Ryatah’s intact eyeballs, which are right there in her head where they belong, and demands: “Heal my headache.”

@Ryatah