[private] each time the feeling fades

[Gale]

@Obscene

i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me The red-eyed Prince does not take long to arrive, and the burnt circle of greenery around the brindle creature has not grown much larger before he is joined by the Pampian leader, and he extinguishes it with a flick of his white tail. Gale meets his gaze directly, his own expression remarkably bland against Obscene’s smirk. “Why?” He asks, the single syllable as lacking in emphasis as his navy face, though his blue eyes narrow somewhat as he speaks, the earlier curiosity regarding the Prince’s sanity returning as Gale faces him now. The brindle magician does not intend to linger in the Pampas when he is done with the scaled stallion. Has he always had scales? Gale glances at them, and his narrowed eyes are joined by a frown. Is this even Obscene, he wonders? Or perhaps the skinwalker is wearing his shape? It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. One body is as good as the next in which to bury this empathy. It had worked before, with Ciri, though this time the victim will remain dead. GALE