[private] i just want to hold you close to me

[Gale]

Gale started under neon lights, then it all got dark i only know how to go too far On a long ago summer’s night, Gale had regained control of himself for just long enough to tell Mazikeen how to kill him. The Curse inside him has no memory of this, and the second iteration of Gale - the one that had told Mazikeen - had died long ago, and with him had gone the memory of that starry night. But most nights, the Curse remembers. It remembers the way Mazikeen had wailed when it’d made her kill Sickle, how sweet the sound had been. This is even better. For the briefest moment her face is composed - what had she been thinking about on her walk around the lake, the Curse briefly wonders? And then it falls away into shock, and then grief as her orange eyes remain to their children and finally, finally, to anger. The fire ripples across her unscarred face, down her neck, and into the flaming wings of a white phoenix that finally meets The Curse’s blue gaze as she attacks. Gale once mimicked her shapes without a thought, a portion of their magic bond that the Curse has severed during his seclusion. Severed, and perhaps even successfully warped, for it takes so little effort to become her opposite. A long pointed beak, dripping with salt water, aims for her heart. A pair of translucent wings, the left containing a silvery school of fish, flare out and then come together in front of the waterbird in an effort to douse her flames. Bleeding her out would be more satisfying, but the marvelous sound of her screaming has been amplified by the granite behind him. Someone will have heard, and the monster does not wish to be interrupted. So rather than waste time with ripping and tearing, the Curse instead calls down a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky with the intent of channeling the electricity through its watery body and into hers. It has never done magic like this before, and almost laughs at the ease with which it can manipulate the elements. There is truly nothing that can stop it now, it thinks. Behind them, Viszla begins to stir. Malik doesn’t move, save for the ever expanding pool of blood that oozes from his throat. @Mazikeen