[open] chivalry fell upon his sword

[Gale]

Gale idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword. innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know Standing in the Meadow, Gale closes his eyes, feeling the thick snow as it settles along his back. The air around him is still, and the only sound is that of the falling snow as it settles on the winter bare world around him. He had not meant to come here, but in a world with no Islandres, his attempts to transport himself to the black sand shores only ever results in an aching head and his arrival in the common lands. His closed eyes do little to assuage that ache; that task is for the lightning that crackles across his navy skin and does the work of Healing. Even when finished with its work, the lightning continues to flicker across his skin, illuminating the golden streaks against the navy, and the stark white contrast of the white mane that stretches down his back. He blinks open eyes of bright, electric blue, and looks out over the Meadow. Empty, but with enough snow and bent grass to see that others have passed through recently. Dreary, part-way through the winter with only a watery sun overhead. Uninteresting, there is nothing here to keep him. A sound, perhaps a footstep, catches his attention, and he turns his head toward it, eyes narrowing.