[open] i took a sleeping pill and cant think of a title

[Gale]

Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free   The thought of Erne being harmed isn’t a new one, though Gale hasn’t ever considered the possibility that his companion might be eaten.  The osprey soars at the peak of the food pyramid of his native Islandres and understandably prefers it, especially when faced with something like Malachi. It is obvious that Gale has relayed Midsommar’s words to the seahawk, for the bird turns his head sharply to peer in the direction the red wolf had gone off. Her voice is smooth and soft, a contrast to the hard edges of the crystals along her scarlet skin, and Gale watches her curiously now, the same way he’d inspected the sunset a few moments before. The filly doesn’t look quite his age, which is young adult, the very start of that nebulous state of adulthood that the magic of Beqanna so often gives its immortal residents. Her hair is pale, with a touch of flaxen that his own white mane lacks, and her eyes a deep shade of indigo. She’s very pretty, he realizes abruptly, and he’s been staring at her for quite some time. Is there a power that gives a horse the ability to melt into the ground and disappear whenever they want, Gale wonders? Perhaps he should seek out a fairy on the Mountain and ask. He looks down at the shallow water he stands in, and his reflection takes a step forward, and then another, a perfect replica that flares its white wings, and then disappears. (He’s very sure that Eyas had told him that girls like it when you show off). “Islandres.” He replies. “I decided to shorten the name after becoming Chief. It was the island resort, but that was too much of a mouthful. You’re from Silver Cove then?” Gale has never been to the Silver Cove, at least not in this life. It belongs to the East, and for as long as Gale has been alive, the East has meant Pangea, and Pangea has meant danger. But Midsommar does not look dangerous, the brindle thinks. She looks… “I think you might be prettier than this sunset.” The words are less certain than his tone and he nods just a little, his electric blue gaze narrowed in consideration. @[midsommar]