Gale
run away with me--
lost souls and reverie
running wild and running free
Gale had not expected to see Eyas until the next full moon, and the sudden awareness of her black-eyed vision startles him. He’d been coasting far above Islandres, the warm summer currents buoying his wide white wings with no effort at all. He’d nearly been drifting off to sleep, warm and relaxed with Erne keeping watch, and the trembling of the shared connection between them results in a sudden sideways drifting that he must flap heavily several times to correct.
Gale has not disturbed his sister from where she rests. He’s brought her food, though its rarely eaten. He knows she lives, her sides rising and falling, but she does not ever seem to see hm when he stands in front of her, not even when he knows that she is using his own eyes to look back at herself. Gale could have pushed past her defenses, he knows, take away the visions and forced her to stare instead at the consequences of her self-sequestering. But he never has, because he has never forced sight on his family. There were no exceptions to that, not even Tiercel, not even when Gale had been desperate to learn all he could about the family that he had entirely forgotten.
Magic told him that his brother’s blue eyes were seeing, even if they did not tell him where. Dead eyes felt different, always right beside him, always cold. Tiercel is alive, but he does not want to share his sight with Gale, and so Gale has never taken it.
Not until this moment, when he shares the unfamiliar buckskin’s eyes for a heartbeat of time, wanting to see Eyas from the perspective of the horse that he could see through her eyes lying on the black beach far below. The moment he does, Gale reels back, the forgotten familiarity of Tiercel tying a sudden knot in the threads of his magic. Gale tugs it back to himself, fully awake now, and descends.
The iridescent navy pegasus drops faster than the black osprey beside him, aided in descent by his heavier weight. He lands on the beach just as Eyas calls out to their long absent triplet, and stops.
Warm summer winds tug at the white feathers of his folded wings, drawing attention to the twin ruby lines have appeared since his fight with Mazikeen. Where she’d torn his wing and blood had stained the feathers in an inverse and somewhat crooked V, the feathers had grown back a matching crimson, the Fairies permanent reminder of participation in – and damage done during – the Alliance.
“You’ve not gone invisible,” he says, as though he picks up a conversation they’d dropped only a few moment before, rather than more seasons than he can count. “Does that mean you’re finally ready to be found? Or have you washed up here on accident? You wouldn't be the first brother to do so, if you did.”
@[Eyas]
@[Tiercel]
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