[private] i would've crossed the stars

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Is there a way to rid himself of Gale permanently, she had asked? The Curse that inhabits the born-navy stallion grows ever more suspicious that the answer is No. Even though he’d expelled each bit of his host’s conscious mind, Gale had still returned when his body had regenerated after death. It was easy to crush him, far easier than the first time - the process took seconds instead of years. But he remains an ever-present spector, and the Curse spends significant amounts of time using magic in an effort to remove him permanently while keeping his body alive. The creature that stares out at the valley of Hyaline looks very much like Gale, from the iridescent blue hide stretched over well-used muscle to the softly blowing white spinal mane, and blue eyes that turn to meet Mazikeen’s. It doesn’t take any extra magic to wear this shape, so it is the form he wears most often. A bolt of harmless lightning flickers across his blazed face, and he finds that he is more eager than he’d expected to share his news with Mazikeen. “I’ve asked someone to fetch Sickle from Tephra,” Gale says. “Do you think that is worth restricting our hunting grounds?” He no longer has any intention of leaving the mountains, having found a good measure of contentment near the gathered entities. The brindle stallion sends her an image of the glittering black stallion who’d come, as well as his identity and position as Prince of the Pampas. The youthful Gale who had briefly returned had been filled with the fresh memories of his parents’ lessons on politics and warfare, and the Curse has spent some time sifting through them. Most of it is useless - the importance of keeping your word, the advantages of blood relations - but some has value. Being proactive is one such thing, and the prospect of such activities brings a smile to Gale’s face. He shares some of them with Mazikeen: the taking of captives, blackmail, manipulation. As he does, his eyes trace the whorls of scars across her white hide, recalling the origin of many of them with fond reminisce.

@Mazikeen