[private] this is going to bring me to my knees; Mazikeen

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Though it is midafternoon, heavy grey clouds hang thick in the open air. In all directions, jagged mountains pierce the sky, and winds sweeping down from the Icicle Isle continue to bring more masses of snow-filled clouds to the skies above. Sheltered by the overhang of the cave he’d so often shared with Mazikeen, Gale watches the storm. He’d expected to find her here, but instead there had been only silence. Gale has been in Tephra for one day less than it would have taken Mazikeen to come for him. He could feel her at the edges of his mind, feel her growing frustration at his refusal to send anything through their bond except a firm “No” when he felt her reach for him. He’d spent days submerged in the tepid waters of the fourth entity, and has arrived  in Hyaline with a coat as unblemished as the day the brindle colt had been born amidst the prickly pear in Loess. The rest of him has changed, with birdlike wings becoming those of the quetzalcoatlus, black horns sprouting behind his ears with a far more impressive spread than those of a faun.  He sends Mazikeen a single image - the storm from within the cave - and settles in to wait. When she does, he moves nearer, purposefully keeping this equine shape rather than shift subconsciously to match the shape she wears. It feels uncomfortable, this adjusting of a habit, and the flutter of disharmony feeds into the black magic. That felt better. But he can’t make himself the victim. That isn’t sustainable. It needs to be Mazikeen. He’s got to hurt her, but he can’t risk killing her or their daughter. He can’t lie to her; she’ll see right through it. He loves the parts of himself reflected in her enough that it passes for love of her, and the stallion’s heart skips a beat at the sinuous shape of the white queen despite her current difference from a mare. Gale had emptied himself of magic after arriving, forcing it away. He’s dimly aware that it feeds into the fire and the stone and the guardians far down beside the lake. There is nothing in him left for happiness to take, and the magician is acutely aware of his vulnerability. He is also more able to tell when happiness begins to pull at what is not there to take. It is the moment that he lays eyes on her. The tug grows harder as his blue gaze moves across her face, unable still to read what lies behind her orange eyes. His own expression is deliberative still, until at last he nods to himself. “I’ve taken the fourth entity.” He says, and his tone is level and neutral, much like his expression. Though she can pluck his thoughts from his mind, Gale doesn’t miss the chance to practice his nonverbal deception. “As well as Tephra.” And then comes what has been on Gale’s mind far more than the lava throne, those things that have come to him as he lay beneath the water: “I am done being weak,” he tells her, and what he means is: “I am done with you.”

@Mazikeen