[private] i set all my regrets on fire

[Gale]

i hear the wicked get no rest, but when you do ---------- i hope you dream of me Her tone is doubtful, and her questions full of uncertainty, yet he can taste no fear in the air. Even when the worry blossoms, it is not for herself, but rather tied to the way she continues to seek a wound along his unmarked chest and shoulder. “Splendora,” he repeats her name, which sounds light. Fragile almost, and yet entirely at odds with the emptiness in the air around them. The cursed creature is accustomed to fear, has fed on it nearly exclusively these last few months. When she reaches out to touch him, her empathy is so saccharine that the brindle stallion nearly gags. He blinks, and thinks of Other planes, and in an instant he’s torn away some of her goodness. Enough so that he doesn’t wince when he steps closer, and finds the place on her chest most near her beating heart. It beats rapidly, unprotected by scales or armor or magic, and yet his magic can feel no fear at all. “Splendora.” This time when he says her name, and it’s almost as much a question as the words that follow: “Why are you not afraid?” Her answer will not save her, not as he presses his sharp teeth where his lips had rested a moment earlier. Her chest is as pale as snow, soft and unprotected. There are no rippled scars to intrigue him, no battle-hardened muscle beneath the sleek hide. Splendora won’t make it home tonight, but she’ll survive long enough to answer his question at least. GALE

@splendora