[private] brought the dark to the light

[Gale]

Gale started under neon lights, then it all got dark i only know how to go too far Claim the island? Does that make her chief of it then he wonders? He does not believe that Islay and Fenwe would have let it lapse into the charge of one so quick to surrender though. But how long has he been gone? Tephra is the last place he remembers. It smokes on the southern horizon, a grey smudge on the pre-dawn horizon. He remembers Divest with her wide silver eyes, and before that? Hyaline, broken on the cliff where Mazikeen had dropped his nearly empty body. Gale shivers, and a bolt of lightning flickers down toward his chest. He can feel the darkness, pulsing with his own heartbeat, and knows it is not dead. The monster that has worn Gale’s body has contracted to nothing more than a knot of oozing filth where his heart had once been, but he had felt it twitch. It will return, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it. She informs him that she will not be leaving the island, and it is clear from the far away look in his eye that he is not really listening to her. He is not seeing anything at all, and when he Looks there is only darkness and a steadily growing ache in the back of his head. He wants Adria to run from him, and instead she draws the water up. For what else could pull the tides up the black shore so swiftly? What but control of the seas could have the salt water lapping playfully against his legs? He looks down, to where a school of silver fish dart between his white stockings. Gale shakes his head, and the lightning dances toward his withers. “Usually.” He answers, voice clear and matter-of-fact. “But not today, it seems.” It is a marked change to the flatness of tone he’d used before, though his blue eyes remain equally intense (and no more prone to blinking). Scaring her off had not worked, so it is time to try something else. “I am not safe,” Gale tells her casually, because he has never been good at lying and the truth is always easiest to remember. “Well, usually.” There is nothing usual about him at all, and perhaps the vermilion mare has already begun to realize that before the soft hairs of Gale’s mane begin to rise with static electricity. He’s not doing it purposefully, and the little bolts that dart toward his nose make him want to sneeze. “Is there anyone else on the island?” He asks. Still only partially convinced that she is the Cheif, he only wants to know if he is likely to run into others. There are places he could go, he thinks, jungles so dense that a stranger could get lost for weeks. Is the Curse a stranger to Islandres? Gale certainly hopes that it is. @Adria