[mature] instead of nowhere to land | wishbone

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Gale’s white wings lift the Curse high. The spring sun is so bright that it would blind a lesser being, but the electric blue eyes of its host heal as soon as they are damaged. The healing it has mastered, as well as the shifting that gives it these broad, red-streaked wings. The vision manipulation as well, that gift passed down from its host’s paternal grandmother. Having swallowed Mazikeen’s heart - and with it her magics - the Curse can feel the thrum of possibility in its veins. The sensation is intoxicating, and it spends most of the night trying out those things it has always eyed with admiration (and no small amount of jealously) possessed by the Alpha. The horns are first, black and spiraling, though he makes his glow a blue as bright as his eyes. The fire aura is palest blue as well, flickering along the length of his white spinal mane. Though he has inherited his maternal substance, being broader in the chest and body than most of his siblings, Gale looks the most like their father. The white feathers of his wings are accented by insubstantial shadows, a mimicry of Mazikeen’s shadow wings that it doesn’t need to fly but enjoys using anyway. It is heading toward Tephra, but it is in no hurry. The twins she has hidden from it will be useful, but they are no longer necessary. It can keep them, train them. Make them something useful. It lands in the shallows of the healing waterfall, having been shown the way previously and visited a time or two back when his healing was weaker and he wanted relief. This is the last entity, it realizes. The fourth and final bit of magic. Gale stares at it for some time, long enough to be found by anyone along the shore, and difficult to miss standing belly-deep in the water that is just starting to brighten with the dawn. @[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Wishbone spends most of her time with the twins. They are growing quickly, maturing from newborns into curious leggy children. She lets them explore Tephra during the daytime, praying they are safe under the eyes of the kingdom’s members. Mazikeen’s explanation of her deal with the Curse rings in her ears each morning as she watches Sickle and Malik disappear into the jungle. They should be safe during sunlight, but Wishbone knows that the promises of the Curse only last so long. It’s why she frequently sends Malou out to check on the children throughout the day, and her chest is always tight until the jaguar returns with good news.

They have both left earlier than she would have liked this morning. Wishbone thinks one of her biggest faults as a parent might be the way she remembers her childhood so well. Her younger days were full of vibrant life and a passion for adventure (and even danger), and Longclaw’s Curse hadn’t stopped her from experiencing what Tephra had to offer. Her mother had worried over her, of course, and Wishbone had felt the concern wrap around her wild behaviors like a trap. She will not let the twins feel that cage and they are too young to understand the ways she will fight to keep them safe. She can’t let her apprehension rule her life or the twins’ lives, and she refuses to let the Curse bully her into fear.

So she let them go, but with the stipulation that Malou went with them until the sun was fully visible.

When the purple mare passes the healing falls and spots Gale, she is thankful the jaguar is with the twins. She immediately sends a thought to Malou, asking her to stay with Malik and Sickle, and the urgency in Wishbone’s thought makes the jaguar’s skin prickle from miles away. But Wishbone’s face remains neutral, a perfect display of a queen greeting a newcomer. She has played this part before — the role of a queen — and it shows in the way she steps into the healing waters to greet him.

Her heart twists at the signs of Wolfbane in Gale (excluding the Curse she knows dwells within), and she greets him by saying, “You look so much like your father.” The spinal mane, the wings, and the angles of his face are echoes of the beloved friend Wishbone had once known. Yet the pale blue fire that crackles along his spine and the spiraling horns do not remind her of Wolfbane, but someone else. Wishbone’s heart twists another way, and her chest tightens in response.

She bites away her nerves with a charismatic smile, dipping her nose toward the falls. “Did you have some aches to soothe? I hope the falls treated you well.”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Gale]

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you The waterfall deadens the sound of the purple mare’s approach, but the Curse feels her arrival with its other senses. Several of those are new, no doubt collected in the common grounds, and it is smiling with content satisfaction as it turns to face her. Not so tall, with soft brown eyes and a charismatic smile. No visible magics though, and so it wonders what might lurk beneath that purple pangare skin. Perhaps it will open up her chest and find out, and briefly forgetting its purpose entirely steps closer. But she speaks before it reaches her, and Gale’s brindle body falls still in the water. She knows this host. “You knew him?” it asks in Gale’s voice, the pleasant expression never changed on its face, though now it softens into hesitant curiosity. Knew the host’s father, knew Wolfbane, knew the host of one of the Curse’s previous incarnations. It is not quite the same as it had been then, and it is different still than when it had held Longclaw. The dark god has touched it twice since then, and the tendrils it has sunk into Gale will take a thousand deaths to remove. The Curse’s mimicry of its host is pristine, though it is sure that Gale had not Seen this mare before and it is unlikely she will recognize the Curse. It had only taken the memory of the twins and the jungle around them before it had swallowed Mazikeen’s eyes, and the visual recollection of her asking Wishbone for aid is beyond the abilities it has mastered. Cautious but not suspicious, it nods in answer to her question. “My healing has gotten stronger, but it is often weak when I wake in the mornings.” Gale is stronger here, closer to his children, and so the Curse finds lying difficult. Later, when it has learned what this mare knows of Wolfbane and has cleansed her heartblood from its chin, the Curse will punish Gale for this act of rebellion. @[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Although she is familiar with the curses that lived inside Longclaw and Wolfbane, she isn’t as certain about this one. Her memories of Longclaw’s version made the Curse seem brazen and less strategic. She had known when the Curse was controlling the blue stallion’s body, and she had watched as Longclaw’s moments of sanity happened less often. Wolfbane’s had been less obvious than his father’s, but Wishbone had noticed it nonetheless. It was impossible to ignore the predatory curl of his voice, or the way his eyes snagged across every inch of her body in ways they had never done before.

This Curse, though; Wishbone isn’t sure if she’s talking to the true Gale or not.

The unknowns make her nervous, and the purple mare is certain it’s all because of the twins. She has no fear for her own life. She’s died once already and a near-death experience left her strangely alive, so Wishbone is confident she could handle what the Curse may throw at her. But Sickle and Malik… She had promised Mazikeen that she would protect the twins with her life, but deeper than that Wishbone has come to love them as her own children.

Her love is ferocious, but it also makes her apprehensive. Especially when the one thing she is protecting them from somehow ends up in her waterfall. The purple mare forces herself to think about Wolfbane as Gale asks about him. Picturing the golden stallion helps calm her down, and she focuses on crafting the perfect image of Wolfbane in her mind’s eye. “Yes, I did. We grew up together in this jungle.” Her childhood feels like another life (in some ways, it truly was another life), and her glowing amber eyes grow soft as she remembers Lilliana’s explanation of the winged stallion’s death. “I was sorry to hear about his passing, and your mother’s, too.”

She has to leave her condolences where they are, with that simple phrase, or she might find herself unlocking too many memories to share with someone who may or may not be a curse. It’s an exhausting game — the unknown — and Wishbone wonders briefly how her orange-eyed friend was able to keep it up for so long. She assumes love finds a way to pull through, but the thought is dark and pitiful as her eyes trace the curved horns atop Gale’s head.

Wishbone’s skin prickles at the blue stallion’s next comment. So the Curse did control Gale at night, but gave him freedom during the day? And she wonders what the Curse does at night to make Gale have to heal himself every morning. She imagines it can’t be anything good. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, the weight of everything she’s trying not to say pressing toward her lips. Finally, she says, “I’m glad the falls have been able to help, then.” Wishbone tries to make the words sound as casual as possible, but she can’t help the way they come out — straightforward, edged with practiced restraint, and slow.

She tries to divert Gale’s attention away from her tone of voice by asking in a polite voice, “Is there anything that brings you to Tephra, aside from the healing waters?”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Gale]

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Gale does not know much of his mother and father’s histories. His only memories of them are visual (he can recall each detail with perfect clarity) and emotional (he had been loved, cherished, and never-quite-repentant enough to teach him caution). He’d known them only living in the red hills of Loess, as a General and Cleric. That the Curse is from his father, Eyas had told him, and that it had infected his line for years. The Curse can fill in the details, the names and dates and the shapes it had taken. It recalls the pleasure of seeping into Wolfbane, of poisoning him slowly beneath the redwoods, of encouraging him to rip open his son. It still does not recognize Wishbone even with those memories - she had been another color, another shape, and names are not worth remembering. She is something fresh, something new. The purple mare says something apologetic, but the Curse isn’t listening. Instead it is watching her with Gale’s bright eyes, taking in each bit of her with renewed interest. She’s nervous. She knows. When it realizes this, the Curse smiles. It is an incredibly charming smile, one that is quite like his father’s. It is a perfect match for his tone, light and friendly as he says:  “I’m actually here to find my children. Do you know where they might be, Wishbone?” Her name is said in a way that emphasizes she had not given it to him. The Curse does not know where the knowledge of her name had come from, but it is sure it is right, and the nearly smug confidence is present in every inch of his expression as he waits for her to answer. @[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Her stomach drops at the way Gale’s face curls into a perfect smile. It should look normal and warm, but Wishbone easily imagines the ill-intentions that lie behind the curve of his mouth. It’s an uncanny resemblance to Wolfbane’s charming smile, and this fact alone sends a chill down the purple mare’s spine. She forces a smile to mirror his, and her over-enthusiasm makes her amber eyes glow even stronger. She’s determined to play the role of an unsuspecting queen, a friend of Mazikeen’s who knows little more than her friend’s adoration for the brindled stallion.

Gale’s question pushes her closer to apprehension, and she fights to keep the warm smile on her face. Behind her glowing eyes, Wishbone feels like she is falling. He’s clearly here for the twins, somehow he knew to look in Tephra. Something deep in the purple queen’s stomach tells her that Mazikeen wouldn’t have told the real Gale where the twins were hidden. She would have known better than that, right? After all, if the Curse is dwelling inside Gale, surely he would’ve had access to his memories in the daytime? But somehow he knows; he must have some sort of evidence to bring his search here.

The brindle’s confidence puts her on edge, and Wishbone becomes aware of the bones surrounding them. A new sensation comes with it — an awareness of the bones inside her, the bones inside Gale, and the recent dead alongside the old. She’s only dealt with ancient skeletons, but suddenly she’s aware of all the bones in her vicinity. It brings Wishbone comfort, or as much as she can handle while she knows Sickle and Malik are in danger.

“I heard that you and Mazikeen were expecting,” she says brightly, even while she feels her grip on the masquerade fading. “I’ve been meaning to visit Hyaline to congratulate you and meet them, but I’ve been too busy lately.” The Curse knows that she knows, but Wishbone hopes that pretending a little longer will give her a chance to brainstorm how to get him to leave. She could certainly try to force him out of Tephra, but the commotion might tempt the twins and their curiosity.

Wishbone tenderly feels along Gale’s bones with her magic. She doesn’t make a move yet, simply because she doesn’t want to be the first to throw a stone. If the Curse wants to bring violence into Tephra, she won’t be the one to start it. Instead, Wishbone tips her nose toward their surroundings, peering into the undergrowth as if to look for the children. “I had twin daughters once. I know they can be difficult to keep track of. If I see them in Tephra, I’ll be sure to bring them home.” She takes a few steps out of the water as she speaks, nodding with her head toward Tephra’s border. Her body language and tone of voice suggest dismissal, an obvious hint that she’s politely telling him to leave.

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@[Gale]

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you In her mind, he Sees Gale’s father. Now he knows her. Now he remembers. She’s changed colors, from black to purple, but he knows her. She had cared for his previous host, and she cares for this one (even if only by proxy through Mazikeen). It will be doubly delightful to destroy her, and he smiles brightly once more at the thought of it. Wishbone cannot die, he thinks, she had come back at least once before. He’ll take her heart now, the curse decides, and if she returns to life he will think of something more permanent. Something worse even than death. His smile is so wide now it hurts, so wide that it doesn’t even flicker when she tries to distract him, when she tries to lie. She tries to dismiss him, and he shifts in response. The gold on his coat grows richer, and the navy less intense. His bright blue eyes turn olive green, and a pair of fangs peek from between Wolfbane’s blue-masked face. “Were those my daughters too?” he asks, following her out of the water and then closer still. His voice is gentle, a croon, but he pauses just before he reaches her. Some things are lost in the rebirth, but he had heard the past tense in her choice of words, and wonders if perhaps he’d been the one to have taken them from her. He laments that he cannot remember the joy of that if he had. “I could give you more,” he offers, and now he does reach out. There is something off, some strange magic that he is sure must belong to the amber-eyed mare, but he is certain he can quash it before she attacks. Whatever it is does not stop him from touching her, from running his dark mouth from the curve of her hip up toward her shoulder, where he presses too close and says: “But only if you tell me where Malik and Sickle are first. Maze will be so upset if you’ve lost them.” @[Wishbone]

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Instead of leaving Tephra as she’d hoped, Gale’s colors fall away to reveal a pattern that is much more familiar to her. She’s seen the blue and gold in this jungle, on the black-sand shores, in the warm ocean. She’s seen those green eyes brightened by a hundred glowworms in a cave deep inside Nerine’s cliffs. It chills Wishbone to see him now, even when she knows it is a trick. Even when she knows it’s the Curse intimidating her. Her stomach twists at the recurring theme of her flames from the past coming back to haunt her — first the monster playing the part of Ivar and now the Curse coloring itself like Wolfbane.

The warmth in her face shifts into burning resentment just as quickly as the Curse. Wishbone feels no fear for herself or of the creature moving closer; her eyes only reveal her shameless hostility. “No, they weren’t,” she says sharply, purple-tipped ears pressing into her mane’s tangled locks. Wishbone doesn’t move away as he moves closer, stubbornly keeping her ground and even raising her chin as he taunts her further.

“I’ve seen your ugly face too many times to want children from you.” The hardness in her voice suggests she’s not talking about Gale or Wolfbane. Her glowing amber eyes look further into the blue and gold of his face, and she imagines she can almost see the writhing, dark thing that controls Gale’s mind and body. Wishbone wonders if Gale is even there or if he’s lost to unconsciousness while the Curse does whatever it wants.

Her anger doesn’t allow the Curse’s touch to feel pleasant, even if it’s Wolfbane’s mouth on her purple skin. It makes her burn hotly, reinforcing the building rage that she remembers from her time in the Afterlife and during Svedka’s disappearance. An unfulfilling rage, deep-seated anger, a heat that mimics the lava from the volcano.

She lets him press close and finish his sentence. And once he’s finished taunting her about the twins (her fury building when she hears him say their names, hating that he knows even that much about them), Wishbone blinks once. Between her eyes opening and closing, she slides her magic along his jawbone and pulls hard. It’s more than just a snap and clean break; her ears catch the sound of ripping ligaments and tendon and flesh. When her eyes open, she pulls even harder with her magic. She intends to rip his mandible right off his face, separating his mouth from where it touches the bend of her shoulder.

As blood sprays across her purple skin, she says, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@ Gale

[Gale]

Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you Wishbone grows more hostile, and Gale’s smile broadens. No more pretending then. He laughs as she holds her ground, as she shudders but lets him press close. Her purple skin is warm in the chill autumn air, and he licks his lips as he imagines the taste of the heart that warms her as he swallows it down. The odd sensation grows stronger as he touches her. That odd tickle of unfamiliar magics, of powers he has not mastered. Gale hasn’t ever felt anything like it before. It is strong, and growing more concentrated. And then his jaw is suddenly no longer attached to his face, and white hot pain shoots through his body. By the time he has shifted to a short-faced bear, his jaw has regrown. It glows with a soft golden light that shines from within the newly grown perlino hair. Wishbone will not have much time to notice the change, because a paw nearly two feet long is suddenly swinging toward her, followed by slashing teeth. But then he’s suddenly on the ground, and she is out of reach. Bleeding heavily from where he’d clawed her at least. Gale leaps forward again, and feels his head snap back and his spine sever as he drops to the earth. The Curse snarls in pain, but snaps itself together with regenerative speed that Wishbone might recognize as a family trait. It shifts, growing so large that one of his leathery blue wings touches the water, and the Quetzalcoatlus jabs its beak directly into her chest, and rips out her heart. Her bone bending dies with her, and Gale tosses back his enormous head and swallows the flesh down his gullet. He must turn his head all the way to the side to look down at Wishbone. She is splayed out in the grass, lit by the warm light of dawn. Blood has turned the earth around her crimson, and it deepens the rich purple of her hide. She is only a few feet from the water’s edge, and that is where he leaves her. Someone will probably roll her into the healing waters when they find her, the Curse thinks as it takes to the sky. She won’t be dead for long, and he’ll need to find a more permanent way to deal with her. @Wishbone

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

Wishbone knows what she’s getting herself into the moment she pulls on his jaw. She’s seen the twins’ capabilities, and she knows their shifting doesn’t come from Mazikeen alone. It’s why she isn’t surprised when Gale’s body shifts from a horse to a massive bear, even when it’s a bear she’s never seen before. She isn’t afraid either; out of all the times she’s died, this one might be the most important. She’ll refuse to answer his questions about Sickle and Malik this time, and every other time he might come back and kill her.

She grits her teeth as the large paw slashes across her chest, refusing to give him any satisfaction in the pain that blossoms across her purple skin. Instead, Wishbone focuses her energy on one of the bear’s hind legs, snapping the leg so he falls to the ground. Blood is already gushing from her chest, but she’s too focused on Gale to notice it.

When he lurches forward again, she flares her nostrils and laces her ears further against her skull. At the same time, she snaps his neck and lower spine, nerves dying instantly as his vertebrae crumble. Wishbone smiles at the Curse’s painful snarl, and it’s a smile that she’s rarely worn. It’s one full of mockery and dark pleasure. How many times had she wanted to hurt the Curse when it had been Longclaw?

She knows what’s coming when she hears the sickening crunch of bones knitting themselves together. And when Gale’s body stretches to become the bird, Wishbone raises her chin proudly. She’ll have lost this time, but the Curse didn’t get what it wanted either. She cries out throatily when the beak penetrates her chest and she feels her heart tear away from its place in her ribcage. She crumbles onto the blood-stained grass, feeling her lifeblood and energy fade nearly instantly.

Wishbone wants to remind him that he didn’t truly win, that he didn’t get what he wanted today, but the words die on her lips. And as the bird takes flight, bending trees with the air pushed from its wide wings, Wishbone’s body splinters apart and reforms — becoming much the same as it had before, but with a bright glowing scar jaggedly etched across her chest.

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@ Gale