[private] Rain grey towns; Gale

[Gale]

Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free The pace at which Gale had pieced together his memories has been remarkable. Remarkable for its slowness, that is. For months there had been nothing more than little bits of color and fragmented shapes. Like dreams only half-remembered upon waking, the more desperately he reached for them the more quickly they had slipped away. And in those early days he was desperate, chasing what he refused to despair of catching. The slow pace of life on the island resort was not reflected within the brindle creature’s mind, but in time, the lull of the place had seeped into him. Gale – Blue, then – had reached out still, but more carefully, more deliberately. The colors lasted longer, the shapes became more detailed. The first memory that had come back to him in full was the last one he’d made. Soaring across the sky, not too far behind his father. The world stretched out below his hooves, the wind blew at his dandelion-soft mane which had finally grown long enough to peek into his line of sight. The world below him, and something causing his heart to thrill with excitement. And then – black. Black and falling and falling and nothing. He thinks of it again as Eyas reassures him, and he swallows around the tight knot of emotion it always elicits. It remains as she speaks of coming home, and he presses back against her just as hard. She trembles – or perhaps he does. Gale touches his face gently against the puckered scars at her shoulder. He does not have memory of these, he reminds himself. This is real. This is now. It is no trick of his eyes or his mind. Raising his head, he breathes in the salt air. It is sharp and crisp, as it always is. Peace and quiet, he lets himself remember, and an absent smile has begun to form on his face just as Eyas begins to speak of their father. Sick? His bright eyes narrow in concern, then further in frustration as his sister fails to elaborate. She brings up look-see, the obvious solution to nearly any puzzle, and yet his frown deepens. Why does she not just show him? What is stopping her? He almost asks, pauses only because she steps away. Trust me? ”Always.” He answers. There is more damage to her than the scars he can see, Gale thinks. She is his sister. There is nothing they had not shared, and that she now must ask if he trusts her? She has never done anything to make him doubt her; Gale does not think that she ever could. Dad is sick, Eyas had said, and Gale decides in this moment that once their sire is healed, he will make sure that Eyas is as well. ”Show me,” he says, his electric-blue eyes growing dull as he slips instead behind hers and opens himself to seeing what she has, through both her own eyes and perhaps others’ as well. @[Eyas]