Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
Due to the combination of his social ineptitude and the distraction of realizing that he is Cursed, the brindle stallion remains blissfully unaware of Mazikeen’s tension as he draws near. He’s physically affectionate with those close to him, and that those close to him are also his physically affectionate family doesn’t translate to an understanding that perhaps not everyone is as comfortable with such casually intimate proximity. She pulls the black wings closer to her, and he watches the way the muscle flexes beneath the joint of fur and feather, black against white. It’s a rather stark contrast, like the black snip on her nose.
Gale is surprised that he remembers that little detail so clearly, and he turns his gaze back toward Mazikeen’s face just as she laughs, and he thinks it sounds just like sunshine used to feel on his skin.
He’d been the one to make her laugh again, and that same victorious sensation from earlier swoops through his belly. It’s far better than worry about the future, and as she teases him he grins widely, shrugging his broad and wingless shoulders as though in admittance of the accuracy of her barbs. He’s turning to follow her even before she asks for his company, and the automatic flinch in response to her question is hidden in the motion. As she steps toward the water, warmth seems to goes with her, and Gale follows as though drawn in her wake despite the reminder of what he tries to avoid.
She saves him with another question, and he smiles even though she cannot see, grateful in ways he cannot quite articulate, and falls back to humor as he so often does.
“I suppose if kicking your ass the first time we met didn’t scare you away, I shouldn’t be so worried about my family Curse being the thing that does it.” He does not elaborate, but does leave an opening for Mazikeen to ask again if her feline curiosity is not satisfied before he begins the tale of his arrival in Islandres. He started with arriving in the Field (leaving out the forward of the tale, where he climbed out of his red dirt grave and ambled aimlessly east for countless days before ending up in the Common Lands). “Ruinam, the previous leader, invited me here years ago. He promised quiet and peace, and until recently that was true.” He glances up at the sky with a soft sigh. It’s most enjoyable in the daylight, he thinks, when the rainbow of flora shines against the black sands.
When he looks back, Mazikeen is monkey instead of a mare, and he laughs aloud at the hairy little face with the wide and luminescent eyes. “You do that so quickly,” he muses aloud, “Have you always been able to change your shape?” Was she born the ability, he wonders? Were her parents shifters too? What if she’s not even a horse at all, but rather some other creature that wears that shape for convenience in equine-ruled Beqanna? His curiosity serves the same purpose that her nearness had, and the glowing beacon of hope grows brighter. Perhaps he can master shifting quickly, extend the length of time he is strong and use that to fend off the madness. There’s little he won’t try.
@[Mazikeen]
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