Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
With the roar of the wind in his ears and his eyes narrowed against the snow, Gale is taken entirely by surprise. He had not expected her to come after him, and surely nothing else would be out in weather like this. The sun is hardly more than a brighter point in the blindingly white sky, and what he thinks are the edges of the mountains might as easily be the bottom of the clouds. The bare grey stone of the mountains are his only guides, and they are hard to see from more than a few paces away.
Mazikeen’s attack knocks him onto such a bit of stone. The impact knocks the breath out of him, and the rock scrapes at his skin. The brindle stallion has climbed back to his feet by the time the winged wolf lands, and this time when she circles him, Gale’s ears are pinned back.
‘You’re such a disappointment’. The words sting, and the magic from their impact gives him sharp teeth revealed in a silently snarling mouth. The words are true but unnecessary, which he knows she knows as well.
He had thought he could leave. The only thing he owes her is death. Deaths, truly, but there are only so many times he can die like this. Not when his host resurrects when he does, as strong as he had ever been. Magic makes it easier to quash him down, but the amount it requires is significant.
Or does Mazikeen mean to truly end him now, Gale wonders?
He’d not expected this to be his last day.
Blood drips from a gash just behind his elbow, and in the corner of his vision he can see it splash impossibly crimson on the white snow below his black hooves. He blinks at it, inexplicably captivated. The colors are the same as those of the pale queen in front of him, and he meets her eyes just as she threatens to make him a eunuch.
Gale exhales a quick breath of amusement, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. She would not have been left without him, even when he stood on the other side of their world. His magic is still there, wrapped tight about her bones. When he’d torn her open and sewed her back shut with bits of magic, they’d never left her pale skin, and he sees them there, flashing about her glowing body even now.
She’s brighter than the sun and still growling, but Gale steps closer anyway.
Closer to the magic, but she’ll know that. Just as she’ll know the way he can't control that his breath catches, or the heat that rises beneath his skin as he reaches out to grab a flicker of his magic - like lightning - that dances across a glowing fissure at her neck. He's near enough to touch her, almost close enough to bury his face in the white ruff around her neck, wants to feel the pulse of her throat hammering beneath his lips as he drew her nearer to him and...
Gale grits his teeth as what little magic he'd managed to gather almost escapes.
Grinding his teeth together in frustration, the brindle creature looks away. This is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid.
The path out the mountains is that way, he knows. The path to Power, to a place where Mazikeen and her bright eyes won’t dull his edge. He sighs, low and long, and meets her gaze again.
“Take it then.” He says flatly. “Whatever it is I owe you.” Even if it’s a permanent death, or just parts of him that he’s no use for without her. He doesn’t intend to put up a fight, that much is clear. “Or let me leave.”
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