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nestle75.72.150.45Posted On April 14, 2017 at 12:26 PM by griffin

pw is calliope

It is long before dawn and after moonlight when Gabriel goes to find Orias.

He does not go as himself. He wear’s Kepler’s skin and it seems to crawl over him as he looks out with Kepler’s eyes. He is the guilty one, the one who ignored all the warnings, the one who allowed this to happen. For that beast to take his friend.

And he, fool that he is, will set it to rights.

In Kepler’s body he moves toward the treeline, a glimmer of gold beneath the moonlight. There is no snow, but his breath silvers in the air, and the scent of pine is clear and bright when he draws near the tree line. The last time he had been here, it had been in pursuit of Florentine; he has not forgotten what she’d said about Orias being sick, has not forgotten the uneasy, crawling feeling from being in the strange stallion’s presence.

There are things he must know, though his heart races in his chest, and fear and anger both promise to burn him up more surely than Karou’s fire.

“Orias,” he calls, and it is a difficult thing to keep from flinching at Kepler’s voice coming from his throat. There is a stirring in the limbs, the sound of a breath drawn - his head turns as his gaze marks the place.

He does not know what to say, his mind foggy with guilt and sorrow, but he must, he must —

“Tell me what you know,” he says softly, and prays that it is right.


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