06-18-2017, 09:48 AM
The heat of the jungle barrels down on him unforgivingly, seeping through the thick canopy of the tropical trees and burning onto the broad of his back as he moves swiftly through his home. He keeps moving, despite the fact his increasing heart rate only adds to the sweat that has dampened the auburn of his chest and haunches; the cool breeze he feels against his neck and face as he moves is enough to keep him continuing forward.
Not much gets by Warrick. His eyes are keen and his ears are always twitching, always listening. The minute something is even the slightest bit out of place from the normality, he is there in a heartbeat. This is much the same for today as he moves along the border of Tephra, nostrils twitching as he realizes another has joined him in the humid jungle.
He can feel the uncertainty that taints her entire being as she enters, beginning in her ears and shuddering all the way down to her small hooves. She appears frightened maybe, but he’s not sure if that’s the right word to describe her stature. However small she was, there was a proudness about her that twist throughout her ambiguity; she is strong. He does not know her, has never seen her in his life, but the way her delicate features are worn from burdens that lay planted in her thoughts, her eyes distant and unseeing yet at the same time, has seen entirely too much. Warrick moves towards her, his slender and muscular legs drawing him closer to the chestnut filly with a gentle and slow walk, his eyes soft with concern. She smells like the meadow, like soft green grasses and crisp blue sky. Yet something lingers on her skin, something foreign to him that, perhaps if he grown up differently, he would have recognized. He knows nothing of blood and war and fighting, and though part of him knows that it is a reality, he hopes he will never have to know the experience.
“Hello,” he says gently, his voice reverberating and low against the thickness of the sultry air. The deep cerulean of his irises trace her quickly, lingering on the gnarled scarring that twists unforgivingly on the side of her youthful face. “You have been here before,” he observes, noting how the high temperatures and sulfuric smell did not lead her to any hesitation – her uncertainty is found in something else entirely, though he did not know exactly what. “Is it how you remember?”
Not much gets by Warrick. His eyes are keen and his ears are always twitching, always listening. The minute something is even the slightest bit out of place from the normality, he is there in a heartbeat. This is much the same for today as he moves along the border of Tephra, nostrils twitching as he realizes another has joined him in the humid jungle.
He can feel the uncertainty that taints her entire being as she enters, beginning in her ears and shuddering all the way down to her small hooves. She appears frightened maybe, but he’s not sure if that’s the right word to describe her stature. However small she was, there was a proudness about her that twist throughout her ambiguity; she is strong. He does not know her, has never seen her in his life, but the way her delicate features are worn from burdens that lay planted in her thoughts, her eyes distant and unseeing yet at the same time, has seen entirely too much. Warrick moves towards her, his slender and muscular legs drawing him closer to the chestnut filly with a gentle and slow walk, his eyes soft with concern. She smells like the meadow, like soft green grasses and crisp blue sky. Yet something lingers on her skin, something foreign to him that, perhaps if he grown up differently, he would have recognized. He knows nothing of blood and war and fighting, and though part of him knows that it is a reality, he hopes he will never have to know the experience.
“Hello,” he says gently, his voice reverberating and low against the thickness of the sultry air. The deep cerulean of his irises trace her quickly, lingering on the gnarled scarring that twists unforgivingly on the side of her youthful face. “You have been here before,” he observes, noting how the high temperatures and sulfuric smell did not lead her to any hesitation – her uncertainty is found in something else entirely, though he did not know exactly what. “Is it how you remember?”
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick