06-26-2017, 08:46 AM
Kingdom duties. Did he even know what that truly means? Is he even doing this right? He is always second-guessing himself, shifting uneasily on the muscular blue of his legs. He is always worried he’ll do or say the wrong thing, cause a prospective resident to take their leave or allow entry to those he should question more than he normally does; a myriad of things could possibly go wrong, and with his greenness of how kingdoms and diplomacy works, he hopes he will not be responsible for any harm that may come to Tephra. Warrick trusts easily and longs to see the good in others, and though Offspring has given him the responsibility of greeting wayward strangers on the edges of the borders, the thought presses in the back of his mind that he is not hard enough, not questioning enough.
With a snort, he turns his blue gaze towards Thorrun, lingering on the twist and gnarl of the silvered scar on her face before finding the glow of her orange eyes – they remind him of the rivulets of lava that passes through Tephra’s expanse, slow moving and silent, yet extremely dangerous.
“Offspring leads us,” Warrick answers casually, not at all considering that the chestnut filly might have met Offspring before in the past, or has heard of him, at least. The bay stallion has learned that many of those in Beqanna, and in Tephra, already had some kind of relationship with Offspring – a luxury that he did not have. It’s quite possible that Thorrun also already knew the large, black stallion that towers over Tephra much like the stoic volcano that brews in the distant horizon.
He doesn’t know the actual ‘name’ of his position, and for a moment fumbles in his mind for a word that would perhaps describe it accurately. His ability to talk and learn about others is a strength of his, one that Offspring obviously recognized, and it has led him here to standing in the thick foliage with a young mare. Pressing his lips together, musing, he finally says: “I’m meant to make sure that no one enters without an escort.” A light chuckle rumbles in the deep of his chest, finding it humorous that his description could mean a pleasant meeting – such as the one he and Thorrun were having now – or perhaps a very different meaning. “A sentry, I believe would be the best word for it, I think?” He has no idea. Perhaps she does.
Warrick’s kind eyes find hers again, as his gaze had departed to quickly glance around them, always on watch. He tilts his head a few degrees, ears pricking forward as his forelock twists away from the auburn of his face. “Why war?” The question leaves his lips before he has time to stop himself, the words hanging in the sultry air.
With a snort, he turns his blue gaze towards Thorrun, lingering on the twist and gnarl of the silvered scar on her face before finding the glow of her orange eyes – they remind him of the rivulets of lava that passes through Tephra’s expanse, slow moving and silent, yet extremely dangerous.
“Offspring leads us,” Warrick answers casually, not at all considering that the chestnut filly might have met Offspring before in the past, or has heard of him, at least. The bay stallion has learned that many of those in Beqanna, and in Tephra, already had some kind of relationship with Offspring – a luxury that he did not have. It’s quite possible that Thorrun also already knew the large, black stallion that towers over Tephra much like the stoic volcano that brews in the distant horizon.
He doesn’t know the actual ‘name’ of his position, and for a moment fumbles in his mind for a word that would perhaps describe it accurately. His ability to talk and learn about others is a strength of his, one that Offspring obviously recognized, and it has led him here to standing in the thick foliage with a young mare. Pressing his lips together, musing, he finally says: “I’m meant to make sure that no one enters without an escort.” A light chuckle rumbles in the deep of his chest, finding it humorous that his description could mean a pleasant meeting – such as the one he and Thorrun were having now – or perhaps a very different meaning. “A sentry, I believe would be the best word for it, I think?” He has no idea. Perhaps she does.
Warrick’s kind eyes find hers again, as his gaze had departed to quickly glance around them, always on watch. He tilts his head a few degrees, ears pricking forward as his forelock twists away from the auburn of his face. “Why war?” The question leaves his lips before he has time to stop himself, the words hanging in the sultry air.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Thorrun]