12-24-2017, 11:22 AM
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
He had not meant to become a king, but the title seems to have found its way onto the lips of all the Tephrans and he is too kind to correct them - if seeing him as their king soothes their aching souls or allows pride for their country to well up within their chests, he could see no harm done by knowing him by it. He will, however, make sure that they know that he is not royalty (he is just one of them, all the same) and that he does not wish to run Tephra as a monarchy. Their title of king is merely just that - a title. Warrick had not, however, expected any of the quick action of his duties - the captive (he hadn’t even had the time to think about if he would agree to this type of sentencing, for it had happened before he had become the ruler) and it rests heavy on his heart, easily seen in the way his cerulean eyes seem a bit dimmer. There had also been (and perhaps still is) the matter of a few others who were not as receptive to Warrick’s way of handling things - with gentleness and wisdom, with no room for venom-laced words or heated conversations (that way of solving problems is just for show, to puff themselves up or to put others down) and they are sadly disappointed when Warrick refuses to engage with them.
The Overseer can now fully understand the burden that comes with the title, the heavy load that both Ellyse and Offspring had carried before him - even Lucrezia, or Magnus. It is consuming him already, creating something within him that has not been given the chance to rise before - a certain strength that has lay stagnant in the bottom of his soul for far too long, now stoked like a fire within him.
“How could I forget you, Warrick?”
Wound is special - from their first meeting, he could tell. She shares the same dream-like look he so often finds on his own face as he stares up into the stars, the same hope in her eyes matching his. They are much alike, their souls very much akin to each other in their gentleness, and he likes to think that they are friends rather than just acquaintances. He watches her rise, at first sheepishly and then, thankfully, somewhat comfortably, her mocha-colored eyes finding his waiting for her. He had not forgotten about her mangled leg, a deformity that still holds her back (though lately, he notices a shift within her and he rather enjoys it), and makes a point to not cast his gaze over it. She is much more than the malformation, and he silently hopes she is beginning not only to see it, but to feel it.
“I wanted to congratulate you personally.”
He offers her a contrite smile, his face receptive as she offers him her compliments, glad to see the pride swelling beneath her sparkling eyes - it is an expression he hopes that came to all residents when they heard of his promotion, though is exceptionally happy to see it on her face.
“Thank you, Wound,” he replies, genuine and earnest. “And you are absolutely correct - it has been no easy feat and already proves to be more challenging than anything I have ever faced...” His voice trails off slightly, his blue gaze falling downcast as the weight of it encumbers him once more, but with a toss of his head, he shakes away the thoughts and allows his attention to be set on Wound fully. “It is a good thing that I have you, and many others, who are ready and willing for whatever Tephra needs. It lightens the load,” he finishes with a laugh, not wanting to worry her. His eyes lift to meet hers, a smile on his cobalt lips.
“How have you been? Since we met last? Have you met anyone else here?”
Warrick
@[wound]