02-19-2018, 02:23 PM
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
It is nearly nightfall, the in-between time where the day is almost done but night has not revealed itself. The sun has not yet touched the horizon, but Warrick comes here long before that. The bay stallion stands near the base of the towering volcano, his brilliant blue eyes staring thoughtlessly into a rivulet of molten lava as it slowly boils, beginning its long journey though Tephra. He found comfort here, watching magma bubble idly instead of staring into a running river of water. The lava was in no hurry – it was calm yet purposeful. The idea soothes him. The lava at night was magical. It brightens and revitalizes the darkened world, pulsing with life. As the sun moved across the sky, the lava begins to make a glow onto Warrick’s auburn coat, making him illuminate in the coming darkness. The warmth on his skin is comforting, though to many it might be too intense. He could feel the coolness of night at his back and he instinctively steps closer to the lava. He wanted to be away from the darkness, to bathe in the fiery glow of the magma beneath him and never emerge to a dark world again.
Warrick stands quietly, stoically – as he always has. The rampant war raging in his mind and body was not evident on his outward appearance. He keeps it bottled, under lock and key – he ignores it. But it is there, ever present and lurking, like a beast at the door, scratching its way through. Remaining still only makes the scratching louder in his mind, so the Overseer begins to move forward with a rumbling sigh, following the stream of lava until he finds himself beneath the moonlight of night, the shoreline opening out before him with welcome arms.
He is a dark shadow along the horizon, moving slow and methodically beside the shoreline. White and frothing waves pool at his hooves, his indigo legs darkening from the spray. The ocean was rough tonight – a sign of an incoming storm, perhaps? It churns and foams, the sound of each rolling and crashing wave almost overlapping each other in quick succession. The sea wind ripples the long and tangled black of his mane and tail, crisp with salt as it scratches roughly against his russet skin.
Warrick feels himself slipping away, melting into the background of the tropical and lush land of Tephra. His grasp is loosening, strength fading. The winged stallion halts, closing his eyes so that his auburn lids shroud the brilliant blue, and inhales deeply. The crown of leadership weighs heavy on his shoulders and he can feel himself beginning to crack beneath the weight - he is changing, forming into a new man beneath its weight, and he is not sure if he likes how that feels. He thinks of Amorette, and how he has let her down - how many others are there, besides her? Amorette is bold enough to speak out against him, but the others might not be. He grimaces at the thought.
He opens his eyes, focusing on the tumultuous waves before him He watches them as if there is something just beneath the surface, though he knows they hold no answers.
Warrick