hold fast to the break of day || any

[Warrick]

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

He doesn’t know when it happens (perhaps it is when her mouth presses to the salt-dried feathers of his great, navy wings, or when her voice calls him sea-hawk), but he has shifted his weight and leans into Saedis with a sort of tired sigh. It is not as if they have somehow found a solution for the weight of sadness on his heart, but the auburn stallion somehow feels lighter - if only just a bit. It is enough, though, and for a moment he feels as if he can breathe fully. He inhales deeply, the familiar scent of salt and seaweed and ash filling him in a way that he finds comforting (it is all he knows, his peninsula that opens up to his family of stars that wink sleepily above him each night). A smile finds him - one that is dreamlike and wistful - and the curve of his cobalt lips reaches the blue of his eyes, sparkling dimly in the darkness.

Warrick is stronger than he feels, and he wishes desperately he could see himself the way Saedis sees him - a protector, a guide, a fierce raptor on warm thermals with wings that keep him from plummeting into the sea. He wants so much to do well, to do his duty, to create a happiness around himself that radiates into each being he encounters, but he hesitates, he falters. There are some moments - fleeting and quick - that he feels completely content, without a worry or doubt in his mind. He wishes it would last, that he would feel good enough constantly, that his mind wouldn’t stray from where he knows it should remain.

He is quick to see the good in her, to be drawn to her likeness by his own gentle spirit, and he hopes she sees the same. That he is trying, that he is not just a leader who revels in his title and sits back, but is consistently growing with his country, his family (for they are all his family, a creation made not from bloodlines, but from same-spiritedness and the light he sees in each one of them). He hopes she will stay here, weaving amongst the sand and sea, a quiet soul amongst darkness and chaos.

She dims and he notices. He dims with her (ever empathetic, ever understanding), and he turns to her, his lips pressing into a thin line of a small frown. The ache in her voice, though quiet and barely noticeable, resonates in his heart. He has had the same ache, the same longing, and he feels it now. A forgotten mother and sister, their souls radiating amongst the stars that watch both him and Saedis this night, stolen from him. Warrick presses his navy mouth against her pale cheek, drawing her back from the nightmare that now plays in her mind, feeling guilty that he has reminded her of what had been, instead of what could be.

“I’m sorry,” he says into her skin, before pulling away, his great blue eyes wide with sorrow. He wants to find them for her, to bring them here so that the sadness in her voice and in her eyes would disappear. He would, in a heartbeat, if that is what she requested of him. Sorrow does not belong on Tephra’s shores, and the great-winged stallion would do anything if only a sweep of his wings would brush it all away. “I did not mean to bring up sad memories.” He inhales sharply, turning his head upwards to look into the stars, smiling sadly.

“I am glad you have found your way to Tephra, Saedis. Truly.”

Warrick