The journey from Hyaline back into his homeland of Tephra is a long yet familiar one, a journey that is seared into his mind and would continue to linger unceasingly for as long as time would allow. Part of his heart resides within the peaceful realm of Amet’s kingdom, creating a steady wish for its prosperity and growth continuously pulsing in the back of Warrick’s brilliant and quiet mind. Even now, with tensions high between the queen of Nerine and his own leader from recent mistakes and destruction, Warrick cannot help but silently hope that peace would be brought between them. Tephra would have to tread lightly when it came to their next moves in creating strong alliances, and he makes a mental note to discuss this with Nymphetamine upon returning – the great empire of Nerine and perhaps its neighboring jurisdictions should be off limits for the time being.

Pensive and thoughtful, Warrick’s strides keep in time with the sizeable, dark silhouette that towers over him. Both stallions cross Beqanna in a comfortable and understanding silence, their deep baritone voices rumbling to the surface every so often. Warrick’s heart hangs heavily in his chest and though he knows that their presence in Hyaline could have gone much, much worse, he cannot help the signs of disappointment on the sharpened angles of his stoic face.

“Nayl is not one for apologetics. Her fire will quell when our words are met with action – Tephra keeps its promises, she will soon realize.” His voice is clear and deep in the chilly air of autumn, his breath leaving in a cloud of vapor as they walk quietly through the forest, the crisp leaves crunching beneath their purposeful steps. His eyes do not flicker to Offspring, their blue blaze set on the horizon and their direction back home, his auburn skin longing for the sweltering heat of the volcano, as well as the warmth of his children and Tang at his side. He flutters his wings absentmindedly, habitually flexing the thin bones and bringing them back into his withers with a gentle snort. “How would you like myself and Nymphetamine to handle Nerine and their other realms, for the time being?”

After a moment, his eyes move to find Offspring’s, watching the intense red with his own soft and brilliant blue. He wonders if Offspring understood that Warrick’s protectiveness over the new twins, as well as Tang herself, could distract him from his duties if they weren’t with him like they were now, safe beneath the warmth of the Tephran sun. “I appreciate your allowing Tang to venture into Tephra with our children. You are generous.”

Warrick

  He is tense.

  Ire is festering within the tight hearth of his chest, but it does not show on the surface – the fire is tightly concealed, burning brightly only within the confinement of his breast. His muscles are coiled tightly, stirring beneath the inky surface of his blackened skin, blanketed in a plethora of scarring accrued over the many, seemingly endless years he had lived, and his stride is powerful and deliberate. He does not want to dwell for long within the darkness of the woodland; not with the ease and security of the humid volcanic island beckoning him to return to it.

  The silence is heavy, while his mind is occupied, mulling over the exchange between he and the Queen of Nerine – he can hardly suppress an eye-roll at her outburst; he understood the anger, but not the scathing words and disrespect that had accompanied it. He found her crawling beneath his skin – there was only one other that had ever managed it, and she had not fought fairly. While he struck out at her with the strength of his limbs, she had attempted to take his life with the secretion of poison, and there were few he loathed as much as he loathed her.

  Ah, but with time and with the steady presence of Warrick along his side, his frustration wanes, his mind drifting elsewhere while his dark, scarlet gaze searches the darkness before them. He is not the one to break the stillness lingering between them, and an eye steadies upon him for a moment, while the girth of his body presses past a dark and winding pine, scratching his hip against his brittle bark. He is quiet, contemplating his words, rolling each one over in his mind – he has found that he had come to respect Warrick over time, and with every passing day, he is drawn to him, recognizing the promise of comraderie within his calm and affable demeanor.

  He does not take his opinion, nor his loyalty, for granted.

  ”I will ensure that Hyaline is given the aid that it requires to be as it once was,” he muses thoughtfully, his heavy baritone rumbling and echoing within the thickness of falling dusk. ”but not for Nayl. I will do so for Amet. He will see his own strength and promise in time and he will break away from Nerine, I am certain of it.” He pauses, glancing to Warrick for a moment, studying the intensity of his tightened jaw. ”and Hyaline will thrive.”

  A sigh emerges then, and then, a soft chuckle, rumbling inside of his throat. ”She is the mother of your children, Warrick,” he utters softly. ”I would not have it any other way. I trust your judgment; your relationship with Amet has proven to me that you are a good judge of character. You would make an excellent Head of Peace – and perhaps, in time, Overseer, should you desire it.”

  His stride has come to a stop, with the pale moonlight draped over the darkness of his skin, while his deep, maroon gaze searches his own within the twilight. ”I cannot be Overseer forever, nor do I desire to be. I will need someone to take my place,” he muses. ”perhaps, Head of Peace for now, and then – more?”

The cold that filters through the forest rests uneasily on the stallion’s broad navy wings, brushing icy fingers into the lithe bone and ruffling the smooth feathers with its crisp bite. Warrick flexes them instinctively, fluttering them outwards in a swift and gliding swoop to smooth them once again as he folds them back into the auburn of his withers and barrel.

The blue-bay stallion notices the tense stature of his brethren beside him, allowing the black stallion to fester in his thoughts for Warrick knew that it would soon subside. Offspring’s fire that flares during conflict does not go easily unseen, and does not easily cool. Warrick, level-headed and logical to a fault, understands the ferocity needed to be the ruler of a growing and strengthening kingdom, and despite many obstacles in his path (Hyaline, for instance), Offspring has led them and defended them admirably.

The forest is eerie and silent, save for the crunch of the light snow beneath their sturdy hooves. Vapor leaves their lips in clouds as the two converse, their voices adrift on the cold and unmoving winter air. Offspring mentions Amet, noting the bronze-gilded stallion’s growing independence and overall presence as a king. “He is an honorable leader,” Warrick replies with a swift and agreeing nod, the movement causing the thick black of his forelock to cascade over the crystal blue of his eyes, stark in contrast against the white and dying world around them. “There is a spirit in him that will grow and strengthen Hyaline – a spirit that matches well with our own.” He pauses, his navy legs matching the large stride of the towering black legs beside him. Despite already developing a sense of trust with the young dragon-king, Warrick knew too well that it would be foolish not to stand behind the small (yet ever growing) kingdom. He does not push into the issue any further, but merely plants a seed of a possible relationship between Tephra and Hyaline, where Offspring could decide its favorability.  It already felt like the two kingdoms were practically there, especially with the growing tension with Nayl and Nerine.

The conversation suddenly shifts, still comfortable and easy, yet suddenly more serious. A sort of quietness comes about Warrick, a certain thoughtfulness that looks well placed on the sharp features of his auburn and navy face. “Since I have arrived in Tephra, back when Magnus ruled, my sole desire is to serve to the prosperity of Tephra in whatever way is needed – I intend to keep that promise. Anything Tephra needs me to be, I will be. Head of Peace, Overseer…I will do so dutifully and honorably.”

Warrick never breaks his promises.  

“Come what may, I do hope you will remain part of the spirit of Tephra – I still have much to learn from you, Offspring.” A gentle smile pulls at the navy of his lips – Warrick is extremely thankful for the black stallion’s friendship and guidance, as well as his recognition of Warrick’s loyalty and judgment. He would hate to think that a promotion meant that Offspring would no longer be a part of Tephra’s beating heart.

Warrick