like the sun swallowed up by the earth; beyah & any

[Warrick]

There was no real reason for him to keep his head held high, but he did anyway.

The young stallion is almost statuesque against the grey shroud of the morning’s mist, his thoughtful gaze set firmly on the horizon before him. It seems as if he was waiting for something as his patient and soft breaths leave his indigo lips in a foggy cloud. All was as still as a picture – from the trees’ branches to the tightness of his clenched jaw. The only hint of movement was the gentle brush of grass blades against stoic legs and the twirl of black tendrils against auburn skin.

Warrick keeps himself alert, muscles drawn tight beneath his skin. He’s always on edge – overcautious, even. His stare, though soft, is wary and examining. Inwardly, he was unsure and hesitant. A single ear is tipped backwards slightly; the only physicality giving away his worry that was etched uneasily somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He kept his eyes forward and head up, but the only reason was because of the warmth that he felt to his right.

He could hear her munching quietly on the dew-soaked grass beside him, taking comfort in the sound and her presence. She was the only thing that seems familiar to him in the moment and a brief ripple of relaxation falls over his body.

There is a pinprick of light that squeezes itself through the trees in the distance, causing his thoughts to become redirected and his muscles snap into place. He snorts softly and idly flicks his tail against his ankles as he watches the sun slowly begin to rise into dawn.

He felt out of place but at the same time he didn’t. He knew he belonged here, in Beqanna with his sister, but the fact that there was no place to call home left him discouraged. He doesn’t do well with uncertainty. It looms over him like a dark cloud and he can’t help but overcompensate his worry with holding his head a little bit higher.

A soft touch of warmth on his shoulder breaks Warrick’s posture, causing him to lower and turn his head towards his right. He tips his ears back bashfully, realizing that she probably had noticed his unusual disposition. A smile broke on his lips and he playfully bumps her nose with his own.

His sister had always been the one to bring him out of his thoughts and into reality.

WARRICK

we are infinite as the universe we hold inside

[beyah]

Beyah lifts her slender black head from the grass and broken tendrils of green and brown spill from those dark, whiskered lips. For a moment those strange periwinkle eyes trace the shape of dawn blossoming over the ridges of a distant mountain just beneath the horizon. Maybe those were the mountains mother had returned to, the place where the ground touched the sky so she could sleep among her stars. A beautiful but a lonely place, Beyah thought with the hint of a frown on her delicate mouth.

Warrick tensed beside her, imperceptible, but it was enough to draw her attention away from the pink morning sky. Instead her eyes fell on his face, traced the clenched muscle along his jaw and the tightness of the frown on his mouth. She felt herself smile. “Change is good, brother.” She chided, bumping her black nose against the dark brown of his shoulder. “Don’t look so concerned.” But her voice was soft, light, so much like their mothers.

Despite herself, she found his concern momentarily contagious and her thoughts drifted suddenly to their childhood home. Mother had raised them in the Gates, in a quiet corner where no one had paid them much attention. She had been well past her days of servitude, but loyalty, or maybe nostalgia, had coaxed her back long enough to birth the twins and raise them there. But as soon as Beyah and Warrick were old enough, she had disappeared back into the dusk to return to her solitude in the mountains. For a few years the twins had been content living as nomads within the quiet kingdom, but restlessness was in their blood. It didn’t take long for them to drift away, through the in-between places and the meadow, and then finally come to rest within the borders of the Field.

Her jaw clenches and releases, a quiet sigh filling her chest as she reached out to rest the curve of her cheek against Warrick’s smooth neck. “Stop that, you’re making me worry.” But it was said kindly with a quiet smile that touched her periwinkle eyes. When she drew back to look at him once more, it was objectively and from beneath a furrowed brow. From the proud curve of his neck to the stoic way he watched the horses wandering nearby, no one would ever notice his apprehension without digging through his thoughts. She was glad for that, appearances meant a lot to her twin. A soft smile pulled at the edges of her dark mouth. “To new adventures, Warrick.”

BEYAH

our universe was clothed in white

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth He rarely leaves the Tundra anymore, but as fall closes in on Beqanna the pull of warm weather for just a few hours longer is too hard to resist. Leaving behind the frost of his home, the black stallion takes to the sky with feathered wings that match both his eyes and the thunderclouds overhead. They promise rain, but not until nightfall, and Errant lands gracefully in the Field as the first distant peal of thunder from the north echoes across the vast area. He’s landed a hundred yards or so from a pair of young horses. They look alike enough to be siblings, and Errant offers them each a pleasant nod of greeting and smile. “Hello there,” He says, his voice even and not especially deep. A toss of her dark mane reveals the faintest of silver flashes, the faded outline of a dozen silver snows flakes slowly becoming clear against his raven-black hide. His grey wings do not entirely cover the massive white scarring on his belly and across his withers, but the injuries are old and long ago smoothed to nothing more than discolorations. “My name’s Errant. Where are you two from?” He offers his own age with the natural expectation that they will offer their own in return, and asks the question he feels most appropriate. They might be from anywhere, but knowing if it is at least in Beqanna will change the way he will speak to them. He’s here for a reason, after all, and not merely for small talk. Even if only one of his present company actually belongs in his homeland, he has no qualms with speaking with them both. There are mares in the Tundra after all, even if they hold no real rank. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Warrick]

The sound of her voice causes a softening in the deep blue of his eyes, the quiet uncertainty that had been storming inside them stilling almost immediately. “You make it sound like it’s an easy thing to do,” he murmurs with a huff, a small hint of a smile in his voice. “When have you seen me be able to worry less?” This time the smile seems to fade slightly, and knowing that Beyah would notice, he makes up for it by gently shifting his weight so that their shoulders touch. It was always like this between the two – a give and take, much like the tides on a sandy shoreline.

Warrick sighs, in an attempt not only to calm himself but to also reassure Beyah that he was in fact trying to relax in the midst of new possibilities. Navy-tipped ears prick towards the sky as a roll of thunder rumbles; Warrick had always enjoyed the rain and what it brought with it, and for a moment he was calm as he watched the northern sky fill with clouds that grew ever darker as the day stretched on.

It was here, where Beyah and Warrick had found a quiet moment where Warrick’s stirring thoughts had silenced, that the solid thump of soft dirt giving way beneath hooves breaks the stillness. As Warrick turns his dark blue eyes towards the stranger, a soft snort leaves indigo lips. His ears flick backwards temporarily, but not in animosity. He had stiffened slightly at the stranger’s presence, and though his body language appeared somewhat uneasy, he was certainly welcoming of this new personality joining them. “New adventures,” he thinks, steadying himself for one moment longer on Beyah’s shoulder before turning his ears towards the winged-stallion and taking a single step towards him.

Warrick inspects the charcoal-black stallion carefully, but truly only seconds pass before his own voice cut through the air. “I’m Warrick,” he says sturdily, his dark eyes resting confidently into the gaze of Errant. Warrick isn’t sure if he knows who Errant is, but he feels like he should. Covered with silver-sewn scars (from battle, perhaps?) and marked with the lights of the night sky, Warrick figures that he’s plays important role somewhere here in Beqanna. His gaze lingers for a moment on the wings that are folded up carefully at Errant’s sides, wondering momentarily what it’s like to fly. 

“This is my sister.” Warrick pauses there, turning his head slightly towards Beyah and nods. He knew that she would like into introduce herself – she never really was keen on Warrick doing things for her. Their eyes meet momentarily and a smile flickers onto his dark lips before he turns his gaze back towards Errant.

The question that Errant had asked was unknowingly a loaded one. Warrick searches his brain for an answer that was both truthful as well as not complicated. In all honesty, Warrick always had the sense that he hadn’t truly belonged anywhere for last year or so, roaming the outskirts of Beqanna and becoming a shadow amongst its population. At the very young age of four, Warrick ached for himself and his sister a place to call home. Perhaps this was their moment.

“Beqanna is our home,” he says to Errant simply. If the stallion wished to know more he could certainly ask, but Warrick was not one to share such personal details with a strange, winged-stallion from somewhere beyond. He knew at the same time, of course, that this mindset certainly didn’t apply to Beyah. He already knew without even looking at her that her kind eyes were delighted to meet someone new.

But that’s how their relationship was – a give and take.

WARRICK

we are infinite as the universe we hold inside