05-06-2020, 06:56 AM
The hushed sound of what he interprets as the movement of a delicate shell against sand stirs him from his reverie, lazily turning a single ear towards what he would discover to be a filly once his oceanic eyes click up from the absentminded task of tidying his feathers. Upon realization that the sound he has heard is actually someone, he stops his grooming. For a moment he is suspended - frozen - as the ruby child comes to him, with perfectly constructed flowers of glass across her skin, his neck craned towards the brilliant white of his wings, with feathers still out of place. Warden snorts sharply as she examines him, slow blinking eyes as dark as the ocean never straying from her golden gaze. The moonlight filters through her, a spectacular sight that causes even the most stone-faced to soften their eyes in wonder. For a moment he guesses she is made of moonbeams and perhaps moonstone itself - a star, maybe? Maybe she is made of sea glass, forged by the heat that ignites from the summer storm, giving birth to the lightning that so greedily kisses the sand of shorelines; delicate, beautiful, otherworldly.
She begins to speak and Warden straightens himself, the thick plumage of his wings shuffling at his withers. His brow furrows as a tingling sensation crinkles across his forehead, a familiar feeling that leaves him with a cold pit of dread curling in his stomach like a viper. It would only be a few spiraling minutes before the seer would have a vision painted across his eyes.
He allows her to distract him, knowing that he can prolong the future by ignoring it completely. “I do?” he murmurs gruffly, the throbbing in his forehead becoming more intense by the second. She’s stepped closer, the sound of her legs against the black sand like a whisper on his skin. He tries not to but finds himself lost in the golden irises of her curiosity, unexplainably perplexed by her existence and equally enamored by it. She continues to expound on her family but he is fading to elsewhere, sent on a journey through his mind’s eye the second her cold lips began to familiarly sort his misplaced feathers.
The scene is the same. Night still hangs heavy like a cloak across the black sand beach, where frothing dark waves splash into the shoreline. He is alone, he realizes, as his dark eyes sweep the sand. He holds his breath, his dream taking its own shape like it always does. He can feel the sea wind on his skin, the quiet hush of leaves swaying behind him in the tree line. He feels as if he has stood here for ages, an eternity. Nothing appears, no ominous words, and for a moment he wonders if this will be it - the first vision that does not end in death and destruction.
The moment the idea crosses his mind is when a tiny sparkle catches his eye, glinting mutedly in the darkness of sand at his feet. Warden swallows, afraid of what he fears the object to be. A sliver of red, with moonlight cascading through it, is shattered before him. He leans down, brushing the shard with his white lips, great tears finding their way down the sharp angles of his cheek as he traces it with his mouth, resting on a delicate flower that somehow did not break.
Warden sharply inhales, thrusting his head upwards to scan the desolate beach again - searching for any sign of her. Maybe she can be fixed. Perhaps she is still here, searching for the missing piece of her. He tries to call out for her but she is nameless and he has no voice. He tries to leave where he is standing but his legs are held tightly to the ground by the sand and the waves. He thrashes, unable to accept this fate that has been shown to him, shouting and screaming silently as the vision fades, the shard of rubied glass with its perfect flower being the last thing he sees before it all turns black.
It is over as soon as it began. Her voice brings him back to the present, where she is introducing herself. Flower. The cloudy white blankness in his eyes is replaced with the deep blue he was born with, meeting her golden ones without hesitation. “I’ve dreamed of you,” he says to her without thinking, nearly interrupting her introduction. His voice is low and solemn, the white of his lips expressionless, wondering if she can see the seriousness in his exclamation. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow as she stares up at him with those golden, innocent eyes.
“My name is Warden.”
@[flower]
She begins to speak and Warden straightens himself, the thick plumage of his wings shuffling at his withers. His brow furrows as a tingling sensation crinkles across his forehead, a familiar feeling that leaves him with a cold pit of dread curling in his stomach like a viper. It would only be a few spiraling minutes before the seer would have a vision painted across his eyes.
He allows her to distract him, knowing that he can prolong the future by ignoring it completely. “I do?” he murmurs gruffly, the throbbing in his forehead becoming more intense by the second. She’s stepped closer, the sound of her legs against the black sand like a whisper on his skin. He tries not to but finds himself lost in the golden irises of her curiosity, unexplainably perplexed by her existence and equally enamored by it. She continues to expound on her family but he is fading to elsewhere, sent on a journey through his mind’s eye the second her cold lips began to familiarly sort his misplaced feathers.
The scene is the same. Night still hangs heavy like a cloak across the black sand beach, where frothing dark waves splash into the shoreline. He is alone, he realizes, as his dark eyes sweep the sand. He holds his breath, his dream taking its own shape like it always does. He can feel the sea wind on his skin, the quiet hush of leaves swaying behind him in the tree line. He feels as if he has stood here for ages, an eternity. Nothing appears, no ominous words, and for a moment he wonders if this will be it - the first vision that does not end in death and destruction.
The moment the idea crosses his mind is when a tiny sparkle catches his eye, glinting mutedly in the darkness of sand at his feet. Warden swallows, afraid of what he fears the object to be. A sliver of red, with moonlight cascading through it, is shattered before him. He leans down, brushing the shard with his white lips, great tears finding their way down the sharp angles of his cheek as he traces it with his mouth, resting on a delicate flower that somehow did not break.
Warden sharply inhales, thrusting his head upwards to scan the desolate beach again - searching for any sign of her. Maybe she can be fixed. Perhaps she is still here, searching for the missing piece of her. He tries to call out for her but she is nameless and he has no voice. He tries to leave where he is standing but his legs are held tightly to the ground by the sand and the waves. He thrashes, unable to accept this fate that has been shown to him, shouting and screaming silently as the vision fades, the shard of rubied glass with its perfect flower being the last thing he sees before it all turns black.
It is over as soon as it began. Her voice brings him back to the present, where she is introducing herself. Flower. The cloudy white blankness in his eyes is replaced with the deep blue he was born with, meeting her golden ones without hesitation. “I’ve dreamed of you,” he says to her without thinking, nearly interrupting her introduction. His voice is low and solemn, the white of his lips expressionless, wondering if she can see the seriousness in his exclamation. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow as she stares up at him with those golden, innocent eyes.
“My name is Warden.”
@[flower]
