Warden cannot help his dark demeanor. He, of course, would love to always be the gentle and kind stallion that he finds himself to be when the time is right, but with his knowledge of the future, it is hard to remain a beacon of light within the shadow and darkness of his own mind. He revels in the gentle moments when they come, breaking through his hardened facade to enjoy himself with a little bit of humor or a night flight; but it is fleeting. Even now, beneath the dampness of a passing storm and the promise of company, he wonders how long the feeling of ease will last. How long will it take before he has a vision of her - this Aislyn - and he would have to pretend he knows nothing of what could be her terrible future, or worse, her demise?
The stallion rolls his shoulders, attempting to shake the foreboding sensation that trickles across his spine once again; an icy fingertip against the humid air around them. He wrinkles his nose, snorting softly at the tickle of rainwater that still idly drips down his face, his dark blue eyes coming to rest on hers. Where were you going that was so important? The laughter that once softened the edges of his expression only moments ago fades, that same hardness and stoicism appearing like a shadow across the bone-white of his face. “Does the wanderings of a stranger really make you so curious?” His question is light-hearted, an attempt to jest like they had been doing, but it does not reach his eyes and the sound of his voice fails to hide the deep-seated feeling of apprehension that curls like ice in the pit of his stomach.
He swallows, pursing his lips, as he ruffles his ivory wings once again in an attempt to dry the downy feathers. Finding it hard not to share the truth with her, though hesitant in unloading all of the frightening parts of him to a stranger, he settles for a half-truth that might satisfy her and perhaps bring some peace to the tempestuous storm in his mind. “I wanted to be alone, if you must know.” His eyes narrow thoughtfully, the stark white of his skin wrinkling against the deep ocean of his blue irises. “It’s always been better that way.” It never stopped the present in meeting his foreseen future, but he felt as if the less he associated with others, the chances of seeing their death would drastically fall.
He merely stares at her, his gaze unwavering in his confession. “But I’ve learned to be flexible.” There is a flicker of humor in the dark of his eyes with a twitch of his pale lips into a semblance of a smirk.
WARDEN
@[Aislyn]
