resurrect the saint within the wretch
It felt good to be surrounded by family once again, especially when that someone was Rhaegor. Warden himself is a broken and fragmented soul; torn by what keeps him whole and what tears him in half. The stallion beside him is one of the few that keeps him intact, despite that each day wears more and more on him, threatening to soon sever the thread that holds him together. He wonders if Rhaegor feels this - they are blood, after all, and bound by visions and their third eyes - but Warden makes it a point to not linger on it for long.
The Watcher turns his head in the direction of the familiar volcano that looms in the distance, turning away from the other to begin a worn route through the tropical jungle and towards it. Falling into step beside Rhaegor, the now-King thinks for a moment before speaking.
“My visions are more rampant,” he begins cautiously; hesitant about what would happen if he were to speak on them. Warden tends to keep his visions to himself, harnessing the burden across his back without any hesitation. “I saw fires in the Loess and in the North, in Taiga. Dragonfire. Magicians were drawn to it, rising up and to take hold of the East.” He pauses, his ears falling into his mane slightly. “All of it has come to pass, as it always does. I fear for the West and our families.” It is not uncommon knowledge that most of Warden’s lineage resides in Tephra. “Pangea wishes to keep the alliance between the West and the East that has been upheld before my succession and I have not seen anything to think it untrue but - ” Warden’s voice trails off, lifting his pale face to the skyline in the distance.
“What good are words when I have seen the aftermath of the thirst for conquest? A deal made in the past does not guarantee a future.” He snorts, tucking his chin towards the deep blue obsidian jewels encrusted in his chest. “How is it we can see the future and have no power to stop it, Rhaegor? We can see the devastation but are powerless to thwart it?”
@[Rhaegor]
