resurrect the saint within the wretch
He does not talk about Warrick often. While the two hold far more similarities than they do differences, Warden knows that he cannot help but be darker than his father - gripped tight by the reality of the future, held as a captive to its impending doom. It alone is the reason he scoffs at the stars and their supposed sentience, a thing that he only knew to scoff at because Warrick would look to them hopefully for the return of Warden’s grandmother and aunt. He knew each name of every constellation, knew their route throughout the sky and the patterns throughout the year. He knows them so intimately and yet, he dares to ignore their existence all together.
“I was a terrible listener,” comes the curt reply from the Watcher, turning his gaze back into the strange darkness of the forest. He had been better than his older brother, from what he had been told, but as a colt, he had no interest in stories or folklore; not when the sinister threat of reality loomed around every corner. There is not much more he would share, not without being pressed, though it is evident that any talk of stars only deepens the frown on his pale lips. He does, however, find the ability to laugh at Lilliana’s notion - that the stars would shape their likeness to him, in honor of him. Enough so that he’d take up the whole sky, eclipsing the sun.
The laugh that attempts to roll from his throat is cut short, though, and his frown vanishes. The familiar feeling - triggered by what, he didn’t know - burns bright in the center of his forehead. Warden does not turn his face towards Lilliana but he is sure the deep-set notion of panic that freezes his entire body could be felt like a thundershock (with or without her being an empath). He barely has time to take a breath before his forehead splits into white-hot pain, causing him to call out into the stillness of the night.
Without warning, he is plunged into another time while Lilliana is left to watch his soul leave his body, where the now-milky white of his eyes stare into nothingness.
At first, he thinks he is the one who is dead. The world around him is lifeless and so eerily still. There are a few moments of silence that passes and Warden realizes he is still in the forest he ha been in with Lilliana - in the same exact spot, too - except she is gone and so is her star. The familiar feeling of foreboding tightens his chest, minutes ticking by as he waits until he is brought back into the present.
Above him there is nothing - no stars, nothing to the atmosphere except endless black and the terrible ring of light that seems to drag everything into it with deep, gaping breaths. Warden’s skin shivers, but not because of the sky. Something shuffles in the dark, skittering and clawing in the blackness - something that hadn’t been noticeable before, but now lurk freely. Something angry, something that is incredibly out of place.
The scenery flashes suddenly. He is in Tephra, Nerine, the meadow. He is thrown all throughout Beqanna and all if it is the same: unending darkness.
In each scene, the monsters become more hyper-aware of his presence. Their shadows turn to look at him, noticing his prying, and in each new landscape, they are drawing closer.
Whatever they are, when Warden feels their hot breath on skin - like its jaws were opening wide to clamp across his neck - he closes his eyes tight and is torn from the vision.
With a gasp, his eyes return to their deep navy color. His sides shudder, sweat staining his flanks. The Watcher stares into the ground below his hooves, the shock making him sick to his stomach. He tastes acrid bile rising in his throat and for a moment, it is almost as if he has forgotten Lilliana is beside him. He slowly turns to her, maybe frightened that she will no longer be herself, with gravity in his expression. He seems to nearly buckle before her.
“What - what do we do?”
@[lilliana]
