The world roars into chaos. Outrage fills the sky, changing everything with an alarming speed. Weir finds himself in the middle of the Dale's meadows watching the clouds roll in. His mouth is full, sleek stalks of green pressing out of his lips as he chewed. Just as quickly the threat abates, a brilliance of light flashes blindingly over him, and all is still. Well, that was odd, he blinks and inhales, scenting the burnt sky.
A pounding clap of thunder rolls, spooking the unexpecting roan. He kicks, jumps, and starts forward a few feet, before he recognizes the threat and begins to pace.
Something is wrong, terribly wrong. The earth trembles, dust flings itself into the air along with all manner of loose particles, spinning its way into a vortex of wind. That too fades, sands falling limp to the ground, and Weir has already started toward the nearest crest.
Slowly, ever so slowly as he always is, and he misses the matter at hand. Come too late to hear the words fall like rocks from the magnificent angel's lips. Not too late though, to be of assistance. The radiance of white that is Tiphon rocks like a ship on choppy seas. And though Weir and he had never taken time to really know one another, there's nothing to hold him back from stretching his neck beneath the ex-king's. "Tiphon, what in the world?" His questions are concerned, brimming with disbelief, as he steels to maintain both of their balance.
WEIR
If you hurt me, that's okay baby, only words bleed
