He feels slight relief when he’s speaking to Djinni. It’s not a kind of relief that one would hope for in a situation like this (true relief would be the return of his family, of course) but for the first time since their disappearance, the ache didn’t feel as sharp. Warrick continues to watch the skies, much like how she kept her eyes on the trees that stretch ghoulishly upwards, the darkness slowly creeping in on them.
The freshness of dusk begins to press against his flesh, the warmth of the sun diminishing and replacing itself with the cool tendrils of night. It was a familiar feeling as the darkness slowly sweeps over him, bathing his mahogany and navy body a shade darker. He skin twitches subconsciously, though he is not sure if it is the sharp air of night that causes it. The enormous trees of the forest also make it seem a bit more foreboding as the sun sinks lower beyond the horizon, its orange fingertips reaching out for grip and finding none as it sinks below their eyesight.
The two stand here quietly in the stillness of a receding sunset, eyes elsewhere and thoughts masked.
He doesn’t respond to her statement, which was what it was. It was obvious that the chasm that was left behind by his mother (and twin) was one that could possibly never be filled. He would most likely experience a longing that could never be quenched. Warrick was slowly coming to terms with this, though he hadn’t entirely realized it just yet.
Warrick sighs, his blue eyes dark and brooding as he watches the skies, flicking back and forth as stars randomly appear – noting each one thoughtfully. Djinni does not dismiss his family history and for that he is slightly more relaxed in responding to her quiet questioning. “I haven’t,” he murmurs sorrowfully, eyes still searching the star-soaked sky above him attentively. “I think I could get there, maybe. I have the will, but lack the power to do so.”
Or maybe I lack whatever it is the galaxies saw in mother and Beyah.
He snorts softly, thrusting his head upwards a bit in a slight toss to rid the thought. He accompanies this with a stamp of a single hoof against the damp earth beneath him. With eyes still wandering the skies haphazardly he calmly asks her, “Have you always lived in Beqanna?” For a moment his eyes break away from his gazing to quietly survey her, noting the golden bangles that shine brilliantly in the silver of starlight above them. “What do they mean?” he asks, meaning the golden hoops that gingerly lay on her ears and ankles. The question is said before he has time to stop himself and for a moment he is slightly embarrassed, but the curiosity still lingers in his bright blue eyes. “I mean, are they from your family?”
warrick