06-30-2017, 08:08 AM
She is just a distant memory, blurred on the edges and vague, but Warrick does not easily forget. Sometimes he wishes he could, to scrub away the gentle and sweet memories of his childhood from his mind, to draw a curtain over the night he spent on the mountain, to simply think of nothing else but the present, without everything folding back to the past. Maybe one day he would find someone with the ability to help him with this issue, but for now he continues to relive his memories in pain, still staring up into the night sky and still answerless as to what happened to his precious family.
He’s been on edge lately, with the news of Hyaline’s attack fresh on his mind. He’s continued to keep himself along the borders of Tephra that melt into the rest of Beqanna, even though he longs to be at the shoreline with the salty wind caressing his face. But his worry has kept him in the denser parts of his home, lumbering quietly through thick and wet foliage, their broad leaves brushing against him as he parts them with his auburn chest.
Navy ears prick forward as he hears something walking through the land just as he is, their steps deliberate but soft as they press into the dirt. He lifts his head with a jolt, snorting sharply and inhaling quickly, cerulean eyes peering into the dark bracken and other brightly green flora cautiously. He finally sees her, a dark auburn mare (a yearling? Maybe older?) quietly making her way through the vegetation. The smell of smoke and ash is long soaked into her skin, but it is noticeable and immediately puts him on guard. His ears flick backwards impassively, immediately launching himself forward in a choppy trot, concerned as to who has so comfortably walked into his realm so flippantly.
A gentle soul, but with the rising caution that has come with the news that Amet had brought him, he was anything but gentle today. He slides to a halt directly in front of her to stop her from further entering, emerging from the shadows of the tropical verdure with an analyzing glare, the lines of his face hard and unforgiving as he watches her most untrustingly. He curves his neck, the muscles coiling beneath the shining auburn skin, lifting a single indigo foreleg to paw at the thick underbrush in agitation.
“Should I chalk up your blatant rudeness to merely a youthful mistake?” He asks simply as
he brings his muscular foreleg to rest squarely next to the other one, a solid exhale of breath leaving his navy lips.
But Warrick does not easily forget.
His gleaming eyes reach hers, his brow creased in reflection as he tries to remember why her face sparks something familiar in him. He tilts his head, the taunt muscle in his neck relaxing slightly as he does so, his dark forelock trickling over his inquisitive stare of blue.
“I know you,” he murmurs quietly with a slight narrowing of his eye in thought, a hint of a question on his rumbling voice. Did he know her?
He’s been on edge lately, with the news of Hyaline’s attack fresh on his mind. He’s continued to keep himself along the borders of Tephra that melt into the rest of Beqanna, even though he longs to be at the shoreline with the salty wind caressing his face. But his worry has kept him in the denser parts of his home, lumbering quietly through thick and wet foliage, their broad leaves brushing against him as he parts them with his auburn chest.
Navy ears prick forward as he hears something walking through the land just as he is, their steps deliberate but soft as they press into the dirt. He lifts his head with a jolt, snorting sharply and inhaling quickly, cerulean eyes peering into the dark bracken and other brightly green flora cautiously. He finally sees her, a dark auburn mare (a yearling? Maybe older?) quietly making her way through the vegetation. The smell of smoke and ash is long soaked into her skin, but it is noticeable and immediately puts him on guard. His ears flick backwards impassively, immediately launching himself forward in a choppy trot, concerned as to who has so comfortably walked into his realm so flippantly.
A gentle soul, but with the rising caution that has come with the news that Amet had brought him, he was anything but gentle today. He slides to a halt directly in front of her to stop her from further entering, emerging from the shadows of the tropical verdure with an analyzing glare, the lines of his face hard and unforgiving as he watches her most untrustingly. He curves his neck, the muscles coiling beneath the shining auburn skin, lifting a single indigo foreleg to paw at the thick underbrush in agitation.
“Should I chalk up your blatant rudeness to merely a youthful mistake?” He asks simply as
he brings his muscular foreleg to rest squarely next to the other one, a solid exhale of breath leaving his navy lips.
But Warrick does not easily forget.
His gleaming eyes reach hers, his brow creased in reflection as he tries to remember why her face sparks something familiar in him. He tilts his head, the taunt muscle in his neck relaxing slightly as he does so, his dark forelock trickling over his inquisitive stare of blue.
“I know you,” he murmurs quietly with a slight narrowing of his eye in thought, a hint of a question on his rumbling voice. Did he know her?
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick