07-04-2017, 08:37 AM
The profound lines of worry deepen across the auburn of the strong angles of his face, settling there unceasingly as he watches the sun rise above all of Tephra. So much has happened. It’s a whirlwind of memories and emotions, but despite the things that seem to be pounding him into the sand, like the powerful waves on the shoreline, he is content – happy even, if he dares to let himself feel it. Of course, he wouldn’t allow himself that (couldn’t, at least not yet), for his thoughts are still lost on the horizon, melting into the cloudless sky that shines brilliantly with golds and oranges of early morning.
The air is thick and sultry as it begins to burn from the sun’s golden heat, Warrick’s coat sleek and shining from the unusually high temperatures. Winter has come for the rest of Beqanna, but Tephra remains untouched and unchanging, much like the volcano that towers over the land almost protectively. Feathers the color of the night sky rustle uncertainly, their massive size hidden by the way he has them tightly wound to his sides. The new attribute had him hiding away, unable to understand how he had come to receive them or how to even use them. The sea breeze, laced with the chill of winter from the south of them, ruffles the feathers against his skin and he twitches them involuntarily, the bones beneath their softness flexing gingerly before he forced them to press securely into his sides once again, shifting his weight from one muscular navy leg to the other.
As the sun lifts itself from the horizon, warming his skin with its intense rays, he begins to move.
He fixes himself at a slow trot, keeping his wings tucked in as if to encourage them to melt away into his skin, to disappear so that he didn’t have to wonder and question, or be lumbering through Tephra with a certain incoordination that was not unlike a freshly weaned colt. The weight of the wings against him causes an undeniable issue with balance that he has yet to be able to get used to, which in turn is the reason his deep voice is heard with a very exasperated grumbling.
Warrick takes his time to investigate the borders of Tephra, something that he has started doing more, though he knows who he wishes to find during his exploration. Each day he wonders if she’ll come to him, but with the recent events in Hyaline, he understands that it might be easier for her to stay with Amet. But winter is on the wind and he cannot help but wonder if she will come.
Navy-tipped ears prick forward as he inhales a familiar scent, his heart quickening as it pulses against his ribcage. Memories of that night in the cool of autumn flood him and he instantly begins to move a little bit faster, despite the cumbersome wings that are at his withers. When his deep blue gaze finds her, wide with concern and sparkling with excitement, he cannot help the smile that pulls at his indigo lips nor the soft nicker that rumbles deep in his chest. Warrick draws up beside her, his shoulder brushing against her own. He momentarily forgets that his appearance would be as much of a shock to her as her own appearance would be to him. His lips are at her neck, gently huffing along the line where her mane meets her golden and ivory skin, placing quick and soft kisses on the warmth of her skin. His indigo feathers flutter involuntarily at his sides as his mind ceases to think about them, opening up slightly as they respond to his thoughts that he didn’t even know he was thinking, brushing their velveteen softness against her as one wing begins to stretch instinctually over her back, as if to draw her closer to him.
He cannot allow himself to draw his touch from her, but his cerulean eyes are quietly scanning her, observing the slight differences that have arrived on her from their time apart; and though he immediately finds the soft scarring around her ankle from that terrible night in Hyaline (he should have been there still, he should have never left), another change lingers on her from a different night – a night she had spent with him.
Warrick says nothing yet, content to be basking in the warmth of her body and to know that she is safe and protected. He notices the swelling of her barrel, a gentle weight that she carries beautifully, but does not address the obvious just yet. He’s alone in his thoughts, a sense of pride washing over him at the idea of children (something that he had not been expecting, but Warrick had not been expecting Tang either and it was such a glorious thing), his heart twisting with a sense of love and adoration he had not felt until this moment.
“You should not have traveled alone,” he says tenderly into her skin, a hint of a laugh reverberating in his chest as he chides her. He pauses, his lips turning downward slightly as he suddenly becomes serious. “You’re alright?” He asks, his voice quiet and cautious, referring to what he could only imagine as a frightening and terrifying experience for her.
The air is thick and sultry as it begins to burn from the sun’s golden heat, Warrick’s coat sleek and shining from the unusually high temperatures. Winter has come for the rest of Beqanna, but Tephra remains untouched and unchanging, much like the volcano that towers over the land almost protectively. Feathers the color of the night sky rustle uncertainly, their massive size hidden by the way he has them tightly wound to his sides. The new attribute had him hiding away, unable to understand how he had come to receive them or how to even use them. The sea breeze, laced with the chill of winter from the south of them, ruffles the feathers against his skin and he twitches them involuntarily, the bones beneath their softness flexing gingerly before he forced them to press securely into his sides once again, shifting his weight from one muscular navy leg to the other.
As the sun lifts itself from the horizon, warming his skin with its intense rays, he begins to move.
He fixes himself at a slow trot, keeping his wings tucked in as if to encourage them to melt away into his skin, to disappear so that he didn’t have to wonder and question, or be lumbering through Tephra with a certain incoordination that was not unlike a freshly weaned colt. The weight of the wings against him causes an undeniable issue with balance that he has yet to be able to get used to, which in turn is the reason his deep voice is heard with a very exasperated grumbling.
Warrick takes his time to investigate the borders of Tephra, something that he has started doing more, though he knows who he wishes to find during his exploration. Each day he wonders if she’ll come to him, but with the recent events in Hyaline, he understands that it might be easier for her to stay with Amet. But winter is on the wind and he cannot help but wonder if she will come.
Navy-tipped ears prick forward as he inhales a familiar scent, his heart quickening as it pulses against his ribcage. Memories of that night in the cool of autumn flood him and he instantly begins to move a little bit faster, despite the cumbersome wings that are at his withers. When his deep blue gaze finds her, wide with concern and sparkling with excitement, he cannot help the smile that pulls at his indigo lips nor the soft nicker that rumbles deep in his chest. Warrick draws up beside her, his shoulder brushing against her own. He momentarily forgets that his appearance would be as much of a shock to her as her own appearance would be to him. His lips are at her neck, gently huffing along the line where her mane meets her golden and ivory skin, placing quick and soft kisses on the warmth of her skin. His indigo feathers flutter involuntarily at his sides as his mind ceases to think about them, opening up slightly as they respond to his thoughts that he didn’t even know he was thinking, brushing their velveteen softness against her as one wing begins to stretch instinctually over her back, as if to draw her closer to him.
He cannot allow himself to draw his touch from her, but his cerulean eyes are quietly scanning her, observing the slight differences that have arrived on her from their time apart; and though he immediately finds the soft scarring around her ankle from that terrible night in Hyaline (he should have been there still, he should have never left), another change lingers on her from a different night – a night she had spent with him.
Warrick says nothing yet, content to be basking in the warmth of her body and to know that she is safe and protected. He notices the swelling of her barrel, a gentle weight that she carries beautifully, but does not address the obvious just yet. He’s alone in his thoughts, a sense of pride washing over him at the idea of children (something that he had not been expecting, but Warrick had not been expecting Tang either and it was such a glorious thing), his heart twisting with a sense of love and adoration he had not felt until this moment.
“You should not have traveled alone,” he says tenderly into her skin, a hint of a laugh reverberating in his chest as he chides her. He pauses, his lips turning downward slightly as he suddenly becomes serious. “You’re alright?” He asks, his voice quiet and cautious, referring to what he could only imagine as a frightening and terrifying experience for her.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Tangerine]