11-09-2017, 04:51 PM
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
He had never known his father. His tiny family had only been made up of his mother, Orani, and his twin sister, Beyah. He had never needed the masculine authority overshadowing him as he grew, never craved it or wished it to be nourished - his sister and mother had been enough. Perhaps this is why Warrick is, now that he is matured and grown (and now a father himself), a gentle soul; slow to anger and quick to comfort. By no means is he weak, but the winged navy-pointed stallion does not care for the frivolities of power and control, for he found his life’s treasures in his friendships and his children. It is a blessing (one that he did not know he had received and probably would never know) that he did not know who his father was (is?). Learning his ancestry could quite possibly be the one thing that could break his very core, especially if he learns what his father has currently done to his closest and dearest comrades - torturing them beyond repair in a twisted and nightmarish world of the dark god.
The winds of winter do not carry to the tropics of Tephra, and the tradewind breezes are warm and salty as they brush against his fur, still sleek from his body growing accustomed to his homeland’s warm environment. For a moment he longs for the steaming caves beneath the volcano’s belly, gurgling and bubbling with heat and humidity - but this idea is quickly pushed from his mind when his brilliant cerulean gaze catches a familiar golden frame carrying herself towards him.
“Ellyse.” He says her name gently (for he has never been one to be boisterous or loud), his cobalt lips turning upwards into a smile. The voice of his closest friend soothes him; eases the worry that has built up on his return home, though his mind doesn’t wander too far from the golden and cream mare he left behind in the tall, swaying plains.
A deep laugh reverberates in his chest that causes his eyes to close as his friend collides with him, unable to contain her excitement as his arrival. The stark white of her feathers are brilliant against the dark hues of his, touching him with her nose as if inspecting him, making sure that he is whole and safe and real. “I’ll always come home,” he murmurs with a soft chuckle, brushing his own indigo muzzle against hers before the moment their faces pressed together.
She draws back and his slight smile never fades, neither does the sparkle of his blue gaze, but the concern he cannot hide. He looks unabashedly at his friend, his stomach dropping as he soaks in her new appearance - wounds barely healed, and only one hazel eye to greet him. He reaches forward (he has heard her words but he hopes she won’t mind his lack of response just yet), gently brushing the ivory strands of forelock away from the empty socket, tenderly unmasking the remnant of Carnage that now plagues her face, and surveying her thoughtfully. He presses his lips together, a sad smile following suit. He should have been here - for her, for Tangerine, for all of those who suffered under Carnage’s evil mind. How had he been spared? Surely he would take on all of their pain and fear if it meant they would not have to live with such a burden of reliving those terrifying moments over and over again.
He does not pity her (would Ellyse even allow him?), so instead an understanding smile finds his face, ever so slightly brightening the corners of his eyes. She had survived, just like Tangerine had - they are strong; probably stronger than he ever realized. “A force to be reckoned with,” he breathes, his smile broadening. He wouldn’t press her, but he hopes she knows he’s aware of her experience, he’s here for her.
“She’s doing much better,” he responds, his voice light. “Visiting home has been a wonderful remedy for her. It’s a lovely place, but I’ve missed my own home, and you as well.” He bumps her nose gently with his.
Changed? His nostrils flare inquisitively and he draws his head back quickly, lips pursing. “What has changed?” He snorts sharply, his mind flitting to Solace and Svedka, concern shadowing the angles of his face. Suddenly they were no longer two friends, but the heads of war and peace, and Warrick’s chest tightens at the realization that many, many things may have happened during his absence.
Warrick
@[Ellyse]