I won't let you go; any

[Warrick]

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

The heat is relentless, thick and full of moisture. The vegetation seems to be dripping with sweat themselves, yet they continue to flourish within the humidity. The smell of sulfur and brine fill the air, barely a breeze touching the deeper parts of Tephra, the sea wind blocked by the dense foliage. All around Beqanna, the summer heat has begun to ebb, the chilliness of autumn now lingering on the gentle winds, the environment changing as the world makes way for the cooler months; but Tephra does not change. The volcanic peninsulas are persistent and unwavering – it is an endless summer, wrought with smoke and ash, blanketed with a cloak intense heat and stagnant air. It is not an environment that is particularly dreamed of, but the residents have become accustomed to it – Warrick barely notices the fervid temperatures anymore. The only time he does is when he visits neighboring kingdoms and lands, forced to remember that Beqanna continues to change while he is not.

Not much gets by Warrick, especially when he takes to the skies. Today, however, he remains grounded, emerging from the underground grotto where he spends most of his nights with Tangerine, set on a swim in Tephra’s cool ocean. The moment he emerges, there is something different about the air, and the winged-stallion realizes he is not alone, nor is he accompanied by a friend. The Overseer moves forward purposely now, blue eyes scouring the base of the volcano for sources of the unfamiliar scents.

While most horses have begun to have their coats grow in anticipation for winter, Warrick’s auburn skin remains thin and sleek, shining almost red in the warm sunlight. The constant humidity (as well as his frequent swims in the ocean water) causes his black mane and tail to forever be damp and wavy, crisp with a mixture of salt and sweat, plastered against his neck. His blue legs, painted with the deep indigo of the night sky, pull him easily forward as he moves purposelessly, merely enjoying the sunlight as it filters through the trees and plays golden, intense patterns onto the broad of his back. He is not concerned as he moves closer, for Beqanna is in a time of peace and he doubts there is any ill-will from these strangers, especially when he finally sets eyes on the duo, who are standing peacefully together beneath the sun and the volcano’s warm hearth.

However, these two should not have made their way to the volcano without the guard stopping them. He snorts softly to not only make his presence known, but in exasperation - where is Longclaw?

“Hello, welcome to Tephra.” he says to the champagne colored stallion and the brightly-winged woman, coming to a halt with a slight rustling of his own navy wings to his sides. “I am Warrick. I don’t believe we’ve met.” It is quite possible that either Wound or Amorette could have invited these two back to Tephra with them, so the Overseer is not quick to judge their purpose. Many new faces have joined the tropical, ashen peninsula, and with winter on the horizon, many more will join so that their children will grow beneath the warmth of the sun instead of the dreaded snow. He realizes, for a moment, he has forgotten to properly introduce himself. Yes, his name is Warrick, but he has still not grown accustomed to calling himself what he truly is. “I am the Overseer.”

It still feels strange on his tongue.

Warrick

@[Dagny and Olivier]
okay so kinda already love them. no shame.