the shadow proves the sunshine || wound

[Warrick]

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

She finds him in the dimness of dusk, the sun no longer a thought along the night sky. They are silent as they stand side by side, Warrick’s gaze upwards into the heavens while Wound peers into the familiarity of the ocean. An audible sigh trembles from his lips at her admission, and there is solemnity in the way his large head nods. A soft snort, somewhat of a chuckle in his nostrils, leaves him and his blue eyes fall to look at her with a sideways glance. “Good.” There is a smile that pulls at his navy mouth, gentle and purposeful. “Thank you,” here, Warrick reaches forward and presses the cobalt of his muzzle against the ebony of hers, nostrils fluttering, “for going to Ischia. I am glad to have you home.”

“With Ischia being so close, it would be foolish not to partake in an alliance with them. It had been my original intent to solidify ties between us.” Before all of this. He sighs. “I will take it upon myself to speak with Brennen. I’m sure that they are feeling the pressure from Sylva as well, and if Nerine and Ischia are sister-kingdoms by bond, then it is only logical that we are as well.”

His tail flicks against his navy legs and a slight ruffle of his feathers is noticeably heard, rolling his shoulders and tossing his head gently. He does not want to worry her, but she is not only Wound, but the Head of Peace. She must know everything he knows. “Kwartz and Krone are missing. Whispers say that Karat is, too.” The refugees who have found Tephra to be their safe haven in their time of need have fallen into the hands of perpetrators while Warrick was supposed to protect him. His ears fall backwards in disappointment, his jaw clenching tightly. “I do not know if it is Sylva, but I cannot see Ischia doing such a thing - not without a breath of diplomacy.”

Wound is looking into the stars now, and silently the Overseer’s eyes follow hers. “Orion,” he says thoughtfully after a moment, his voice spilling into the night air as the constellation boldly shines before them, thrusting his chin towards it, “Wishbone always loved that story.” He pauses, chin still upwards but with a single blue eye turning to look at Wound. “I bet she looks at it every night; maybe even right now.” He remembers telling Wishbone of the stars and his ancestry, and he is sure that even as she grows, she will continue to look into the stars just as he does.

Warrick

@[wound]