05-15-2018, 06:12 AM
we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
Despite his paternal instincts begging for him to remain in the humid and tropical climate of Tephra, the Overseer’s broad wings outspread in a grand sweep beside him, sunlight warming each lithe bone and navy feather. Tangerine is at his side, round with pregnancy, pressing gentle kisses into the musculature of his neck and shoulder, encouraging words of sights still unseen that have been shown to her in her third eye. The osprey-king finds his muzzle deep within the tangle of the mixture of dark and light tendrils, inhaling her sweet scent and whispering promises into her ear, while the salted and smoke-tinged sea sprays them as dark, crinkling water splashes against volcanic rock.He inhales deeply one last time; he must go, or he might never leave.
Warrick’s strong wings heave his weight into the familiar sky, leaving behind the dark plume of smoke that rises from the volcano and the accompanying black shoreline. Once in the sky and heading west, his mind feels slightly clearer. The heaviness of the crown is a burden, where concern and worry nearly always plague the brightness of his blue gaze, but it is a burden he would gladly bear for his people and his home. There are times when he looks back on the days where Offspring ruled, and how his life only concerned himself and Tangerine, and the twins. But time marches on and is merciless in its growth, and no longer are his days carefree and idle. Especially with darkness brewing in the southwestern forest.
The weather is warm and bright as he comes to the white sands of Ischia, unmarred by the familiar smell of smoke and ash. With quivering nostrils he calls for Brennen while he is still in the air, and for any of the brotherhood, the sound of his wings as they beat at his sides echoing above the soft crash of clear waves against pristine shores. Low tide greets his navy hooves, splashing into warm and translucent tide pools with a heavy and solid sound of his weight onto the sand. Warrick’s wings stretch and flap once, twice, at his auburn sides before their cobalt feathers are tucked in carefully, turning his neck to gently pull at the haphazard feathers with his teeth to lay them correctly. Hermit crabs chitter in the shallow water beneath him, scrambling in the white sand to find shelter, as well as the shining slivers of minnows trapped there, who now gently nibble at his fetlocks experimentally.
After much thought and deliberation, Warrick felt it is the time to meet the new King, and embolden their friendly stature into something much more. Nerine backed Brennen, as well as his own daughter in Hyaline. Wishbone’s judgement of him had solidified Warrick’s decision, and was rather interested to meet the bay stallion himself. The Overseer also wanted to tell Brennen himself that despite allowing a few that do not find the brotherhood to be just, his own personal ideas about Ischia were not the same and Tephra would not become a country set on revenge or vengeance because of the mutiny. Ischia is the closest kingdom to Tephra; an ally to the west would greatly relieve the building tension that grows between Sylva and the rest of Beqanna.
Warrick
@[Brennen]
<3