05-25-2018, 01:39 PM
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S he’s known him long enough to sense the unsettlement from within him. While she has never met the previous rulers of Tephra, he has known those who came before him. He has served under mighty and wise leaders, those who have guided the sulfuric island before him, and she cannot help but wonder if he is constantly reaching for the stars they crafted in their prime. Part of her also wonders if he has already reached them — if, in fact, he has climbed above them — and he simply sees everything in a distortion that forces him to believe he is far below their constellations.She doesn’t say any more in respect to their preparation for war, but her face moves so her dark nose can touch the slope of his neck just behind his ear. She huffs there gently, blowing a few errant strands of his navy mane, in a sign of comfort and allegiance. Though Beqanna is tense, as though a thunderstorm were about to break over their heads but for now the dark, thick clouds only hang above them, Wound will stay by his side through it all. There’s another pang (this one is smaller, but still pricks at her delicate heart) when Warrick mentions the coming of another child. Tephra is blessed with many children and their laughing, smiling faces and it warms Wound’s heart. Since Wishbone, however, the silver-bay has been without a child at her hip and the thought leaves her empty and quiet inside. She is grateful for her Overseer’s fruitfulness and deep relationship with his mate, but she also hates herself for the longing that fills the grooves of her heart. “That’s wonderful news, Warrick.” The outer layers of her voice are warm and uplifting and she truly is happy to hear of another sibling of Wishbone’s. However, there lies an undercurrent of that same, deeply sorrowful feeling in the low of her stomach. His next question catches her off-guard, for the simple reason she didn’t think he thought enough of her loneliness to ask such a thing (but she’s always been doubtful of everything, deep inside). A shuddering breath leaves her lungs as Wound gathers her thoughts. Although she can feel his searching eyes on her face, she keeps her coffee eyes turned toward the navy sky and the pinpricks of light that shine there. “I love Tephra,” she says. The words are true — Wound will always be grateful to Femur for guiding her to the volcanic island and the brilliant, bright life she has found here. “I won’t lie to you, Warrick. I’m lonely.” Saying it out loud (the thought that plagues her throughout the night and into the days where she finds herself alone) brings a cold drip into her body and she shakes her neck roughly to rid the sensation. Silver-ombre mane tousles itself against her shoulders and then settles as she stops to turn her face toward Warrick. “I always imagined myself finding a handsome, sweet man to love… And who loves me.” The ghosts of what could have been (and what could be) dance quietly in her coffee eyes, but Tangerine always presses against the back of her mind. She takes another slow breath, feeling the haze of memory clouding her mind’s eye. “I saw a family one time, when my brothers and I traveled from forest to forest.” She suddenly realizes she’s never spoken about her life before Tephra to Warrick before, but the story is still rolling from her lips. “Two twins with the parents and the father had been playing with his children. I watched from the shadows and thought to myself, ‘That will be my family one day.’” Her eyes focus again on Warrick’s face, drawing herself away from the cobwebs of Beqanna’s forests and the smells of decomposing leaves. “I guess I just thought that dream would happen quicker.” |
credit to nat of adoxography.
@[Warrick] ): <3