05-25-2019, 11:34 AM
He is watching the sun lower beyond across the dark ocean, setting the wrinkled waters aflame with oranges and reds. His lustrous, white wings are loosely hanging at his sides, rough with dried saltwater. The night wind caresses him, pouring its warmth across him, twirling the long tangles of black forelock and mane away from the stark white of his face. Deep and dark ocean-colored eyes reflect the colors of the sunset, the bay and white of his mottled body dripping in gold.
Suddenly, his breath catches in his throat - hard and fast - and the dark eyes of the young stallion click into a creamy white - ethereal and haunting at the same time as he stares pupilessly into nothing.
It always catches him off guard.
Always.
He’s soaring above Tephra, the familiar molten rivers glowing below him. Smoke and ash fill the air that he floats on, wondering to himself what his third eye wishes for him to see.
There is a cold, pitted feeling of dread that curdles suddenly in his stomach as he realizes that something is amiss.
The seer continues to soar, though now the rivers of lava were also rivers of blood. Smoke billows as the volcano in the distance rumbles warnings into the sky, and the sounds of screaming and wails of the dying overwhelm him. Flashes of red and the darkest of black cloud his vision, all the while the screams grew louder and louder.
When the ocean-blue of his eyes return, the sun is behind him, rising as dawn opens up across all of Tephra.
The horned stallion snorts sharply, disheartened and put off by the vision he had seen. War is on the horizon, rising with the sun.
He moves deeper into Tephra, perhaps searching for Leliana or even his father, uneasiness on the hard line of his ivory lips. Warden is distracted as he moves the bulk of his body through the dense tropical foliage of the inlands, throwing the thick brush out of his way with swift and purposeful swipes of his two twisting horns.
His thoughts are elsewhere - on the not-so-distant future; on fire and blood - that even the smell of a wolf does not seem to deter him.
@[Firen]
<3333
I hope it's okay that this is taking place pre-war!
Suddenly, his breath catches in his throat - hard and fast - and the dark eyes of the young stallion click into a creamy white - ethereal and haunting at the same time as he stares pupilessly into nothing.
It always catches him off guard.
Always.
He’s soaring above Tephra, the familiar molten rivers glowing below him. Smoke and ash fill the air that he floats on, wondering to himself what his third eye wishes for him to see.
There is a cold, pitted feeling of dread that curdles suddenly in his stomach as he realizes that something is amiss.
The seer continues to soar, though now the rivers of lava were also rivers of blood. Smoke billows as the volcano in the distance rumbles warnings into the sky, and the sounds of screaming and wails of the dying overwhelm him. Flashes of red and the darkest of black cloud his vision, all the while the screams grew louder and louder.
When the ocean-blue of his eyes return, the sun is behind him, rising as dawn opens up across all of Tephra.
The horned stallion snorts sharply, disheartened and put off by the vision he had seen. War is on the horizon, rising with the sun.
He moves deeper into Tephra, perhaps searching for Leliana or even his father, uneasiness on the hard line of his ivory lips. Warden is distracted as he moves the bulk of his body through the dense tropical foliage of the inlands, throwing the thick brush out of his way with swift and purposeful swipes of his two twisting horns.
His thoughts are elsewhere - on the not-so-distant future; on fire and blood - that even the smell of a wolf does not seem to deter him.
@[Firen]
<3333
I hope it's okay that this is taking place pre-war!
