It is nearly nightfall, the in-between time where the day is almost done but night has not revealed itself. The sun has not yet touched the horizon, but Warrick comes here long before that. The bay stallion stands near the base of the towering volcano, his brilliant blue eyes staring thoughtlessly into a rivulet of molten lava as it slowly boils, beginning its long journey though Tephra. He found comfort here, watching magma bubble idly instead of staring into a running river of water. The lava was in no hurry – it was calm yet purposeful. The idea soothes him.
The lava at night was magical. It brightens and revitalizes the darkened world, pulsing with life. As the sun moved across the sky, the lava begins to make a glow onto Warrick’s auburn coat, making him illuminate in the coming darkness. The warmth on his skin is comforting, though to many it might be too intense. He could feel the coolness of night at his back and he instinctively steps closer to the lava. He wanted to be away from the darkness, to bathe in the fiery glow of the magma beneath him and never emerge to a dark world again.
Warrick stands quietly, stoically – as he always has. The rampant war raging in his mind and body was not evident on his outward appearance. He keeps it bottled, under lock and key – he ignores it. Much like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound; it doesn’t do much good.
No one has asked him, and he wonders if anyone even cares. Not that he wishes they would ask him. No, even if they asked him why he is so distant or solemn, he had half a mind to lie to them. What good would it do? The pain he felt would never be relinquished; no one could help him.
Magnus’ stepping down was surprising to Warrick, though he hasn’t been here long enough for it to affect him. He thinks about Lucrezia (instead of those who he’d rather be thinking about instead) and her champagne coat splashed with white, and those great wings at her sides. He wishes he could have met her before the large meeting, so she could have had an idea of who he was before she was given the opportunity to take Magnus’ place. She had been inviting and kind – a gentle but firm leader she would be.
He snorts softly and wonders if she wanders Tephra at night, or if she takes to the skies.
Warrick mistakenly looks up, his thoughts of Lucrezia distracting him from the reason he was at the base of the volcano in the first place. He realizes this a moment too late. Though he had turned to look at the sky in purpose to see if winged mare was there, his brilliant eyes catch the thousands of stars that had just begun to paint the dark sky. He stands frozen, unable to tear his eyes from the dark, yawning abyss before him. His thoughts fly in a panicked frenzy.
Where are they? Why did they leave? Why wasn’t I able to join them?
He wonders if he will be able to pull himself away from his star gazing – or if someone would see him, staring up longingly at the sky as if it held all the answers to his happiness.
(Which it did.)
warrick