05-15-2019, 06:16 PM
He had been gone a long while - left as a colt and returned as a stallion - and the notion is all too clear when a stranger approaches him, realizing that though Tephra was his birthplace, that he had no name here. His ivory ears prick forward as his head turns towards the stallion that approaches him, a soft snort leaving his nostrils. The stars illuminate the stranger’s path while Warden’s dark eyes remain unwavering and motionless. There had been a time when he knew each and every soul within Tephra. Now he is the stranger being greeted.
Warden swallows, shuffling his wings gently before settling them tightly against his auburn sides, starkly white against the darkness of his barrel. Small splotches of white glow etheraly on his chest and shoulders in the dim light, his chin tipping upwards in silent greeting to the dark stallion that now stands before him. He’s young - probably around Warden’s own age, actually - and though there is friendliness in his voice, the winged stallion can tell that he is not here merely to make a new friend.
“Revisiting some memories,” Warden admits idly, his oceanic eyes shifting from the black colt towards the equally black skies. It was half true - Tephra had been his home and he hoped to make it just that again. He should be finding his parents and his family, perhaps even learning of their whereabouts during his departure while the plague was ravaging all of Beqanna - but he’d rather be here, wading in starlit tide pools and soaring through open, ashen skies.
“Call me Warden,” he offers mildly, hoping that giving his name would soothe any suspicion that the other might have about his sudden presence on the vacant beach.
@[Jakub]
Warden swallows, shuffling his wings gently before settling them tightly against his auburn sides, starkly white against the darkness of his barrel. Small splotches of white glow etheraly on his chest and shoulders in the dim light, his chin tipping upwards in silent greeting to the dark stallion that now stands before him. He’s young - probably around Warden’s own age, actually - and though there is friendliness in his voice, the winged stallion can tell that he is not here merely to make a new friend.
“Revisiting some memories,” Warden admits idly, his oceanic eyes shifting from the black colt towards the equally black skies. It was half true - Tephra had been his home and he hoped to make it just that again. He should be finding his parents and his family, perhaps even learning of their whereabouts during his departure while the plague was ravaging all of Beqanna - but he’d rather be here, wading in starlit tide pools and soaring through open, ashen skies.
“Call me Warden,” he offers mildly, hoping that giving his name would soothe any suspicion that the other might have about his sudden presence on the vacant beach.
@[Jakub]
