resurrect the saint within the wretch
The Watcher’s brow quirks upward slightly, pursing the pale pink of his lips thoughtfully. She hadn’t come across any of his recent visions and is more apt to relax upon realizing this; not seeing her means that perhaps nothing ill follows her, at least not yet.
He snorts softly and gently tosses his head, finding that her warm smile is enough to convince him that she isn’t here for anything more than reminiscing and travel, as most are. “Welcome back, then,” he replies with a small dip of his head, the deep navy of his eyes finding something about her familiar - though he couldn’t quite place it.
“Wishbone,” Warden repeats with a soft sigh, realizing that he can now put a name to the face of which he had heard stories. He had been fairly young, of course, but his elder brother never filtered himself for anyone - not even a child - and Warden faintly remembers the stories of Wishbone and how she might have been as energetic as Svedka, if not more. The King visibly relaxes a bit more, the great white of his wings fluttering softly against his sides. “It’s about time that we finally meet.”
Warden steps forward, stretching his neck towards her to lightly bump the ivory of his muzzle against the dark of her own. “A reputation, already?” He brings his horned head back to him with a curl of his muscular neck, the pillaring spirals prominently pointing into the air above him. “You know you can’t believe a word Svedka says, right?” There is humor in his voice and even the hint of a smile finds the stallion’s lips as he tilts a back hoof with a flick of his onyx tail against his dark legs.
@[Wishbone]