Warrick listens intently, absorbing Magnus’ words as well as the scenery. He has always had a keen eye for things, as he used to find and name constellations with his sister, Beyah, when they were just foals. He was also an extremely good listener – not just to others, but also to his surroundings. He remembers how silent he was during sunset – as if the stars wouldn’t appear if he was too loud or moved too suddenly.
He takes in the golden stallion’s words as if trying to quench a thirst (though truly, Warrick was attempting to distract himself). His face twitches into a smile at the idea of the mount having no name, towering over them like a sleeping giant or protector. He smiles momentarily and casts a sideways look at Magnus, humor in his eyes. “Of course it already has a name,” he says as if he just now remembered something from long ago, tossing his head so that his dark blue eyes can be seen from beneath the mass of long, black forelock. “All great things are born with a name. It will show us in its own time.” The smile on his weary face is genuine enough to light up his eyes, and for this fleeting moment Warrick feels like himself. He remembers his mother explaining this to him when he was young and first learning the groups and patterns of the stars. He felt as if Beyah and his mother were only feet away from him – and for a moment he did not dare to move.
But of course, it does not last. It cannot last, because his sister and mother are nowhere beside him and he is not in the stars with them, but on the warm, humid ground next to a world pulsing with fire and magma. This pains him briefly and as his smile fades, he shakes his head as if to dismiss the churning of emotions in his chest. It will be the moments like these, where he is face to face with the hard reality, that he will feel a piece of himself being chipped away by grief and loneliness. He inhales deeply, the humid air feeling hot and uncomfortable in his throat. His eyes turn dark and leave Magnus, once again looking out over the scenery that he knows will become his new home. He wonders if it will ever truly feel like home.
Magnus mentions the mountain and Warrick subconsciously shifts his weight in the opposite direction in response. He holds his breath and clenches his jaw tightly, refusing to let his mind go back to when he was also on the mountain.
Warrick nods, trying to focus solely on the part where there was a Council once, and now it pretty much was just Magnus. There is silence now, growing ever larger as Warrick soaks in all that is around him. It’s quiet in the still of the night as it grows later and later – soon night would be morning. Warrick appears to be lost in thought, eyes narrowing slightly as if focusing on something in the far distance. “Magnus,” he begins solemnly, the stallion’s name unfamiliar on his tongue but growing ever more acquainted in his mind. He sighs exasperatedly, his face seeming more worn and tired now in the moonlit glow. He almost begins to explain, the swirling thoughts in his head threatening to spill from his lips. He needs to tell someone. He needs someone to know.
He decides against it. Instead, he turns his head towards Magnus and with a knowing nod, tells him: “I will protect Tephra and its residents as if it was my own home, if you’ll allow me to call it that.” Here, a small smile finds his navy lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
warrick.
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)