He is a slinking thing; a lesser mammal. You would hardly know he was anything more than a feral dog, beaten and submissive. At least true wolves can bite.
Hush, dear. He will hear you.
It hurts me to say it (the dark voice rumbles on, unapologetically) but he is the worst mixture of prey and predator. You would have thought he had so much potential. At least there's Ferran - now she will be someone.
The words of his parents are too far off even for Firen's wolf ears to catch, but they reach his mind all the same. The young warg's thoughts were rarely his own. But what he hears does not surprise him or shake him. This was a refrain his father found some morbid comfort in repeating. It had burned him harshly the first time he understood it, but now it does little more than causing the dark figure to rustle in his half-sleep, flopping from one side to the other in the humid air of endless summer.
This was no place for a wolf.
A boulder of obsidian shelters Firen from all but the keenest of eyes. Tall grasses sway hypnotically above him as he uneasily rests with half-lidded eyes. He sighs, uncomfortable with the silence once his parents are out of range. His mind reaches for other minds beyond those of Levi and Rapture as he drifts, hoping for thoughts to fill the void. Sad or playful, devout or lustful - anything to distract him from the lurking realization that he seemed to be lacking in every way.
@[jenger] or @[insane] maybe?
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!
She doesn’t know what is coming – how could she? Phesque has never received visions of the future, nor has she known the skin of a second shape. Though she runs with wolves, they are her father’s and not her own. She will never taste the wind like her brother, nor bear her mother’s antlers as her sisters have. Yet none of this dissuades the boldness that courses in her blood, nor discourages the intensity of her self-assured expression. Sooner or later, one inevitably discovers that Phesque lacks for nothing.
If it had been anyone else, the wolf that sprawled beside a blackened rock might indeed have gone unnoticed. However, having been raised among them, it wasn’t hard for Phesque to notice the telltale signs of the canine’s presence. Its breath stirring the grasses – the subtle thump of its tail twitching in an unsettled rest. She is wondering as to how this one had been left behind when the pack had left for the hunt months ago, when a sudden racket brings her head around to witness the oncoming onslaught – and without a second thought she leaps across Warden’s path.
As it turns out, Phesque barely evades a wayward thrust of his horned head herself. “Watch it!” She glowers, her gaze burning fiercely as she thrusts her chin high in the air. A coppery mane billows about her youthful features. “You should pay more attention to where you’re going, you know,” the brassy girl huffs, gesturing to the wolf’s prone form in the tall grass just behind her. She felt certain that the overo had been about to trample, or perhaps gore, it – and since Phesque knew most of the wolves in Tephra as belonging to her father, she simply assumed that this one did too. It was therefore only right for her to intervene.
@[Firen] & @[Warden] I couldn't resist jumping in with you guys, hopefully that's okay!
He would have been content with less intriguing thoughts - with skimming the trivial, the mundane from the mind of a quiet grazer. But he is given far more than expected, maybe even more than he wanted, and as his searching mind finally locks onto another consciousness, bleary eyes snap open. He rolls onto his belly, the weight of sleep suddenly lifted.
There is a clarity to these strange feelings and images that he does not often see in daydreams or fantasies; these thoughts read like truth. But their content, the rivers of fire and blood, that is something which could not have happened, not in this lifetime. He would have felt these things in the minds of the elders before. He would have heard this story if it happened in this Tephra, of this age.
It may be the important most information to ever cross his mind, and it is enough to make him stir from his sheltered nook and do something against his nature.
Firen stands as the painted stallion passes him, and his face is a familiar one. They have never met - Firen has officially met very few outside his immediate family - but he has sketched the horned stallions character from the minds of others and often seen him in the distance. Firen is not one to intervene, he is a watcher, he is listener, but he needs to know.
"Warden," the dark yearling calls in the common tongue, and the word feels strange in his wolfish mouth.
"Wait."
The young wolf had been so absorbed by Warden's strange and significant visions that he hadn't even noticed the girl's mind, and his surprise is easy to read when he catches sight of her. So rarely did anyone ever sneak up on him, he feels disoriented and caught off guard seeing someone before he feels their consciousness. She is speaking, bold and brave, just as he catches sight of her and suddenly he has forgotten all about the rivers of blood and the sky falling.
But he just stands there, black lips slightly parted and red eyes staring, too afraid to read her mind and find out what she thinks of him.
@[Warden] @[Phesque] he is so awkward i apologize XD
He is suddenly met with an object in his path and his dark eyes take a moment to refocus. He nearly plows through her anyway, but stops short at the last moment and draws his chin to his chest, snorting loudly. A single forehoof digs at the ground for a moment, ears flicking backwards casually. There was no time for this, but the girl is young (not much younger than him, actually, but he likes to pretend he is a man) and he is unsure if spouting off what his third eye had shown him would frighten her or make him out to be a mad man.
Warden’s ivory wings twitch uneasily at his sides, almost as if they were threatening to suddenly open wide and carry him into the air. He presses his lips together, the pale white of his face staring downward at the bronzed girl, the soft pink of his nose wrinkling. He nearly thinks to tap her with one of his horns, just to see what she would do, but refrains. The girl motions to a darker shape just ahead of them and the darkness of his eyes follow the gesture. Warden is about to dismiss her with a little more than a prudent shrug of his shoulders, when his name is spoken.
In the same moment the shape came to life, leaping towards him. Warden’s eyes darken, looking down at the wolf pup quizzically. He had seen many shifters and the likes of the one before him does not surprise him. The pup knowing his name, however, does. He blinks, then tosses his head. He did not know when his vision would come to fruition, but he must do something to stop it. Something; anything.
“I cannot wait,” he says to the dark wolf, turning his eyes to the girl who had blocked his path originally. “Nor can I take the time to watch where I am going. ” There is no time. He pauses, inhaling deeply and trying to appear calm despite the uneasiness that sours his stomach. “Excuse me,” he mumbles, attempting to brush past them and hoping that they would not pry or follow him.
@[Firen] @[Phesque]
Of course not, join us!!
<3
06-02-2019, 01:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-02-2019, 01:25 PM by Phesque.)
She blinks when the wolf speaks, taking the shifter in stride – though if she had not been so affronted by the brusque dismissal she receives from the overo just then, she might have paid Firen more mind. As it was, she feels herself bristling instead when the stallion makes an excuse and begins moving off.
Phesque turns briefly to the wolfling, her fine brow arcing above honeyed eyes. “Your friend's in quite the rush, isn't he?” she notes, her silky voice imbued with a measure of scornfulness as she weighs her options. Then, with a cheeky grin thrown in Firen's direction, the girl wheels about to follow after the young stallion’s departing frame.
“Warden, then?” she says, her amber gaze flashing as she matches his longer stride in order to inspect him more closely. “I'm Phesque.” His expression is intense – a quality they seem to share – but there is an air of darkness to his focus that does not escape her notice. She takes a breath, considering him a moment longer before she asks, “What's wrong?”
The look on his face is a rather foreboding one, and his pace hasn't slowed since she'd first jumped in his way. She glances over her shoulder, wondering if Firen had also decided to follow after his supposed friend. Was it just her, or had a look of concern also crossed his wolfish features when he'd first asked Warden to wait? She was getting the unmistakeable sense that there was something going on here, and now Phesque was bound and determined to find out exactly what that something was.
@[Firen] & @[Warden] <333
|
![[Image: Firen-insane.gif]](https://i.postimg.cc/fL1FKyZk/Firen-insane.gif)
