"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos; your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge.
The volcanic island had never been hers.
She never felt in her blood; she never felt it as anything more than a burden – it had been meant for one other, and only one other, and his return filled her heart with both glee and relief. It was not that she could not handle the pressure, nor that she could not withstand the criticism and difficulties that came with the invisible crown. It simply belonged to someone else; it was never her fate to carry Tephra as her own. She protected it, and fiercely guarded it, always prepared to be the backbone in the face of adversity or to be the strength when she was needed to be – but she never envisioned peace, tranquility, and sanctum. Not as Magnus did, nor as Offspring did.
Not as Warrick does.
And so she emerges beneath the warmth of the falling sun, slowly eclipsed by the distant horizon, as if it were being swallowed whole by the sea. The pristine ivory of her preenly kept feathers flutter lightly in the sea-born breeze, stirring a shiver down the length of her spine as her gilded legs carry her to a hillcrest, where she can see the swaying grain and tropical foliage blooming before her. She is quiet and contemplative for a long moment, knowing what change lay before Tephra – and knowing what change lay before her, for Dahmer. With a deep and lingering breath exhaled at last, her voice bellows out over the grassland, calling all that dwell within and call the volcano their beacon and the island their domicile.
She is patient, awaiting their presence, her gaze heavy and lingering on Warrick –
The true Overseer; the truest she had ever or would ever know.
”Tephrans,” she begins, but she is not one for eloquence and refined speech. So often, she would prefer to cut through and get to the point of the matter, but there is an electricity to the air that causes her to take pause. To linger, and to absorb the moment. Warrick deserved the glory of the memory. ”as promised, the time has come to pass Overseer to an individual most deserving. Warrick has returned to us, and thus, the leadership is his, and he will carry Tephra into future days. Give him your loyalty and your devotion, and Tephra will thrive, as it always has. As it always will.”
She pauses with a sweeping gesture for Warrick to take her place.
”It has been a pleasure serving you,” she says, quietly – knowing it would be one of the last sunsets she would spend in the splendor of the Tephran haze.
He remembers his arrival in Tephra. The stallion had been lost to the stars, forever chasing his sorrow through the night sky and looking to the heavens for an answer to his grief and solitude. Even back then he knew that to make wishes on stars were a silly notion, and that they are not ones to grant them.
It is almost poetic as the sun sets before them, the stars filling the night sky above the winged stallion and mare as they wait for the others to arrive.
But as he reflects on the years he has spent in the tropical home, where the volcano offers him a peace of mind and where he truly felt at rest, he realizes that perhaps the stars have granted him his wish; he has found a home, a purpose, love, and loyal friends. He cannot even fathom how his life had changed from a tired and lonely orphan to the joy-filled stallion that stands before them today, but he is thankful for each and every moment. He remembers his first kingdom meeting and how he had lingered in the back, sullen and quiet so that he would not draw attention - and now, he is bold and vibrant, with cobalt-feathered wings at his sides and with a head held high as he stands beside Ellyse, feeling whole for the first time.
Warrick glances around at the familiar faces (some not so familiar, but his warmth in his gaze is all the same) of those who have been there since his very beginning here in Tephra, and those who are new to him yet just as close to his heart. He prays for the glimpse of Tangerine’s alabaster and honey-gold face, with dark tendrils of her wild forelock falling into her eyes, but his heart drops when he is not met by her friendly gaze, and in that moment, he misses her more than he can even begin to understand.
They are all here to recognize him, to support him, and he is there to do the same. The whispers on the wind of his new title were not quiet, and most would not be surprised to learn the truth in the fact that Ellyse would step away and the sun would rise with Warrick in her place.
Ellyse’s words reverberate within his heart, his very soul, and the softness of his gaze upon her cannot be hidden - the truest friend, his anchor within the stormy seas, a constant light in his life. And then suddenly she is looking at him expectantly, and he takes his cue to step forward, his sharp blue eyes now focused on the group - his family - that has come before him.
“Tephra is the only reason I am here today. This volcanic peninsula took care of me when I thought there was nothing left. It has been my everlasting duty to serve my home and those who reside here, and I will continue to do so with unwavering honor.” The stallion speaks deeply and solemnly, a vivid seriousness across the russet color of his face to let his people know he does not take the crown lightly. Their eyes meet his, varying in color and in walks of life - some gentle and wise, some young and bold, some looking for purpose while others search for a sanctuary - whatever their needs, the new Overseer will make sure to meet them.
“Tephra is not only a place. It is us - all of us. We are not perfect and we may not know everyone as well as we could, but we are a family. A family that takes care of each other, nurtures each other, encourages each other. As long as your loyalty, love, and devotion belong to Tephra, Tephra will belong to you.”
He is a gentle soul, kind and humble - but he is protective and entirely loyal to Tephra, and all the ones who call it home. The stallion will not hide his ferocity from those who wish it harm.
Warrick does not break promises, and his words to them are his solemn vow.
Wound has called Tephra home for only a small piece of her life, yet it already has much of her heart. She has explored nearly every inch of the island, wading through the tidepools of the beaches and leaping across the winding streams of lava and finding shelter in the lush, thickly-grown trees that rest close to the base of the protective mountain. She knows little of its inhabitants, aside from Femur and Longclaw and Warrick, but she is determined to meet more.
The only thing that holds her back is her own insecurity.
She’d spent the day following a particular river of molten lava, enjoying the walk as she wound between overhanging vines and shuffled through burnt charcoal embankments. A day of walking always brought an ache to her joints as the sun began to fall, and so Wound turns her heels for the ocean’s shore. The salt and warm water and constant movement of the tides soothe her bones when her disfigured leg brings forth bouts of aches and pains no one her age should deal with.
Wound finds herself withers-deep in the salty waves when the bellow rings through Tephra. She’s never heard the call of a leader before (aside from the demanding, protective trumpets of her brothers urging her closer) but it unlocks an instinctive habit deep the fiber of her bone marrow. So she heaves out of the water and heads toward the inner grasslands of her home.
Wound is still slick with seawater when she reaches the gathering and it douses her silver bay body in colors that reflect the dying of the sun. Anxiety immediately winds its skinny, tight fingers around her throat as she approaches those gathered. There have been few to witness her deformities — the misfigured twist of her foreleg, the small but still-bleeding cuts on her heels, the way her skin swells and itches upon contact with the sand — but there will be more still to come.
She positions herself on the outskirts, coffee eyes searching for familiar faces. Her eyes catch on Warrick and a soft smile graces Wound’s face. Their midnight swim had granted her a friend that night, and she is curious to know why he is standing at the head of the meeting. He is beside another winged mare with a look of pride on her face.
Although she knows nothing of politics, she can guess what is happening.
A gentle but sunny smile alights her face when Warrick is named Overseer of Tephra. Her experience with him weeks ago gave him a soft place in her heart and she is overjoyed to know that he now looks after them all. Wound doesn’t say anything, but her eyes go to catch his and the joy that is found there is endless.
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
This was something she had known was coming. It was only a matter of time. Yet still, a small measure of a moment passed when there were no formal words said about the passage of Overseer from one, to the other. Ceara did not know Ellyse--except by sight--but she wished her well in all her endeavors. She had spent time with Warrick, and had come to understand him as an individual apart from the new burdens he carried as Tephra's leader.
When the call sounded for them to gather, she found she was one of the first. Ellyse spoke, and then Warrick, and when he took the floor, his deep voice penetrating into the hearts and minds of those who still called Tephra home, she found that she was pleased that she had chosen to stay loyal to the Volcano she loved so much.
Her mother would be around as well, Surely. Reagan's love of this land ran deep, and though she was not currently here, Reagan's presence was satisfied through the eyes of her daughter--who currently had eyes for no one else but the new King.
Though she tried her best not to show it.
She stands silent, waiting to see what would progress of the meeting. Waiting to see if others would come.
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
She hears the summons; even from where she stands on the shoreline of their small island, she hears it. The little mare gathers the first of her foals to her side and bunts him forward with her nose when he gives her a questioning look because she does not let him leave this small nook of the volcanic world in which they call their own. She has kept him close, like a secret, because he is hers through fortune and thievery.
Femur has discovered something that she is good at besides loving her wild blue mate - mothering those that are left so carelessly alone. She lets loose a call of her own for the girl that has trailed her homeward, knowing that she moves more freely about than the little blue boy following her does. The girl will show when she decides to, kingdom matters are still above their grasp at this age and Femur encourages them to love their innocence a little longer.
So the pair comes;
Femur looks upon the coronation of the stallion that she has met but once and taken an instant liking to (rare for her, given that she only likes her babies and Longclaw) but he’d come to aid in another’s pitiful situation and she had been ever glad of that. Something about those moments together had shaped the beginnings of a bond that Femur felt she ought to pursue at a later date when the stallion is not busy in his initial moments as the new Overseer. She expects that her mate is somewhere nearby, forever patrolling when he is not plumbing the depths of her singular sharp adoration for him.
Her eyes find Wound, sees the way she looks at Warrick with a small sunny smile and something that Femur recognizes as joy in her eyes. Femur had only ever looked at Longclaw that way, but she tucks her sly grin into her cheek and musters a more respectable smile albeit fanged for the navy-pointed stallion that addresses them all. There is a brief moment where her mouth touches the speckled brow of the colt at her side, blowing a breath against his fur in an airy kiss. Wildling has no clue what is happening except that it is momentous enough to have drawn her mother out from beside the meranti tree in their own nook of the world.
Like seashells or baubles, his lovely Femur collects shiny things and Longclaw (being one of them) watches from his cover with a curt smile as she gathers their son to meet Ellyse’s call. He’ll come - in due time, of course - and when he does the rest have begun to filter in for the ceremony. It’s only natural that he emerges like a blue protector, hovering near to his golden girl with their new youngling between them.
He’s missed the gist of it, whatever it was that had called them together, but soon Warrick’s voice takes precedence and his evergreen eyes tear away from his covey to find the first horse he’d ever met on these shores. A family that takes care of each other, nurtures each other, encourages each other. As long as your loyalty, love, and devotion belong to Tephra, Tephra will belong to you. He surmizes, and silently the blue stallion bobs his head.
Family. It’s what keeps him here and keeps him guarding the shores. Warrick should have no fear of those intentions changing, not when Femur and his son (or the other odd children she’s found) will call this place their own.
But Warrick doesn’t need verbal assurance; his command of the crown is admirable and Longclaw already knows his loyalty will come fast for the winged King. Let Claw’s actions speak for his loyalty instead - he’d outstayed two previous rulers now. One more was simply the turning of a new page.
The overseer calls, and they gather. Amorette is no exception. With the others that had gathered, three other mares, a couple of kids, an unknown male lingering in the back and then a familiar face that she hadn’t seen in a long while: Warrick. Her attention switches to the golden winged mare that had been introduced to her as Ellyse and Amore listens to what she has to say.
It was the third time she witnesses such an event. Different words had been spoken every time and different reasons had been given, but the underlying message was the same. One ruler stepping down and appointing a new one. This time the invisible crown was passed on from Ellyse to Warrick.
She hadn’t seen the star gazer in a long while. Ellyse had mentioned that he had returned to them, thus pointing out to her that he indeed had been away, doing god knows what. Not that Amorette can hold that against him, she had spent time in solitude too, though never away from Tephra. She missed something of herself when she wasn’t around the volcano.
Out of those that have gathered, no-one else speaks before her. Though the silence isn’t pressing or uncomfortable, Warrick deserves a welcome. She cannot call them friends, or acquaintances even, but a familiar face nonetheless and one that seemed willing to invest in Tephra. ”Welcome home, Warrick. It’s good to see you back.”
When it’s said and done, we’ll have our scars to show
Zephyr knew the time for a new leader would come eventually, so when Ellyse calls to them beneath the starry night sky, she figures this would be the reason why. The alabaster mare gathers behind the group, looking to each of them for any sign of Krigare. Was he there, in Tephra, still? Or had he disappeared like she had thought he did, leaving her as alone as ever?
She finds no sign of him among the crowd, and her heart drops. So, she really was alone in this world. A sigh escapes her, and she remains a shadow behind the others listening intently to Ellyse and Warrick speak.
“Tephra is not only a place. It is us - all of us. We are not perfect and we may not know everyone as well as we could, but we are a family. A family that takes care of each other, nurtures each other, encourages each other. As long as your loyalty, love, and devotion belong to Tephra, Tephra will belong to you.”
When his speech has finished, the scarred mare feels herself swell with pride. Tephra was her home, no matter if she was alone or not. So, she should offer the services of her enhanced sight to it. After the others have dispersed, Zephyr approaches Warrick, bowing her head in respect to her new king.
"Congratulations, my Overseer," She murmurs quietly. "I would be honored to offer my services to that of the guard, if you will have me." She remembers how Longclaw had said she would be of use to Tephra. She hopes he is right.
The lioness doesn’t respond to the call, instead it is the gathering and movement of horses that lures her in. She approaches them off wind. Their scents are carried towards her, while the chance that they notice hers is minimal. It’s all instinct that drives her, that teaches her, but it is the hunger that makes her desperate. It had been a couple of days since the lioness had had her last meal, one that wasn’t very satisfying.
An equine would do nicely, and she would be able to feast on it for a little longer than just one day. In a crouched down position she sneaks closer, still hidden by the thick vegetation the jungle like part of Tephra offers. Naturally the meeting wouldn’t be in such confined space, but it made a damn good hiding spot.
Her tail lies on the ground behind her, belly pressed against the ground. Her ears upstanding, listening carefully to the sounds coming from the gathered group. Words are exchanged, but they make no sense to the lioness. All she sees them for is a nice little snack.
Or, perhaps, not all of them. Her eyes narrow on the blue form of one of the males. He is not really at the gather, instead he hides in cover, very much like herself. The instinct of the lioness tell her that he’s alone and thus an easy prey. But instead of sneaking upon him, seeing him is her clue her to retreat. No horse as meal today.
![[Image: sScEgld.png]](http://i.imgur.com/sScEgld.png)
