"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
Dawn alights on the dark angles of his face, chasing away the starlight from his skin and enveloping him in his entirety in an soft, orange glow. Even at its daybreak, the sun warms the land quickly with its brilliant heat, causing the once shrouded foliage to open up at its gentle touch of light. Warrick does the same, stretching his broad wings beneath the familiar warmth, shaking the moonlight and stardust from his cobalt wings.
He had spent the night flying through a sea of stars, his skin smelling of clear, crisp air and the soft dew from the clouds. Even his mane is still damp from his flight through them, clinging to his neck and face as the sun begins to dry him, each ray of light filling each crevice between his feathers, and each curve and slope of his shoulders and chest.
He stands on the shoreline, where the tide had receded far enough back into the ocean that small tide pools have opened up all over the blackened beach, the gentle morning breeze rippling the shallow waters. Warrick brings his wings back to his sides once they have dried, flapping them once in one great swoop before folding them carefully, turning his head to preen the feathers gently with his teeth and to put them back in their rightful place. The act causes his mind to drift to Ellyse - the one who showed him how to maintain and use his wings, and his chest tightens. Her absence leaves him feeling vulnerable and on edge; not only hers, but Dahmer’s as well.
Warrick continues to groom himself, lost deeply in thought as he ponders Tephra’s situation at hand - the country is susceptible to any act at this point and he fears the worst, especially when he himself lacks any sort of ability that would render his enemies weaponless. Can he protect those within the mainland? Can he keep them safe? Though he enjoys the power of flight more than he cares to admit, he cannot help but feel powerless - he is no magician, no fire-wielding wraith, nor shifter.
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
Yes. Warrick is simply enough.
He is strong, and wise, and honorable.
What he lacks, is confidence in his own abililities. An Overseer, a King - a servant. Humbled by the weight of his responsibility. He was a good leader - the one that Tephra needed. He just needed to start believing it himself - something that everyone else already did.
He also needed to stop flying away. When the going gets tough, the tough simply dont flitter off into oblivion!
Which is exactly what happened the last time Ceara had seen Warrick. She had not been sure how to respond to the whole thing. Was it something she did? Was it something he'd felt? She was determined to try and not be angry. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation. He was a busy man with alot to do. He wouldn't just fly off and leave her hanging. This is what she kept telling herself. She was not angry. She was not angry
She was angry.
Ceara makes her way over to where the islands bleed into the mainland. When the tide goes out, it as if they are no more than tiny hills in a sea of wet sand. Tidepools, each with their own set of wildlife, dot the landscape, and Ceara has always been fascinated by the anenomies. And yet when she sees what she finds standing there, the tidepools remain forgotten...
"I see you have found time for grooming your precious feathers. Must have been a grueling flight. Running away from any other women lately? Or is it just me?"
Her tongue clicks behind her teeth, and she is visibly sizzling.
The Overseer lifts his head from the lazy way he had been straightening his feathers, his deep blue eyes flickering upwards to meet the lovely and slender form of Ceara - he smiles at first, genuinely happy to see the ebony and crimson lady, but as she approaches, his smile soon fades into a soft frown, his brow furrowing. She is simmering, much like the bouts of heated water that rises from the depths of the volcano’s belly. Her eyes are like coals, flecked with intense red of burning embers within their irises. Her voice is just as flame-licked, and perhaps if her breath would have touched his skin, it would have burnt his flesh.
“Ceara,” he begins gently, though he does not pretend to not understand what she is alluding to. Her words are fierce and sharp, but with a disappointment that widens the blue of his irises, he knows she speaks of the truth - he is his own obstacle for much that happens in his life, and it is not the first time he has pushed himself away when fear or doubt begins to creep into his mind. In this instance, guilt and uncertainty caused him to take to the skies and leave her by the river, afraid of what he might do, of how he might hurt her, or his family, or anyone for that matter. Of course, he understands his own ways - but Ceara, full of youthfulness and hope and dreams, has not experienced his way of effectively keeping himself away, and thus boils in anger and resentment.
It is complicated, he wants to tell her. He refrains, for he knows that is not the explanation she is looking for. But it is complicated, and his emotions and heart are all tangled up within each other and he simply cannot sort anything out into its proper place the way he normally can.
“It is dangerous for me to be alone with you,” he admits to her, and even now he resists the urge to brush her forelock from her burning gaze, and to erase the thin line on her ebony lips where laughter should be. There is no reason for him to try and find an excuse in the midst of her anger, and Warrick finds it hard to say anything but the truth.
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
It is dangerous for me to be alone with you.
And there it is. The crux of the situation. Ceara looks up at him, and the wealth of her anger that she'd found herself steeping in since she had seen him melted away. She was irritated with him, and she wanted to pluck every last feather from his wings so he wouldn't fly away from her any longer, but she Loved his wings. And his eyes. And..
"If you think you are dangerous, then you haven't met my parents," she whispers, a small laugh in her voice as she searches his face - his bright blue eyes - for anything that might give away his thoughts. How she wished she was a telepath like her mother. But she thinks, no, that would not be fair. Warrick was entitled to the privacy of his mind, and she would have to learn to trust him to tell her what was on his mind - if he had any chance of becoming more sure in himself.
More sure of her.
"I think you know I love you, Warrick." She says, hushed, darting her eyes away from his face and turning her body to stare out at the expanse with him. The pools, those individual eco systems, each one so different and exotic, much resembling the multiple islands that made up Tephra. "And I know you're concerned, and thoughtful, of our situation. But I'm not a child anymore."
She sighs. The heat of the Volcano is at her back, burning as it does so. The chill of the fall is coming, and while Tephra remains mostly untouched from the seasonal changes, the riotous change in her emotions has Ceara feeling shell-shocked, and she says exactly what is on her mind - let the chips fall where they may. "I don't need you to defend me, shield me, or hide me. I've got Levi for that. I..."
A beat, a cough, and she brings her gaze to his, heavy and thoughtful.
"I don't want another brother, Warrick. But I am here to serve you in every capacity you need me to. Tephra is my home, and I will help you defend it..." her voice gets warmer, more hushed.
He refuses to tip-toe around the situation any longer - because she is not a child any longer and she wishes to be treated maturely, so he will oblige. He is afraid to hurt her, that his way of pushing her aside would create an emptiness within her that will be filled with anger and resentment, but if she wishes the truth despite this, she will have it.
His brows rise with amusement at the way her tone shifts, realizing that his admittance of the truth seems to calm her quite a bit, which releases the tightening grip in his chest slightly. Her parents. Of course, they had been at the back of his mind as well, but they are not the sole reason Warrick is hesitant to be around her - he is sure they will disapprove of her being near anyone, and her father’s fondness for Warrick will not overcome his need to protect and keep his daughter safe. Warrick can understand that, being a father himself. Ceara’s fiery red gaze finds the coolness of his blue, and though still blazing, the boiling anger has subsided - for the time being.
‘I think you know I love you, Warrick.’
The stallion’s chest tightens again, a frown finding his lips as she turns to stand beside him and to stare out along the expanse of the shore, suddenly a timid and shy creature despite her normal bold stature. Her confession sits heavy on his heart, which beats steadily in his rib cage, fluttering every now and then. He wants to please her, he wants to make her happy, but he isn’t sure how. Can he return the words she desperately wishes hear? Is his heart even capable of loving more than one, when his entire lifetime has been set only on Tangerine? Is it possible, to understand her more now than he ever had, in this moment with another woman?
The blue-king sighs deeply, his breath rattling in his chest. She turns to meet his gaze once again, and his eyes are ready to find hers for he had not looked away from her since the moment she arrived, her voice heavy and laden with precise thought and emotion. Perhaps if he had not been named Overseer, things would be simpler than they are now - perhaps this wouldn’t be a problem, or a concern of his.
“I know that in whatever comes to Tephra, you will be as steady and unyielding as the volcano that watches over us.” He pauses, cerulean eyes wide with their softness. “You must understand that I cannot act on whatever this is -” Whatever is inside of him, toiling within his heartstrings. “ - Tephra needs my undivided attention - we are in a precarious situation, currently, as you know.” Was he speaking of Karaugh and Levi, or himself and Ceara?
Please do not hate me, he pleads silently, dreadfully wondering if he has perhaps the youthful innocence of the young woman before him.
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
Ceara would have been a fool if she has never heard the name Tangerine. It was no secret that Warrick thought of another. That he had loved another. She is not blind - and yet, she finds that she does not care. She loves him, even if he cannot return it.
Even if he does not want to.
She loves him as much as she loves her beloved Volcano, and hides within the embrace - within the shadow - of each. They are strong. Pillars of strength and honor in her eyes, and Ceara struggles to keep her emotions from her face as she listens to him speak. He speaks of their home, and the undivided attention that Tephra apparently needs. She snorts, her eyes unwavering - unyeilding.
"And this is a burden you intend to carry alone? You are one man, Warrick." Ceara's voice is breathy, passionate. "A great man, but one man none the less." She cannot help herself. The black sunset mare draws near him, placing her lips on the point of his shoulder, kissing him, seeking his heat and strength. Anything that would prove his words false. "Offspring had Tantalize and Reagan. Ellyse had Dahmer. Who does Warrick have?"
Her words are muffled as she draws to him, breast to breast, letting him feel the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart. With her eyes, she looks up at the Volcano, the might of Tephra. She felt herself slipping away, hoping, begging that she would wake up from this. That the memories of their swim would have been enough to sate her. To play to her dreams, and give her the fantasies she has thought of ever since she was a girl. However, it was not.
Now she finds that she wants more than the fairy tale. She wants him.
And now she is just barely gripping onto the reality that she may never have him.
If she could have heard what he begged her in his head, she would have immediately have bursted into tears. I could never hate you. Never, in any lifetime.
His heart has always been open and full, ever since he was merely a boy. He took care of his mother and his twin sister until their disappearance into the stars at the Reckoning, and the protectiveness that he had for them back then now has overflowed into each equine he meets now - he strives to make them feel needed and hopeful, protected and safe within his guidance and leadership - but now, he is starting to realize, that his heart is now bending into many directions and he cannot keep promises he makes (even if they are only promises to himself). Ceara needs him in a way that he is not sure he can give her, but there is a part of him who wishes it so - that he could be the stronghold for her in the way that she wanted, the way that she needed. He cannot help but think he is to blame - she is young and impressionable, and though he is able to deny himself certain things, she may not be able to do the same.
Her words are wise beyond her years, and with a solemn face, he listens. She draws nearer to him, the darkness of her hide against the auburn of his own, the narrow of her chest against the broad thickness of his. Her mouth finds the coiled muscle beneath his skin, deliberately and without hesitation pressing her lips closed in a kiss - his flesh shivers, though he cannot tell if it is because of her words or because of the warmth of her mouth against him, but he dare not linger on the thought a moment longer. His cobalt feathers ruffling gently at the feeling of her skin so near to him, their downy softness brushing against the russet of his barrel in hushed whispers. “Ceara,” he murmurs, his brow furrowing as he keeps his gaze on her, despite her blazing eyes turning to the volcano in the distance.
“I am not alone,” he tells her with a tiny tilt of his head, the black of his forelock cascading into his vision. “I have all of Tephra at my side to carry me - to carry us all - into prosperity. I have you.” He presses his lips together in thought, his mouth growing taut as the blue of his muzzle creates a thin line.
Warrick is aware of what lies beneath her questions - she knows he has Tangerine, but not always. The woman is as wayward as the wind and though her scent graces the Tephran shores often, she is also not attached to the volcano as he is. He wouldn’t want her to be - then she wouldn’t be who he fell in love with - but the stallion curiously watches Ceara as the young mare unknowingly creates a spot for herself, a pillar of strength when his Tangerine's absence becomes too much to handle.
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
In this, Ceara is confused. The words he says, and the ardor he shows as he presses into her skin presents a palpable tension that was as thick as the seafoam that congregated at the shoreline. It was also just as salty. But despite all that, there was a lingering sadness that showed Warrick was holding something back.
Something he was not ready to give.
Would he ever?
This mental dance that they were playing - one that was not just minds, but hearts and bodies as well - was exhilirating. It was tiring. And she wasn't sure what was going to happen next. All she knew was that her devotion to Tephra - and to Warrick - meant that she wasn't going anywhere, and that was something he was going to have to get over.
Because Ceara did not run from her problems.
Rather, she ran into them head on. She was catty like that.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, and from where she stood staring over his shoulder, that single point of moisture probably landed on his body. She was too focused on her thoughts to notice. Instead, Ceara concentrated on the mystifying way the colors of the lava ran together. She stood entranced, as the sun creeped its way across the sky. It seemed that they stood their for hours, until they were bathed in the shadow of the volcano.
Finally, quietly, and almost absentmindedly, Ceara speaks, her voice soft. "I love feeling your heart beat. Somehow it reminds me that Tephra is going to be okay. That I'm going to be okay."
01-05-2018, 07:33 PM (This post was last modified: 01-05-2018, 07:33 PM by Warrick.)
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
Something is not ready to give.
The stallion refuses to bend or break - he is unsure the stirrings within his chest, fluttering along his ribcage when she presses in close to him, wanting his protection and his embrace, to let him shield her from all the bad things in the world and to keep her safe. It is all he wants to do, to give her what she wants and to be that for her - a king, a lover, a guide - whatever it is, he wants to be it. He doesn’t want to see her anything but happy, because it is what she deserves, what she craves. And if he could just give that to her - solidify her feelings with words of his own - he could make her happy.
But darkness clouds his mind, weighing heavy in his head like a weight, refusing to give way or budge. It sits there, immobile (or stubborn, perhaps). She doesn’t press him though, which rattles him all the more - why doesn’t she fight him? Why doesn’t she yell at him and beg and plead?
Why is she being so understanding?
Why does she find him even deserving of her empathy, her gentleness?
It rips through him as a wave of guilt and sadness - that such a young, beautiful thing is willing to give him reprieve and sits here comforting him, in the midst of it all. The warmth of her tear on his shoulder stirs him, and his mouth rushes to her cheek, lipping away the saltiness as if that could undo all that caused it to fall. She is still not focused on him - her eyes are elsewhere, out beyond the volcano - and her voice is soft and feeble, and he feels a rattling sigh escape his chest at her words.
“It will always be here. I will always make sure you’ll be okay.” He promises her this in a deep whisper, as if it was a confession he was not meant to say aloud. “I’ll always be here,” he adds tenderly, moving a strand of her forelock from the burning irises of her flaming eyes that still stare off into the distance - he had never seen them so sad. “You are incredible,” he murmurs suddenly, his cobalt gaze set on the angles of her lovely face - he needed her to know.
01-06-2018, 10:18 PM (This post was last modified: 01-06-2018, 10:34 PM by Ceara.)
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
She sighs, and pulls back just enough. The curved planes of Ceara's body crossed Warrick's gaze as she pulled her red eyes from the mountain, and settled upon his body. She wanted so much to put aside the lingering fear - the knowledge - that there was another. That there was something that she was pressing into - something that she in all her youth did not know or care to know. Yes, the name Tangerine did exist, and so did his children. And yet in her all her ignorance, Ceara could not find it in her heart to be aware of the fact that perhaps she should learn to give up, to find happiness elsewhere. That perhaps she should go to Nerine after all - that maybe, with time and distance, her best way to serve Tephra, and its King, was to separate herself from it. Nerine, prior to this, had simply been a thought - an adventure - to piss off her parents and to drag secrets out of her brother. She was too young to understand the older intricacies of relationships, and that maybe Warrick was not hers to love. She wishes no ill will on Tangerine. She does not know her. But likewise, she only knows so much in this world. Childish visions of Nerine still dance before her, but maybe - maybe. If she had more experience (intuition), maybe she would have seen that she needed to choose another path. Ceara still has much growing up to do.
But since that time under the volcano, days had passed in a blurr, in which Ceara did not know how the rest of her life was going to go. She has done much growing up, with the new knowledge that so much was going on beyond her vision - beyond her grasp. She suddenly had realized that there was so much she had not known, had not seen; that Levi had been keeping the dirtier side of politics and power away from his treasured little sister. But Ceara was no longer some small child who could just put away the things she had seen - the images that still haunted her. The things that power brought, the things it made one capable of doing. The things it made Levi capable of doing.
The things that Warrick was capable of doing.
Was she powerful enough to take on this level of power? Would she be okay destroying lives if it meant keeping her family safe? She knew she talked a good game. But Ceara lived the cushy life of a young princess. Though her father no longer ruled Tephra, her life has changed little in the years she's been here. And the image of Levi's blood trailing his neck - the bruises Karaugh sustained.
Little Ceara had truly grown up within these last days, and suddenly she was wishing she was the young girl who could still hide under her mother's girth, pressing into Reagan's warmth where she knew she was safe.
And yet, the only place she currently felt safe, even in the shadow of her favorite place, was right here. With Warrick. And Ceara did not have it in her heart to trust whether or not he would be there for her, or where she stood with him. What did he see her as? Was she Tephra, or was she Tangerine? Warrick, the man, was very different than the Overseer. She knew that Warrick cared for all those who called Tephra home. But the way he cared for them, was vastly different than the way he cared for Tangerine. The man, versus the job. The brown man with the blue eyes and the easy smiles who made her promises in the middle of a summer swim, was different from the cold soldier who demanded the release of a captured prisoner. The entities were very different, and it left Ceara with a sense of longing. Because when he had left her, he had barely touched her... But he had not once looked in her direction.
He had simply left.
And yet now, in the light of a twilight, and the red glow of the lava flow - her Warrick was back. Warm smiles, fudge colored body warm and pliable. Sweet, quiet words of assurance of dear friends. Dear...more? Because even though he has said he was unable to give more... He has not retreated. He has not stepped back. He stays still, allowing the rolling of their bodies and heartbeats to become inter-mingled, twined together in the dark. Words, promises, whispered like a lover in her ear. She shivers, wanting to believe him, her red eyes going soft, wanting to take him in.
Simply wanting to know where she stood. She finds that she is confused, and when he speaks, it is with such assurancy, such sweetness, that it makes her heart skip a beat. And yet she still longs to know, in which category has her King, her Overseer, her Warrick placed her. Is she in his Kingdom, or is she in his heart?
She places a kiss to his shoulder, letting the warmth of her breath linger there, before stepping back again, needing to see him - needing him to see her. Do you really mean it? she wants to ask him, but she falls silent, instead, she searches his face. "Warrick," she says outloud, wanting to say his name, needing to lay some sort of claim to it, even if it was not hers to lay possession to. "What will happen to Levi now that Kolera's mother has been released?"
A far tangent from what they had been discussing - but of late, her rock in Levi has been shaken, and Ceara is just looking for something... anything to cling to. She needs a new foundation to stand upon, and wonders silently if Warrick could be the one she could lean on. A mark of her youth, despite a very grown up emotion she feels for the man with her. It makes her want to confide in him, and to give him her heart. Wanting to know for the first time, what it would be like to be intimate with a man.
What it would be like, to be intimate with Warrick.
