"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
She had been determined to see him. That much she owes him after she’d disappeared into thin air. The decision to come and find him is an easy one, but following through with it is a whole different story. Amorette does not have the courage to face him, even though she knows she has to. It is what she wants too. So why is she hesitating?
These last couple of months have been rocky. The ebony woman had thought that she had dealt with this whole Levi ordeal. He hadn’t been hers to begin with, that she realises now, and she doesn’t hold it against him either. He had been there when she most needed him, offered her support during Byrne’s birth. Amorette cannot say she does regret her night with Levi, there is no way she could regret Byrne’s beginning. He is her world. But she had been upset with herself instead, regrets that she had allowed herself to get her hopes up. But could you really blame her from falling for her lifelong crush?
Really, Amorette had thought that she had been over it, but being called to Kolera’s labour site had proved otherwise. She’d done the only right thing – genuinely wanted to safe Kolera too – but seeing them together had been like a slap in her face.
The ebony mare had returned home with them. Levi, Kolera, and Zain. No mistake could be made. Zain was Byrne’s sibling, and yet, though there are family ties, they would never be a family. And that truth had driven her away from home. In that, she had not only failed her son, but Tephra and Warrick too. She had promised to be there, but she hadn’t kept her end of the bargain.
Better to get this over with fast, even if she wouldn’t like the outcome. Her whinny is loud enough to cross the distance between them. She has been watching the navy blue leader from afar, debating if she should indeed go to him or not. Now she has called out to him, there is no way for Amore to flee now.
The osprey-King finds himself staring into the sea, where his thoughts are endless just as the stretching of the horizon. The chill from autumn elsewhere in Beqanna has not graced Tephra with its frigid fingers, the only sign of a seasonal change being the haziness that covers the sea, and the slightly comfortable breath of the seabreeze against damp, sweltering skin. His coat remains clean and supple, smooth and shiny beneath the afternoon sun of what feels like a late summer day on the blackened shoreline. Salt-dried tendrils of his mane and tail are crisp and tangled as they brush against him, the sound of the rough seas filling his mind. His thoughts weigh heavy, just as the humidity that clings to the coiled muscle beneath his flesh, and for a moment his dark eyelids flutter closed so that he may focus on his breathing as he inhales and exhales in time with the continuous waves.
He is not sure how he knows, but he could feel her presence behind him. His eyes remain closed, continuing to breathe with the restlessness of his seas, blue-tipped ears flipping backwards to hear the sound of hooves pressing gently into wet, compacted sand. Her voice then rings out - and for a moment, there is a semblance of his body relaxing, a long and shuddering exhale of a sigh leaving the navy of his mouth. He had been worried - overly so, for his dear friend and her sudden disappearance - with the shifts in leadership and the darkness that brews in Sylva. Warrick had been keeping the thoughts far from his mind, but he could not help the idea slipping in that told him Amorette had been taken.
“Warrick...” Her voice holds a pause, continuing: “Hey...”
The Overseer turns his head over his shoulder, opening his eyes with the movement. He meets her gaze fearlessly, blinking slowly. “Amorette,” he replies simply, a shuffle of his wings at his side to accompany his voice. There is no malice or anger in his voice - only gentleness, and perhaps a bit of sadness. He waits for her to join him in the tide, ushering her towards him with a gentle thrust of his chin. He does not reach out for her - not yet - for he does not know her reason for her absence (Tangerine had gone, and she returned with the emotional scars of Carnage), and is quiet as he examines her with a shift of his cerulean eyes across her body. There seems to be no physical issues, so when his eyes find her again he stares into them deeply, as if trying to read the thoughts behind her irises. “Are you okay?” He asks her only because it is so unlike her, so uncharacteristically so for her to leave for no reason - there must be something that pulled her away, something incredibly important, (something terrible?) for there is no other way she would have left him alone.
He is just as she remembers him. His coat sleek, in contrast to the ruffled navy feathers. His manes tangled and dreaded, all without making him look sloppy or ungroomed. Never did Warrick look like he doesn’t take care of himself, or perhaps that is Tangerine. Amorette has never had the pleasure of meeting the Overseer’s mate, so she honestly couldn’t tell what the couple’s dynamic was like. And neither did she had have the pleasure to find her own other half. It was only a wild guess. Nonetheless, she takes comfort in the fact that he still is Warrick.
She is thankful for the space he gives her, the allowance for her to take her own pace as he waits patiently. Or, that is how he looks, Amore can only guess what is happening underneath the surface. And yet, her guilt makes her flinch as he visibly relaxes. She should have thought of everybody, everything else, before she had put herself first. Selfish.
Amorette cannot hold his gaze when he turns to look across his shoulder. Instead she stares at the ground at his feet, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. The ebony woman is not sure if the lack of anger is a good thing. Well, it is, but it is less hard to accept his anger than anything else. She does not deserve him, does not deserves this, and yet she longs for it. The shoulder to lean on, the friend she cherishes. But she does not dare to step up into his personal space and claim it, not even when she longs for it.
His question makes her squeeze her eyes shut, and a soft sob escapes past the barrier of her lips. He sees through her, and that shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise. Amorette first answers through a shake of her head, only then forcing herself to look up and meet his navy gaze. “I.. I am not..” she manages to get out, voice thick and full of emotion and tears slowly clouding her vision.
It is enough to break through her hesitance. With a couple of quick steps she finds herself at his side, hoping that he wouldn’t push her away, presses her muzzle against his neck right before his shoulder, and takes a deep breath as the downpour of tears start. Her sobs are quiet, but it does nothing to stop her body from violently shaking from time to time.
The air around them is heavy with humidity, the thickness of the atmosphere coiling tightly against the mahogany of his skin. It is more than just the heat that presses down on him, however. The tension is palpable (though it is not with anger or frustration) and he inhales slowly as if to try to alleviate it. She refuses to meet his gaze just yet, but he does not pry nor command her to do so. His brow comes together slightly, his bottom lip pressing upwards in a tight frown. She is staring at the ground - embarrassed, ashamed; but of what? The sharp features of his auburn face are soft with concern, silence overwhelming them as the rhythm of the ocean pounds listlessly in their ears. He flips a single navy-tipped ear towards her as her voice breaks through the air, the words sounding painful as they are forced from her throat. The Overseer turns his face back towards the blue-grey seas, exhaling in a shuddering sigh as he realizes she might not come to join him on the blackened shoreline, but would remain behind him and out of his eyesight.
But only a few moments pass and her confession brings her to him, finding the slick slope of his neck and shoulder with her muzzle, soft cries passing through her lips. He turns then, slowly, eyes widening before he shifts his weight to lean into her, unfurling a navy wing to allow him to embrace her further if she wished. The smell of salt and sea mingles in the air as he moves, his cerulean gaze dark and unwavering as he searches her face. He says nothing, not yet, giving her time to allow the emotions to flow freely and to catch her breath.
“What has happened, Amorette?” Warrick’s voice is clear, steady and strong. There is a glimmer of darkness in his voice, ready and prepared for whatever she might tell him. She may not have known of Sylva’s new direction, and he hopes for Modicum’s sake that he has not done something to Amorette. The idea stirs something within Warrick, and though he comforts his friend in their embrace, there is tension in his body that all protectors have. I will take care of it, he tells her wordlessly, waiting for her response before assuming the worst. But whatever it is she has to tell him, it is true; he would take care of it for her. He would fix it for her.
First it is only her muzzle that’s pressed against his skin, but soon her stance changes. Without questioning Warrick allows her to press closer, offers her his shoulder to lean on. Something Amorette does. She presses her ebony frame against his mahogany one, the left side of her face resting against his neck. Like that she silently continues to cry, and only over time the trembling of her body becomes less.
It takes her a while to answer, her open right eye staring ahead at the sea. Slowly she starts to take notice of the sound of the crashing waves, and the smell of salt and sea. Finally Amorette takes a deep breath, breaking through the sobs. Her lips part, “I..,” a pause, followed by a quick shake of her head. “N-nothing..” she mumbles, voice unsteady as she tries to voice out her troubles. “Nothing happened.. I.. I thought things would be different.” And that is exactly the problem.
The silence stretches, but by voicing out that what troubles her heart, the weight is lifted from her shoulders. She does not yet pull away from Warrick’s side, and the tears haven’t dried yet, but she does feel better. There is so much more she wants to say, but at the same time Amore does not know how, or what to say. Her gaze only moves to find Warrick’s blue one, only meeting his gaze a short second, then glancing away towards the sea again. A shaky sigh escapes past the barrier of her lips, followed by another shake of her head, before she manages to speak again. “He.. I.. I’ve been such a fool..”
And through that, she’d let everyone down. “I.. I’m sorry.. Warrick..”
She leans into him, and there is an audible sigh that rattles from his navy lips as she does so. The heat of her skin palpitates with the sorrow within her, heavily laced on her breath and weighing down on each part of her ebony body. The Overseer feels the warmth and wetness of her tears against his auburn flesh, staining him with her grief and even he, as his cerulean gaze remains unwavering across the wrinkled blue of his ocean, feels the solidity of a lump in his throat and heat pricking behind his eyelids. Their relationship is built on trust and what feels like an existence, being the oldest members of Tephra since Warrick’s arrival many years ago. He could almost consider the fire healer as a sister, but even then he feels as if that title is too casual - there is a deeper part of their bond, forged in the fires of the volcano and meant to run through their veins for perhaps their entire lifetimes. He knows not why her heart breaks, but his breaks for hers all the same.
Warrick feels her inhale deeply - quieting herself against him, mumbling against the sound of the ever-moving sea. His eyes slowly find hers, but she is not searching for his just yet. His gaze implores her to tell him what is wrong as he considers her gentle features that quietly scream agony, but the Overseer remains silent and patient. He will not push her into a confession, nor would he ask one of her. He would not be offended if she did not tell him specifics, or even anything at all. His lips pull into a soft frown, a snort leaving his navy lips. He does not know exactly what she is referring to, but he can empathize with her statement. Before he had found Tephra, he had wanted things to be different than they had been. An absent father, and a disappearing mother and sister - he had thought his life would be extremely different than what had been given to him. It felt unfair and hopeless, and though it took many years for him to realize that his life is different than he imagined, he would not change what he had now.
“It is okay that your hopes are not meeting your reality,” he tells her in response, for it is all he can give her. She is not wrong that her life is nowhere near her expectations (though he has no idea what expectations those might be - might have been). “There is nothing wrong with wanting dreams to be made real.” His voice is final, and he uses that time to swallow hard. It is as if he is speaking to himself.
She finally allows her gaze to find his, and his deep ocean eyes are waiting for her. His frown - kingly and solemn - grows darker as his eyes become shadowed beneath a furrowed brow. There is anger there, momentarily, and it flashes across his stern face like a wave. “You are no fool, Amorette. I do not suffer fools, and will not allow yourself to name yourself as one.” The Overseer snorts sharply, his mouth in a hard line. He pauses like this for a moment before his face softens, touching her the white star on her forehead with his muzzle. “So do not apologize, my friend.” His breath huffs against the darkness of her forelock, gently moving it from her tear-stained eyes. He pulls back, looking into her eyes once again, his gaze serious.
“I was so terrified when I could not find you, Amorette. You are a backbone to this country, even though you may not feel like it. You are needed here, always.”I need you here, always. He is shifting the conversation slightly, but her return made it all the more evident that he needed to let her know how valued she truly is. “You are my advisor, Amorette. Please allow me to give you such a title.”
“I.. I was wrong to hope in the first place..” And even more wrong to get upset because her hope had been crushed. Still avoiding his gaze she shakes her head slightly, and at the same time blinks her eyes to will the endless stream of tears away. Which, of course, is not happening. “There’s nothing wrong with dreaming..” Amore mumbles agreeing, nodding her head as she does. “But what if the dream is u-unrealistic?”
He would never be hers. Her mind knows it, but her heart just simply cannot seem to accept it. And yes, that is foolish, no matter what Warrick says.
It is impossible to look away from his intense gaze. She sees all the emotion and thoughts displayed on his features, and all that what she sees and hears makes her flinch. His words hurt like only those of a friend can, even less had she expected such a wake-up call, but in all reality, hadn’t she done the same to him? When Warrick’s muzzle touches the center of her forehead, her eyes close. For a moment she allows herself to bask in his presence and care, as she leans into his touch. “I failed you, and Tephra, though..” Or at least, that is how Amorette feels.
She does not hold his gaze at first, acknowledging it by meeting his for a moment, then watching over the sea again. But when Warrick speaks, it is impossible to not sway and meet those blue eyes. He makes her feel even more guilty and treasured at once, something only he can do. A small, watery smile appears on her lips and the ebony woman reaches out to offer him her nose. “You sure?” she asks, voice soft and nimble, but unable to hide the twinkle in her dark eyes. She does not care for titles much, but does matter is his faith and trust. Even if she does not feel like she’s worth it. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t do your right..”
There may be no way for Amorette to see anything beyond what she believes is her own selfishness - at least not today. The wounds are still fresh and raw from whatever it is that truly plights her, and Warrick is not one to chide her for the way she feels. He had given her his belief; it is up to her what she will do with it. There is nothing wrong with hope, with love, with dreams - whether they be unrealistic or not. To this day, Warrick still dreams of his family in the stars, hoping against all odds that one day they will be reunited. An unrealistic dream, a silly hope, he knows. But he finds nothing wrong in it and he never would. Tangerine’s precognition perhaps gives him a little bit more belief when it comes to the way things seem to work. She dreams dreams and they always come to life. Why would Amorette’s stay only a dream?
The winged stallion snorts softly, sympathetically almost, as she shakes her head gently beside him. “I used to dream that I could touch the stars,” he begins gently, his cerulean gaze flickering from hers to glance upwards towards the bright blue of the Tephran sky, where only gentle wisps of white cloud are brushed against it. His dream had been for a reason, though he does not mention his family to her now. He pauses, his eyes wandering the skyline and into the depths of the atmosphere, where he knows stars are shining brightly but are shrouded by the bold rays of their own sun. His navy wing still loosely covers her, smelling of salt and ash and sky as he gently ruffles the feathers thoughtfully. His dream had been unrealistic at the time, especially when he wanted to touch the stars to be reunited with his family, not merely the ability of flight. Even now, he still dreams to see them again, but the gift of his wings proved to him that, however slowly, his dream would come true. “And now I can.” His gaze lowers as his head moves to hers once again, eyes wide with empathy. “Do not give up on hopes and dreams, promise me. But if you must,” the Overseer pauses, using the bridge of his nose to lift her chin up so that she may not hide from his gaze, then continues: “dream a new dream.”
Warrick raises his head, turning to look back out over the dark blue and crinkling sea. “You have not failed me.” His voice is clear and full of solidity, a finality in his tone that would hopefully tell Amorette that there is no use in arguing. “Because you are unsure is how I know you are ready.” He turns to her again, a small smile on his cobalt lips. He knows her heart still breaks, and though his smile is warm and gentle, his heart still breaks also. “Come, there is much to discuss.” Warrick pulls his wings into his sides, folding them carefully to where they lay perfectly against his auburn flesh, before turning to walk down the familiar shoreline side by side, towards the volcano’s shadow.
Warrick
@[Amorette] Either we can wrap this up here, or we can have Warrick update her on everything if you'd like! <333
Her mind tells he that he is right. He always is. But her heart fails to agree just yet. And it is not that Amorette does not want to feel the same way, she is terribly tired and she would give a lot to leave it all behind her. She does not want to mourn over her lost crush, and yet, she will have to at one point. Sooner better than later. There is no way she can deny Levi to be part of Byrne’s life, not something she would want to either. But that does not change anything about the fact that she hurts when simply looking at them. Byrne being much like his father.
She cannot stop the corners of her lips from curling up ever so slightly. It has always been much nicer to listen to Warrick’s own story. One that was known, but not less amusing. “You always have been a stargazer” she mumbles through her tears, her muzzle gently nudging his cheek. “But I think a lot of us share your dream.” Because who didn’t dream of the stars? Perhaps not as strongly as Warrick, but Amorette does dream of the stars too.
Amorette is reluctant to meet his gaze, but she does not fight him when he gently chimes her to meet his gaze. Watching the sea is just so much easier, less confronting. Without wanting to, tears well up in her eyes again. “I.. I just want a.. a shoulder to lean on..” she confesses, someone to love. Like Warrick has, like her parents – the ones how raised her, not her biological parents – had. Don’t misunderstand, Amore does have family that loves her, and although they would never be a traditional family, a family they were. She, Byrne and Arden.
When he looks away again, the ebony woman shifts, in favour of leaning against his shoulder again. Her dark eyes are on the ocean too, though her sight is still a bit troubled because of the tears. Amorette does not question him, nor defy his word. She knows better, and she doesn’t have the heart to attempt it either. Last she wants is Warrick to think she does not believe him. But that also does not mean she offers him a verbal response.
It is easy to fall in step at his side, her step matching his. The silence is comfortable, even if there was still much to discuss. Amore had already learned much had happened during her absence. The question was what exactly. She dreads to hear it, because to Amorette it are event she missed, who knows how she could have stirred events if she had been there? “What have I.. missed?”
He smiles warmly. The gesture is gentle and light; genuine as it crosses the sharp features of his face, though there is the weight of the world that stir dimly in his irises, where the smile could not reach. The crown has become heavy on his head, tipping to the side and falling into his eyes as he continues to struggle with keeping it upright. The threat of Sylva still looms in his mind, ever present even on the most beautiful of days. It claws at him with foreboding scrapes, reminding him of his weaknesses (his children, his close friends, Tangerine) and how easy it would be to take those from him. The feeling is ominous and dismal, a flickering of darkness within the bright and burning light of Tephra and his own heart. He will do his best to keep them safe, to protect them, but even he knows that his best may not be enough.
Warrick has not solved anything for Amorette today. He can easily find the sorrow still lingering in her gentle eyes, even though a woeful smile finds the darkness of her mouth. She is trying (for him, for Tephra) to remain upright in her turmoil, and Warrick can ask nothing else of her. He is doing the same as her. A stargazer, she murmurs to him, her breath and face still hot with emotion and tears. He glances up once again, the heaviness of his thick forelock falling into the deep ocean of his eyes, once more looking into the clear sky that the winter wind has scrubbed clean, a tender expression on his face. “I’m sure I always will be,” he muses back. He does not understand her next words, not in the way she means them, and he encouragingly noses her. The Overseer says nothing, because it is clear that Amorette knows she has him. Warrick is unaware that he is not the person she hopes would be comforting her, and that she longs for more than just a friendship with another.
They are walking towards the volcano, its mountain groaning in the distance with plumes of smoke and ash rising from its top. The blackened shoreline stretches out before them, the spray of the sea dusting against their coats. The winter brings a drier season, and though the heat and temperature are unchanging, there is less humidity in the air that breathes around them. The feeling is enjoyable, especially as the wind gently filters through the thickness of his navy wings, separating the feathers.
He is silent for a time, his face becoming serious as he stares forward thoughtfully, a shuddering exhale leaving his cobalt lips. “I had hoped that Sylva would not be the first to strike.”A hope that was unrealistic?“Modicum has stolen Kwartz from Tephra. He is not a Tephran-born, but those who have just pledged their allegiance to us have lost a child.” He pauses, wondering how it has happened so quickly that he has failed his newcomers. “Retaliating means war; but I cannot sit by and do nothing.” Another sigh, disgruntled and low in his throat. “I do not know if Sylva has targeted any other realms. If so, I am leaning towards the possibility of retrieving our stolen ones together.”
