Warden always hesitated leaving Tephra. Traveling tended to engage his visions more than staying in one place. Moving about meant coming into contact with others, which seems to always trigger his dreadful dreams, showing him their terrible futures and oftentimes, their demise. But sometimes he is lucky, and the movement from one place to another brings a distraction and his third eye seems to calm itself. Tonight is one of those moments, he believes, and though the familiar heaviness of impending darkness clouds his mind like always, he feels slightly more free tonight than he has in the past few days. The moment will be fleeting, of course, before his mind is plagued with terrors, but he enjoys it while he can.
The great white of his wings are the only sound in the stillness of the forest and its river, heavy in their beating against the cold air. The frigidness against his patched skin is welcome, making his muscles taut and his lips chapped, his deep ocean eyes brimming with water from the air’s bite. He is attempting to think of nothing at all besides watching the winding river below him, determined not to envision much of anything, when a familiar blue light pulls him from his reverie.
His breath catches in his throat, sure that his eyes would cloud and he would be flying blindly, but nothing occurs. Instead, he exhales with a shudder, immediately recognizing such a beam of magical light. Not many in his family had this trait, so he knows that one of them is wandering the darkness below. Warden immediately dips down, turning his feathers just so, diving deep towards the earth. The feeling is thrilling but fleeting as he pulls up to land solidly onto the moonlight strewn bank, snorting heavily with the exertion upon landing.
Though he is Rhaegor’s uncle, Warden feels like anything but to the buckskin stallion. Nearly brotherly in their younger years, Warden immediately recognizes the twisting grief that placates his nephew’s face and the scarred skin on his chest. Though it has been a long while since the two were in each other's company, he does not hesitate. He almost had not even seen the girl who had also been attracted to Rhaegor’s presence, but as he places himself alongside the other stallion with a tender brush of his pale mouth against his golden shoulder, Warden’s oceanic eyes flick upward towards her from beneath a darkened brow. The white of his wings, unkempt from his chilled flight, graze Rhaegor’s side as he surveys the antlered filly, snorting softly as her appearance reminds him so much of Warlight.
That fact causes him to tilt his head inquisitively, narrowing his eyes as he studies her all the more.
They both are quiet, for a long time, as was what they were accustomed to. But judging by the fresh burn in Rhaegor’s skin, Warden takes it upon himself to speak for now.
“She looks familiar,” he says steadily, though it is directed at Rhaegor, his eyes never waver from her, partly questioning and partly attempting to distract her from what had drawn her here in the first place. His brow furrows, curious and contemplating, wondering if he’d seen her in a dream before. He’s terribly glad to say he hasn’t - for if he were to see her in a dream, it would mean death and disaster. He remains on edge, however, like he always does - his visions are random and could easily interrupt them in this moment. It hangs heavily on him, like a cloak, this fear, yet he wears it comfortably. “Should we know her?” His lips purse slightly, leaning towards Rhaegor as he flicks his black tail against his white ankles. Warden feels as if he knows the answer already, or if Rhaegor himself does.
“Do we know you?” This time he directs the question to her, brows rising and ears pressing towards her.
WARDEN
@[Rhaegor] @[Laia]
