resurrect the saint within the wretch
Thunder rumbles in the distance as the storm continues to make its way past them; it does not bother itself with wondering what it has left behind in its wake, moving on and tumbling into its next location without a thought. The sound somehow reverberates within the damp earth, the storm’s breath still warm on the land. It is something that Warden feels in his bones - something ancient and unforgiving, much like the curse cast upon him.
His pale mouth twists into a smirk at her retort, tossing his head as if her bluntness had struck a nerve. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer better material?” Warden’s quip is warm with humor as his voice finds the damp, humid air of the forest, finding that though his intent had been to wander its dark and twisting paths alone, that at least he found company that was interesting. It seems that she, a lot like himself, was more often alone rather than not - and maybe that is the reason they both still remain in each other’s presence: misery loves company and despite his better judgement, he makes no attempts to take to the skies once again.
Warden’s brows rise slightly at her offer, wondering if it is something that she truly wished. If she were to ask him, he’s not even sure he would allow her to leave. The stallion shifts his weight slightly, leaning back on his haunches as a curious look finds him, his ears tipping back slightly with inquisitivity. “Not everything has to be a challenge, Aislyn.” He snorts here as a dark grin curls on his mouth, wrinkling his nose slightly.
There is a pause, thoughtful and pregnant, as his face darkens within the shadow of the forest.
“You’re not worried you’ll lose?”
@[Aislyn]
