resurrect the saint within the wretch
Warden snorts softly as the ball of silver-blue light - Leonidas - descends upon him once again in a swooping dive. The horned stallion took an uncertain step back to give the star a bit of space, unsure of its intentions - though based on Lilliana’s reaction, they weren’t exactly good ones. There is indifference that falls across the planes of Warden’s ivory face, but within it are glimmers of humor, finding it only fitting that a companion without a face would be so unhappy with him.
Before Lilliana begins to respond, Warden can feel the weight that grows suddenly between them. His expression falls as hard as steel, his navy eyes darkening. It was only a matter of time, he reminds himself and there is a moment where he thinks to remind the chestnut mare as well. But she is more to him now than the stranger that had accidentally seen his visions - she no longer is some wide-eyed mare with dreams of stopping the future. She is a friend, and so his mouth remains in that firm, terse line.
The future always comes.
For a while, he had almost forgotten this truth. He had nearly forgotten the burden that she carried (because of him) and that he had been the lucky one - though terrible, these premonitions did not involve his loved ones. They came to pass as he had told her they would, but they do not affect him. Not in the way that it affects her. He is only the Watcher, forced to know the future but lack the ability to do anything more than that. But Lilliana had refused this; there was a way, always a way, and though he had scoffed at her hope, he had held onto it for himself for a long while.
His nose twitches at the sight of her grief, his dark ears falling into his mane. The sound of hopelessness in her voice is oh so familiar and it makes his jaw clench tightly. He forgets about Leonidas for a moment, his dark legs bringing him closer to her.
Warden has no words of wisdom for her; nothing to soothe the raw emotion and heartbreak that is so easily seen and heard. He can only offer to help carry the weight of it - for he had been the one who put it there in the first place.
“You weren’t meant to see it,” he whispers darkly, anger furrowing in his brow. It isn’t aimed towards her, of course, but at himself. She had seen and known things that she shouldn’t have and he left her to figure it out herself. How much more is her grief thanks to him? Warden doesn’t reach out to touch her but the way that he holds his head shows that there is a part of him that feels like he should.
He inhales deeply. “And it never ends,” he reminds her calmly, somehow able to soften his voice.
“The cycle begins again.”
Even now he feels the creeping dread stirring coldly in his stomach. What else would come to pass?
@[lilliana]
he is exactly zero help