05-22-2017, 04:32 PM
He’s been quiet. Warrick normally is, but recently he has developed a habit to be the kind of quiet that is untraceable; he finds himself lingering in the shadows and keeping to himself, becoming like a ghost that haunts the tropical flora and humid breezes of Tephra. To him, though, it was natural. His ups and downs were consistently inconsistent, where one day he is alive and cheerful, but then on others he can barely feel the urge to leave his warm cave that he had found in a hidden sluice of volcanic rock. The feelings that attempt cling to him so desperately (love, anger, doubt, fear) cannot seem to fasten their grip, thus allowing a lottery of emotions to appear. Today, it was uncertainty.
The auburn stallion, painted a sharp navy on his legs, ears, and mouth, quietly emerges into the open. It had been a few weeks since Tang’s unwanted departure from him and it had been even longer since his cerulean eyes had rested on Ellyse’s golden body. He huffs, the thought of the two he was the closest with now being far away from him (possibly even farther than he could imagine, for Ellyse) brings a sense of anxiety over him. Once again, he has been left alone to fend for himself, to withdraw into darkness and into his loneliness where he was greeted kindly by grim and dastardly thoughts.
He blinks back the brightness from the springtime sun, realizing that he had slept most of his day away. Of course, he hadn’t truly been sleeping – what was sleep? He merely could not will his body to get up.
With a deep and shuddering breath, the stallion steps forward in search of freshwater or perhaps some grass – anything to bide his time and to attempt to distract his mind.
It was here when he quietly came upon Dahmer (of course, he had not met the lean, black stallion yet). Warrick watches as steam freely flows from the warm pond, carefully watching the stallion as he continues to approach. He halts a few strides away from him and takes note that a hot bathe might later soothe his troubled mind. The afternoon is strangely silent, save for the soft sound of water lapping against the onyx stallion’s back and legs. Warrick lowers his head to graze, not intentionally trying to interrupt Dahmer’s relaxing dip in the warm pool. Before Warrick’s lips part to tear at the vivid green stalks of grass, he speaks. “Afternoon,” His voice is solid against the silence of the afternoon light. “I’m Warrick,” he offers, then begins to graze.
The auburn stallion, painted a sharp navy on his legs, ears, and mouth, quietly emerges into the open. It had been a few weeks since Tang’s unwanted departure from him and it had been even longer since his cerulean eyes had rested on Ellyse’s golden body. He huffs, the thought of the two he was the closest with now being far away from him (possibly even farther than he could imagine, for Ellyse) brings a sense of anxiety over him. Once again, he has been left alone to fend for himself, to withdraw into darkness and into his loneliness where he was greeted kindly by grim and dastardly thoughts.
He blinks back the brightness from the springtime sun, realizing that he had slept most of his day away. Of course, he hadn’t truly been sleeping – what was sleep? He merely could not will his body to get up.
With a deep and shuddering breath, the stallion steps forward in search of freshwater or perhaps some grass – anything to bide his time and to attempt to distract his mind.
It was here when he quietly came upon Dahmer (of course, he had not met the lean, black stallion yet). Warrick watches as steam freely flows from the warm pond, carefully watching the stallion as he continues to approach. He halts a few strides away from him and takes note that a hot bathe might later soothe his troubled mind. The afternoon is strangely silent, save for the soft sound of water lapping against the onyx stallion’s back and legs. Warrick lowers his head to graze, not intentionally trying to interrupt Dahmer’s relaxing dip in the warm pool. Before Warrick’s lips part to tear at the vivid green stalks of grass, he speaks. “Afternoon,” His voice is solid against the silence of the afternoon light. “I’m Warrick,” he offers, then begins to graze.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick