This storm looks to be a doozy.
Even as the first drops of rain fall from the space above he’d just occupied, he knows it will grow into a deluge. The drops are fat and cold and hit hard against his golden hide. They are due for a soaker, he supposes. Thus far, it’s been a rather mild season and the already briny seagrass grows drier and less palatable without rain. But tastier food will come at a great personal cost. Already, Walter feels like a drowned rat and it has only just begun. So he isn’t thrilled about it, but he moves closer to the lone black figure anyway, tucking his wings as tightly to his sides as he can. He asks her what she’s doing out here – inquires on her mental state without putting the exact (and perhaps impolite) question into words. Her answer doesn’t confirm anything, but it doesn’t deny anything, either. He thinks he’ll proceed with caution with this one.
“Ah,” is all he says in reply, though a violent gust of wind rips the syllable away from him. It batters him, blowing his blond mess of a mane into his eyes. He thinks he has landed just in the nick of time. The palomino is about to turn and scurry into the cave himself when she turns to look at him. That cave may hold us both if you would like shelter. Peering back under the curtain of hair, he shrugs like it doesn’t matter to him one way or another. What was a bit more rain and wind and angry sea? Of course he wants shelter! And he’ll race her to get in there first if it means he is more protected from the elements than she is.
But the dark woman brushes by him, and by the time he turns himself, he is instead on her heels to the shelter. The sand has quickly become wet and squelches under their hooves as they pass over it. He has half a mind to pick up speed and beat her to the cave, but she catches him off guard with a question. “Me?” He practically yells to be heard over the whistling air that glances off the limestone cliffs. The waves frantically crash against the shore over and over again behind them. Almost like they are running from something. “I was watching from above. Everyone is so small and insignificant when you see them down here. Their lives, so meaningless in the grand scheme of things.” So much for proceeding with caution, but the weather is making him more grumpy than normal. He doesn’t mean her, necessarily. But now that she’s away from the ocean, he’s not worried she’s going to jump in at the slightest provocation.
Not on his watch.
“Walter,” he replies, as soon as she gives her name. She turns fully, too, giving him the tiniest smile that ever was. It’s really just a twitch of her lip – perhaps she was actually grimacing at having found herself in his company (it has happened before) – but he takes it as a good sign. Now, the rain comes down in thick sheets, utterly soaking him to the bone. He wonders if he'll ever be dry again. The stallion nods towards the cave mouth that yawns at the swirling sea. If she didn’t hurry up, he was going to push by her, chivalry be damned.
Walter
you should come back home
@[Hestia]: I think they will be two peas in a pod (or cave)! <3