Quand on n'a que l'amour - Warrick

[Warrick]

like the sun swallowed up by the earth

He is not surprised that the power that infiltrates all of Beqanna has ended up within some of his very closest companions, and he is thankful that these gifts have found them. Beqanna is a generous country, and seems to enjoy giving its fruits to its inhabitants. He is especially glad to see when their abilities are created in such a way that they can be used to doing good, like how Amorette’s new ability began to heal his burnt and seared flesh. He cannot say that he is completely relaxed when she reaches towards him, and the terseness in his muscles is evident as she warns him of its pain in the healing. He dare not close his eyes, however, in fear he would miss the magical healing on his very own skin.

Sharp flames arise from his wounds, the largest being the one on his shoulder. It is painful, perhaps more painful than the original wounds themselves, and the great stallion winces and sucks a sharp inhale of air through his clenched teeth. The smell makes his nose wrinkle, sweet and stinging on his flared nostrils, and he wonders what Amorette thinks of it, suddenly worried about putting her in such a situation - to heal burnt flesh. But the little mare seems more than happy to do it, despite the lack of allure that comes with her healing process. Smoke rises from each wound as the flames begin to wane and die away, and he is thankful as the cool air greets his skin.

The dots on his legs are now healed most nicely, and quickly his navy and auburn coat will fill in the patches where the hair had burned away. His shoulder is in near perfect condition, save for the raw pink of his skin showing through. He laughs, shrugging his shoulder with gratification in his eyes. He would take a few weeks of hairlessness to say that he had been perfectly healed by Amorette’s fire. His wings flutter against his sides in delight, the great navy feathers rustling as they brush against each other.

“What a gift, Amorette!” he exclaims with somewhat of a half-rear, his forelegs pulling towards his chest for a moment before they fall back into the soft earth of the volcano. “A true blessing.”

Warrick

@[Amorette]