03-06-2018, 06:08 PM
we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
He hopes she stays here - he hopes that he is enough, even in this fleeting and vulnerable moment between two acquaintances (barely). He is not sure if he could comprehend it if she were to leave (just like Ellyse did, just like Offspring, and Diable Rouge, and Dahmer). His incapability to understand the need for someone to leave simply astounds him, and it is the also the reason for the dark shadows in his eyes and the sharpness in his jawline. Warrick’s story - his starlit daydream turned nightmare - has been told before. The first time he heard it himself (not reliving it inwardly in his mind, but describing it to another) it had been a heart-wrenching and tear-filled scene. He can still remember the way tears stung behind his eyes like knives and how his Tangerine had comforted and hushed him. It is a memory he would remember for a lifetime and as he reflects on it now, he finds it quizzical that though the darkness of loss and shadow of grief still find his face, that anger doesn’t fill his chest, nor utter loneliness. It is a somber look he gives her, one of wisdom and understanding, one that grows with time. He is sorrowful, but being left behind did lead him to where he is now, with children and a home and a family. A blessing, though dark and tragic.
Her words are soft and whimsical, as if she is telling him his own story as it is playing out before him. He closes his eyes momentarily, and only moments after he feels sleek white of her forehead press against the thickness of his auburn neck, stirring the smell of salt and wind and long-gone sunlight. He feels her compassion, her empathy, and a flicker of a smile finds his cobalt lips.
It is then that the sudden brightness causes his eyes to flutter open. She is still against him - skin against skin - but he does not notice her touch, for his cerulean gaze is now set fire by starlight and starshine, sparkling with dazzling fractiles of light and constellations, and for once in his life, he falls silent; not because he cannot speak, but there were no words to describe the scene that is unfolding before him.
The winged-stallion stretches his neck outwards, her words tender and chiming in his ears, his nose quick to try and touch the starlight he only dared to reach. His wings could only take him so far, and now, the stars have come down to him. The starlight presses into his mahogany skin, kissing his feathers and eyelashes. Though the radiance of their being does not show him Orani or Beyah, the feeling is as close as he has been to them since the day he lost them, and he is sure they are with him now, with the sea-song breeze whispering across his skin with their voices.
Warrick’s chest feels as if it is about to burst - from what, he cannot tell. Happiness? Sadness? His brows rise in awe, his gaze lost in the myriad of starlight, and the Overseer simply whispers breathlessly:
“Thank you.”
Warrick