06-12-2018, 08:48 AM
we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight Night swallows him wholly beneath the volcano’s rumbling mass. Darkness shrouds each corner and hollow crook of rock and shrub, melting into the crevices. The only light is that of the volcano’s plume, glowing angry and red against the black abyss that yawns before the stallion; not even a sliver of the moon casts its silver light below. Haunting glows of red and oranges dance against his auburn flesh, alighting the cobalt of his wings with the appearance of flames. He stands at the shoreline, the sand blackened as the night that stretches out above it, staring into the churning sea. Here, at the breast of the volcano’s heart, the heat is fierce and unforgiving. The temperatures at the volcano’s core are so high that even the cold rock beside Warrick is radiating and would perhaps even singe his flesh if he lingers against it for a moment too long. The heat soothes him somehow, despite its intensity and fervor. The winged stallion shuffles his wings with a gentle flex of the lithe bones, their indigo color fluttering as he brings them in to settle at his russet sides. The stillness of night brings Warrick his thoughts, laying them out one by one before him as he attempts to sort through them. The stallion snorts sharply; he is a gentle-spirit, and he values the relationships he has carved from the very magma of Tephra, but he cannot help but feel as though he is viewed only as a generous soul with kind eyes - eager to please. He is slow to anger, but he is beginning to feel the annoyance rifle to the surface. Unrest as reared its ugly head, and he has no time for crimes of passion or the throes of dramatics between family. Too much is heavy-laden on his soul already and he will not force Tephra into a downward spiral because of the family he had taken in so generously. “Klaudius,” he calls for the stallion, Warrick’s voice clear and unwavering on the soft ripple of sea-wind. He awaits the winged stallion’s arrival, the cerulean of his irises brooding and unreadable as he stares out into the familiar sea, the churning waves just as tempestuous as his mind. A shadow brews in his eyes, one that is daunting and relentless, and he allows it to fuel him. warrick |
credit to vel of adoxography.
@[Klaudius]