The churning and angry sky that was slowly coming closer to them echoes in Warrick’s very bones. He feels the power of the storm even though it was still miles away, but rumbling deep and threateningly in the distance. Every growl of thunder that rolled vibrates the air around him and strikes a chord in his chest, a feeling that was almost physically painful to the blue and mahogany stallion. He wonders how it is that he can refrain from showing the aching expression on his tired face, yet at the same time is not surprised he has learned how to pretend.
Warrick follows her dutifully without a sound, curious to see what hidden parts of Tephra he may have not encountered yet. Ellyse was comfortable and fluid as she picks her path – almost methodical, as if muscle memory has kicked in and her body knew exactly where to take her while her mind wanders. While he keeps her golden figure in his eyesight, the silence envelops them and he lets it. There was something calming about the approaching storm as well as Ellyse. She had known of him (or maybe of just a blue painted stallion with the melancholy to match), which rather pleasantly surprised him.
The air feels heavy with moisture, and just as Warrick tucks himself in close beside Ellyse, the rain begins to fall in fat, heavy droplets. He too, keeps his indigo gaze on the storm, watching it calmly as it swells. They stand close beneath the slope of rock; though not close enough to be thought of anything else besides acquaintances.
She breaks the silence, and turns his eyes towards her, even though she still studies the sky with her thoughtful gaze. He would have continued to stand in stillness alongside her, listening to the rain and thunder as it passed overhead. She has great hopes for him, he can tell – another to add to the ranks, to learn and to train. He peers out from a tangled mass of black forelock inquisitively; maybe she could give him purpose.
“He may be a good judge, but I’m not exactly what he has seen in me as of yet,” Warrick admits honestly, his blue-tipped ears flicking back slightly. His gaze breaks and falls to the ground, which was running with the rainwater’s tiny streams as it sluices through to gather at the lowest point. “Maybe he’s let me stay here so I can find out,” he says quietly, bringing his chin up to once again look at the storm.
“Head of War, then?” He mischievously looks at her at a sideways glance, a small smile on his cobalt lips as he pauses. “As you said, Magnus is a good judge of character.”
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