He doesn’t want to draw away from her. He wants to push in close, search every inch to find the place in her soul that held her pain and simply pluck it from her. He would take it on, carry it on his back until it broke, until his knees buckled and cracked. He must protect her; he must bring her safely to wherever she needed to be, though he did not know the way. He was not able to protect them, but he could do that with Ellyse. He could be there for her. He could care for her. He could be her friend. Friend? Warrick’s mind turns in thought. Was friendship what he was offering her? He couldn’t tell; his mind could not slow down nor could it linger. Lingering meant thinking, and he didn’t want to think. He only wanted to deeply breathe the salty air around him, tangled with the smell of damp seaweed and the soft, sweet perfume of Ellyse.
He isn’t sure of what he’s feeling at the moment. Affection? It was familiar to him, instinctual. Yet, this was very different than the affection he felt when it came to his sister and mother. He felt not in control, spontaneous, warm. The feeling fueled him, his eyes sparkling gently as the darkness from the incoming storm looms ominously before them. He hasn’t even noticed the storm, growing ever closer, outstretching with a dark, gloomy hand towards the shoreline. He felt the distant rumble of thunder as it shook the ground with a grumble, but he mistook it for the roll of his heart, throbbing and aching for complacency and a sense of belonging. Much like the storm, he reaches out to Ellyse as it reaches the shoreline, navy lips brushing carefully against the salt of her skin with warm, hesitant breaths: unsure, yet full of longing and mildly innocent.
Suddenly, the joke is over. There is tenseness between them and it is palpable. He frowns, pulling away from her with a unintentional shift in his weight, refusing to take a full step away from her. He does not speak, for he knew this was not his time to reply. He was merely meant to listen.
The growling of the storm beyond them fills in the silences as she speaks, like an orchestra accompaniment. Warrick’s eyes grow sad as he listens, knowing that he will not be able to bring her what she needs. He desperately wishes to reach out to her again, but refrains in fear that she will run from him. He wishes he could rewind to just a few moments before, where they stood tethered to each other mentally and emotionally. But he continues to remain motionless, save for the black of his mane and forelock falling across his sorrowful stare.
Her words sting him as it rings with truth and he responds with a slight narrowing of his large, gloomy eyes. He wants to say her name again; he wants to call to her. He feels her slipping from him and he knows he cannot catch her and if he were even able to, she would not allow him to do so. He feels her name rising onto his tongue, sitting there in the cavity of his mouth, buzzing. He swallows it.
“I cannot keep looking to the stars,” he finally says, his voice as deep and grumbling as the rolling storm that is coming closer. “I need to focus on what’s right in front of me. I have a home. Friends.”
Warrick does not move towards her. He does not let the softness of his lips trace her golden skin, or press his body against her. He merely continues to stare into her golden brown gaze as he quietly and feebly adds: “I have you.”
He isn’t sure of what he’s feeling at the moment. Affection? It was familiar to him, instinctual. Yet, this was very different than the affection he felt when it came to his sister and mother. He felt not in control, spontaneous, warm. The feeling fueled him, his eyes sparkling gently as the darkness from the incoming storm looms ominously before them. He hasn’t even noticed the storm, growing ever closer, outstretching with a dark, gloomy hand towards the shoreline. He felt the distant rumble of thunder as it shook the ground with a grumble, but he mistook it for the roll of his heart, throbbing and aching for complacency and a sense of belonging. Much like the storm, he reaches out to Ellyse as it reaches the shoreline, navy lips brushing carefully against the salt of her skin with warm, hesitant breaths: unsure, yet full of longing and mildly innocent.
Suddenly, the joke is over. There is tenseness between them and it is palpable. He frowns, pulling away from her with a unintentional shift in his weight, refusing to take a full step away from her. He does not speak, for he knew this was not his time to reply. He was merely meant to listen.
The growling of the storm beyond them fills in the silences as she speaks, like an orchestra accompaniment. Warrick’s eyes grow sad as he listens, knowing that he will not be able to bring her what she needs. He desperately wishes to reach out to her again, but refrains in fear that she will run from him. He wishes he could rewind to just a few moments before, where they stood tethered to each other mentally and emotionally. But he continues to remain motionless, save for the black of his mane and forelock falling across his sorrowful stare.
Her words sting him as it rings with truth and he responds with a slight narrowing of his large, gloomy eyes. He wants to say her name again; he wants to call to her. He feels her slipping from him and he knows he cannot catch her and if he were even able to, she would not allow him to do so. He feels her name rising onto his tongue, sitting there in the cavity of his mouth, buzzing. He swallows it.
“I cannot keep looking to the stars,” he finally says, his voice as deep and grumbling as the rolling storm that is coming closer. “I need to focus on what’s right in front of me. I have a home. Friends.”
Warrick does not move towards her. He does not let the softness of his lips trace her golden skin, or press his body against her. He merely continues to stare into her golden brown gaze as he quietly and feebly adds: “I have you.”
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Ellyse]