dark side of the morning - anyone

[Ivar]

i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same After endless miles of fields and meadows, Ivar is relieved to at last see something other than flowing grass. It’s a sentinel pine, oddly placed out here in the open, but it signals the change in climate that means he is nearing Tephra. The piebald colt feels a thrill of excitement down his spine and he shakes the thickening crest of his neck. He continues to press forward, each step of his pale legs confident. Only when he catches the first whiff of something equine does he stop. The border will be coming up soon, he knows. Best to stop here, call out, and wait to be found.   Ivar does that, eyeing the tall steaming mountain with one soft brown eyes. Yes, he thinks, that certainly does look like enough heat to warm even distant Ischia.   He’s not entirely sure he likes it.   But the yearling has been taught tolerance (it might have been a struggle on his mother’s end) and patience (that he inherited from his father just as he had his penchant for water). Perhaps they will have new sorts of water here, he tells himself, streams or rivers or deep underground pools. Even if they don’t, at least he’ll be able to say he has been to Tephra. -------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------

[Warrick]

It’s been quiet. Normally, this was something that Tephra was known for – a quiet, calm land that stirs only when the volcano is in unrest or an ocean’s tempest shakes the trees. But this kind of quiet was new – it was unsettling to Warrick, and kept him on edge. His skin pricks at the faintest sounds in the night so that sleep rarely found him, and daylight was spent roaming the outskirts of the border. With Pangea’s recent tragedy, the bay stallion, adorned with legs and mouth of the night sky, was worried that some of those residents would be all too eager to enter his tropical home. Ellyse was nowhere to be found, to his dismay. His conversations with residents were few and far between, leaving him crushed with worry and a sense of anxiousness that did not look well on him. He knew Lucrezia was still here, taking to the skies to look over their home. He had told her that he would do his duty, whatever was needed in Tephra’s time of need. So he took to the borders, walking purposely with his head lowered, in search of something out of place. Part of him hoped that ‘something out of place’ would be Tang, but he knew that it was silly to wish her return when she had only just left him. He sighs.

He was not disappointed.

With a sharp inhale, a different scent was carried to him on the wind. The stallion’s head jerks up quickly, nostrils flaring as a snort leaves them in an exhale. His cerulean eyes, glittering and bright in the brilliant light of the sun’s rays, scour the horizon before him for the source of the smell. Young and masculine, Warrick was immediately set on edge. He finds the young colt easily, which puts him at ease momentarily. At least he was not hiding or sneaking around – out in the open meant, at least, he was expecting to be found.

Cobalt legs bring Warrick to him at a choppy trot, his head held high and nostrils flared. He stops suddenly before the colt, noting the smoky color of his coat that nearly matches the billows of ash that comes from the volcano. “Afternoon,” he says, his voice solid and heavy in the humid air. A warm breeze filters through, disheveling the long and tangled black tendrils of his forelock and mane. He’s still curiously eyeing the colt, trying to place him by scent and sight alone. There was a familiar scent on him, distant and vague, that he could not place. He would soon find out that this was the son of the woman he met in the forest nearly two years ago (to this day he cannot forget the mysterious mare with the anklets around her hooves and gold in her ears).

“I’m Warrick,” he offers, with a small dip of his head. “This is Tephra. What brings you to us today?”

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick

[Ivar]

i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same It’s not occurred to Ivar that he might be seen as a threat, so when the older bay stallion appears, the smile that the colt offers him is guileless and light. “Hello!” He replies brightly, taking a moment to look over this stranger. He’d arrived rather quickly after Ivar’s call, so either Tephra is a smaller land than he’d thought, or this stallion had already been patrolling the borders. Neither would be particularly surprising (though Ivar remains unaware of the tension that might have been caused by Pangea slipping into the sea). The stallion introduces himself as Warrick after a moment, and asks the question that Ivar had been anticipating. He has been taught the methods of confronting strangers even if he lacks real world experience. That is why he’s here, after all, to see the world. He says as much to Warrick when the navy-legged stallion asks, no hesitance in his voice. “I wanted to see Tephra.” He tells him, “I’m Ivar of Sylva.” Of rather than from; a bit of his mother’s old habits have refused to die even in this world where blood means less than it once did. “Could you show me? Or help me find someone who would?” He is earnest, his soft brown eyes hopeful as he looks up at the older male. -------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------

[Warrick]

He can feel the familiar perforation of  loneliness beginning to wane on him, becoming heavier and heavier with each inhale. With Tang’s departure and teary-eyed send off into the Lake and Ellyse’s vanishing act, Warrick was beginning to let the dark thoughts that once plague his mind find him once again, unable to find the strength to stop them. With no one by his side to cast reassure him that he will not succumb to the doubt that precariously surrounds him, he is not sure if he will be resilient enough to resist. It was so much easier, so much simpler to just accept that there was a sort of blackness in him that will grow until there is nothing left.

The boy is young and lively. He’s teeming with excitement, his body nearly quivering with anticipation. The stallion smiles gently, and though the smile is sincere, it does not quite reach his somber blue eyes. The boy wishes to explore (no doubt, especially with the looming giant of a volcano resting at Warrick’s back). Warrick’s blue-tipped ears prick curiously as he gives him his name and the place he is from. He snorts gently, finding it interesting that yet another from Sylva has found themselves here – it wasn’t too long ago that Karaugh and her brood were visiting the tepid land. He still remembers his interaction with the mystical and aloof mare in the forest, one of his first conversations with another in his return from the mountain, family-less. He closes his eyes, remembering the stormy color of her coat and the bright, sparkling anklets at her feet.

Warrick’s blue eyes reveal themselves as his auburn lids open, Ivar’s eyes are large and hopeful as he stares up at him. Warrick always looks for the best in everyone he comes in contact with and for Ivar it was no different. The bay stallion lowers his head slightly to be at eye level with Ivar. “Lucky for you,” Warrick begins, a smile finding the cobalt blue of his lips, “you’ve found the best travel guide in Tephra.”

He knows exactly where to take the colt. The seaside with its crystal blue waters and the reflection of the volcano in its surface would be the perfect place to show a stranger the beauty of his home. He remembers finding Tang there, and showing her the underground grotto he had found. Perhaps Ivar would like that as well.

With a decisive flick of his tail, Warrick turns on his heel and lopes forward, beginning the trek towards the sea. He hopes that Ivar’s sense of adventure would allow the colt to follow him without hesitation.

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick

[Ivar]

i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same Ivar has had an easy childhood, even if his parents do not speak to each other. They both love him in their own ways; they have done their best to teach him the things that they know best. The piebald colt has never been lonely, never lacked for company. He often prefers solitude, truly, but that is only a manifestation of his animal instinct. Still, it is hard to explore a place with no guide, so when Warrick agrees to show him Tephra Ivar is elated. “Awesome!” He says, unable to hold back a little buck of excitement. While he’d been skeptical about the volcano, he follows Warrick, and looks around. The heat is quickly tangible, and there is a multitude of flora in the humid land. Ivar is most used to the red and yellows of Sylva, but he has learned in his travels that most trees tend to cycle, and their ever-fiery canopy is a rarity. There are noises in the greenery, some that he has never head, and he looks to Warrick and asks: “What kind of animals do you have here? We have lots of deer in Sylva.” -------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------

[Warrick]

The young boy follows him eagerly, and Warrick is glad that there is still some youthful innocence still stirring within the confines of Beqanna. Ivar is adventurous and not in the least bit guarded or unsure. It was refreshing and obviously Warrick welcomes it warmly; any sort of light that could distract him from the overwhelming emptiness of Tephra will suit him just fine. Warrick dives head first into the damp foliage that was heavy with moisture from the humid atmosphere. Broad, fat leaves whip against their bodies as they move through the jungle-like landscape, the warmth of the air becoming denser as they head deeper into the Tephra’s epicenter. He wonders that if after their adventure through the tropical forests, if the boy would return the favor and accompany Warrick to Sylva. Warrick did not have any civil duties or politics to involve himself with Tephra’s current position, so a trip would be merely for pleasure and for the sake of seeing the forest that he’s heard so much about.

A single blue-tipped ear flicks backwards to hear the colt’s hooves following steadily behind him. “We have many colorful birds. What you’re hearing are the macaws.” As if on cue, a few macaws flutter overhead, stirred from their perches by the sound of their hooves, their wings brilliantly colorful against the darkness of the canopy overhead. He slows a bit when the jungle begins to thin, foliage beginning to wane away to reveal large, wet rocks covered in thick vines. “There are some jaguars that stalk the area, though they are mostly solitary and stick to the cover of the jungle.” Warrick turns his head slightly to peer at Ivar from the corner of his eye, wondering if he was now listening for the sound of a jaguar’s yowl within the trees.

The volcano was closer now, but still towers over them like a steady breathing giant with billows of smoke and ash. The jungle has dissipated almost entirely; save for a few palmetto plants and trees that sparingly grew before them. The soft and damp underbrush that was beneath their hooves now gives way to the white of sand, and before them stands a glorious, sunlit beach. From this view, the volcano can be seen in its entirety, as well as glowing streaks of slow moving magma that cuts into the thick rock. He waits until the colt draws up beside him before a steals a glance at him, hoping that the majesty of the volcano would incite awe just as it’s done for so many who have visited here.

“There is a legend that the goddess of fire, Pele, lives in the center of that volcano. Those well versed in the legend, say that Pele will sometimes take a form of an old and sickly pale mare to test others – asking them if they have shelter or for them to care for her. Those who are generous and show her compassion are rewarded with their deepest desires, while anyone who is greedy or unkind is punished by the flames deep within her home.”

Warrick smiles. He loves stories.

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick

[Ivar]

i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same Though Ivar has met a handful of other children his age, it has not been in Sylva. He is the youngest in the fiery woods by several years and has had to venture outside the confines of the realm to find company his own age. The other children he has met have been most agreeable (he’s rather biased towards pretty Kylin and bold Castille, but the others had been wonderful as well), but the yearling has spent most of his time in the company of adults. As a result, he is more reserved than most youth his age, but like his earlier exclamation has proven – his age still shows from time to time in more than just his lanky looks. His curiosity has never hidden well however, and he listens intently as Warrick describes the wildlife of Tephra. His brown eyes turn up at the macaws, watching the brightly colored birds as they disappear into the greenery. He has seen a few small green parakeets while on Ischia, but they were dull compared to the brilliant ruby and sapphire of the birds overhead. “Woah.” He mumurs quietly to himself as he follows Warrick. The vine covered rocks are inspected with a curiosu sniff of his pale muzzle. tHey remind him of the erupting rocks in his own home, but the vines are a novelty, as is the idea of a jaguar. “That’s a cat, right? Like a lion?” He’s heard mother mention jaguars before in her descriptions of the old Beqanna kingdoms. They’d lived in the Amazon jungle, and he wonders if any of the women of Nerine had seen them before. He’d like to see one, he decides, and is indeed inspecting the shadows in the hopes that one will appear. He looks up to see Warrick watching him and grins a bit guiltily – he has seen that expectant amusement in his sire’s eyes more than once. The forest around them is thinning, and Ivar brushes against a saw-leaf palmetto with a surprised yelp. They do not have sharp plants in Sylva, he thinks as she scowls at the low-growing plant. They also don’t have views like this in Sylva. In front of them, the sea waves tantalizingly, separated from him only by a bit of white sand. He steps forward tentatively, unsure of the difference between this pale sand and Nerine’s grey, but finds that it is much the same. Ivar follows the navy-haired stallion’s gaze up the volcano, where the dark rock is split by streams of red hot magma that steam into the sea. He watches it, both awed and suspicious, and listen to the story that Warrick tells him. It is not one that he has heard before (and Mother has many stories). When Warrick finishes, Ivar is quiet for a while before he turns back to the older stallion. “Have you ever seen her?” He asks, “Pele, I mean?” -------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------

[Warrick]

“I don’t think a jaguar would appreciate you calling it a cat,” the stallion muses with a gentle chuckle, peering at Ivar through the shade of his thick and tangled forelock that had fallen over eyes in their travel.

Warrick is not disappointed at the look that sprawls across the young boy’s face as they move into the clearing. He looks at the palpitating volcano with a mixture of uncertainty and amazement, whereas Warrick merely smiles with adoration and a little bit of pride. The volcano is daunting as it looms above them like a silent, sleeping beast and for those who have not seen it with their own eyes, their insignificance would feel immense beneath its dark shadow. Even Warrick felt small and trivial when he stands near the volcano’s base, where he carefully presses his indigo lips against the searing rock absentmindedly, as dark thoughts twist around him.

Ivar looks up at Warrick curiously, as he stares out towards the volcano, his voice light with his youth. A smile curls at the corners of his mouth, the sea wind stirring the heaviness of his mane and forelock away from his body as the wind shifts, the smell of salt and sun and dried seaweed filling the air. Warrick narrows his eyes thoughtfully; his eyes becoming slightly out of focus and distant as he lets the pause between Ivar’s question and his answer grow with anticipation. “I’m always looking for her,” he says almost dreamily, his voice near above a whisper. He is unsure as to who he is referring to, but to Ivar, he was referencing Pele. He almost wishes that the goddess of fire would appear to him and grant him his deepest desire.

“What would you do if you saw her?” Warrick asks carefully, turning his gaze downwards to look at Ivar with a hint of a smile on his face.
 

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick

[Ivar]

i am terrible and totally thought that it wasn't my turn. i’m so sorry for the long wait!!

i know i'm not the center of the universe -but you keep spinning 'round me just the same Somewhere out in the sea is Ischia. Ivar thinks, for just a brief moment, that he can see the green island on the horizon. But a wave crests and falls, and he loses it entirely. Has Kylin ever come here, he wonders, walked across the ocean to see the great volcano that warms her tropical home? He has been thinking of her more and more lately for reasons he can’t quite fathom. Shaking his head, the tobiano colt tries to clear the image of the lavender filly from his head by looking back at Warrick. The older stallion seems lost in memory even as he answers Ivar’s question. He has seen the expression many times before; his parents often drift. He’s willing to wait for it to end though, and he does she that, taking in the streams of lava hissing into the sea with wonder in his brown eyes. Warrick questions him then, and for a rather long while, Ivar watches the sea. “Well,” he finally says, “I don’t want to be burnt. But if I already know what happens if I don’t help her, would choosing to help her really mean anything? Or would I be doing it just so I wasn’t punished?” He looks up at Warrick curiously, clearly expecting the bay horse to have an immediate answer. This is, perhaps, why Mother has never complained when he was ready to explore; she isn’t the one who has to answer his endless questions. -------------------i v a r ------------------------------------djinni and stillwater---------------------------------

[Warrick]

 
The curiosity that seeps through Ivar’s entire being causes a knowing smile to find the cobalt of Warrick’s lips. The pied boy was so much like he had been when he was younger – questioning and exploring everything, delving deep into the folklore and legends that he was told, not for a second wondering if the story held any truth. It was refreshing to see, knowing that in a world full of magic, that story-telling still enraptures those who search for it. Ivar’s answer really became a question, and as Warrick’s eyes stare thoughtfully at the volcano that stands before them, he tilts his head in curiosity. As if answering Ivar’s question, the volcano grumbles and groans, spewing a few bouts of lava from its top, which would add to the mystical rivers that spread throughout Tephra.

Warrick laughs deep in his chest, the chuckle rumbling within him much like the volcano just did. His sea-blue eyes flick into a downwards gaze to look at Ivar. “I like to think that Pele would be able to recognize the deepest parts of our hearts – so as long as she sees that your intentions are noble and true, you will be blessed.”

The bay stallion begins to move forward, eyes glancing upwards as the color of the sky begins to change from blue to orange, for sunset was not that far beyond them. He walks along the shoreline with Ivar, the sound of gulls lazily cawing and the consistent roll of waves against the sand filling the silence between them.

“Where else have you been, Ivar? I can tell by your eyes that you have seen more than just what I have shown you.”

like the sun,

swallowed up by the earth

warrick