[private] There's the rub [Warrick]

[Warrick]

like the sun swallowed up by the earth

The title had not been given to him for more than a day, and the blue-bay already felt the weight of it crashing down around him. Ever the protector, ever the wise, he held his head with a strong and indignant pride, unwavering beneath the weight for it was Tephra, his home and his heart. It always would be (he had always made it prominent to do so, for investing all of himself into anything else could lead to disaster), so the terrible crown that encircles his head is not so much of the thorns Ellyse envisions them to be.

He is staring into the ocean, as he always is, with the salt-stained wind coursing through his russet skin and navy feathers, trilling them with its warm fingers as summer arrives in the tropical landscape. The heat is unforgiving and unmerciful, but the stallion finds it rather comfortable, despite the sheen of sweat that begins to lace his shoulders and haunches, glistening heavily in the summer sun. He is prepared to nearly take his leave, to search for relief from a spring or a nearby waterfall, when the sound of approaching hooves on darkened and ash-stained sand causes him to hesitate, cerulean eyes lifting upwards to find the source.

A woman, gilded in amber and shadow, is walking towards him. Her eyes are illuminating and knowing, though the stallion has trouble placing her face with a name. Warrick watches her stride towards him beneath a furrowed brow, curious and welcoming (as always), lowering his head a degree to welcome her onto the black sand beach on which he stood.

She knows his name, and her voice is that of honey and wine, causing the navy of his lips to press together in an endearing smile, curious as to how well she knew the winged stallion before her. His absence had been brief in his venture to the Great Plains (a tinge of sadness pricks in his chest for his dear Tangerine), and perhaps her residency had taken place during that time, for so much else had happened during his time away.

“Summer in Tephra has always been a favorite of mine,” he admits to the mysterious stranger, glancing away from her for a moment to survey the towering volcano in the distance that dwarfs them in size and majesty. “So yes, a fine day.” He turns his brilliant blue gaze back to her, carefully tracing the soft curve of her cheek and the way that the sooty color of her skin fades into the sunset red of her belly and muscled legs. He cannot help but think she is somehow familiar, or that he should know her in some way. “I feel...” he begins, blinking his cerulean eyes slowly, thoughtfully, “as if I should already know your name?” He doesn’t mean for it to be a question but it is - the confidence in her prowess is undeniable (she belonged here, on the volcanic island), but he cannot remember formally meeting the mare before him.

Warrick

@[Ceara]