Quand on n'a que l'amour - Warrick

[Warrick]

like the sun swallowed up by the earth

He remembers her vividly - a gentle spirit within the intensity and ashen decorum of Tephra, as well as one of the first he had ever met upon his first hoofsteps onto the volcanic island. She has been here, a steady and kindred presence, for as long as his brilliant mind could remember.

His wings - broad and strong and large - shuffle at his sides, the feathers attempting to smooth themselves together with the fluttering movement. Some do not listen, and he absentmindedly turns his auburn neck to tuck a few stubborn ones back into their place, their indigo color matching the indigo of his lips. The smoky black of her skin is vivid against the pale gold of the sunburnt plains, though the smell of soot and smoke that lingers there is intense as it hits his nostrils, stinging them as if she had been down into the depths of the volcano’s belly. The stallion jerks his head towards her quickly, a sharp snort leaving him as his bright eyes, the color of lapis, fixate on her. His gaze is soft, kind (as always) as she moves to join him within the mainland of Tephra, enjoying the warmth of the autumnal sun that is almost forgiving on their backs.

With a smile that alights the cobalt of his lips and reaches to his very eyes, he gives her a tiny nod in greeting. He would have reached forward to perhaps brush the darkness of her forelock from her eyes, but he second guesses himself and the gesture, instead pulling his chin to his chest.

“Amorette,” he greets her with a gentle voice, robust and deep on the humidity. “It’s good to see you,” and he means it, for Warrick rarely ever says things that doesn’t ring with his truths. Her question is a heavy one, and with a quick shift of his vibrant eyes out towards the volcano in the near distance, a rumbling sigh leaves his chest.

“It’s a lot. I’m learning, still. There’s so much I didn’t know about,” he admits with a sharp exhale, “but it is good.” He finishes with a finality, turning his head towards her with a curious expression as he echoes her. “How have you been?” He doesn’t ask about the reason the smell of fire and ash are sullen into her very being - part of him is hesitant to find out. But he stares at her very hard, with a kind of expression that pleads for her to speak truthfully.

Warrick

@[Amorette]