Ice In My Veins -[Any]

[Warrick]

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

He is of sun and light and wind, taking to the skies more often now as the winter’s season scrubs the blue sky clean of any clouds. Great wings - cobalt and dark against the brilliant blue of the sky - stretch outwards from his auburn sides, strong enough to carry him into the thermals of Tephra’s wind, and allowing the Overseer to glide expertly over his country with constantly searching eyes. He effortlessly guides himself from the blackened shoreline beneath the volcano’s breath (painted so from the constant smoke and ash spilling from its never-ceasing plume), carrying himself inland where he is met with tropical foliage that gives way into swaying golden grassland, split apart by both streams of water and lava.

With one swipe of his indigo feathered wings, he climbs up and then dives, flattening himself out over the land as he hovers close to the ground, cobalt legs tucked tightly beneath his chest. The wind pulls at his mane and tail, spinning out behind him in a tangled mess of black. The roaring of wind flickers past his ears, his speed causing the grasses to part away from him as he glides, his eyes searching but his mind thoughtless.

A brilliant flicker of blue catches his attention - his ocean blue gaze turns towards it, his wings already obeying his thought by turning to slow him down, catching the wind and lowering him so that his legs now nearly touch the ground. Once his hooves touch he gallops, wings still outstretched to slow his forward motion, and soon he is trotting and turning back to where the mare of ice blue had first caught his eye.

“Hello!” he calls to her with a lift of his auburn head, salt-dried forelock haphazardly covering the bridge of his nose. He is closer to her now, and with a gentle flutter of his great wings, he tucks them in carefully to his sides. The movement brings forth the smell of sun and sweat and sky, mingled with the sharpness of smoke that clings to his mahogany skin. He has not seen this woman before (he would have remembered her, certainly), but that fact does not stop him from greeting her with a breathless smile. He halts before her as he enters the shade beneath the tropical and green trees, fresh and alive from the summer-time plenty that is year-round, despite the winter that plagues other kingdoms around them. “Welcome to Tephra,” he begins, his cerulean gaze curiously watching her.

There had been many new faces in Tephra as of late - it is quite possible that Amorette or Wound has found another to bring to the protection of the navy-winged ruler, and Warrick is certainly not one to assume a stranger would enter his home as a hostile. Perhaps it will cause him heartache in the end (trusting so easily, loving so fiercely), but he cannot help the way his soul had been created, and he will not deny his soul its pleasure of meeting new people. “I am Warrick, the Overseer. Mind if I join you, wherever it is you are headed?”

Warrick

@[Mura]