05-21-2018, 08:37 PM
we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
His thoughts stir, cloudy and heavy in his mind, but somehow become clear when she reassures him. There are some days where he feels as if he still doesn’t know what he’s doing - that he could never be the ruler that Offspring had been, that Ellyse had been...even Magnus. There are so many things that could easily go wrong, easily slip through his grasping hands. But her constant presence reminds him that he is doing all he can and he must be content with that fact. He sighs, a rattled and constricting sound, as his eyes trace the stars. “I assume it is Sylva, then.” I’m not strong enough. “We must be prepared for anything, Wound.” His mind flickers to Marble, to Sibyl, to Wishbone. I cannot protect them all. The Overseer flexes his wings, suddenly feeling extremely small beneath the brilliant expanse of night sky.
The conversation shifts, and Warrick prays that he will not have to think about Sylva and those he has failed to protect. His deep blue gaze scans the starlit sky, his cobalt lips twitching into the smallest of smiles. “Perhaps one day she will,” he murmurs, his voice soft with longing and dusty memories, of when Wishbone was just a child and marveled beneath Warrick’s grand navy wings.
“She is due any day now,” Warrick tells her, smiling happily knowing that Tangerine is tucked safely away beneath the grotto, with his Marble. A new child will be amongst them soon, and he finds the thought to soothe him in a way he cannot describe. He wonders then, if that is what Wound had meant when she had asked, and the stallion snorts softly. He pauses, lowering his chin just slightly and finding that his eyes are searching hers. “You are happy here, aren’t you?” With me? Warrick’s guilt finds his face uneasily; is the way he is to her enough? Is there more that she wants, that he cannot give?
Warrick
@[wound]
<3