06-24-2017, 09:59 AM
The heat is relentless, thick and full of moisture. The vegetation seems to be dripping with sweat themselves, yet they continue to flourish within the humidity. The smell of sulfur and brine fill the air, barely a breeze touching the deeper parts of Tephra, the sea wind blocked by the dense foliage. All around Beqanna, the summer heat has begun to ebb, the chilliness of autumn now lingering on the gentle winds, the environment changing as the world makes way for the cooler months; but Tephra does not change. The volcanic peninsulas are persistent and unwavering – it is an endless summer, wrought with smoke and ash, blanketed with a cloak intense heat and stagnant air. It is not an environment that is particularly dreamed of, but the residents have become accustomed to it – Warrick barely notices the fervid temperatures anymore. The only time he does is when he visits neighboring kingdoms and lands, forced to remember that Beqanna continues to change while he is not.
While most horses have begun to have their coats grow in anticipation for winter, Warrick’s auburn skin remains thin and sleek, shining almost red in the warm sunlight. The constant humidity (as well as his frequent swims in the ocean water) causes his black mane and tail to forever be damp and wavy, crisp with a mixture of salt and sweat, plastered against his neck. He had emerged from a morning swim not that long ago, letting the sweltering heat dry the droplets of water that had clung to him as he moves through the dense vegetation that surrounds Tephra’s volcano. His blue legs, painted with the deep indigo of the night sky, pull him easily forward as he moves purposelessly, merely enjoying the sunlight as it filters through the trees and plays golden, intense patterns onto the broad of his back.
A familiar scent reaches his cobalt nostrils, causing the stallion to lift his head abruptly and to snort sharply. His eyes narrow immediately with inquisition, the scent of Hyaline reaching him. He quickens his pace, not surprised when he reaches the boundaries of his home and sees the young metallic stallion standing there waiting for him. There is another strange smell in the air that lingers – it is smoke, but not the sulfuric plume that rises steadily behind him. This smell warrants alarm – something had burned.
Concern painting the deep lines of his face, Warrick halts before Amet with a sliding halt. He nods his head in the stallion’s direction, a hooded brow shadowing the crisp blue of his eyes, his worry evident. Of course, his first thoughts are of Tang and her wellbeing, but Warrick is equally surprised when he realizes that he found concern for Amet as well – ruling is not easy, and by the distinct smell on his reptilian skin, all was not well. “Amet,” He says his name with a deep rumble, shattering the silence of the stoic world around them as the inflection of seriousness laces his voice. He knows the path from Hyaline to Tephra and though the metallic stallion’s body stands tall, the weariness is apparent. “There is a nearby stream. Have a drink and tell me what brings you to Tephra today.”
Warrick does not wait for an answer, turning to his right to walk alongside the borders towards a stream of freshwater he knows is nearby.
While most horses have begun to have their coats grow in anticipation for winter, Warrick’s auburn skin remains thin and sleek, shining almost red in the warm sunlight. The constant humidity (as well as his frequent swims in the ocean water) causes his black mane and tail to forever be damp and wavy, crisp with a mixture of salt and sweat, plastered against his neck. He had emerged from a morning swim not that long ago, letting the sweltering heat dry the droplets of water that had clung to him as he moves through the dense vegetation that surrounds Tephra’s volcano. His blue legs, painted with the deep indigo of the night sky, pull him easily forward as he moves purposelessly, merely enjoying the sunlight as it filters through the trees and plays golden, intense patterns onto the broad of his back.
A familiar scent reaches his cobalt nostrils, causing the stallion to lift his head abruptly and to snort sharply. His eyes narrow immediately with inquisition, the scent of Hyaline reaching him. He quickens his pace, not surprised when he reaches the boundaries of his home and sees the young metallic stallion standing there waiting for him. There is another strange smell in the air that lingers – it is smoke, but not the sulfuric plume that rises steadily behind him. This smell warrants alarm – something had burned.
Concern painting the deep lines of his face, Warrick halts before Amet with a sliding halt. He nods his head in the stallion’s direction, a hooded brow shadowing the crisp blue of his eyes, his worry evident. Of course, his first thoughts are of Tang and her wellbeing, but Warrick is equally surprised when he realizes that he found concern for Amet as well – ruling is not easy, and by the distinct smell on his reptilian skin, all was not well. “Amet,” He says his name with a deep rumble, shattering the silence of the stoic world around them as the inflection of seriousness laces his voice. He knows the path from Hyaline to Tephra and though the metallic stallion’s body stands tall, the weariness is apparent. “There is a nearby stream. Have a drink and tell me what brings you to Tephra today.”
Warrick does not wait for an answer, turning to his right to walk alongside the borders towards a stream of freshwater he knows is nearby.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Amet]