12-20-2017, 06:06 PM
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
If the stallions had stopped long enough to think about their differences, perhaps they would find that the two should not be compatible - Longclaw has a certain intensity that seeps through the very marrow of his bones, fabricated deep into the sinew of his muscles and tissue. The iridescent blue stallion brings a ferocity (that is extremely well placed, which is why Warrick admires him to begin with) that rivals no other. It is a trait found lacking within Warrick’s soul, but he is beginning to feel the tight grip from the pressure of the crown, and is not afraid of what this new title might bring forth from the depths of his mind - a tickle of anger swelling with the need for respect. Longclaw greets him warmly, flashing Warrick a familiar toothy smile. He often forgets the power wielded beneath the stallion’s outer facade, and the bay is glad to know that the white-flamed warg is on his side - or, more appropriately, Tephra’s.
“Let us make sure that reputation is to be upholded,” the winged stallion responds sternly, falling into step easily beside the shifter. Despite the largeness of his wings, Warrick moves effortlessly next to Longclaw as they begin to walk down the blackened beach. It must be obvious as the silence grows that Warrick has dove back into the sea of his thoughts, for Longclaw’s voice prys into the depths of his pensivity. It may be common knowledge to his night-strewn companion, but the news of Ellyse and Dahmer’s move to Sylva still resonates violently in his chest, leaving him feeling vulnerable and on edge.
“I have lost my general, my commander, and my ambassador. Word of this will fly quickly through Beqanna, and I am not one to sit and hope that no one will attempt to take advantage of Tephra’s shift in rulers and powers.” His voice is low and grave, ever realistic as he quickly summarizes Tephra’s current political state: weak.
“Lead my guard, train my soldiers - prepare them for darker days; to expect the worst, and to hope for the best. I do not doubt your abilities nor your mind - will you accept, Longclaw?”
They are still walking, their hooves quietly sifting through the dampened sand with each stride, the smell of salt and smoke stirring as the wind picks up, howling hauntingly through the night.
Warrick
@[Longclaw] <3
Claw can choose to be 'general' or 'commander', whichever one he thinks he'll have more fun being in charge of!
