01-23-2018, 06:14 PM
like the sun swallowed up by the earth
It did not surprise him at all - Tangerine’s third eye had never been wrong before, and the moment she hinted at the coming of a daughter, his heart had leapt into his throat. He hadn’t seen Wound recently, and though he is not susceptible to believing that their love-making would not result in a child, he had been fairly certain he would have noticed by now - at least, she would have made it known. But he hadn’t noticed and she hadn’t said anything, so the bay and navy man perhaps played the fool - it had not been written in the stars, the timing was off; his mind rattles off the possibilities. But in that grotto beneath the volcano’s might, the stallion realizes with a sort of quickness in his belly that he must find the silvered woman immediately, to lay to rest her qualms (if any) about his role as father, and to celebrate with her in their coming together to form new life.He cannot help but feel slightly giddy. Since the twins, he had not found the time to talk to Tangerine about the possibility of more children (she had been through enough, at the moment), and so the Overseer is more than happy to imagine another daughter to adore and preen into a mature woman. It is a process he had loved with both Svedka and Solace and their mother, and the stallions looks forward to sharing with Wound and their unborn.
It seems, however, he has found her a little too late.
Or, maybe, it is right on time.
The scent of sweat and heat infiltrate his nostrils (it is not the same smell that comes with normalcy of Tephra, which rouses him into alarm), and he snorts sharply. It is a familiar scent, though it has been many years since he last found it, and he recognizes it with a quickness of a breath and a break of his trot into a choppy lope, ears swiveling and nostrils quivering as he tries to place the source.
He finds her (them, actually) beneath the silky silver of twilight, a perfect beneath the volcano’s orange glow.
The stallion rushes to meet them, ears alert and eyes searching - he should have been here sooner. Concern sparkles in the depths of his blue eyes, alight with adoration and a certain softness that is only characteristic of a new father. There seems to be nothing wrong, nothing to worry about the two that bask in the dawn before him, and he relaxes. The sun begins to warm his back, bright and bold as it appears over the horizon, illuminating Wound and their daughter in such a brilliant gold color that it leaves him breathless. His feathers flutter beside him, one of his wings outstretching to cover her slightly as he walks to Wound’s back, watching the tiny filly from the other side of her mother.
“Wound...” he murmurs in a delicate whisper, pressing his muzzle to the crook of her ear, pride and warmth in his robust voice. “She is lovelier than the dawn.”
Warrick
@[wound] <3