Swallow me whole //Any

[Warrick]

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight

Philomena’s first words are not ones he is expecting, but the Overseer’s face does not show his surprise. He had been speaking of Hestia’s passing on (a sudden death, quick and shocking), and can feel the hint of solemnity in Philomena’s response. He is standing solidly beside the younger mare, the only movement being the rustling of his feathers in the sea wind, or the brush of his dark tendrils from his face. Warrick continues to stare out over the wrinkled ocean with her; a habit that has found him since his first few days in Tephra long ago. He will stand at the tides of the blackened shoreline forever - this he knows. He wonders who will be there with him at the end of days, which he hopes is many, many years (thousands upon thousands) from this moment.

“She has,” he tells her with a heavy breath. There is pride in his chest for Wishbone’s ascension into the sisterhood as their future queen, but he knows all too well the darkness that encompasses such leadership, and the burden that now both of his daughters now carry in their own countries. The Overseer snorts softly, as if expelling the thought from his mind, though it still lingers there; brittle and broken. Philomena’s voice is barely above a whisper, though it is not fragile or delicate. It reminds him of the hiss of the waves against the shoreline. He says nothing in response to her congratulations, not that he is ungrateful, but because he can tell by the wayward sound of her distant voice that she is not lingering on that thought, but something else. A blue-tipped ear is trained in her direction, his oceanic eyes staring out into the familiar sea, the long tendrils of his tail floating in the current around them.

Philomena’s voice begins again, and when he feels her eyes on him, the osprey-King turns his eyes towards her, his stoic head following. There is a small tilt of his head, barely noticeable, but the calm of his blue eyes remains the same. “I am more than happy to allow that, Philomena.” Perhaps the sweltering peninsula has grown on her, more than she had originally planned, or that there was more she needed to learn here. Either way, he turns his face back out to the ocean, shifting his weight and inhaling deeply - salt, ash, and dying sun. “Would you like to tell Scorch, or shall I?”

Warrick

@[Philomena]