06-01-2017, 09:33 AM
Just as a stillness settles over Tephra, Warrick was finding a stillness settling over himself. It’s a silence that is profound and troubling, bringing uneasiness in his stomach that does not rest, but groans achingly with turbulence. It is unwanted by him and he tries to overcome the feeling, but the path is too steep and his legs too weak. He feels himself slipping, spiraling downward into an abyss that he had worked so hard to crawl out of. He remains in the shadows, lonely and desolate in the tepid, damp cave that he had found. Not even moonlight could trickle in, his eyesight obscured with mist that steams from the underground rivers of magma and water. The mugginess of his cave leaves him feeling sticky and hot almost constantly, dripping with a mixture of steam and sweat as it runs in rivulets down his body.
He’s reliving his worst nightmare, a constant tremor of fear and doubt plaguing his mind. Once again he has been left to his own devices, to brave his darkness alone.
Suddenly there was noise that was out of place. Above the accustomed sound of water hissing as it drips into lava, Warrick hears a voice. His ears prick forward instantly from beneath his damp mane and he lifts his chin, for the first time in a long few weeks becoming engaged and interested. He quietly begins to move to the mouth of the cave, his hooves clicking loudly on the smooth, wet surface of cold stone. It was early morning and a fine mist shrouds Tephra in a cloudy haze. The bay stallion snorts sharply, his breath leaving him in a swirl of vapor. He blinks back the sunlight as it attempts to brush him with warm fingers, though it the air was too sultry and hot to begin drying the wet tendrils of his mane and forelock that plaster against the musculature of his neck.
His navy legs bring him out of the dark cave, moving forward at a lope towards the source of the call. Warrick comes towards the black stallion just as he begins to speak, lingering distantly as he was unsure if he wanted to join the crowd. A few horses have already begun to arrive before him, listening intently to the one who spoke. His blue eyes rest inquisitively on each as they arrived, dismayed at the fact that there were still so many that he did not know. His ears fall back slightly as his eyes return to the stallion.
To his surprise, a large part of him did not care. He had watched Magnus hand the crown to Lucrezia, and then watched as her presence waned. He wonders to himself if this is how leadership works, or if the stallion was here to prove its true intention. Warrick’s mind is plagued too much with dismal thoughts to be sure if he is for or against this stallion’s suggestions.
“Offspring,” he says respectfully, his voice frigid and tense (anyone who knew him would know this was out of character) as he addresses the black, scarred stallion. “I’ve promised to do my duty to Tephra and protect its sanctuary at all costs and during all times. That much has not changed.” A pause. But so much else has. “You have led once before, and if those who know you well are in favor, it is my duty to serve you.”
He’s reliving his worst nightmare, a constant tremor of fear and doubt plaguing his mind. Once again he has been left to his own devices, to brave his darkness alone.
Suddenly there was noise that was out of place. Above the accustomed sound of water hissing as it drips into lava, Warrick hears a voice. His ears prick forward instantly from beneath his damp mane and he lifts his chin, for the first time in a long few weeks becoming engaged and interested. He quietly begins to move to the mouth of the cave, his hooves clicking loudly on the smooth, wet surface of cold stone. It was early morning and a fine mist shrouds Tephra in a cloudy haze. The bay stallion snorts sharply, his breath leaving him in a swirl of vapor. He blinks back the sunlight as it attempts to brush him with warm fingers, though it the air was too sultry and hot to begin drying the wet tendrils of his mane and forelock that plaster against the musculature of his neck.
His navy legs bring him out of the dark cave, moving forward at a lope towards the source of the call. Warrick comes towards the black stallion just as he begins to speak, lingering distantly as he was unsure if he wanted to join the crowd. A few horses have already begun to arrive before him, listening intently to the one who spoke. His blue eyes rest inquisitively on each as they arrived, dismayed at the fact that there were still so many that he did not know. His ears fall back slightly as his eyes return to the stallion.
To his surprise, a large part of him did not care. He had watched Magnus hand the crown to Lucrezia, and then watched as her presence waned. He wonders to himself if this is how leadership works, or if the stallion was here to prove its true intention. Warrick’s mind is plagued too much with dismal thoughts to be sure if he is for or against this stallion’s suggestions.
“Offspring,” he says respectfully, his voice frigid and tense (anyone who knew him would know this was out of character) as he addresses the black, scarred stallion. “I’ve promised to do my duty to Tephra and protect its sanctuary at all costs and during all times. That much has not changed.” A pause. But so much else has. “You have led once before, and if those who know you well are in favor, it is my duty to serve you.”
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick