With the rising of the sun came an all too familiar face. Deep ocean colored eyes turn to her - Leliana - but, with a small squint, he quickly notes that it is not Leliana.
Not
exactly, anyway.
The quiet healer he remembers is before him, but is not the same type of quiet. Stoic almost, and still - like there was something grumbling beneath the surface, too powerful and too precious to waste on many words. There had been some kind of shift in her being and it radiates before him tenfold. She appears different too - glowing, nearly. Her eyes draw him in and his gaze locks there unwaveringly with a gentle snort.
“Leliana.”
He says her name soft and evenly on the dawn’s air, his tone of voice one of solidarity brimming with a blossoming curiosity. He is no stranger to magic, despite his lack of it. His wings shuffle, the lingering scent of Hyaline’s wistera on their feathers.
“You are not the same,” he comments mildly as his gaze then shifts to the distant volcano.
Good. “No one should stay as they once were.”
Warrick allows a comfortable silence to grow between them, a small smirk twitching onto the mottled cobalt and gray of his mouth. Welcoming new life despite the plague warms his heart, as his own children were the light of his life. Warrick’s mind flickers to them - of Marble and Sibyl, of wayward Warden, and his family in Hyaline. His smiles settles into a thin line at the thought of his ivory-faced son, but he is quickly pulled from his reverie as another thought comes into his mind.
“We’ve survived.” A pause, with the slight tilt of his chin upward while a single navy-tipped ear trains in Leliana’s direction.
“What shall we do with that gift?”WARRICK