The future always comes.
There is no hiding the way her conclusion brings rigidity to his posture. The looseness in his muscles fade in an instant; drawing taut beneath the mahogany of his skin. The truth in her statement brings a pained grimace onto his ivory face, lips rippling as he struggles to hide his reaction. Warden tucks his head, the spiraling blue onyx of his horns becoming more prominent with the movement as the inky black of his forelock fall away. He grits his teeth, the muscle in his jawline jumping with the pressure. “Always,” he replies bitterly, attempting to keep his mind from remembering the visions of shattered glass and how she calls his name so desperately, terrified and frightened, searching for him for protection. It would come to pass, just as his vision of his father’s sickness and the plague, just as his premonition of the war; just as they all do.
A visible shudder trickles down the broad of his back, where he then rolls his shoulders and straightens, snorting sharply. His gaze does not go to her but to the expanse above them once again, heaviness and solemnity in his ocean blue eyes. A single black-lined ear flicks towards her at her question, hard lines pulling at the disappointment in his expression. “Then they are not as all-powerful as my father has made them out to be.” Warden’s eyes now peer from beneath his furrowed brow at her for now, it seems it is his turn to listen.
The stallion is not sure if the darkness that shimmers in the silver woman’s irises are a trick of the light or something more, but it is enough to allow his brows to prick in veiled curiosity, his face a bit more handsome without the harshness of pained anger he so often wears. She speaks with experience and with a bit of brutality herself and Warden quietly remembers this about her: she appears to be much more than a timid, all-trusting star-gazer. She speaks of their cryptic ways and he snorts, nearly chuckling, at the irony - maybe his visions are from the stars then, for a puzzle is all he is ever given to see and to comprehend. “Cursing them seemed to rouse them,” he mentions to her with something that resembles humor, though it does not show on his face.
Another question is pointed in his direction and when she glances at him his gaze swiftly falls away, lifting to the silent and twinkling sky above them. His lips purse in thought, a shooting star scraping across the skyline as he did so. “Maybe I wouldn’t tell them anything; they already know.” He pauses. Perhaps his visions are the stars’ way of speaking to him. He grinds his teeth, hating the idea immediately.
“You can call me Warden, by the way.” A silence grows between them and though they are but strangers, he finds it comfortable. After awhile, he quietly asks: “Beyond your mountains?” There is a hum of inquisitiveness in his voice, wondering if she had meant metaphorically or literally, his gaze falling to hers as he once again pulls himself from the starry sky above them.
WARDEN
@[aletta]
