resurrect the saint within the wretch
It does not take long for his deep ocean-colored eyes to find hers, an essence of fear within their depths as he makes that first initial eye contact, his forehead pulsing wildly in warning. There is an apology on her lips but it’s barely heard as his head pounds fervently, causing him to close his white lids around his eyes, champing as he presses his chin to his auburn chest. Then for a moment’s breath he is perfectly still. When Warden’s head lifts, his eyes are a milky white, looking beyond the chestnut mare at something she would not be able to see and in a time only he would be able to venture into.
This time, his vision is pressing.
There is no gradual flow towards the event he is to see - he has come in as it is happening and Warden can taste the bile that threatens to rise in his throat as his stomach sours. Like a terrible angel of death he stands over the mottled red woman, horror painted across his face as bone and marrow trap her from the inside out. The screams are mortifying and Warden attempts to close his eyes from the sight, but there is no turning away for even behind his eyelids the vision still plays infinitely.
She is a stranger and he does not know how she has come to such an end - where her own skeleton betrays her, growing like tree roots across her skin, gripping her tight and relentlessly. Her voice becomes strangled as the press of the bones is becoming too much, struggling now just to breathe as her fate slowly and perilously creeps forward. He’s there with her, until the end, even though it hasn’t actually taken place in time, and his eyes are moist with tears as she finally stills, her body shuddering to a complete halt.
In a single blink he is back in the present, the breath that was caught in his throat now escaping in a rush of wind from his open mouth, his eyes deep and dark as the ocean in the distance. Without hesitation his gaze falls to the woman before him - not the same woman from his vision, however - and merely stares at her as he gasps as if having run miles and miles, pain and guilt darkening his ivory face.
“No,” he replies, his voice thin and stripped. As the burning sensation on his forehead fades his vision does not, her choking gasps still in his ears, her frightened eyes still boring into him. The stallion shudders, ripping his gaze from the stranger before him, unfurling the perfect white of his large wings to take to the skies - he did not like to share company after a premonition and sought the solemnity of Tephra’s black sand beaches and perhaps its unforgiving waters.
@[lilliana]
i'm assuming she'll use her echoes and reference the vision to keep him from leaving? <3
