Lone Star Mountain Who called me by my name and ran

All time evaporated in the single moment that it took for the pied monarch to turn an eye on him. Warbone saw everything in that instant, his single eye absorbing a massive eddy of information about her in what would have seemed like a passing glance to an onlooker, but what felt like an eternity to the cyclops. The air stilled, his mental fog parting like the Red Sea; and poised neatly within the bisection of his clarity, was her.

Did you feel it, too?

No, my dear, I felt nothing but you.

His answer came gently, in the form of an acceding grunt.

He could feel the air again— a soft pressure against his side, urging him forward, insisting that he join her. There was little hesitation on his part, for once he had seen no fear or threat creasing the lines of her courtly countenance, he stepped forward with the conviction that he belonged there: beside the uncrowned queen. "The wild sings in all places," he amended gently, the deep reverberation of his voice filling the space between them, even as he sought to close it. "You hear it loudest when you are ready to listen." He felt this way as a man who had spent a lot of his life alone, ignoring all the songs until he was ready to hunt— ready to listen.

Warbone came to see what she overlooked, reflexively positioning himself so that she stood on his right side, and then reclined langorously at her side; near enough to touch, respecting the space not to. The rugged stranger who comes to sit next to you in the lobby. "What are you tuning out, that you hear the wild so clearly right now?" he asked without looking at her, his head inexplicably turned towards the Thunder Dome, though more specifically towards where the Keep lie.