Desert

here it comes, the wolf hisses into his mind. In response, the chocolate stallion rolled his emerald eyes and let an exasperated sigh escape his wide nostrils. Vanya was used to the easy life of Paradise, in truth he feels almost sure it is why she decided to return with him to Atlantis all those years ago. The jungle provided a constant source of freshwater and thick green foliage year round. Though the desert appeared from an outward perspective as Atlantis’ polar opposite, Rougaru knew that even in a land as barren looking as Salem, a substantial life could be had. Roots and dry grasses grew in abundance here in the desert. Though the tips tended to get burned and shriveled by the harsh sun, the base of the pockets of grass could be sweet and tender, especially close to the steady supply of water near the oasis. Date and pomegranate trees provided shade and their own fair share of sweet fruits and grew in abundance in the desert, if one merely took the time to look.

’this is an ashtray! A litter box! A graveyard!....’ her voice grows noticeably more shrill as her anger rises. It has been awhile since he has seen her this angry. Not even a hint of her small ears is visible beneath the damp threads of her mane. Her nostrils quiver furiously as her dark eyes glare daggers into his own. Was it weird that he found the look on her so sexy?

He takes in the verbal assault with calculated coolness. It was not like she was a mare to keep her opinions to herself. Vanya had always worn her emotions so plainly and been quite happy to make sure that EVERYONE around her knew exactly how she felt. It was what made her so delectable and infuriating at the same time. He is used to her displeasure, even if he has not seen it very much lately. However, as is prone to her nature, she finds the chink in his armor.

’you don’t think you have it in you anymore.’ the dark grin on her lips is enough to snap him from the distance of his thoughts. Dark ears peel backwards, disappearing beneath the damp ends of his cream and caramel mane. Emerald eyes glare at her in warning as he feels every hair on his body beginning to bristle with anger. The beast growls, its throaty volume vibrating against the concave of his broad chest as Rougaru takes a threatening step closer to the petite mare. Solomon. The name spits with a singsong taunt from her tongue. Solomon. The painted stallion had been a rival from the day he stepped onto the islands. It was only after Warsaw’s demise that the aggravating ice lord decided to become a true thorn in his side. Like a festering wound, the stallion had done his best to thwart any plan that Rougaru made. His raids on Paradise and claim over the pretty red spotted mare Chelle had been the final nail in his coffin. Rougaru was determined to end him.

Vanya knew exactly what she was doing when she spoke those words. She knew that his enemy was a way to bury those daggers into his stone heart. The comment on his age was the mere topping on the cake. She coils away from him, her long, dark tail sweeping high over her voluptuous hips as she dances. Apparently her anger managed to revive some of the energy that the long swim drained from her.

Aged? Defeated? Hardly. He wanted to scream at her. Wanted to threaten to show her just how defeated and old he was. Were it another time and place, perhaps he would have. However the wolf clawed forward with golden eyes blazing. Muscles tense beneath his battlescarred pelt as the large hessian lunges after her with head lowered and lips peeled back in a threatening snarl. Skillfully, he maneuvers his large body between her and the ocean, just in case the decision to take her chances there decides to rear its ugly head. Long neck snakes towards her as he plants a hard nip on her flank, aiming for the most tender piece of skin that he could sink his teeth into if only to wound her as her words had done him. ”This is OUR home.” he repeats, stomping his saucer-like hooves into the red sand, sending a plume of dust into the air.

For the first time in a long time, Rougaru feels himself merging once more with the wolf. Though age had peppered them both with white hairs and numerous scars, neither is prepared to crawl into a cave and wait for death as Warsaw had done. Adrenaline pulses through their veins as the stallion draws himself up as if preparing for battle. ”There is no defeat in me.” he growls, as much to himself and the beast as to Vanya. The sneer on her lips burns into him, flaming the damp embers of desire that had long bound him to the painted woman.

His whiskered lips fall back into place, hiding the threat of those yellowing teeth. He continues closer to her, matching each step she took with one of his own. Nostrils flare to inhale the sweet, spicy perfume of her skin. ”This is a fresh start for us” he purrs, his tenor calmer and more calculated. If there is one thing he knows about his pretty ballerina, it's that she hates ghosts. Paradise was full of them. Ghosts that he could never escape. Ghosts that Vanya could never climb high enough to knock from the pedestals he had placed them upon.

Now it is his turn to offer her a cheshire grin, his dark eyes glittering in the bright sunlight as he tilts his head towards her. ”That is… if you are still up to the challenge of being a queen.” he purrs, pausing for a moment before continuing with a haughty chuckle of his own. ”I cant understand if you are not up to the task though. Just keep in mind it’s not like there are plenty of stallions knocking on your door with the same offer. ” he taunts with a wicked grin.