As Vadim follows Arsinoe through the thick vegetation of the Lagoon, he wants to reach out. To brush his lips across her hip. To feel of her flesh as he hasn’t done in many seasons. Aside from violence, Vadim has not experienced the softer nature of others in quite some time. Jupiter had been a surprise, but as with every mare, he had avoided her once she had been trapped here in the Lagoon. To much of a coward to face whatever pain may be on her face for what he had done. But he is sure that despite the bit of space that separates them, Arsinoe could still feel his warm breath brushing over her hip. Solidifying he was following, as if the sound of his hoof steps did not.


As they reach the water, and Arsinoe accuses him of being a ghost, he feels as if he could claim the same. Was this truly happening, or was it all just a dream? Had he fallen asleep on his watch, his mind conjuring something so far fetched to sooth his hurting male pride? He can’t help but give a snort and a chuckle, both at his thoughts and her proposition. A race? Vadim lived for the chase.


“Better hurry if you plan to win.” he tossed back teasingly, and although he struck out powerfully through the water, the stallion never tried to win. Instead, he kept pace with the mare. His green eyes glancing to her often; taking in the mare she had become and not the angry girl he had first met. When the sands of Salem found purchase under his large hooves, he looked away to take in the moonlit scenery. Everything was so open here, it allowed a strange sort of brightness despite it being night.


“So tell me, desert princess, what you could possibly want from a lagoon brute like me?” Vadim asked, turning back to the beautiful painted mare, waiting for her to claim her prize from this betted victory.