The Lost Islands
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It's something I said, or someone I know.

Aralusian | Grullo (EE aa Dd) | 15 hh | Five | Fuchs

Nikola darkened Badr's door with a surprisingly neutral expression. Climbing from the sea with striped legs, he thought twice about shaking himself when the dry heat began to settle on his coat, bearing down on him with a weight he had not yet experienced. Pierce and Vesti must be miserable, his mind churning like silt, thoughts wading through mud as the heat quickly dried him out. As if the sun itself was pulling the life out of him, he fought his sudden want to plunge back into the sea and swim for home. He'd waited too long, he was sure. But Badr had suggested he was to send one of his girls back home. Call him impatient, he was mostly worried. For the wild bay not so much, but the fragile Vesti, very.

Bracing himself on the crest of the nearest dune, he called out a throaty wicker. Not of anger or irritation, but just a call to announce he was here and would like to have an audience with the sneaky liver chestnut stallion. His body language was simple. By the way his coat was drying out in quickly disappearing patches, there was one word to describe the grullo stallion, trying his hardest to keep still 'less he start to sweat from swaying alone. Little did he know it was likely to happen regardless.

Hopefully Badr would listen to what he had to say before running him out of his home. Nikola knew very well that his newly acquired crown meant nothing off of Atlantis. His next thought is sluggish and muddled, eyelids drooping as a new layer of shine formed on his neck.

Avoid Salem at all cost.



N I K O L A



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