[private] Golden Boy

[Vanquish]

The smell of field-grass and dale-wood that Phaedrus carried upon his skin reaches his nose and quakes his heart well before the stallion’s call rings in the king’s ears. Even though those memories wore the dust of too many years passed, that smell was still Lyric’s and it still caused his soul to quiver just as poignantly as it ever had. A slight smile tugs at the sides of his black mouth as he lets his thoughts sway in the memories for a breath, but then a warm rush of sorrow comes and washes it away.

Above the Deserts is a cloud-speckled sea of blue, its picturesque pattern reaching unbroken until the king comes to drag his long dark shadow across its bright face. The Deserts had been quiet, as they always had, but the dragon and the golden rose were never too far. And so Vanquish allows the pleasure of company to show across his handsome, gothic face as he steps from the sky. “Welcome to the Deserts,” the wraith-king says, the huge dragon bone wings at his sides folding neatly against his sides.

At first glance Vanquish takes Phaedrus for the changeling fox-girl that hovered in queen Lagertha’s shadow, with his black skin and blue mane and tail. But Phaedrus’ is heavy where Lagertha’s girl’s was dainty and he carries the Dale’s smell, not the Jungle’s. “And you are?” The Percheron asks, a wing indicating his invitation across the border as he speaks.

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vanquish

black king of the deserts