He doesn't just fly, he soars. Letting the strength of his wings and his trust in them carry him along the gusts of winds across the midday sky. Straight toward home. The ocean air fills his lungs, refreshing as well as soothing, mixing well with the warmth of springtime. It's been too long since he was home, so long that he wonders if it can even be called such. Though he doesn't honestly believe anyone could take his roots away from him. His mother had birthed him here, and when he'd lost her, he'd been taken in and brought up by another group. Learned to be a part of a family, even if it was quite admittedly a strange dynamic. He'd learned to fly here, how to be independent and to stand for what he believes in. Everything he is and was is in Ischia. And so it is here that he returns. 

The young, red-gold and violet stallion circles over the island first, knowing full well his family had been displaced from it for a long while. Golden brown eyes scan over its terrain, relieved to see the island itself is as he remembers, although its inhabitants have changed. He can't help but wonder who rules here now, and how accepting they would be of him. It was his experience that most leaders don't turn away an addition to their numbers, so long as it carries no threat, but one could never be certain. Badden breathes deep as he makes his descent toward land, making no attempt to veil his arrival. A snort resounds from him, as the pumping of his wings just before his hooves touch the ground stirs the sand up into his nose. It brings to mind a time when he and Kharon sped across these very beaches together, quite a bit younger then, which causes an absent smile to touch his lips. Good to be home, even if there was uncertainty of his reception with the ones who reside here now. His gaze lifts to scan around him, settling his gold and violet wings at his sides, broad neck arched as he waits to be approached by someone likely in charge.