He comes to his queen while the sun still slumbered in her sky-cradle, before her tendrils of heat came reaching to stroke their bodies with her forever burning touch. The hues of a still sleeping Deserts cast a purple glow about the shadows of the sands and he is a magnificent sight amongst the stillness. He is every bit as thick and muscled as he had been at this age the first time around; he is a titan amongst regular men. Yael had sculpted him just as he had been in his prime, he could not have done better recreating his body himself. But it was arguable that she perhaps knew his every curve and scar better than he did.
Yael was the one unwavering light in the Nightwalker’s life, the one constant beacon that kept his hopes burning and bright. She had absolved his selfishness and forgiven his betrayals with a grace that was not expected (could not have even been asked) of her. Vanquish makes his way to their oasis when he catches her gleaming frame silhouetted against the glassy water and his chest throbs with shameless anticipation – still her beauty hurried his breath. He is at her side in a few long-legged strides, black lips pulling back to rake his teeth up her golden spine only to tug softly at the strands just behind her left ear. “Have I told you enough how much I missed you?” He asks, “mine,” he says, lipping at her golden ear.
.
vanquish
black king of the deserts
