And so they return to the Dragon's Throat. The dove is exhausted, a fact that Astraeus frequently throws at her through their bond, but she presses stubbornly onward. She will not give in to something as insignificant as her body's inconvenient whining; no, she is the Sultana, the khaleesi (if not in name anymore, then at least in spirit). Her herd needed her. Her khal needed her. She had abandoned them (albeit unwillingly) before, and she was not about to do so now. No, she will press on through her aching wings and stumbling feet, will summon the strength to press on from somewhere.

In any case, as they begin their descent into the sands, the angel calls out to the WildFire. "I don't want to see it flooded," she admits quietly, anxiety on her lovely features. The Dragon's Throat is home. How can she stand by and watch it overtaken by waves, buried under some new continuation of the sea? What if it isn't here when the water recedes?

The heat is suffocating when they land, the sun gleaming off of golden dunes. She watches him approach the tree and regretfully pull a branch from the trunk. The tree bleeds red, or cries crimson - she isn't quite sure which, but the sight of it causes her breath to hitch in her throat for a moment, her heart squeezing uncomfortably with something that feels a lot like grief.

"Cactus...?" she wonders aloud, casting her gaze around fretfully. He is right - what if they need to replant it all? What will the flood waters leave behind? Will they have anything to come home to? She shakes her head, pushing her fear from her mind, then trots purposefully from the tree, wondering if Gaucho will notice (even in their rather frantic state) the way her hips sway back and forth. After all, she has managed to give him the perfect view. For added effect, she throws a coy smile over her shoulder, inviting him to follow.

Halting before one of their prickly plants, she takes a deep breath and summons her magic. Crystal pools in the sand before her, trickling along the ground and up the cactus, wrapping around one of its broad, modified leaves. When she is gone, the spines are completely encased, ensuring that neither of them will harm themselves by trying to pick it up. Raising a front hoof, she strikes the crystal casing, which she knows to be strong enough to withstand her blow. When she lowers her head to pick it up, the crystallized rose hanging from her neck clinks against it, and she smiles at the memory.

"talk talk talk"
@[name]

Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight