[ rafal has traversed the sands of solm. before it rotted away. no, he corrects himself firmly, before he rotted them away. here, it is hard to sense the same malaise. this is a living desert. death is not seeped into the sand. his power here will be weaker.

but. he is smart. he ties a headband around his forehead to keep the sun out and soak up the sweat. he keeps enough water and salt packets, just in case. in fact, he may be handing you one. ]

Keep some salt on you.

[ that being said, the oasis comes as a relief. rafal fills up his bottle, allowing himself a moment of respite. it would be easier to fly over the desert, but harder to spot anything. so he's stuck in this form for now. just like when —

the world seemingly blurs. a vision of rafal and . . . a man. the man is kneeling to him with a sadistic smile on his face. fogado, the once prince of solm

"What does my liege command?" he says mockingly. rafal scoffs, not even looking down at him, "Corner them. And then wipe them out. Let the rats take them."

fogado chuckles with a hint of pained laughter, "Will I be free then?"

"We shall see," was rafal's clipped reply.

the scene melts away with rafal looking pensive. ]

Truly a horror to witness.

[ got a prompt in mind? pm this journal or hit me up @ timmtams ]