Boiling heat. Stifling air. Scalding sand.
Forever and ever.
There was no wind at all. Not any sound. The slightest impact of a feather on the sand would ruin the stillness of the picture. If there was a bird above to fly in such temperatures, that is.
Clean, distant blue skies.
Cloudless.
Endless.
The incessant faraway rumble. Coming closer. An engine, tired out by use and worn out by warmth. It roared, breaking the pleasant silence of this beautiful scene. If there was an observer that would be insane enough to be out in such a place, it would see a vehicle, slowly ascending tall dunes to descend them afterwards. Spotless tracks were left behind the jeep, going on and on for miles.
There was a man at the driving wheel. Young, and maybe handsome. Flowing, spiked up brown hair was in heavy contrast with the warm colors behind it. A pair of black glasses hid the man's eyes, leaving an aspect of mystery if the observer laid its eye on him. Wearing a large dark purple bandanna around his neck, which floated gently with the small turbulences on-board the vehicle.
Suddenly, the engine jerked to a halt. The man calmly lifted one hand, taking his black glasses ever so easily off his head, to peer down at the commands with an ocean-blue stare. A small air of idiocy crept up the man's face, as he slowly started descending the dune he was just escalating. Backwards.
The man looked behind, a fearing glint in his eyes. He cramped himself quickly to the chairs as the vehicle gained speed. It smashed into a small hill of sand at the bottom, making the man shoot out of the seat like a living projectile, head first into the sand behind.
A small moment passed before the man pulled his head out of the sand, using both hands to push himself out. Sand flowed through the air as he jerked his head back and sighed. He fell down backwards, and slid down to his vehicle. Shakily, the man got back up to his feet, scratching the back of his head, ruffling his hair.
An abrupt clank came from the vehicle, and a thin line of smoke lifted into the air from the engine. The man sighed heavily, grabbing a bag from the trunk, and heaving it onto his back. He sat next to the jeep, opening the bag, and taking out a bottle of water. Carefully opening it, he tilted it over his mouth, letting a flow of liquid pour into his opened mouth. He gulped it down, closing the bottle afterwards. Calmly putting the bottle back into the bag, the man tilted his head backwards, letting out another sigh.
"Why..." he croaked, "am I so unlucky?"

A large black bird swooped over the sands, stirring up little coulds as it wheeled and dove. It lazily glided though the air, enjoying the sun on it's back. Another black bird joined it, smaller than the first, but more playful, wheeling in circles around the first one. The larger bird snapped at the smaller one, starting to head downwards.
Merlas landed on the sand at a full paced gallop, followed close behind by her youngest foal, Midnight Star. They barely registered as they galloped past a figure, trying to slow down. They hooves sank deep into the sand, and Midnight soon tripped, falling flat on his face before standing up again and shaking, clouds of sand erupting from his coat and wings. Merlas trotted back towards him, and then spotted the human. SHe stopped dead, about ten metres away, head held up, ears pricked, just watching him.

At the sound of flapping, crashing and then silence, Vladimir slowly turned his head. His chin rested on his shoulder as to tiredly not use any muscles whatsoever to lift his whole head. His eyes widened at the sight of a giant black horse, and another smaller one at its side. There was something quite wrong with the animal, though, but Vladimir couldn't quite get his finger on it.
He scanned both beings, barely moving his eyes. He then spotted it.
What are horses doing in the desert?
Wait, no.
Why the heck do they have wings?
Vladimir blinked, thinking that he was surely in a coma or something, and that he was dreaming. "Uh..." he uttered quietly, "are you the... horses of the apocalypse?"

Merlas seemed to roll her eyes at the comment about the horses of the apocalypse. She snorted, shaking her head. Midnight amused himself by approaching Vladimir before neighing loudly and shying away again. Merlas eventually nipped him on the ear, putting an end to his game. She walked a couple of metres closer to Vladimir, her head nodding with her stride in a normal horse fashion and her wings tucked neatly into her sides.
"Who are you, little one?" She asked.

Vladimir lifted one eyebrow at the horse. A little voice at the back of his head started murmuring.
Woah, talking mirages. What do we do with technology these days?
As if Vladimir had magically gotten all his energy back, Vladimir stood up, putting his hands on his hips superiorly, as he looked defyingly at the talking horse.
"Who do you think you're calling little?" he muttered, before snickering, and falling back on the sand again. "Eh, I guess talking to a few hallucinations won't be bad for me. I'm Vladimir. You might know me from all the... 'Wanted' posters around here."
The man turned his head to the tall horse, lifting again one eyebrow. "Do you have any... Horse-names?"

Merlas lowered her head to snort in Vladimir's face.
"I'm calling you little," She said, obviously as amused with Vladimir answering back as she was amused with Midnight's games. "I am Merlas Aurayasdaughter and this is Midnight Starlightsson." She said, glancing briefly at the capering colt behind her.

Vladimir gulped silently at the names. He could only bear thinking what they meant, but not understand the weight. He sighed. "So..." he murmured, "Merlas and Midnight, eh?"
Vladimir thought a bit, looking up at the sky. He tucked both his hands behind his head, protecting the back of his head from the hot sand.
"Sounds like some heroes on a television show, somewhat."

Merlas rolled her eyes, flicking her ears back briefly.
"Sorry to dissapoint you, but no." She pricked up one ear before nickering a warning to Midnight. The colt instantly put on a surprised 'who me?' look on his face, earning him another nip on the ear from his mother.

Another pegasus landed on the sands, this time carrying a rider. A young woman with short purple hair looked down from the tall brown pegasus, taking in Vladimir's appearance. Raven didn't seem to impressed, recognising him from a description that Archangel and onyx had given her of 'the man who could be dangerou to us'.

Vladimir looked up, lifting one hand to protect his eyes from the light above. Despite this action, he could barely tell the features of the person that looked down at him.
Great, another horse. But who's that?
Vladimir squinted, to try and acute his vision, and he succeeded. His eyes met the violet-haired woman, and they widened.
Ooh, this can't be a mirage.
Vladimir got up, rubbing his knuckles against his chest, and blowing on them to take off the 'dust'. He always loved to do that move, like they did in almost every James Bond movie.
"Hey there," he said, full of himself, "nice weather, eh?"

Raven raised one eyebrow before she swung herself off the pegasus, standing in front of Vladimir.
"I take it that you're Vladimir," She said, her tone of voice suggesting that this was not an inquiry, but rather an affirmation. She didn't reply to Vladimir's question, her memory bringing up thoughts of Ahrach.

Vladimir grinned idiotically, looking down at Raven with sly blue eyes. He curled his arms behind his back, leaning down slightly to be at Raven's height.
"Yes, most people know me around here," he replied casually, "but you seem more... Secretive. Someone like you must have a name, no?"

Raven's violet eyes narrowed slightly, giving her a slightly cat-like look. She didn't like people coning down to her height if they were taller. It just made her more conscious of the fact that her twin had been slightly taller than her, and even her nieces were going to be taller.
"My name is Raven, but I don't think it will be of much use to you. However, I know from certain people that you have another name, don't you?" She said.

Vladimir grinned, and stood up straight, still looking at Raven. He brushed his brown hair with his hand, and turned his eyes to the woman again.
"Yes," he replied wistfully, "my middle name is Gentleness."
He thought himself intelligent to do such a stupid answer, but there are certain points of view of the worst womanizer of the world.

Raven mentally rolled her eyes.
"No, I was thinking more along the lines of 'Damascus', or am I mistaking you for someone else?" Raven didn't seem to think that she was mitaking him for anyone else, she just added it to seem politer than she actually was. That and to add a little bit of sarcasm to her words.

Vladimir froze in his place. He didn't even breathe. His eyelids opened ever so slowly to meet Raven's eyes, and there was a flash of fear inside them as he set them on Raven. His face became serious, and he straighted, turning away, and leaning on the nearly buried jeep. He sighed, putting his hands on his knees, and he looked up again, his eyes behind the fringes of his chestnut brown hair.
"You're somehow related to those girls, aren't you?" he asked calmly.