As adaptable a traveller as she considered herself to be, and as practically bound to the notion that so long as you can lead an legion of foot soldiers across it, Voana had no strict terrain preference. Nonetheless, she did not like a desert in any shape or form, for despite her own experience telling her that a legion could charge across it, Voana did not trust a desert, too wary of the unnatural and unpredictable way any path you might fight to claim, would seep and change beneath your feet at the slightest fell of foot. As she continued her stride forwards, the leather reins clutched in her right hand and pulling along the sand-horse behind her, Voanas mind saw fit to summon memories of the Battle of Roqagh, a mortal skirmish over a Citadel on the Sands of the East. Truthfully, Voana had thought it a petty conflict, Roqagh certainly a pretty monument to Elven architecture but not of any importance to a Ancient like Voana, nonetheless it promised to be a fun enough war and Voana had slipped within the ranks of the invaders with no small measure of anticipation. Following months of toiling siege, the army Voana belonged to had broken through the outer walls guarding the great plain of desert that lay before the Citadel and, in their battle-born arrogance had charged towards the city almost instantly.

Voana had considered that such a war between Humans and Elves would have attracted the participation of others of her kin, and she had been right. A Sister, Oena, who had the talent of shifting all matter itself into any shape she desired, had met them, stood atop a parapet of the Citadel in the distance, tiny and unseen by all but Voanas keen eyes, the sight had stopped her in her tracks. Those in the army who had raced past her and on towards the city had experienced the earth fall out from under them, Oena commanding the sands and sweeping them into a wave that encompassed half of the plain, blotting out the redness of Aun and sending thousands into a deep dark pit where no man could gain footing against the seamless granules of the sand walls. Those that survived the fall, were suffocated and crushed as Oena released her wave and sent the great mass of sand to descend on them, their cries for mercy melting into the earth as the desert again settled into a smooth plain. In the midst of her recollection, as swept up by the remembered emotions of shock and horror, Voana gave a calculating glare at the desert around her, her steps faltering and her hands clenching at the sudden panicking surety that the sands would seize up once again and turn and envelope them in a red deluge.

From her seat atop the sand-horse, Itone called out a questioning and raspy "Voana?", concerned as to why their small caravan had ceased movement. Piercing through her like a cool, fresh and entirely welcome breeze, the voice of her Wife shook Voana from her thoughts and paranoia and she re-adjusted herself, [i]tsk[/i]ing quietly at her foolishness. 

There was no need to fear Oena and her sand, the Ancients smirking face had been cleaved from her shoulders by Voana herself not an hour after her sand tricks.

"It's nothing to worry over..." she called back to Itone, turning to the side and moving her eyes away from the sands and up towards what could be seen of her Wifes face through the thick scarf wrapped around her shoulders and head. Itone as stubborn and unyielding as she was, was a true Northerner in body, and had no head for such harsh, unforgiving heat. The Shield-Maiden had suffered one of her flashes a mere day after arriving in the ramshackle port-town Nursia where they had sailed from the North after receiving the summons. Voana had refused to continue until she deemed her Wife fit to travel onwards across the dunes to their destination, and even then had insisted on Itone taking residence atop the sand-horse ('camel' the merchant had called it) for the duration of the two-day trek across the desert. 

Itone peered down at Voana, her eyes glinting suspiciously for several short seconds before she relinquished the concern with a pointed, "If you say so...", her voice again raspy and dry enough to provoke concern in Voana instead. Voanas brow furrowed, her left hand dropping to the pack at her waist, fetching her water-skin and holding it up towards Itone, who regarded it with a chastising air and the bundle of scarves that helmeted her head tilting to the side. Voana presented her Wife with an admonishing look of her own, "You should drink my love, you need not worry of wasting it-" Voana asserted firmly, tilting her chin upwards at the tall dune they stood at the bottom of, "-we're almost there." 

With a slow sigh, Itone leaned down and took the water-skin from Voanas hand, seizing back up into her perch before pulling down the hem of her scarf, exposing her mouth. After taking a long gulp, she sighed again, this time with an air of appreciation, and sat back in her seat, looking up in the direction Voana indicated. "It'll be nice to get out of this heat." Itone admitted, Voana releasing a grunt in agreement before turning back to her task, pulling on the reins to make the sand-horse approach the dune. As they began the climb, Voana called back to her Wife again, "It's a shame my Brother Hotar is not here to give you relief-" she stifled a smile at the look of confusion she imagined would be on her Wifes face.

"He had a fine ability of changing the weather, nothing large mind, there were plenty who prayed for him to reverse a famine for a whole nation only to be dismayed to find he had no such power..." Voana continued, pushing the brunt of her strength into forcing the sand-horse further up the dune, "but the immediate area, yes...I imagine he could have made it rain for us, or at least just a little cooler."

She cast a spurning gaze up at the cloudless sky, but upon hearing her Wife release a considering sound she turned to look over her shoulder. Itone peered down at her again, a thin line across her visible lips, "You refer to this Brother of yours in the past tense...so I'm assuming he's dead."

Voanas nodded slightly, "Aye, he fell during the great war..." she explained, turning her face back towards her task, a smile twisting onto her lips as she finished, "...under my sword of course." Her smile morphed into a grin at Itones short bark of laughter. 

"See that's really it, that sort of thing tells me so much about you" Itone alleged in a half-amused drawl, "of the few stories you DO tell me of your kin, more than half of them end with" she wove a hand in the air "'and I killed them.'" 

"Well it seems I'm becoming repetitive, You must be getting tired of me." Voana chuckled.

"Getting close to it." Itone sang swiftly in reply, helping to alleviate some weight on the upwards climb, leaning forward in her seat and pulling up the pack tied onto the back of the camel behind her. Soon enough, they crested the dune and found themselves looking out across a wide landscape not wholly dissimilar to that they had travelled across for two days now. What was different about the view was the great monument in the distance, towering and magnificent even from where they stood, maybe half a league away. Itone felt her brow raise and heard her voice take on an faintly impressed tone as she asked, "Is that it?", thinking of all the scattered scraps of ruins buried in the sands they had ambled past the last two days, surely this structure that captured the light of Aun so beautifully could not be counted among them?

Voana brought them to a steady halt atop the dune, breathing in shortly before releasing the breath in a slow sigh, "Aye...That's it." The Tower of Broken Dreams was as opulent and imposing as she remembered, glittering and splendid in the rays of Aun as if it still stood as an indication of present power and glory, and not as a monument that had withstood a thousand deaths and conflicts, surviving as a testament to a lost greatness. So gripped by the hazy but pleasing recollections of true power that the sight of the tower summoned was Voana that she didn't register her Wife calling her name, hearing but a muffled shout before receiving a sharp prod between her shoulders that snapped her attention back to the present once more, turning to look up at Itone with a furrowed brow and a questioning expression. Itone gave her Wife a narrowed glance before pointing down below them, "Someone's there." Voana snapped her head to follow the direction of Itones gesture, understanding her Wifes caution and inching her free hand to rest on the scabbard strapped to her hip on instinct. 

Taking a small step forward, Voana leaned over to glimpse down into the small valley that formed between the hill of their dune and the dune following it, and rested her sharp gaze on the lone figure that stood at the bottom of it. The being, tall and slender and accompanying a shadow that stretched behind her before melting away into the sand, looked up at Voana, their face still and calm and overall expectant, was instantly recognisable to her.

[i]Sohena[/i]