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Nothing could describe the vast wasteland that lay before the purple-eyed boy. Nothing.

Or should it be said that nothing was exactly what lay before Boreas. Nothing, a bleak, burning, world of nothing.
However, the young boy was far from feeling nothing. He simply couldn't process it, not at once anyway. Boreas wanted to scream, cry, yell, and even throw himself on the ground. Oddly, not a single cry of pain or expression of fatigue could escape from within him. There was a raging maelstrom of emotion swirling and tormenting his mind, body and soul. But nothing crossed his face, the eyes remained dull with emptiness.

How. . . Why?
The words came softly and in a harsh whisper from the chapped, dry lips. He could barely speak, the torrent of emotion forcing him to a mental standstill. Why couldn't the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve react? Or even grasp his emotions? What kind of force leaves someone unable to react? Forces someone to express nothing? Never had this occurred in Boreas' life. Not once had he felt so trapped, so bottled up inside his own head.

Silence, dull and painful silence. Nothing escaped the boy's mind as the torrent raged on. Nothing.

Though he wasn't aware of it at the time, he had been walking. Walking in what seemed to be a straight line, a line defined by the cruel sand beneath his feet. The cruel force that kept him blazing hot in a fur lined suit. The cruel force that never ended or began. A cruel force of nothing and composed of nothing.

Boreas could not begin to fathom how he had reached this point. A point in his life where absolutely no amount of reason could explain what kind of world he was in. The maelstrom of emotion kept him from breaking the wall and releasing the unbearable torment that was building inside him. He needed something to snap him out of his dull stride across the vast desert. Something to give him a sense of release. Anything.

I'd give anything to escape this nightmarish land, this destructive world of nothing.

The dull stride had ceased, though not of Boreas' own volition. More the will of the steep drop off point that Boreas' foreign body had decided to fall off of. Falling, a brilliant sensation. Falling for what Boreas could only describe as hours, though still his mind was preoccupied with the incomprehensible feeling of raging emotion. Falling toward nothing, from nothing.

Though falling can only be so profound until one reaches the stage of impact. Impact was Boreas' release. Not the beautiful poetic exhaustion in which one stands up and takes a new breath, but the ugly, burning, searing feeling of having one's body slammed into a cushion of burning hot sand. The sound of his body smashing into the white hot sand was masked by the horrific scream that finally escaped Boreas' mouth. He wasn't sure if the sand had entered his eyes or the tears flowing were the cause of the intense burning. Impact saved his mind and calmed the storm. Or at least allowed Boreas entry into the eye of the storm.

After hours of laying there, emptying the horrible feeling that had burned his soul hotter than the unbearable sun, he stood up again on two feet.

Though curiously, he didn't have a scratch on him, not even enough sand on his uniform to justify such a hard fall. He turned his tear stained eyes to the horizon. His body ached from what felt like a fall, but not a single broken bone on the boy's body. Painful and hot? yes. Mangled physically? No.

What just happened? Did I even move at all?

The questions weighed heavy on his mind, but he was fed up with the standstill, real or not, and broke out into an all out sprint. His body screamed in retaliation, but he couldn't bear the vast world of nothing that had guided him to this point any longer. He needed to keep running for now.

Unbearable, demeaning, life-sucking heat plagued Boreas as he ran.

Sure, it was an inner victory to finally be able to control his own movements. Though this victory was minuscule compared to the situation that lay before Boreas. Not just the smoldering heat and endless sands, but also the question of how had he arrived here in the first place? What had forced him into that horrific state to begin with? Questions and lots of them. They multiplied in the young boy's mind.

I just can't think about that right now, not now!

He continued to sprint forward, though his body was quickly tiring and wearing down.

Optimism, the glass half full, an amazing uplift. (Speaking of a glass of water? Can I have some? Thank you!) Though in truth, his mind was clinging to the few shreds of optimism that remained. He had to keep pushing forward, if only for a little longer.

A little longer came and went, or at least it felt that way. Soon his body couldn't keep up and he feel to his knees in pure exhaustion. He needed a reprieve, anything, something. What he wouldn't give for a cold shower and a nice ten gallon truck of ice cold water.

While his mind once again tried to push his body forward, he noticed something or someone moving toward him.
Victory.

Or at least a victory in such a hellish situation. Optimism said run towards them and seek a much needed reprieve. And optimism always wins, coupled with a streak of foolish bravery of course. The legs shakily complied once again and he was off, though at a steady jog this time.

The figure looked to be human, or at least humanoid and this was good enough for him. As he approached he immediately noticed that the figure was indeed male and indeed very attractive.
Two victories.

"HEY! YOU! COME HERE!"
Exhaustion did wonderful things for the vocabulary. Eloquent, wonderful things. Boreas was certainly in the eye of the storm for now.

The wind picked up around them, spinning little white-golden eddies of sand up into the air off to one side. It shifted to another direction -- drawing Howl's long ponytail suddenly up into his face, tugging at his necktie -- and then returned to whistling down its new path. The wind had been blowing the other way a second before, hadn't it?

The sky overhead was clear, and though the sun was sinking near the horizon, this only left it sizzling, huge like a pancake on a griddle, red as carnelian. No clouds, no storms -- just the wind, turning about on them.

Sand fell over their shoes. Boreas looked down first.

There, between their feet, he could see the tracks of footprints, somewhat worn by the wind. They were long, human-looking -- and overlapped by a pair of smaller ones, more like circles punched in the ground. A horse, maybe, or a camel. Something like that.

They led off to the left, facing directly into the sun.

Howl Wickham's hair was a potential hazard to his health, being long enough to wrap around his own neck, should someone ever get cross with him. Fortunately, the sudden wind was kind enough to spare him of such discomfort. In fact, the wind might have been welcome if it wasn't blistering hot air being blown at them.

He wiped his hair from his line of vision first. It would be nice to see. Next thing was to glance at his feet in a similar fashion to the young man dressed in white.

"That is rather peculiar..." he murmured before returning his full attention on the other in his company. As he was accustomed to, he held out his hand, offering it in greeting.

"My name is Howl Wickham. It is a pleasure, Mr. Boreas." Perhaps it was too formal, even for a situation such as being plopped down in the middle of an unexplained desert for no real reason whatsoever. Yet somehow, the teal-haired lad made it sound absolutely natural. Maybe it was his accent, or maybe it was the actual way he said each word.

"To be honest, I had no idea that Sailor Senshi could be young men as well." During his time in Destiny City, he had encountered two senshi, both young ladies. Obviously, it was not much to base his notions on what a Senshi should be, but alas, he had worked with what he knew.

For a moment, he picked up one of his bare feet and wriggled his toes a bit. Certainly, Howl had no right to complain when his companion was far worse off than himself, but his feet felt absolutely disgusting thanks to all the small sand bits getting between his toes.

"Aside from these footprints being not even remotely logical in the slightest, all I can suggest is that they are merely a clue. The only conclusion I can make is that there is someone else out here, perhaps with an animal meant for travel." He placed a finger to his cracked lips. "Obviously if they had some sort of animal to ride on, it would suggest that they were more thoroughly prepared for this place. Perhaps they would have something to drink?"

His foot he had been shaking off was set down, and the other was lifted in turn.

"I could also be reading too much into this and these tracks could mean absolutely nothing. The only real conclusion I can make is that this place is meant to baffle."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know any other male senshi, though I could really use a very attractive one with a nice cold bottle of water. . .
Maybe I'm the first? Who knows?"

Sand wiped up and stuck to his fur collar. He tried to remove it without seeming rude as he spoke. Howl spoke so eloquently, he didn't want to offend someone who could be so collected in such a bizarre situation. In any case, this guy could definitely hold an audience. Though his attractive face certainly didn't hurt his cause.

"I hope we find something with water or at least something to ride on. I honestly don't know how much longer I can take this crazy place. It isn't very welcoming or comforting."

After greeting his new found companion, Boreas turned again to the footprints. Something about them called out to him. He couldn't help but to compare the human foot prints to his own boot print. Then it dawned on him, Howl had no shoes. This startled Boreas more than he could have anticipated and he gave a very concerned look.

"Your feet? Are you okay?"

Confusion was evident from his tone. He needed a solution or at least something to appease his companion. Then it came to him.

"So how about following me into the sun?"

He gave a smirk and then grabbed the teal haired boy. Carrying him on his back, he started a steady jog in the path of the footprints. He was tired of the standstill, things needed to be moving, the gears turning.

"Hope you don't mind me driving. Can't promise it won't be a bumpy ride!"

Boreas felt like himself again, more so than ever before he set foot in this wasteland.

Nothing like an attractive stranger...

The path behind them fading as the wind blew. Was the eye of the storm forcing them to look ahead? No going back. The gears did indeed start to turn.

If this were any other place, any other time, then Boreas would have relished in the fact that he was so close to an attractive man. However, the usually perverted swimmer couldn't help but wish he was in his swimsuit, since he now was responsible for the upkeep of another.

"Hey, no worries! If we work together, maybe we can figure a way out of here! I mean two heads are better than one right!"

Howl's cries, for the moment anyway, were going to fall on blissfully deaf ears. Boreas needed the distraction, needed the movement and pace that the two men had finally obtained. Optimism had risen within him once again. The glass once again half full of a wine that was begging to be tasted.

"Besides this way you can be the look out and I can just keep following the footprints."

Footprints, a gift or curse, maybe both at the same time?

Glass half full remember? Hot guy on your back! Chin up!

The sun was the end of the road, a road Boreas could no longer idly meander. Headfirst, he decided, was the only option.

As his feet followed in his mysterious predecessor's path, he was startled at the notion of the tiny hoof prints disappearing. Surely the beast had not fallen at his master's side? Maybe it had been a foal or young pack mule. That could have explained the size of the hoof.

"Hey, do you see any more hoof prints?"

He hoped that his companion would clear his mind of this possible mirage, though he knew in his heart that things were starting to go amiss. He had known that they couldn't remain in the eye of the storm forever.

Chin up! You can do this, just follow whatever you see that could lead you out!

He moved his gaze away from the ground and looked outward.

"Oh no... Not that speck! Wait.. have I even seen that thing before? Please no.."

The words escaped his lips without warning or thought. What exactly did that speck mean to Boreas? Even he wasn't sure, he just knew not to follow that. This was about keeping the glass half full and not half full of poison.

Then he saw the castle, or should he say castles? Nothing like a sand castle in the desert to assure you that you are indeed experiencing a full blown case of heat exhaustion. Part of him wondering if he would start foaming at the mouth next.

"Please tell me you see that castle..?"

Though it had to be a mirage, he couldn't resist! Where else was there to go in this demented version of Arabian Nights? So on he jogged, reassured that he indeed was going crazy of his own volition. The castle seemed to be getting closer... though nothing was guaranteed.

That damn speck. What the hell was it?

He instantly hated even the mention of it. For some reason it cut down deep just to have to notice it again. He couldn't bear the thought.

Why? Why? WHY?

Again nothing was the answer. Could there really be any logic left in this place? After all here Boreas was, the noble carriage of a fascinating young man named Howl, whom he knew next to nothing about, but felt an instant, if not intense attachment to.

He was definitely going crazy...
Oh well, might as well enjoy the ride . . ?

Shaken from his own disdain for the speck, he looked up again from the predestined path he was following.

"Howl, do you think we should head directly towards the castle or keep to the footprints?"

He wanted to say that his patron could just call him Boreas, but he had the suspicion that the formality may be more than just manners and somewhat of a deep set trait.

"Mind if ask you were you got that uniform? I mean here we are contemplating following a crazy huge castle or some crazy footprints and I don't even know you. Weird enough though, I kind feel like I do."

He was pushing the gears to turn faster, faster, until nothing else would preoccupy his thoughts, but the endless path set before him.