Dust In The Wind (Closed)

[Nashira]

Summer 6, 512 AV The Ethaefal had taken off her shoes and placed them deftly into her pack several hours before. She wanted to feel the scorched earth beneath her step. Tanned grains, blistering with the heat, trickling between her shimmering toes. Wiggling, so that discarded sand would dance across lines of ivory bone, flexing, to fasten the flow of rock worn down between undulating cavities. Sending beads cascading over the edge; misty tendrils of excessive warmth constantly billowing about its form. A dusty veil of softened beige, which obscured the sight of far off mirage; sparkling water seeping from otherworldly skin. An elongated sweep which stretched towards a swaying middle. Simple white fabrics swishing around ankle and hip. Twisting around legs, and draped easily over arms. Concealing the blade taken from the home of a man long dead. A man long lost to the sands of time, in everything but one's memory. But even that too, given enough passage, would fade. The Ethaefal sighed as she tread along, her long auburn hair which was rippling down the length of her back had begun to cling to exposed skin. And although she loved to bask in Syna's warmth, and her radiance with the knowledge that her light was enough to chase away mortal wants and needs, for hunger and for drink, Nashira had never grown fond of sweat. The way each transparent bead felt when it trickled down her skin. But she supposed that was the price of dancing beneath Syna's sun. The price of knowing the glory of but a single, delicate kiss. The cost of venturing into the desert just to escape the bustling city for a time, and hopefully, grow a bit closer to her goddess. Again the Ethaefal sighed as she crested a rolling hill of sand, it is amazing how few clouds shelter the world from you, she thought. At least, in this place, at the very edge of it. Before you are run off the ends of civilization as we know it. The hypnotist's thoughts came a halt for a few moments, as she continued on her way. It never ceases to amaze even the aging, that every corner of this world is so very different. That in the place where life sprang anew with woman birthed of the tumultuous seas is so vastly opposing to the terrain found before molten amber eyes. That on which an aching soul has supped...

[Treksha]

Grains of sand repeatedly bombarded Treksha's uncovered face. Despite the pain of the grains hitting his already irritated skin, the tall man couldn't bring himself to cover his face; every tiny point of pain, the nearly unbearable heat of the desert sun, he needed to experience it all. This place was his home, his life, and he needed to feel it, to truly know it. His hands outstretched, his feet uncovered, he was experiencing the sands as a whole, letting the winds travel through him and the dunes to shift below his feet. Two bells, two full bells he stood like this. Once he came out of his reverie, he was coated in a sheen of sweat and parched like no other, but none of that mattered. All that did was his feeling of being home. Treksha turned toward Ahnatep, grinning from ear to ear, and took a deep, cleansing breath. It was time to head back. And so he ran, laughing wildly at first, then becoming more focused as he exerted himself. He was headed toward his camp, Nihael his steed, and the things for which he was needed every day, but those thoughts didn't dishearten him as he made his journey through the shifting sands. He was where he should be, in this wasteland that he so loved. And so he ran, with all his energy.

[Nashira]

Nashira rounded another rolling hill; sand spraying her feet as subtle breeze picked up. The folds of her long skirts billowed about her ankles. Cascading drapes of fabric spreading as though they were sails, pushing her body back, away from intended destination. The Ethaefal's neck stretched, turning her head to the side, so auburn hair and horns of shimmering pearl were exposed to Zulrav's onslaught. Her hands came forward, palms held flat, bracing her body as she came down on the other side, just as the winds died, allowing her to return to a more natural traveling position. Smiling pleasantly, she continued to walk, ignoring the soft sting of coiling muscle as her eyes caught sight of something in the distance. The silhouette of a man, framed by sandy mists; approaching. Now who could that be? Nashira wondered as she continued to move toward the mysterious figure. Surely even the majority of the desert folk couldn't stand to be out in the burning lands on a day such as this. Or at least, not for very long... and that one, he seems to be, running? Nashira shook her head, auburn stained strands splaying across her visage. Tendrils catching against pouty rose lips. Clinging to the small lines which drew down at varying intervals. Frustrated by the way the lockes grown slick with sweat tied to her flesh, the Ethaefal raised her hands and pulled her hair away, tucking the loose strands behind her ears before returning her limbs to her sides. She sighed then, even though it seemed pointless. For what was she to expect when moving through the desert? Perhaps the other knew a better way. Eyes sparkling with Syna's trappings as she glided along, it took no more than a few chimes for Nashira to close the distance. For her eyes to dance over a form similar in height, or perhaps, a few inches taller than she. Flesh tanned like a cow's hide, prepped to be cast alongside needles and stitches into a man's britches. The edges lightly gilded, as though he had been tossed into a vat of gold. But there was something else there, sand inlaid into skin; places it didn't belong. The hypnotist smiled uneasily as she took in the sight of two bright green eyes, like emeralds set in the center of a ring, framed by near raven colored hair. There was a vibrancy there not often found in the eyes of men; and yet, there was a pain too. As though betraying his discomfort; having his flesh marred by base textures when it was the shade of Eyktolian kings. "Hello," she said simply as she came to a halt. Allowing the man to either pause to speak, or move past her, as though she were little more than a figment of his imagination. An apparition. "Where are you headed stranger?" OOCSorry this is complete and total rubbish... but most of my openings are. =S

[Treksha]

Ground to a halt, the man's momentum nearly carried him into the woman. He managed to stop himself from impact, yet was uncertain of whether he would have gone right through the apparition before him; was he seeing horned women because of the heat and exertion? Mirages seemed to be a major issue in the desert, and Treksha had fallen prey to quite a few unreal images of oases and cityscapes. Unlike an illusionary oasis, this one spoke. But how do you respond to a mirage? He mused silently, smiling softly to himself in his relative delirium. He inspected the woman, moving from her amber irises to the pearly white horns atop her pretty head, then abased himself for his rudeness; he hadn't yet responded! "A mirage, eh?" Admittedly, his speech was inhibited by his limited knowledge of Common, but Treksha knew she would understand him well enough. "Toward Ahnatep. I have been living outside of that city for a few days, but I needed to get out into the desert. I needed to feel... Spiritual, yes?" His affable smile should have been charming, if not make him look a bit like a fool, but he never minded. Always better to be kind, eh?

[Nashira]

Nashira frowned as her head fell to her right shoulder. Auburn colored strands trickling between the blades; a bloodied river, sunken between muddy ridges. "A mirage? No," she said simply as her left brow rose into a high arch, mirroring the crest of the sandy mounds upon which each of the bodies had tread. "An Ethaefal, one of Syna's lost children," she added simply as molten amber eyes continued to sweep over his form. The sheen of sweat which caused his skin to glisten in the sun's light. The beads which lined his brow, likely cooling him, but ridding him of the water mortal kind so desperately needed in order to keep themselves alive. She supposed the loss was what was causing him to act strangely. It wouldn't have been the first time she had seen it happen, and likely not the last either. "Perhaps," she finally wore on after her thoughts had thinned. "But it seems to have done little good. Unless in your delirium, you manage to commune with those far above your head." She sighed, "why don't we walk together? You're more likely to make it back then without hurting yourself." She paused, "you know you need to drink some water," she finished, as she came to stand beside him. A second later, the hypnotist was gesturing out ahead of their forms. At the endless sea of beige crystals. Behind smoldering eyes, which released tendrils of her magical arts, there was but a spark. A trapped shard of the sun. "Lead the way," Nashira insisted. Her hypnotic djed weaving its way into her words. "You know where to go. Far more than I." There was a pause as she allowed her words to sink in. "Whenever you are ready, you should begin walking. 'The mirage' shall always follow in your wake. Like a shadow who knows no bounds," she added with a soft smile. Meant to be inviting; meant to get him to trust her all the more. After all, she was a complete stranger, who had come across him in rather peculiar circumstance. "You remember the way, don't you?" Nashira inquired as she took a step forward, to spur the cogs. Get the gears to begin turning, so that his memory may be jogged. Needled into remembrance which was likely slipping, given his current state. It only the Ethaefal had remembered to pack more, perhaps this wouldn't be a mounting problem. But given as she was free of certain restrictions; that which could limit her bounds, she hadn't thought to do so until Syna sank. Making way for her lover to dominate the clear blue skies. As they moved, Nashira felt it best to question him, rather lightly, so as to keep his level of concentration up. To keep him awake. "I'm Nashira by the way," she whispered into the winds, "and whom might you be?"

[Treksha]

"No, no, I've lived in the desert for years, I'll be fi-" Trailing off, caught by the spark of sunlight in her eye and trapped by the djed being carefully spun around his mind, Trek looked a bit confused. "I do remember the way," The simple man smiled then, motioning for Nashira to follow him as he headed toward the city. am called Treksha, friend. However, feel free to call me Chupra, most do. I actually like the name, even if it has quite the bad... Oh, what is the word, complete? No, no, connotation. I do believe that is it." His smile was directed at the woman, but his mind was still somewhat cloudy, glazed over by his dehydration. "Nashira, eh? Who gave you that name, horned mirage?" OOCSorry about the short post, it's mostly dialogue.

[Nashira]

Nashira nodded. "Connotation, you got it right," she said with a smile. "Although, it leads one to wonder just why that is. Your name having a bad connotation, I mean." She smiled weakly as the floodgates opened, allowing red pigmentation into her cheeks. Luckily, the color was marred by the sparkling pink which had always lined her skin; lending a lack of betrayal to inner bashfulness. There was a long pause as Shira considered the rest of what Chupra had told her. "Well, that's difficult to say," the Ethaefal replied. "Considering the nature of the question." Again, her words came to a grinding halt as the gears and cogs in the back of her head began to twist and turn. To churn as uneasily as a tumultuous sea. "When an Ethaefal is birthed from the sea, they often remember little of what has already come to pass, or at least at first. After time, everything begins to trickle back. Memories are soaked up by the mind, like a parched sponge." The hypnotist scratched her head, straightening out her personal thoughts. "As far as can be recalled, the past lives were the first to return. Or at least the most recent one. The life of a Myrian; that which shines with regression. When milky light shimmers over a bed of uneven flesh; clinging to ivory bone." The Ethaefal fell silent for quite some time, chewing her bottom lip. "The memories of time spent in the sky, with Syna, came after. At least for me. I suppose it was then that I knew what the sailors should call me. But even that... that explanation. It seems wrong. As though it can't lend even a hand of justice to what has occurred. How it all began..." Nashira's voice trailed off for quite some time. Keep on leading the way, her magic insisted as her eyes fell to their feet. The waves of sand which stood before them. Do not stop. Do not doubt. For you know the path we must take. You know the way. Black coals overcame the smoldering amber. The fire flickering in their cores. Dilated pupils made keeping her eyes open sting. If only, if only, it were night. Then it wouldn't matter. Then it may actually help her follow along in the half blood's wake. Remaining little more than shadow. But then she would hunger. Long for more than the taste of human flesh upon her lips. Lust for more than mortal blood. Quicken your pace, the magic urged before it too fell silent. Allowing the travelers to listen to little more than the subtle whoosh of sand as it was swept across the plains. OOCIt is quite alright.

[Treksha]

"Chupra means 'one who has sex with goats' in Arumenic. They call me that because I am Benshira." His status as part Eypharian was left unsaid; he assumed she could tell by the gold of his skin. His feet carried him effortlessly, despite his exhaustion. He truly wanted to get home, and her suggestions only reinforced that thought. "You are Ethaefal? I have not heard this word before, but I do not regret meeting you. Your horns are fabricating!" He smiled once again, his eyes glittering with his genuine interest in this new person - er, mirage. "And you remember your past lives? I would give much for such a chance." The sweat that accumulated on Treksha started to drip, drops of the vital liquid falling to the golden sands at an accelerated rate. The two bells in the heat had taken their toll, and his body was starved for the water that sustained him; he hadn't brought any for himself because he felt the deprivation would allow him to better connect to the winds and sands around him. All he had done was for his own self-exploration; he had been betrayed by his god long ago, and came to the desert for reverie often in search of himself and his spirit. Today, however, had been the first time he had spent so long in Syna's blaze - and the first time he had encountered another soul perhaps more lost than himself. "Please do not fall too far behind me, I do not believe you know the way as I do." Swelling with a form of pride that could only be considered boyish, Treksha actually enjoyed knowing more than the stranger, at least on such a simple matter. His chest literally puffed out, forcing his tall but wiry form to look manlier, if not tough, his golden skin glistening like molten metal as he smiled back to his interesting companion.

[Nashira]

Nashira chuckled, her eyes sparkling with shards of Syna's light. "Bestiality isn't dead then," she commented as she fought to keep pace with the half blood. His stride being far greater than her own. His form far more prepared to handle the terrain than she, but she more capable of absorbing the heat. She smiled pleasantly as the pair rounded another bend, "you mean fascinating, don't you? Fabricating would suggest that you are making something up. Like, telling a lie for example." The Ethaefal fell silent a moment as the half blood spoke again. "Why would you wish to remember?" Nashira asked. "There aren't many who do. Thinking the past in the past, and the present and future the only things worth concentrating on." She paused a moment, considering her words. "Perhaps they are right, knowing what you once were doesn't truly have its uses. Unless you remember enough to learn from your mistakes, I'd suppose. Which, many of the Ethaefal don't seem to do. Or at least, that seems to be the case with previous encounters." Nashira sighed. "Then there's the consideration of what is remembered. Sometimes, you may not wish to see again what is being played out within a mind's eye. Like your own death for example, and yet, others find that somehow, knowing makes it easier to go yet another time." The hypnotist shrugged. "Can't say that's at all agreeable." As soon as the words left her lips, it seemed the half blood was speaking again, coercing the Ethaefal into chuckling under her breath. "No, I don't suppose I do. It has been a long time since I have been, and the land has changed," Nashira replied simply as her eyes rose to meet the oncoming terrain. A rippling haze off in the distance she couldn't help but raise her hand and point to. "Is that it?" she asked. "The shadow set in the east?" The Ethaefal paused, awaiting an answer, and as soon as she heard, either one way or the other, she'd do her best to fill the half blood with one emotion: determination. Just enough to bolster his pride, and will him forward through the last leg of their journey.

[Treksha]

He chuckled, but shook his head vigorously. "You have not understood me! I am not one who has sex with goats, it is just a slur for Benshira." He raised his hands in a 'stop' fashion, smiling good-naturedly all the way. The sparkle in her eyes was mirrored in his own; while not quite as brilliant as the shard of Syna's light the horned woman possessed, it was just as vivid and lively. His deprivation and reverie in the desert had made sure of that. "Ah, yes, fascinating. I only fabricate when I lie to people who are not mirages, no?" The mirage thing had become a joke to him, and the Benshira hoped she would view it the same. While he had not quite overcome his delirium, her presence seemed to make him all the more focused with every trudging step. It was hard going in the desert, but having company always made it just a little bit easier. "If I were to remember past lives, I would know much of myself. More than now i know, eh?" He spoke of his religious search, his search for the niche in which he fit in the cosmos. After his father's death at the hands of 'worshipers' of Yahal, nothing made sense; he had become a singular integer in a sea of equations that made more sense than he ever could alone. "Perhaps one of my past lives worshiped a god more in line with my beliefs? But I would truly like to know what I had done. If I had been a hero or a scoutrel." At this he sighed, at the thought of how he could have been so much more than the bastard son of a man slain in cold blood. He could have been a priest, or a murderer, or even a mage! Just something... More. "Yes, that is the city. Beautiful Ahnatep, city of wonders. Wondrous group of Benachags, if I am asked." Gathering all his disapproval, he sent a large gob of spit to the sand away from the woman, a sign of disdain that was also a terrible waste of the precious water he so desperately needed. "The city is always closer than it seems in these shifting sands. We should be there soon!" He felt more determined to get to his camp, his horse, his home. Perhaps this new friend could join him?