Your King Asmodeus | ||
Your Queen | ||
The Second None | ||
The Herd Name, Name, Name | The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name | |
Allies Name (Land) | Enemies Solomon (Cove) | |
The Rules
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Posted on March 23, 2013 at 02:19:25 AM by el aran
The desert stretches forever, until all you can see are the spirits rising in waves under the sun, and all you can think of is the water you left behind, and how you would kill for a bite of grass with a drop of moisture in each blade.
El Aran stared at the intruder as memories from her homelands filled her head. The black mare’s ears were flat and her dark eyes were wide and fierce as she looked down her slightly dished nose at the Poet. Who would ever cross the hot sands of a desert without knowing where or how to locate the oases? The heat was enough of a deterrent even for those who already lived in the sun-blasted land. The idea that anyone would wander in willingly baffled her, although to be fair she didn’t know the reason the mare was in her land. So far all she’d gotten out of the other was that she was lost, and that she didn’t know the distance to the other side. Well, neither did El Aran, and as she wasn’t interested in dying from sunstroke, she wasn’t about to go traipsing off to the opposite border to find out. "You’d have better luck following the shoreline," she said. "The heart of this island belongs to the sun." She twisted one ear back and glanced at the stallion. He had backed away from the two of them, though not so far that the seer would forget about him. She wanted him gone; she wanted all of them gone and she wanted, uselessly, to see the familiar dunskin coat of her partner and the father of her son parting from the rocky outcrop that backed the oasis. Aşk, let my son live long, she prayed as the black stallion spoke to the bay and white mare. Orhan hadn’t shown his face since the Gladiator arrived, and El Aran had to assume her son was at another oasis. She did not worry, though she was troubled that he wasn’t with her now. Or maybe he had been here, but the Gladiator had driven him off. The seer angled her body to block her view of the unwelcome stallion with her hindquarters, one hoof cocked in warning should he try to sneak up on her as she addressed the Poet once more. "You may drink, if you thirst, before you go." It was as hospitable as the gaunt black mare was likely to get. el aran
Seer of Aşk. |
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