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The Lost Islands


Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
a promise is a cloud






A'idah

egyptian | chestnut | wanderer


Lifting her dark lips from the water, the water drips off of her chin back into the oasis pool. Caramel eyes sweep the edges of the oasis before her, falling upon each individual shade tree, finding a bit of comfort in its familiarity. Her caramel eyes fall upon the tense buckskin stallion at her side as he dips his head to drink as well. She marveled at his muscled neck and chest, the desert hardened any creature that dwelled in its midst. She watches in silence as he drinks his fill, than he peculiarly held his breath before speaking again. "Shukran? In my native tongue it means thank you. You have not heard of such words? Do the other Arabians speak differently?" Her soft voice trails off as her thoughts return to her father, his blood seeping into the desert sands. Shaking her blonde tassels she pushes such unhappy thoughts from her mind, but not before sadness broke through her mask. Quickly she regains her composure, her gaze searches for his.

Tossing her fine boned head, chasing the flies that insisted on buzzing around her caramel eyes, waiting for an opportunity to find a sweet drink. Annoyance flashes in across her face, but she knew that this was a pest of the desert, for some damned reason. Returning her attention to the buckskin stallion. Red kissed tassels sweep across her hocks, chasing away the pests that threatened to land on her hindquarters. "What language do you choose to speak?" Curiously she wonders of his native tongue. Maybe the one he spoke was all that he had ever needed. Her native tongue sounded strange to him she supposed, maybe there were none others who spoke as she did.

The arid desert air was heavy in her thin delicate nostrils, each breath was a laborious to breath in. A breeze blows across the oasis pool, pushing a bit of cool relief on her sweat laden chestnut neck. Enjoyment flashes across her face, even a moment of cool breeze was heaven in the desert. As a desert dweller she had learned to enjoy such minuscule moments during the sweltering heat of the day.

html by erin | image credits here



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