it was not long before the scenery began to change. soon canyons and rock faces gave way to the to the ever changing, treacherous dunes, to the sunwashed, sparsely populated wastelands, and finally, to the cracked, dry earth of the desert. her desert guide had been with her through every leg of her journey, pushing her to continue on when all strength seemed to be gone. it had guided her through desolate landscapes and urged her to follow the path of the sun. she had gladly obliged, knowing it would lead her here safely. although this was her first time crossing salem, she had been a nomad for years, and her heart remembered the importance of speaking to the winds.
now dust covers her delicate pillars, staining them a deep rust color that the sweat serves to make more vibrant. her obsidian tresses are in wild disarray, clinging to her tired body with ruthless determination. she is thirsty and exhausted, but no worse for the wear, and her is blood is pumping with the excitement of exploring new lands. her stone grey eyes sparkle in the sun light, the granite orbs like otherworldly gems on her delicate face.
she is small of frame, and days without food or water only make her appear smaller. but her gaze is even and sure, she she does not breathe deeply like a winded fool. instead she sends up a proud bugle call, her voice steady and resounding. it is a beautiful sound, ringing like a bell throughout the seemingly empty landscape.
as she stands, patiently waiting for an ally to appear, she spots a gentleman not far from her location. sensing his preoccupation, she does not approach him. instead, she watches to see if he will acknowledge her, and welcome her to these lands.
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