Posted on November 2, 2012 at 08:24:27 PM by BADR
 He had once looked to the desert as though it had been his only friend in the world. The nights had been chilly, and the sand seemed to permeat every pore of his being, and yet he was entirely comfortable with the gritty, rough touch that ran across his body whenever he stood up to the great sand storms. The heat had been a welcome punishment and reminder, telling him wordless stories of the great warriors past, of the kings that had once walked this land, of the paradisial palaces that once littered the lands, but had now turned to the dust that washed across his hooves much like the waves from the sea. The sand sea was no different than the great salt wasteland that he had come from. Whilst there was an endless ocean of sandy waves that rocked and rolled under the winds and were baked by the sun, there was an eerie silence that came from the sound of the desert, the only whisper being the sand that snaked its way down the slopes of the dunes.
The man was entirely at home here, fit and nourished by the sun, his skin is not dry and cracked as it should be- as it once was. There are early mornings when he wakes with the rising of the sun, reminded of the long days and short nights that he had been born into, and he bathes liberally. Relishing the hot-cold water that often washes over his body when he spins in the water in the morning, Badr always smiles. His smile is a rare thing, something that had been long since forgotten, buried under the sand with his mother’s and brother’s bodies, and yet, there are the telltale signs of laughlines etched across his face- had he been so humanly as that. As Jezibelle reflects on the properties of sand, speaking of how it can be like snow. White and crisp under the fullest of the great white moons, the desert had that sort of quality to bring back colder memories. Thinking back to his own experiences, he flicks an ear, shifts his weight, and tells her. “It’s alive though. I can hear it speaking some nights.” Nonsense, naturally. The stallion had keen ears, and his long days in the desert had been enough to teach him the language of the sands, and how to survive under all circumstances. Like he was destined to live in the desert. The heat, though often irritating and uncomfortable, was always like a great embrace that welcomed him home whenever he visited the other islands. badr The misguided jailbird. stallion. flaxen liver chestnut. unknown crossbreed. ee aa ff. fifteen & three hands. eight years. russell. |
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