DO THE GODS LIGHT THIS FIRE IN OUR HEARTS
OR DOES EACH MAN'S MAD DESIRE BECOME HIS GOD?
Eskander had always been a creature of the mountains. Even as a mad king's daughter, she had been the firstborn of a wild priestess, and that ran in her blood. To be subjected, now, to both the fire of the desert and the unfamiliarity of a foreign city--it put her on edge.
Yes, a desert. Land which sought only to devour, to consume--for the first time, Eksander was faced with a sense of timelessness. Beneath the constant heat of the sun, there was opportunity for change. A territory personified by dunes that shifted and rolled, as untamable as a sea, she expected to feel an essence of natural power and force--instead there was a sort of placidity, as though the whole land whispered, we are keeping a secret here; do not speak too loudly. If one disobeyed, the tranquility suggested violence; the haze of heat above the dunes became a glare, the dryness of the tongue unbearable, the wind a whisper to a howl. She woke each morning to watch the sunrise beyond the horizon, a bloody eye winking in a sky the color of lava, ebbing and flowing, equal parts scathing red and molten gold. The eye swam in a vast sea; she would watch as it crested the curve of the earth, as it became full-fledged, and the color drained to an all-consuming blue.
Eskander, herself, felt consumed. She blinked the brightness from her eyes as she walked through the busy streets of the merchant district of the city. There were many bright, vibrant, unfamiliar items. While others might have looked at the aged walls and faded banners of Solis and thought them bland, Eskander was still taken aback. She came from the wilds--where her people had lived ruggedly, without shelter of walls, for as long as she could remember. Savages, she thought, not without disdain, as a pair of foals loped easily through the crowd. She watched them disappear around a corner, and released a heavy sigh. She felt confined, claustrophobic--in fact, she couldn't even remember what she was looking to buy.
"'Ey, sir, can I help ya?" A buckskin shop-owner asked, gesturing at his wares.
"Excuse me," Eskander replied, continuing on her way. He was taken aback by her feminine voice, she knew, but she had no interest in his assortment of daggers and paintings. An odd combination.
She honestly could not fathom what they used such things for. She began to notice the way the crowd thinned before her--the way they gave her uncertain glances. Eskander was aware of the fact she was new and her appearance was drastically different than the slim, long-legged horses the desert bred. She raised her head high and continued to wander, continuously overwhelmed. Eventually Eskander found herself in narrow alleyways; a scent wafted from an open doorway, and she neared. An aged mare followed her approach through an open window. "How about your fortune?" she questioned, in an ancient and paper-thin voice. "I tell fortunes, you see--you are a troubled one, searching for--"
"It isn't much of a prophecy," Eskander said, unkindly, "If you are only telling me what I am."
She moved quickly on, back into a more open area of the market. By this time, the sun was beginning to set, and she was hopelessly lost. Again.
ooc: all welcome! but I would prefer only one reply. thank you!
