The desert was a harsh place, true. But the most resilient could find the beauty in the sandy wasteland that could not be found anywhere else. When the sun set the crimson, gold, and orange hues that were painted in bleeding streaks across the sky reflected onto the mountains of disintegrated rocks leaving them with a ghastly appearance that struck awe into the occasional wanderer. Each little grain of sand held some sort of unusual hue, whether it be from the sun or approaching twilight. Even so, all good things must go and as soon as the sun vanished the myriad of inspiring colors left with it. Today however, a sandstorm was raging through the area.
It was especially hard for the scarred bitch to see as she squinted, she needed to find shelter. The only place she could think of however was the old oasis. That was where she was heading to now, it was slow going but she was finally gaining some distance and could make out the rocky overhangs. A quick smile appeared on her face as she quickened her pace.
Reaching the inner workings of the stone, she shook her pelt out of any sand that had clung to her coat. Her one good eye took a quick glance around the little cave that she found, wondering very briefly if she was alone or not.
The days are beginning to lengthen and warm as the grasp of winter slowly, surely loosens. The desert takes these changes in stride, dusty green colors emerging from what once seemed a barren, dead landscape. He feels an awakening that mirrors the landscape, a gentle hum of anticipation for a new season, a new dawn.
But first, the night must be endured.
He leaves the court as the sun is low in the sky, as he always does, turning himself lose among the wilds of Solterra, where the stars are not blocked by walls or ceilings or towers. Mind wandering, he weaves among the saguaro and the creosote, stopping only when something strikes him as odd- a sudden silence, thick with tension. He turns from the sun and sees the sandstorm that looms on the horizon.
A wall of sand, a grotesque dream turned real, writhes and roils, pressing forward with alarming speed.
"Shit," he murmurs, taking a second moment to admire the storm (it is horrific but impressive, you must give it that much) and decide what to do. The day court lies between himself and the beast, but if he were to fail to reach the court walls... he would be completely exposed.
It is not a hard decision to make- he turns and runs.
In short order the edge of the storm catches up to him, whips sand against his sweating flanks, and he marvels at the power that assaults him. Ahead, through squinted eyes, he sees a woman disappear into the rocks. He follows suit, not too far behind, and nearly collides with her as he slips through the sandstone walls and into the cave.
Heart thundering, he takes a moment to catch his breath. It is a good moment to survey his new companion and the shelter she so handily led him to.
"Hell of a storm." He says eventually, more in awe than annoyance, quiet voice barely rising over the growing wail of the wind.
When it rains, it... sandstorms.
- - - There is no better way to know us
E I K than as two wolves, come separately to a wood
Artesia was still getting sand out of her mane and nostrils when someone seemed to have joined her. Her ears swivel around at the noise he makes and she turns her head to look at him for a moment. He is not someone she's really had much to do with but that could be said for most everyone within Solterra. Artesia wasn't a very sociable woman.
"Yes..it is. Solterra is never forgiving it would seem." She replied quietly herself as she turned towards the male, surveying him quietly to herself. The wind rustling outside with the sand and stone who knew when it would be over. Sandstorms were unpredictable. "Looks like we're stuck here for a while." She commented with a glance towards Eik and tilted her head slightly. "Name's Artesia."
It is not so unusual that he does not recognize her- he has a keen memory for everyone he's ever met, but he has not met many in Solterra. In fact, by this point he almost has more acquaintances away than he does at home.
(that word again, home-- don't let us get started)
This winter he's tried to keep himself to Solterra, helping repair the keep and ever so slowly learning to read. Still, most of the court is a stranger to him, and he is not particularly eager to get to know everybody. His ears prick forward, her words low and rough against the shrill whistle of the wind.
Yes..it is. Solterra is never forgiving it would seem.
Eik nods his head automatically in agreement, yet after thinking about her words his thoughts diverge. "Yet we stand, sheltered. She has given us that much." He sometimes takes for granted the comfort the earth provides, but he's always felt intimately close with her; it is his relationship with Solis that needs help.
He tries not to sigh as he thinks of how long the storm will last. He is used to spending his nights alone and beneath the stars, not sharing a cave with a roof so low he could touch it if he reached out. He's always enjoyed unexpected company before, but that might be because he's always had the option of leaving whenever he pleased. The situation makes him feel coltish- whiny and vaguely uncomfortable, as though he isn't used to his body. He draws his attention back with a deep breath, focusing on the smells around him and the air within him to keep his mind from running away down a dark hallway.
Breath by breath, we learn to live with ourselves.
An introduction is in order, and she graciously goes first. Artesia. Is that the name of a flower? "Eik." He replies, leaving thoughts of flowers behind. The single syllable of his name suggests a simplicity that his parents wanted for him. Eik. The name of a tree. Would that he could stand here a thousand years, know the secret names of everything, grow deeper and deeper into the earth until time swept him away.
Would that we could do a thousand things, be the thousand faces we feel but all at once, separately, instead of clamoring for attention one by one. Wouldn't life be simpler, if only you could chase after every desire instead of hungering after so many that you never catch a single one?
"What happened to your eye?" He asks simply, in the offhanded way soldiers may talk about their wounds.
- - - There is no better way to know us
E I K than as two wolves, come separately to a wood
