BECAUSE I PROMISE I'LL LIGHT THE BEACONS
OF YOUR DIMMED AND HOLLOW SOUL
EVEN IF I HAVE TO STEAL THE FIRE
FROM A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS
Ariel feels the apprehension before Orestes does; the Sun Lion, who had been striding alongside his foolish Bonded comes to a jolting halt, his paws skidding in the sand. Orestes does not hesitate in continuing in hot pursuit, feeling more alive, more like himself, than he has felt in ages—
Yet, there is something wrong in the elation, as it sings high and bright in his veins. The chase fuels Orestes’s adrenaline; it awakens him to the beauty of the desert, the strange and peaceful quiet of the sand. Having come from the sea, he is not accustomed to a world of silence, a world of stillness, no, but beneath the bright stars his heart nearly bursts with love of it.
Yes, Orestes loves this desert. Kicking up sand behind him, straining to reach the mare that escapes him, he is in love with the desert in a way he has never been before.
I have only just begun she says. The comment resounds in the quiet night. It meets him and raises apprehension, like a chill, along his spine. He realises too late it is not a chill at all, but the desert sand encroaching on his heels.
Orestes nearly asks, what do you mean, but where her leap is aided by wings and the roar of the wind, Orestes comes to a tentative stop. His momentum nearly carries him over the edge of the dune, but he manages to catch his balance where it begins to descend. Orestes glances behind him for the first time to discover a cloud of sand stretching, now, beyond and to Amaunet. He looks forward, to where Amaunet has just descended.
It is too close.
There, standing backlit by the desert that loves her, is Avdotya and her warrior women emerging through the dust. He blinks it from his eyes, half in shock, and already—
Of course it is too good to be true.
There is nothing innocent in Solterra. There is no chase for the sheer thrill of it, no run simply to admire the desert and test their limits.
No.
The Mors test one’s limits in the worst of ways.
“Good evening, Avdotya.” Orestes voice is cordial at best, conversational in a way that does not seem to suit the current circumstances.
@Amaunet @Avdotya
