there are many paths to tread
The sand was warm underhoof, soaking up the heat of the sun like a sponge soaks up the ocean water.
Only there is no water to be found here. Only mile after mile after mile of desert, ever shifting, ever changing. The dunes remade themselves in the blink of an eye out here in the Mors, rolling like waves that crash and rage against the shores. Had Toulouse known what had happened just southwest of here, he might have understood the desert’s rage. But he, like the rest of the nation, was oblivious to the stranger that stood on their doorstep, the change that had come knocking in the night.
A breeze catches the ends of his scarves, sending the spinning all around him. The breeze is refreshing; he stops to drink it in hungrily, eyes closing with a sigh.
“Does it ever end?”
The question comes unbidden to his lips, taking him by surprise. His green eyes open to glare out at the expanse of desert left before him, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.
In actuality, he had only been walking a few hours; a quick trip to the Oasis to escape the capitol and refresh his mind had been on the agenda. But with every step he took, he regretted his decision more and more. It was supposed to be fall; but the seasons seemed to have no grip on this corner of Novus.
Force of habit has him steadying the pair of horns about his head, rearranging his hair so they fall just perfectly to cover the base. He knows it’s pointless: the horns have never fallen from his brow before, why should they now? But it’s a force of habit, and it gives him a small semblance of peace.
As the breeze dies down again, disappearing back to whence it came, Toulouse opens his eyes. ’One step at a time,’ he tells himself, willing his legs to move again.
Soon, he would be at the Oasis, and he would receive his well-deserved respite.
Or so he hoped.
@Raum <3
