[P] cold be travelers far from home,

[Jahin]

Already he regrets this bizarre impulse that led him to step outside of Solterra for the first time in his life. How foolish.  Jahin has no place here in the mountains, amid the snow and silence and clouds. He belongs in the desert, where he has always lived, and where, one day, his bones will bleach and turn to white grains of sand beneath the relentless sun. As it should be and will be. Her skin is too lovely and unmarred, surely she is not from Solterra. The softness of it, like velvet, has never been ravaged by the shredding wind of the desert, nor burned by the scathing rays of the sun. Where then? And what? She is fae-like. Her delicate structure, her bold doe eyes. He has heard of such a people in fireside stories and melancholy songs sung by lonely bards in the city, but there is not much outside of Solterra that is of interest or consequence to him.  Until now. Does he puzzle her? She looks through him and it makes him shift in discomfort. She does not have much to say. But then again, she is puzzling to him as well. Perhaps he is the one hallucinating, and she is not really there at all.  They are from different worlds. She of the sea—of the mist and rain and, dare he say, storm? He thinks she is not quite so delicate as she appears. Her horn is more wind-lute and decoration than weapon, but something about her tired eyes causes him to pause—I should not underestimate this one. She may not be a woman of the sand and sun, like the hard, warrior women he was accustomed to, but the depth of her eyes was like the sea.  And the sea was a dangerous, treacherous beauty. “I’ve heard that Solterrans don’t do well outside of the desert. I see the wisdom in that now….” He shivers involuntarily, again regretting the foolish, emotional impulse that brought him here. It's so damn cold. He almost says something else, something about the more delicate parts of his body not faring well in this subzero climate, but decides it is probably best to leave that unsaid in the presence of such an ethereal lady. His lips twitch in amusement, but nothing more. “Why are you here, of all places?” these scars long have yearned for your tender caress to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own ---

@Isra