All my flowers
grew back as thorns
grew back as thorns
Early morning in Solterra’s main city was an avid culmination of heat, noise and scent, an inharmonious orchestra to assault the senses. The sun beamed down, annoyingly merry even in Fall as the sandstone buildings were bathed in a myriad of yellows and oranges. Day started early in Solterra, when the warmth of the sun was not yet unbearable, and even as the sun still hovered just above the mesas of Elatus Canyon in the distance, the streets were already crowded. From the market the sumptuous odour of spices and perfumes filled the air, mouth-watering and sweet. Voices, the calls of venders and chatter of shoppers, rose with the heat like fire, dancing upon the air.
Na’eemah threaded her way leisurely through the streets, weaving artfully among the busy bodies that blocked the way. Carried by the ebb and flow of the crowds the sun-kissed femme found herself wandering between various fruit stalls, her nose twitching with the pungent scent of the sweet food, ripening swiftly beneath the sun’s smile.
This morning she was dressed only in the sheer scarf that protected her head from the sun, and did something to hide her identity. Nary a gaze was cast her way, for Naya blended in well with the sand-dust equines who perused the market, there was no need to cast her a second glance. Though perhaps the luscious brown locks that cascaded from beneath her scarf gleaned a look or two for though she appeared perfectly ordinary, there was no disguising her exotic beauty. But, no one would connect the tan femme with the lesser known noblewoman, the rich girl with a penchant for luxury and leisure.
Though her pace was unhurried, her direction unobvious, Na’eemah had a purpose, a reason for being in the market that day where the sand and dirt clung obnoxiously to her hooves and ankles and the unshielded heat made her head ache dizzyingly. A few streets away was a quiet little courtyard where she would meet with a contact to discuss business, but for now the young femme was happy to meander the streets in a beeline, taking her time. Keep him waiting.
Na'eemah
@
