[P] a long day's walk

[Raum]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

 

The sun scolds, fierce and bright. Already Raum’s tongue was dry, his skin slick with sweat from the heat of it.  His coat gleams, the sunlight sliding along its newly claimed king, it makes him a weapon here. Raum is a moonlight blade, a dagger ready to plunge into the heart of Solterra.
 
The stranger smiles, a thing of boyish charm and wily ways. The king studies the curve of those lips, the matching glimmer of emerald eyes. One Raum would have made this stranger a target and plucked from his person whatever valuables he carried. Never would the stranger know, until he went to consult his money and found it lost. Away the boy Raum would slip, nothing more than a wraith in the night, the whispers of Ghost upon his heels.
 
But where were Denocte’s shadows now? All eyes that see him here mark him as Denoctian, a creature forged of moonlight and horror. Raum never cares to correct them.
 
All of this stranger glitters and Raum’s gaze trails along the ornate horns that rise elegant and fierce from the man’s skull. “I have a castle too.” Raum says, without pride, without a care. Slowly he returns his electric gaze to Toulouse, lighting every inch of the man with sparks. “Yet the sandpit is where children hide their toys.”
 
But oh, then the stranger dares speak more. Raum blinks, slowly, his eyes turning black as pitch. It is a raven’s gaze that watches the stranger now. Oh time draws itself out, it stretches aching an tense. The desert breeze falls still and only the sun dares continue. All else falls to stillness, the desert’s breath is held and it trembles along its edges, mirages quaking with fright.
 
For how long does Raum not speak, but watches, watches, watches. The black of that gaze is a swallowing chasm, it is a cloth that binds eyes and lips. It steals breath from its victims very lungs and clenches tight.
 
Still Raum says nothing – until, “Indeed you do not. So tell me, is that why you are here? To see what happens far away from home? Men have had their eyes taken in Solterra for less.
 
A vulture’s shadow passes over them, an omen of death, a beast hungry and waiting. It watches the King and his companion, its eyes are bright and hungry, beady and ready. Over and over it circles, as if the very mention of eyes has brought it here, as if eyes were its diet – and why might that be?
 
Raum does not look to the hunting bird, but stays his gaze upon Toulouse, following it as the boy looks to the Oasis.
 
I was going for a bath, I have sand clinging to all the wrong places,.
 
“You will have a job.” Raum hums like hornets taking flight, “The Oasis is restricted. Loyalty to the crown is the only way you get in there. So let me ask you again, friend, what brings you to Solterra?”

---

@Toulouse