[P] in the end there will be dust;

[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.

 

He does not turn from the window to see her bow, yet he hears the scuff of her feet, like dragon wings, across the tiled floor. There too is the rustle of her breath, the way she holds it, the way it betrays the beat of her heart and the river of her thoughts. It catches on thoughts like stones and rushes forward as her decision is made.
 
Still the King watches Solterran business play out before him. Citizens move like ants through the maze of buildings and shops. There are queues for food and water and idly he wonders if he might see Elif join one. The snarl of her stomach implied so.
 
The creak of leather shatters the silence of the room, it rides above the click of her sand-worn hooves. If there are words upon her lips, he does not know them and neither does he care to hear them voiced.
 
There is rustling the sounds of weapons being sheathed and replaced upon her person. Then the door clicks shut and all is so utterly silent. Raum’s gaze tips up toward where the Steppe lies before returning to the floor. The girl emerges a thin line, a slender ant, her weapons glittering wickedly in the light. She walks forward and he utters softly to his guards, “Follow her and let me know what she finds.”

---

@Elif