three two one count it down
swim or drown
In Zukai, as a Sand Prince, he had decked himself in black silks and golden filigree, red rubies and diamond accents. His long, gilded hair was tended by a series of designated slaves. Then, Nashira had sliced the locks from his neck and sent him out into the desert, saving and damning him at the same time. Atlas wondered if maybe she’d have granted him a quick death, had he stayed.
The little light following around behind the youngster caught his eye; it seemed to oscillate through a spectrum of colors. How curious, he thought, as he tilted his head to observe the object. Was this a sort of magic? If so, it was one he was not familiar with. Of course, that was not saying much-- Atlas was no great scholar of the mystical arts. In fact, he preferred to avoid them at all costs.
It warmed the wanderer’s old heart to listen to the boy extol the virtues of Denoctian celebrations. “I haven’t been to many parties, myself, so I’m not a very good judge, but I am enjoying this one.” The youngster came up a bit closer, excitedly going on about the merit of the various sweets offered at the summer festival, particularly the coconut ice cream. Judging by his exuberant tone and the veritable buzzing aura he emitted, Atlas suspected Kibou had already had his fair share of sugar today. “I have not had the opportunity to try the refreshments. I don’t suppose you would be willing to introduce me?” He winked, playful. “I do prefer to learn from the experts.”
Everything about the boy was peculiar and intriguing; Atlas couldn’t tell if it was because Kibou was particularly special, or if it had just been so long since he’d encountered anyone with the vibrancy of youth. “Does your friend have a name?” he asked of the simian picking through knots in the youngster’s mane.
The little light following around behind the youngster caught his eye; it seemed to oscillate through a spectrum of colors. How curious, he thought, as he tilted his head to observe the object. Was this a sort of magic? If so, it was one he was not familiar with. Of course, that was not saying much-- Atlas was no great scholar of the mystical arts. In fact, he preferred to avoid them at all costs.
It warmed the wanderer’s old heart to listen to the boy extol the virtues of Denoctian celebrations. “I haven’t been to many parties, myself, so I’m not a very good judge, but I am enjoying this one.” The youngster came up a bit closer, excitedly going on about the merit of the various sweets offered at the summer festival, particularly the coconut ice cream. Judging by his exuberant tone and the veritable buzzing aura he emitted, Atlas suspected Kibou had already had his fair share of sugar today. “I have not had the opportunity to try the refreshments. I don’t suppose you would be willing to introduce me?” He winked, playful. “I do prefer to learn from the experts.”
Everything about the boy was peculiar and intriguing; Atlas couldn’t tell if it was because Kibou was particularly special, or if it had just been so long since he’d encountered anyone with the vibrancy of youth. “Does your friend have a name?” he asked of the simian picking through knots in the youngster’s mane.
SPEECH ! @Kibou ! sorry for the delay
