Would you crumble if I whispered to you like the wind
Heat. Sand. Sun. A relentless sun creeping higher and higher in the sky. Meira inhales the familiar smell of the desert she knows so well. It is nothing like the sands of the beach. The air here steals moisture, hoarding it away for some unknown purpose. She is careful, so careful to go unnoticed. Solterra was once here home. Her heart still aches to know that she cannot return here. Not yet. Not while he still exists. Meira wanders the familiar streets of the desert metropolis. Familiar, sunbleached stone walls creep into the sky. Aging wood finds roots in some of the stoneworks, advertising the wares of the shopkeepers. A sigh escapes her lips as she wanders the streets. For now, she can pretend that she is home, and she does. Oh, how she does. When the sea cannot provide relief to her, she turns to the memories of home. The ones that do not creep into her mind at the darkest hour of the night. Dusty streets and the relentless sun are some of her fondest memories.
Meira soon finds herself near the main gate of Solterra. She stands and watches as men and women filter in and out of the open gates. Merchants. The ones she does not think of as real. It isn't that she does not recognize them as real or having depth, but that she has never seen it. They are empty, and for once she thinks she can relate. She is empty. Meira nestles herself against one of the sunbleached, white stone walls. The heat from the stone radiates across her frame as she stands beside it. Meira doesn't shy from the familiar heat beating down upon her frame. It is a welcome friend. She is not sure how much longer she will remain for her visit, but she intends to enjoy every moment of it.
Meira soon finds herself near the main gate of Solterra. She stands and watches as men and women filter in and out of the open gates. Merchants. The ones she does not think of as real. It isn't that she does not recognize them as real or having depth, but that she has never seen it. They are empty, and for once she thinks she can relate. She is empty. Meira nestles herself against one of the sunbleached, white stone walls. The heat from the stone radiates across her frame as she stands beside it. Meira doesn't shy from the familiar heat beating down upon her frame. It is a welcome friend. She is not sure how much longer she will remain for her visit, but she intends to enjoy every moment of it.
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