It's taken awhile to reach the the oasis that lies in what I now call my homeland. I'm most definitely exhausted as fuck. I've been traveling for so long now (days? weeks?) that my body barely can function. Or at least, that's the feeling that overwhelms me. I'm sure my body could hold out a little longer if I asked it to, but let's not. I reach the lowest pool of the oasis, and stop at the edge. I stand there staring at my reflection beyond the ripples, my mind full of dust. I'm sure if you peeked inside you'd see tumbleweed passing by. I try to summon thought after a moment, but the gears are slow to move (creaking, rusty, needing oil). My knees bend, body crumpling to the ground, only softened by the depth of the sand around me.
I dip my nose into the water, and it seems to awaken thought within me. I have not found the relic - only a small red stone that I have kept with me since I was with Weir at the Dusk Court. Perhaps there is no relic, and it was all talk. Perhaps it is still out there, or maybe someone else found it. Either way, I am not in possession, and therefore cannot use it to barter with the Gods for them to bring Damaris to me. Tears threaten to break again on to my face, as they had when I first arrived in Novus. But they won't come - I'm too exhausted. The setting sun warms me, not to overheating, but enough to make me warm on the sand. A languished sigh slips out. I don't know what I can do but hope and wait. I lay my head down on the sand and close my eyes, hoping that a moment of rest will clear the sadness, clear the murky mire of thoughts, and bring some sort of relief to my exhausted mind, soul, body.
WC: 326
Tag: @Victorina
I dip my nose into the water, and it seems to awaken thought within me. I have not found the relic - only a small red stone that I have kept with me since I was with Weir at the Dusk Court. Perhaps there is no relic, and it was all talk. Perhaps it is still out there, or maybe someone else found it. Either way, I am not in possession, and therefore cannot use it to barter with the Gods for them to bring Damaris to me. Tears threaten to break again on to my face, as they had when I first arrived in Novus. But they won't come - I'm too exhausted. The setting sun warms me, not to overheating, but enough to make me warm on the sand. A languished sigh slips out. I don't know what I can do but hope and wait. I lay my head down on the sand and close my eyes, hoping that a moment of rest will clear the sadness, clear the murky mire of thoughts, and bring some sort of relief to my exhausted mind, soul, body.
Tag: @Victorina
Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
