![[Image: ezgif_2_3c38189a9b_by_arrakis93-dbdp4j8.gif]](http://orig12.deviantart.net/cefa/f/2017/173/7/b/ezgif_2_3c38189a9b_by_arrakis93-dbdp4j8.gif)
Hot. Hot. Unexpectedly hot. Bexley wouldn't say she's uncomfortable so much as caught off guard. It was supposed to be cooler at this time in the morning, but sweat is already building at the base of her flurrying curls. The paths she's taken to get here were all cool and rain-splattered, so that even when the sun did shine, the world steamed instead of baked, providing some relief; there were crowding, towering trees and bushes flecked with rain drops to brush up against or drop shadows on the road, and Bexley was never forced to sweat. But this? This is different. It's early morning and already balmy, with sunlight reflecting against the reddish dunes to become twice as hot on the way back up again. Bex is hotblooded by nature - physically and otherwise - and had looked at the upcoming desert on her trek here with a dull kind of excitement. Like summer, if summer was a place!
Except her last summer was so hazy with grief that Bex can't even really recall it, and the one before that she was so young as to be completely stupid, and the one before that she was barely a kid. So, she realizes, her love for summer is truly unfounded. All this sloughing through the sand might make her muscles unsightly; the gushes of hot wind coming from far away are definitely going to flatten her curls; and anything more than a light sheen of sweat is not a good look for her. Bex wrinkles her nose and decides she won't be hanging out in any more deserts if she can help it. Even if they are beautiful, in an arid, hazy-red, broken down kind of way.
Bex picks up her feet and attempts to walk a little faster. It can't be that big of a desert, can it? She heard the rest of the Day court was near here somewhere, which means it has to be accessible, to a point. Nostrils flaring with impatience, Bex steels her resolve, that innate stubbornness rising as instantly as if a button had been pushed to turn it on, lowers her head to the wind, and trudges forward, melting into the hot grip of the sun.
@rhoswen
