I have never been to the lands of day. I have seen deserts before, lived and breathed in their life, had my image written across its skies, but not like this one. I had thought Lyrus was a harsh place, with its towering red rocks, and it's one oasis. But Solterra, solterra was a cruel place. heat shimmered visibly in the air, painting it in waves, like the art of a long dead surrealist. I am sharply reminded that the waste had been a death sentence for me, and that I'd be lucky if this place wasn't.
Though this time I had company. a month or two back I had found two pups deserted in the mountains, ad though I hadn't been able to speak to them as I had Picoro, as of course, he would never share his role, I'd managed to give them enough love that they'd stuck around. Long enough now that I'd been able to teach them a few things. Both are sweet, though different in personality. While Yara is my shadow, Mithra prefers to run amuck. They grew larger than I expected, both now reaching nearly up to my stomach. Picoro to accompanies me of course.
I did not expect the desert to be this hot, though I should have known better, coming in in the summer months. I don't know what I expected. It does not bode well for me, and though I felt fine when the sun rose over the mountains, my head began to pound nearly the moment I set foot in Solterra. "Yara" I call softly, "Steady" it is one of the few things I've managed to teach her. to come into my side and take just some of my weight. It is handy on the mountains, and I hope that in time, with her and Mithra, I will be able to make it down myself, without having to employ one of the disciples.
After what feels like an eternity I make it to the court itself, and by then my body cries in exhaustion. I shush Picoro before he can say a word about my poor judgement, and lack of foresight. I had in fact, come here for a reason though. With the end of summer will bring with it sickness, especially with so many living in close quarters. Not much grows on the mountains, and I want to be prepared was sickness does strike. Deserts hold one of the best herbs for it, white sage, and someone in the markets is bound to have some. If I knew where the markets were.
The people here seem...cold, in stark contrast to their home, and though no one seems particularly ready to help a woman whose spine just from her back, I will not return to the temples empty handed. The first man to catch my eye, is one with a head full of snakes. "Excuse me." I call softly, unsure if my voice will be heard above the clamor of others moving about. "Could you direct me to the markets? I'm afraid I'm rather out of my element here"
he first thing I think when I see her is that I hope she doesn’t collapse. I don’t really feel like picking her up.
And I hate being responsible for anyone but myself. If she’s expecting someone to pamper her, she is sorely mistaken. (For all our diversity, no one’s ever called Solterra the court of caretakers). And oh, isn’t it just like foreigners to waltz in here unprepared, fall to the ground from heatstroke or low blood pressure, and then ask for—I don’t know, money? Or a helping hand. (Not that I’ve personally seen this happen—I spend too much time indoors for that—but sweet Hagar ventures out into public far more often, and more than once she’s come back griping about the peasants and their expectations. I’m wont to believe her.)
In her defense, though—it is hot. Even for Solterran summer. Even for me, born and raised in the desert. Standing in the shadow of the arching entryway to our estate, I feel the sun waiting vengefully to swallow me whole; even out of its glare, sweat beads over my shoulders and drips into the folds of my linen robe. I feel disgusting. Common. Around my dark head, the nest of snakes swirl and hiss in discomfort. They are as privileged as I am, with none of the mobility, and even I am not cruel enough to shush them.
Shoulder pressed to the doorway, I lean my weight against the marble arch and watch with slitted golden eyes. The woman in the street is taller than I am, but terribly, terribly thin; her spotted coat is dull, and I can see the knot of her bones poking out from her hips, her shoulders, even her ribcage. I wonder if she’s sick. Then I wonder what sick girl would be foolish enough to waltz through the desert, our desert, which has swallowed even the healthiest of warriors, when it became hungry enough.
But I am interested in her—interested in what she thinks she’s doing here, and interested in the fact that she has not one but two dogs—and what looks like a sloth—walking with her. (No one in my family has ever had a companion, at least not for the past century or so. We don’t play nice with others, generally.)
Excuse me? My eyes are already locked on her when she says this; I stare at her with a gaze of bright amber, unflinching. Now that she’s turned to me, I can see that her eyes are a turquoise much brighter than the rest of her. Could you direct me to the markets?
Lazily, I shove my weight off the archway. A few of the snakes circle my ears and strain forward, sniffing her out from the scent of her dogs. "What are you looking for, exactly?"
The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
I wonder if I made a mistake, approaching who I did, I notice he is staring, glaring at me, before I even open my mouth to speak. He is not the first to stare at me, and that much is unsurprising, but its the hardness of his eyes that stop me. Despite being a golden hue, they are cold, cruel. It seems at all times at least one of the snakes on his head is hissing quietly, they sound like echoes, of each other.
Yara and Mithra look horrified, I doubt either of them have seen snakes before, the mountain is too cold, and let alone on some strangers head. I find them rather unnerving myself, as they swirl around each other, moving closer to me, but limited by the constraint of the man himself. "White sage" I reply "For the winter, I've heard that Solterra grows the best of it"
Though he stands below me, I feel far smaller, I had heard rumors of Solterra's hostility, especially towards Denoctian, but I had hoped that as a medic I would be considered more neutral. But looking at everyone here, they exuded pride, arrogance, all for solis. Even one of the healers I'd met on neutral ground a week or so back had been cruel, and I wondered how medics even did their jobs here. The longer I stood in Solterra, the more I disliked it. "I've brought herbs from Denocte to trade'
