Onmiddan Prepositionally Reinstating "Infinitive Thread Titles"

[drake]

The oceanside foot trail soon merged with the major wagon roads, which proved wide enough to comfortably accommodate eight oxen. For centuries, the world widely recognized Gisela as the host of the beloved Gisela Open tournaments. To the east the ocean stretched out into the horizon until it melted into the baby blue sky. Its long reaching waves repeatedly crashed against the fickle shoreline, as waterfowl split the breeze with their cries. In every other direction, dull tall grasses sprouted from the countryside, shaded by the great overcast sky. Far beyond the port, at least thirty kilometers beyond the city’s unwalled limits, the rocky shoreside sprouted out into a great peninsula which doubled back towards the town. The peninsula held several acres worth of forested breadth, and hid beautiful secluded beaches on its oceanside shores. Approximately two miles northeast of Port Gisela’s harbor, the strip of land reached its end at Wyron’s Point.

During tournament years, large masted sailing vessels sat at anchor in the bay North of the port for as far as the eye could see. The grasslands surrounding the open city’s borders overflowed with the tents, campfires and training camps of the visiting warriors. Wagon trains ran during the day and all throughout the night, delivering caravans filled to the brim with meats, and bursting with fresh produce- all sourced from the local countryside. The sounds of jolly reminiscing and hearty laughter over food and drink clashed with the furious cries of those testing their mettle on the training fields. During the tournament, any traveler saw Port Gisela’s glow off the horizon for tens of miles away as a beacon of relief from their weary travels. Here they could find rest, refreshment, and even moreso- the opportunity to join a potentially legendary army, and earn a spot in history’s memory.

As Drake approached the two great square-based granite pillars which marked the city rurals’ limits, he noticed a sudden movement from the corner of his eye. Looking to the west, he saw a figure’s upper body bounding above the wafery tips of the tall grass. Shortly after appearing, the figure vanished in the planes only to reappear in the same manner repeatedly.

“There’s only one warrior I know who jumps like that,” Drake muttered to himself as the figure approached the stone landmark by which the principality stood.

Soon, the figure differentiated herself as a tall muscular woman with brunette hair fastened back, who leapt from the grasses and onto the main road. She knelt on the ground with one hand on her knee and the other palm flat on the ground, breathing heavily as she recovered her stamina from the world. Her short angular face relaxed, expressionless as her pink angular nose ran from exertion. Fatigued eyelids partially obscured her serenely blazing grey eyes.

“Umaiana?” Drake asked from next to the pillar, approximately two meters away from the fatigued warrior.

“OH GODS!” She overreacted, standing up and instinctively raising her fists, “Don’t mess with me, I’ll turn you into swiss cheese!”

She reached for a weapon to throw while sweeping her horizon until her gaze locked on to Drake’s. Her quenching, wispy irises reached into Drakes chest and squeezed his heart, making him feel the distinct urge to cough, shudder, and chuckle at the same time.

“Drake?” She recognized hesitantly.

A sudden gale tugged loose some hair at the west side of her crown, which temporarily obscured her pupils before dancing in front of her forehead. Grasses bent low in the open planes as Yarborough’s sudden evening winds dismounted from the planes and barreled towards the ocean. The monumental granite pillar stood firm and steadfast, cutting a pocket of stillness for Drake amidst the currents of changing pressure. Upon reaching Umaiana, however, the winds slowed before enveloping her in a gentle embrace. Though the stalks bowed under the gale’s majesty, Umaiana’s features melded gently, dancing harmoniously among nature as her adored companion.

Drake stood still in wonder upon seeing a long lost friend in such a spectacular scene.

“It is you,” She said with a great smile, her snowy pearlescent geometric teeth contrasting with the suddenly dingy surroundings. “I’d remember those green eyes anywhere.”

“Wow, are you still chewing on charcoal?” Drake asked.

Her expression instantly turned flat.

“Fifteen years, a comet and ashfall,” She said, “And that’s the first thing that you ask me?”

“Sorry,” Drake said, flushing red and diverting his gaze. “You just have the whitest teeth that I have seen since Lornius exploded.”

She hesitated.

“Yes. Every night.”

Drake smiled, feeling a bit more comfortable.

“Well, it’s nice to know that some things never change.” He said.

“Yeah, you don’t look any different at all. Do you age?”

“Honestly?” Drake asked, “I can’t remember.”

They both laughed.

“Where are the others?” Drake asked.

“Oh, some over there, others are here. I’m sure I can round a few of them up on short notice.” Umaiana said. “Why don’t we go to The Maple Leaf for a repast? Some of the others drop by that hangout from time to time.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Drake responded. “I’ve been waiting a long time to catch up.”

The two set off through the city rurals towards the port.