Iriah Caitrak
09-18-13, 08:51 PM
[Closed]
Cameron wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. A never-ending battle really. The moment his hand came away, slick and smelling of sweat and salt, more began to form. He could feel others tickling down his back before being absorbed by the already soaked material of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Then the sun would dry it, leaving crusted trails of white across the pale blue surface, like rings on a cup. It didn't help that he'd been wearing the same shirt now for three days. Three days! It smelled bad, looked bad and even the locals were beginning to avoid him. Honestly, it wasn't his fault this god forsaken desert--no wasteland--had no river to wash his clothes (or himself) in. They were just going to have to deal with him being sweat-stained and disgusting and he honestly didn't care.
He'd run out of clean clothes days ago, after being out in this hell hole for over a month. Day after day of sweltering under the hot Fallien sun. It baked everything it touched. The sand, the dirt, even the shrubs and grass. They all looked withered, dried and desiccated. The people too. Faces burned brown by too much sun light, premature lines webbing out from their eyes and pock marks lining their sunken cheeks.
His skin, pale in comparison to theirs, had gone on a whirlwind adventure the moment he set foot in this place. Burned bright red, he'd blistered and peeled, then burned again. The locals, the men they'd hired to help with this dig, had given him strange smelling balms to ease the discomfort and they kept trying to tie some weird looking scarf across his face. He refused it all, mostly out of stubbornness and pride, and possibly a bit of stupidity. The others in this excavation had already succumbed and their skin was fairing far better than his. Still, he trusted not this backwards place where water was more precious than gold and where women were of a higher status than men.
Women!
He spat into the sand. The hot granules absorbing it in seconds and leaving nothing there but the endless beige river that undulated and rose all around them.
He was beginning to hate this place.
"Cameron!"
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Cameron looked up and spotted Garret across the way. A large stone wall loomed out of the sand behind him, the shadow of which stretched wide across their excavation site from the lowering position of the sun. Other walls in similar states of decay rose up from the sand and cracked earth around them, the plaster worn by the winds and beginning to show the clay bricks underneath. They were interesting, but for the most part this entire thing seemed like folly to the Radasanthian. They'd found nothing but potsherds and broken pieces of ancient glass. Not even an arrowhead nor the rusted handle of a sword. Just garbage in his mind. Garret found it all just so freaking fascinating though.
Guy finds ancient writing on the wall more interesting than a good, hard fuck.
Grabbing his canteen, Cameron took a swill of the piss warm water. It tasted of metal, but he didn't care. His throat felt dry, his tongue thick inside his mouth. He'd probably drink just about anything at this point.
Taking his time, he picked his way across the sand, his booted feet slipping along the mounds and nearly sending him sprawling on his ass not once, but thrice. The locals made it look easy. They glided over the shifting surface, their flowing robes of varying colours swirling about their lean bodies. Made them look like ghosts or a strange mirage from a distance.
They'd hired a couple dozen of them to guide them through the desert, guard against the wandering tribes and help as they dug out some mound of great importance. Or that's what Garret said. Part of an ancient city back when Fallien was lush and full of life, before it had been destroyed by some bitch Goddess named Suravani. Not his kind of religion, that's for sure.
Their hired help milled about. Some standing watch at key points around their dig, higher places of elevation. Most of them had shovel and towel in hand and were moving the sand aside at a rapid speed, unconcerned of the desecration of their own land.
Ah wait, Garret calls it Archaeology, not desecration. If it's for the good of something, it's not treasure hunting, it an archaeological study. Or some such bullshit.
Cameron was only here to help his brother and find something worth money.
Reaching the group of them, his brother surrounded by several of the dark faced locals, Cameron once again wiped the rivulets of sweat from his face. His brother looked much more comfortable than he did. His face partially wrapped in a beige scarf that seemed to keep most of the heat off him. And he'd long ago swapped his Corone clothes for those flowing pants and vests. Garret appeared far less drenched and concerned with the heat as Cameron did.
"We finally broke through!" His brother's excited voice rang throughout the area, bouncing off that large stone wall behind him.
Feeling a spike of interest, he followed after his brother's hurried footsteps. They reached a large pit, the main section of the dig. Over thirty feet wide and fifteen feet down, with wooden ladders thrown together using sticks and rope. It looked like nothing special but was supposed to be the centre of the city, according to Garret, and he surmised that buried sections could still exist, mainly untouched by the wave of destruction that had destroyed this region.
Climbing down the ladder, they hurried to the centre where a small group of worker had gathered. Shoving them aside, Cameron looked down and found himself staring into a dark pit. Even with the sun so bright, he could see very little within except stone and where the light reached the bottom, illuminating a solid floor with drifts of sand.
"Get me a ladder and a torch." He commanded the nearest man, who scrambled at the sudden authority in his voice.
Finally.
"All right little brother, time to go exploring." A large grin broke across Cameron's face, the same one that cut across his brother's.
Perhaps something could still be salvaged from this ridiculous affair.
Iriah tilted her face towards the rising sun and closed her eyes. A long time had passed since last she'd set foot in Fallien. Near on half a year if her calculations were correct, perhaps longer. She had missed it, but she could not have predicted just how much until her foot had stepped off the wooden plank of Saramiti last night. Until she'd seen the shores rise up around the sides of the vessel that carried her home, passing down the salt river that cut Fallien and the famed city Irrakam in half.
The loneliness of being so far from home had been assuaged by her companion and lover, Malagen, but he was not with her now and the journey from Corone here, the weeks spent at sea, had been some of the hardest of her life. She could not believe how a person--no a man--could effect a strong warrior such as she. But he had, and she in turn had affected him in ways her stoic barbarian could never have anticipated.
I will return to you. I gave that promise and I intend to keep it.
Iriah opened her eyes as the bright orange ball crested the roof of the nearest building and heat washed over her face, slowly spreading down her body with every second. For so long she had been without this heat, without the intensity of the sun that the warrior wondered if she could even handle the scorch of the desert like before. Yet as it touched her copper skin, she felt alive again. If only Malagen stood beside her then she would truly feel home. Of course, she had a hard time imagining her barbarian in this heat. He had been born in the north, in the cold and the ice and he had taken her to a similar place to train her. Here, her lover may just melt before her eyes.
She smiled thinking about it. Would be nice to see him out of his element and in hers instead. Perhaps she should ask him to accompany her next time.
As the sun continued to brighten the azure sky, the city of Irrakam came to life right before the warrior's eyes. The buildings that looked hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight now glowed pink and shimmered with the thousands of specks of crystal embedded in the stones. Awnings were put up out front the shops, bright colours flapping in the wind. Those same colours repeated themselves on the citizens as they poured out from their homes to start another day. Hawkers already shouted their wares, the smell of freshly bake breads filled the air along with roasting meat somewhere in the distance. She'd already broke her fast, but the enticing aromas of home, the spices, made her want more.
Ignoring the smells, Iriah moved through the growing crowd of dark skinned locals. Though naturally tanned like all natives to Fallien, her colour had faded with the time she'd spent in the Jagged Mountains and she did note her skin paler than those around her. A couple weeks here under the unrelenting sun and she knew that difference would disappear.
Weaving her way through the somewhat familiar streets and lanes and alleys, the warrior headed from the inn she'd spent the night at and towards the open expanse of sand beyond the mighty walls of Irrakam. Every so often she passed a place where the scars of war still stood. Blackened walls, with large cracks running through them, stone buildings still being erected where the remains of their predecessor once stood. She ignored these reminders of that war, wishing not to bring up the painful memories that still plagued her. But could not help her hand as it sought the ragged white scars that lined the right side of her neck.
As she neared the mighty walls that protected the city, and the large wooden bridge lowered to let in and out the days travellers, Iriah noticed a crowd. Sifting through the people, she realized they were crowding around a man. Ragged and torn, his clothes a mess about his body, stained by the sand and the dirt. His deep brown eyes were sunken into his face and hollow cheeks lay under them. His eyes though, roamed about the crowd of people in a crazed fashion, looking from one face to another.
“Abhuva! Abhuva!!!” His cries, his frantic words had drawn the eyes of many, though most seemed quite content to stand and stare, none approached him. When he moved towards them, they backed away, as if expecting him to carry the plague of Fallien upon his rough, sun burnt skin.
His words flew from his mouth in a fast torrent, like flowing sands and she could only catch snippets here and there.
Pushing through the people, Iriah approached him, his unfocused eyes drawn straight to her as she approached. “Zamyati.” She said with a calm voice. Grabbing her rucksack, she pulled out her water skin and held it out to him. The man clearly needed to drink and it would give him time to collect his thoughts. “Peya, bhadram va.”
He took it, hands shaking, and drained the contents of the skin. Droplets of water streaming down from the corners of his cracked lips. When he finished, his hands were shaking less and the feverish look that has encompassed his face seemed more muted. Though it still lingered in his eyes.
“Prazabdayati, kim kim abasyat?” She asked.
Cameron wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. A never-ending battle really. The moment his hand came away, slick and smelling of sweat and salt, more began to form. He could feel others tickling down his back before being absorbed by the already soaked material of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Then the sun would dry it, leaving crusted trails of white across the pale blue surface, like rings on a cup. It didn't help that he'd been wearing the same shirt now for three days. Three days! It smelled bad, looked bad and even the locals were beginning to avoid him. Honestly, it wasn't his fault this god forsaken desert--no wasteland--had no river to wash his clothes (or himself) in. They were just going to have to deal with him being sweat-stained and disgusting and he honestly didn't care.
He'd run out of clean clothes days ago, after being out in this hell hole for over a month. Day after day of sweltering under the hot Fallien sun. It baked everything it touched. The sand, the dirt, even the shrubs and grass. They all looked withered, dried and desiccated. The people too. Faces burned brown by too much sun light, premature lines webbing out from their eyes and pock marks lining their sunken cheeks.
His skin, pale in comparison to theirs, had gone on a whirlwind adventure the moment he set foot in this place. Burned bright red, he'd blistered and peeled, then burned again. The locals, the men they'd hired to help with this dig, had given him strange smelling balms to ease the discomfort and they kept trying to tie some weird looking scarf across his face. He refused it all, mostly out of stubbornness and pride, and possibly a bit of stupidity. The others in this excavation had already succumbed and their skin was fairing far better than his. Still, he trusted not this backwards place where water was more precious than gold and where women were of a higher status than men.
Women!
He spat into the sand. The hot granules absorbing it in seconds and leaving nothing there but the endless beige river that undulated and rose all around them.
He was beginning to hate this place.
"Cameron!"
Shielding his eyes from the sun, Cameron looked up and spotted Garret across the way. A large stone wall loomed out of the sand behind him, the shadow of which stretched wide across their excavation site from the lowering position of the sun. Other walls in similar states of decay rose up from the sand and cracked earth around them, the plaster worn by the winds and beginning to show the clay bricks underneath. They were interesting, but for the most part this entire thing seemed like folly to the Radasanthian. They'd found nothing but potsherds and broken pieces of ancient glass. Not even an arrowhead nor the rusted handle of a sword. Just garbage in his mind. Garret found it all just so freaking fascinating though.
Guy finds ancient writing on the wall more interesting than a good, hard fuck.
Grabbing his canteen, Cameron took a swill of the piss warm water. It tasted of metal, but he didn't care. His throat felt dry, his tongue thick inside his mouth. He'd probably drink just about anything at this point.
Taking his time, he picked his way across the sand, his booted feet slipping along the mounds and nearly sending him sprawling on his ass not once, but thrice. The locals made it look easy. They glided over the shifting surface, their flowing robes of varying colours swirling about their lean bodies. Made them look like ghosts or a strange mirage from a distance.
They'd hired a couple dozen of them to guide them through the desert, guard against the wandering tribes and help as they dug out some mound of great importance. Or that's what Garret said. Part of an ancient city back when Fallien was lush and full of life, before it had been destroyed by some bitch Goddess named Suravani. Not his kind of religion, that's for sure.
Their hired help milled about. Some standing watch at key points around their dig, higher places of elevation. Most of them had shovel and towel in hand and were moving the sand aside at a rapid speed, unconcerned of the desecration of their own land.
Ah wait, Garret calls it Archaeology, not desecration. If it's for the good of something, it's not treasure hunting, it an archaeological study. Or some such bullshit.
Cameron was only here to help his brother and find something worth money.
Reaching the group of them, his brother surrounded by several of the dark faced locals, Cameron once again wiped the rivulets of sweat from his face. His brother looked much more comfortable than he did. His face partially wrapped in a beige scarf that seemed to keep most of the heat off him. And he'd long ago swapped his Corone clothes for those flowing pants and vests. Garret appeared far less drenched and concerned with the heat as Cameron did.
"We finally broke through!" His brother's excited voice rang throughout the area, bouncing off that large stone wall behind him.
Feeling a spike of interest, he followed after his brother's hurried footsteps. They reached a large pit, the main section of the dig. Over thirty feet wide and fifteen feet down, with wooden ladders thrown together using sticks and rope. It looked like nothing special but was supposed to be the centre of the city, according to Garret, and he surmised that buried sections could still exist, mainly untouched by the wave of destruction that had destroyed this region.
Climbing down the ladder, they hurried to the centre where a small group of worker had gathered. Shoving them aside, Cameron looked down and found himself staring into a dark pit. Even with the sun so bright, he could see very little within except stone and where the light reached the bottom, illuminating a solid floor with drifts of sand.
"Get me a ladder and a torch." He commanded the nearest man, who scrambled at the sudden authority in his voice.
Finally.
"All right little brother, time to go exploring." A large grin broke across Cameron's face, the same one that cut across his brother's.
Perhaps something could still be salvaged from this ridiculous affair.
Iriah tilted her face towards the rising sun and closed her eyes. A long time had passed since last she'd set foot in Fallien. Near on half a year if her calculations were correct, perhaps longer. She had missed it, but she could not have predicted just how much until her foot had stepped off the wooden plank of Saramiti last night. Until she'd seen the shores rise up around the sides of the vessel that carried her home, passing down the salt river that cut Fallien and the famed city Irrakam in half.
The loneliness of being so far from home had been assuaged by her companion and lover, Malagen, but he was not with her now and the journey from Corone here, the weeks spent at sea, had been some of the hardest of her life. She could not believe how a person--no a man--could effect a strong warrior such as she. But he had, and she in turn had affected him in ways her stoic barbarian could never have anticipated.
I will return to you. I gave that promise and I intend to keep it.
Iriah opened her eyes as the bright orange ball crested the roof of the nearest building and heat washed over her face, slowly spreading down her body with every second. For so long she had been without this heat, without the intensity of the sun that the warrior wondered if she could even handle the scorch of the desert like before. Yet as it touched her copper skin, she felt alive again. If only Malagen stood beside her then she would truly feel home. Of course, she had a hard time imagining her barbarian in this heat. He had been born in the north, in the cold and the ice and he had taken her to a similar place to train her. Here, her lover may just melt before her eyes.
She smiled thinking about it. Would be nice to see him out of his element and in hers instead. Perhaps she should ask him to accompany her next time.
As the sun continued to brighten the azure sky, the city of Irrakam came to life right before the warrior's eyes. The buildings that looked hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight now glowed pink and shimmered with the thousands of specks of crystal embedded in the stones. Awnings were put up out front the shops, bright colours flapping in the wind. Those same colours repeated themselves on the citizens as they poured out from their homes to start another day. Hawkers already shouted their wares, the smell of freshly bake breads filled the air along with roasting meat somewhere in the distance. She'd already broke her fast, but the enticing aromas of home, the spices, made her want more.
Ignoring the smells, Iriah moved through the growing crowd of dark skinned locals. Though naturally tanned like all natives to Fallien, her colour had faded with the time she'd spent in the Jagged Mountains and she did note her skin paler than those around her. A couple weeks here under the unrelenting sun and she knew that difference would disappear.
Weaving her way through the somewhat familiar streets and lanes and alleys, the warrior headed from the inn she'd spent the night at and towards the open expanse of sand beyond the mighty walls of Irrakam. Every so often she passed a place where the scars of war still stood. Blackened walls, with large cracks running through them, stone buildings still being erected where the remains of their predecessor once stood. She ignored these reminders of that war, wishing not to bring up the painful memories that still plagued her. But could not help her hand as it sought the ragged white scars that lined the right side of her neck.
As she neared the mighty walls that protected the city, and the large wooden bridge lowered to let in and out the days travellers, Iriah noticed a crowd. Sifting through the people, she realized they were crowding around a man. Ragged and torn, his clothes a mess about his body, stained by the sand and the dirt. His deep brown eyes were sunken into his face and hollow cheeks lay under them. His eyes though, roamed about the crowd of people in a crazed fashion, looking from one face to another.
“Abhuva! Abhuva!!!” His cries, his frantic words had drawn the eyes of many, though most seemed quite content to stand and stare, none approached him. When he moved towards them, they backed away, as if expecting him to carry the plague of Fallien upon his rough, sun burnt skin.
His words flew from his mouth in a fast torrent, like flowing sands and she could only catch snippets here and there.
Pushing through the people, Iriah approached him, his unfocused eyes drawn straight to her as she approached. “Zamyati.” She said with a calm voice. Grabbing her rucksack, she pulled out her water skin and held it out to him. The man clearly needed to drink and it would give him time to collect his thoughts. “Peya, bhadram va.”
He took it, hands shaking, and drained the contents of the skin. Droplets of water streaming down from the corners of his cracked lips. When he finished, his hands were shaking less and the feverish look that has encompassed his face seemed more muted. Though it still lingered in his eyes.
“Prazabdayati, kim kim abasyat?” She asked.