Isielin espied the dirt-caked, faded, sign outside the hall with a wary, inward groan. She had traveled far, and endured much, just to find this place, only to find it in such a state of disrepair as to suggest abandonment.
Surely, there had to be someone inside?
She cocked her head to one side and whacked her long, Elezen ear with a gloved hand. Dust, sand, silt; microscopic granular torture sifted off her in a lazy cloud. Her ride through the desert left her feeling grimy; she gritted her teeth and felt more sand pop between the molars. Why on earth would anyone live in the middle of so... much... sand?
She hoisted herself off the back of her chocobo and left it tied up outside. It woudn't hurt to poke her head inside, if only to cool off in the shade until ready to ride again. Sweat dripped off her brow from the desert heat, and she could smell her own stench. With a sniff, her head held erect, and stiff leg muscles groaning from the lengthy ride, she strode up the steps and with as much dignity as she could muster and gripped the door with both hands and gave a tug.
Several moments later, she was still pulling.
By the gods who creates doors like this? she wondered, better yet, who USES doors like this?
Frustrated, thirsty, and tired, she resorted to the best course of action when face when an unmovable hurdle. She kicked the door as hard as she could. A heavy, echoing clan resounded through the hall, followed moments later by a wild, savage cry;
"By Nophica's scythe! I hate sand, I hate hot weather, and I hate stupid - impossible - obnoxious doors!"
Surely, there had to be someone inside?
She cocked her head to one side and whacked her long, Elezen ear with a gloved hand. Dust, sand, silt; microscopic granular torture sifted off her in a lazy cloud. Her ride through the desert left her feeling grimy; she gritted her teeth and felt more sand pop between the molars. Why on earth would anyone live in the middle of so... much... sand?
She hoisted herself off the back of her chocobo and left it tied up outside. It woudn't hurt to poke her head inside, if only to cool off in the shade until ready to ride again. Sweat dripped off her brow from the desert heat, and she could smell her own stench. With a sniff, her head held erect, and stiff leg muscles groaning from the lengthy ride, she strode up the steps and with as much dignity as she could muster and gripped the door with both hands and gave a tug.
Several moments later, she was still pulling.
By the gods who creates doors like this? she wondered, better yet, who USES doors like this?
Frustrated, thirsty, and tired, she resorted to the best course of action when face when an unmovable hurdle. She kicked the door as hard as she could. A heavy, echoing clan resounded through the hall, followed moments later by a wild, savage cry;
"By Nophica's scythe! I hate sand, I hate hot weather, and I hate stupid - impossible - obnoxious doors!"
