The air inside the tent was heavy with the warm, earthy scent of dust and the faint tang of burning herbs. With the tent shut against the bright sun outside, everything was cast in long, harsh shadows from the few candles scattered in the small area. Well-trodden skins lay across the sand and muffled the shifting sounds of a body shuffling about to the back of the tent, distorting the shadows into odd shapes across the tent walls.
Green eyes, their color faded with age, turned towards the entry and crinkled in thought, the dim light in the tent emphasizing the spidery lines around them and dragging on the flesh of cheekbones and a jawline that, in the confidence of youth, would have sat high and firm. They still held a memory of this attitude as the individual in the tent stepped away from a small, square skin, upon which metal glinted dully.
"I know that voice," the figure spoke in a warm tone, low and smooth, and white light cut a sharp triangle into the dimness of the tent as an aged hand pulled back the tent's door flap.
K'deiki stood in the entryway, squinting briefly into the sun, and then smiled from under a heavy mane of grey hair that had once, in its prime, shone a sandy blonde. "That is the voice of victory."
Green eyes, their color faded with age, turned towards the entry and crinkled in thought, the dim light in the tent emphasizing the spidery lines around them and dragging on the flesh of cheekbones and a jawline that, in the confidence of youth, would have sat high and firm. They still held a memory of this attitude as the individual in the tent stepped away from a small, square skin, upon which metal glinted dully.
"I know that voice," the figure spoke in a warm tone, low and smooth, and white light cut a sharp triangle into the dimness of the tent as an aged hand pulled back the tent's door flap.
K'deiki stood in the entryway, squinting briefly into the sun, and then smiled from under a heavy mane of grey hair that had once, in its prime, shone a sandy blonde. "That is the voice of victory."
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"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
