Longing for Fruition
Jun 21, 2012 22:42:33 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jun 21, 2012 22:42:33 GMT -6
Cruentus allowed several hushed swear words to depart from his lips, unfurling their barely audible indecency into the Sacaen summer sky, which was pigmented with the characteristic azure blue of clear conditions and nothing more, save for the ever-luminous sun. Though no one was in the vicinity to hear this explicit language except the teal-haired young man himself, the verbalized venting kept his mind at bay from the excessive heat bearing down on him like a piping hot furnace. Sweat clung to the thief’s clothing like beads, which was quickly amassing into small, localized puddles. Grateful that no one was in the range of his pungent body odor, he pressed onward, his ankles steadily bearing the brunt of his footsteps, and gradually beginning to ache more and more.
Sacae was no desert, but the flattened, scorched savannas around Cruentus were dried and withered enough to be classified as such. Since first crossing the Ilia-Sacae border two weeks prior to present, he had not met a single raindrop. Instead, the climate had receded into a drought, exacerbated by the persistent sunshine and high air temperatures. Though Ilia was prone to becoming unseasonably hot in the summertime, it seemed that Sacae was far more prone to such erratic atmospheric patterns. Cruentus had evaded dehydration by being thrifty with his flasks and canteens of water, although his supply was now beginning to dwindle.
The generosity of Sacaean tribes was not as evident as the generosity shown by the modest citizens of Ilia, but it still existed to an extent. Villages in the area had been kind enough to give Cruentus a fair amount of provisions, but some members of the populous turned up their noses at him, as if he was a mere tramp or beggar. The former somewhat described his behavior since departing with his remaining family members, but vagrancy was neither his forte nor his passion.
With drops of liquidized perspiration still drooping from his teal bangs like droplets of moisture on a stalactite, Cruentus continued his survey of the area, and glimpsed a cluster of small furnishings in the distance. It would not take long to reach it, and the group of buildings looked to be a small town rather than a hamlet or village, judging from its apparently larger size. The many amenities of towns now wafted their way into the young wanderer’s mind in the form of comforting thoughts, tantalizing him sweetly with their imaginary appendages. An inn, a pub, and perhaps an armory could all be found in such a place. The decision was obvious for his enigmatic brain; he opted to trek over to the distant town. With a slightly revitalized frame of mind, Cruentus began his brief journey over to the establishment.
Sacae was no desert, but the flattened, scorched savannas around Cruentus were dried and withered enough to be classified as such. Since first crossing the Ilia-Sacae border two weeks prior to present, he had not met a single raindrop. Instead, the climate had receded into a drought, exacerbated by the persistent sunshine and high air temperatures. Though Ilia was prone to becoming unseasonably hot in the summertime, it seemed that Sacae was far more prone to such erratic atmospheric patterns. Cruentus had evaded dehydration by being thrifty with his flasks and canteens of water, although his supply was now beginning to dwindle.
The generosity of Sacaean tribes was not as evident as the generosity shown by the modest citizens of Ilia, but it still existed to an extent. Villages in the area had been kind enough to give Cruentus a fair amount of provisions, but some members of the populous turned up their noses at him, as if he was a mere tramp or beggar. The former somewhat described his behavior since departing with his remaining family members, but vagrancy was neither his forte nor his passion.
With drops of liquidized perspiration still drooping from his teal bangs like droplets of moisture on a stalactite, Cruentus continued his survey of the area, and glimpsed a cluster of small furnishings in the distance. It would not take long to reach it, and the group of buildings looked to be a small town rather than a hamlet or village, judging from its apparently larger size. The many amenities of towns now wafted their way into the young wanderer’s mind in the form of comforting thoughts, tantalizing him sweetly with their imaginary appendages. An inn, a pub, and perhaps an armory could all be found in such a place. The decision was obvious for his enigmatic brain; he opted to trek over to the distant town. With a slightly revitalized frame of mind, Cruentus began his brief journey over to the establishment.