For Satriya joining Merneith Khaemwaset for visibility
He travels and night, following the stars, his pace a slow limp. He is in no particular rush, and the ache in his limb has sent him to search for some herbs that might've soothed it. He was not forsaking the desert, because he would never be able to do so, for all the blood he'd lost to the sand, but for now, he would seek reprieve from the searing heat and endless wastes. Verdant pastures were ahead, where he could rest and find water. The smells of others here did little to deter him, he would use his words, or he would fight.
He did not want to fight. He could still taste the iron of the last bandit he'd slain between the grooves of his teeth. The world was far too evil a place, it needed pruning.
He wished to believe the stars guided him here for a reason, but any belief from him was half-hearted, and veiled with an anticipation for only the worst of outcomes.
He did not want to fight. He could still taste the iron of the last bandit he'd slain between the grooves of his teeth. The world was far too evil a place, it needed pruning.
He wished to believe the stars guided him here for a reason, but any belief from him was half-hearted, and veiled with an anticipation for only the worst of outcomes.