Fate - First Reply Searching for Yesterday

[Len Dy't B-taa]

The sun above bakes the land below
Find your own feet steady, have skin of stone
Not sand nor sword can weather your soul
Heed the call of the Trees, those Seven tall

The song upon his lips undoubtedly meant nothing to anyone but the man who sang it with dry lips and a brow soaked in sweat. In a time long past it was a favorite of his people, a declaration of the warrior's way, and a reminder of what he and so many others like him had fought, sweat, and bled for. Even as he sang, bits of sand flew into his mouth, kicked up by the horses dashing across the dry savannah that carried his small single-seat cart across inhospitable lengths of barren heat.

It was enough to make a man crumble in misery, but to Len Dy't B-taa this dry heat was the embrace of his home. Indeed, a smile split upon his lips even as the sunbeams bore against his bronzed skin. So many times he'd made this trip, sang this very same song as he returned from triumph to bear the news of another grand victory to his people. In his mind he could hear them: the cheers and adoration of the Aberrants, the deafening horns of the Vast Nazca sounding in announcement of his return.

No man, woman, or child shall beg
In the city of brass, that walks upon legs
The call of the horns, it stirs us to shout
'Live Long!' to the Aberrants, us few and devout

Alas, no matter how many times he closed his eyes tight and opened them once more, there was no kingdom to greet him this time. Where it should have been was nothing but arid and empty air, with rolling dunes across the droughted ground beneath it. The place Len had called his own, the Aberrant Kingdom, was long dead and forgotten. Len himself was the only remaining fragment of a once great and powerful civilization, brought back from the hands of death by the greed and evil of this current time.

He'd been ripped from his fate, a death he'd accepted with open arms, and forced back into life as a stranger to the entire world. In time, some distant descendants of the Savannah who had formed an Empire larger and grander than the Kingdom he'd once known accepted him into the fold and given him a new home. Ragash was a place that he had grown fond of, and working for Medja and Ahti had been a most welcome distraction from the turmoil he felt about his resurrection.

But it was a distraction, and nothing more.

B-taa's heart still burned for his true home, and he felt it in his bones that here, amongst the dunes and the searing sun, he would find some clue, some remnant of his people. Though generations had passed, the idea that nothing would be left behind was unfathomable to him. Pulling his cart to a halt , he brings the waterskin at his hip up to his mouth, washing the sand from his lips and tongue and nourishing his dry throat.

There was a lot of ground to cover, and this Savannah was far from the safest of places. Inhospitable though it was, that didn't mean it was abandoned. Behind each hill could lie a killer in waiting, seeking to take his new life the same as his first.​

 

[Wisteria]

The desert and her sands were not a friend to the fair skinned fox girl, the searing heat and the dryness of the earth making her grumpy and uncomfortable. She was making her way back home to Ragash, her home and her duty lay there. She had done Medja a favor, running intel despite that not being her responsibility. Still Wisteria would rather be in her good graces, and perhaps get a favor herself from doing such a task.

The camel she sat upon was dirty and smelly, and grunted incessantly. She poked her guide in the shoulder whining loudly in the quiet of the desert dunes. "I swear I will never do this again; how long do we have until home?" She groaned, tilting her eyes to the ceiling of the cloth kit she rode in. The guide merely sighed; this was after all the millionth time she asked.

Wisteria pulled her fan back out, ears and tail both wilted from the heat. She was definitely going to be spending some time in the baths, it seemed the grit and grime from travel was in every crevice and she hated how it made her soft skin feel raw. They hadn't seen another soul for ages, and even the desert dwelling animals were scarce. Wisteria was unequivocally bored out of her skull. It was too bad she couldn't have drug poor Rahma along, even though she was sure he didn't like her overly much.

Len Dy't B-taa

 

[Len Dy't B-taa]

The simmering sands were every bit as inhospitable as Len remembered them to be. The sun above showed no mercy as he wandered the dunes, searching for any remnant of his home amongst the vast and merciless desert. And yet even still, the sweat upon his brow and the sand beneath his fingertips made him feel more at home here than he'd felt since returning to this world.

B-taa was born to be here, baking under the head and sifting through the sands.

The same could not be said for many creatures. It took one strong of body, mind and willpower to withstand the Savannah, and from what Len had seen of this new era, many had grown accustomed to an easy life, devoid of conflict, discomfort, and struggle. He was glad that so many in the Empire still held the old tenants of his Kingdom, still braved these lands despite the option to avoid them. The Empire was not his Aberrant Kingdom, but it was close. In that, he took solace.

Unfortunately, that did not change the fact that he'd found little in his efforts thus far. Len was unsure of how long he'd been beneath the veil of death, but he'd maintained hope all the while. Seating himself upon one of the dunes and taking another long drink of water, he now wondered if perhaps too much time had passed. Could it be that every remnant of his home had truly blown away in the wind? Perhaps the sun was getting to him; reaching into the small pouch on his hip, he retrieved a rolled leaf tied with a thread. Pulling the tie loose, the leaf unrolled to reveal a clear gel lining the inside. With two fingers, he collected some of the gel, streaking it across his forehead.

It was as he raised his head to let the gel sink into his pores that he saw a figure in the distance, travelling towards him. Normally, this would be some cause for alarm. There was only one of them, though, and Len was nothing if not confident in his own strength. As the figure drew closer, Len noticed a swishing, bushy tail. There was only one woman he'd met with such a feature, and the pale flesh and silvery hair matched her just the same.

"Lady Wisteria?" He called out to her.

Wisteria