buried b e n e a t h e [o]

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[atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i417.photobucket.com/albums/pp256/doggydude24/misc/bg-celebrate.jpg);] This had to be the worst world she had visited yet! Lorina swore she was going to die from a heat stroke before she even made it to the city in the distance. Gods, this Dalmasca was the worst country she had ever been in! Seemingly nothing but endless desert and sun that beat so terribly on the young mage. It was her fault for not researching this world more, but she had been so excited to see another world after visiting the Gold Saucer on her last venture. Now she was sweating, her bangs were sticking to her cheeks, and these robes were not made for the heat! Now she was sincerely loathing the robes that marked her as a White Mage with an unbridled passion. The only bright side was that she was not the one actually making the trek through this barren wasteland! “I hate the sun. It’s horrible and hot and I want water,” she whined. Her chocobo looked at her with a menacing glare that quickly quieted her complaints. Lorina giggled a little nervously before running her hands through the downy, dust stained feathers soothingly. “I know, you’re doing all the work. I’m sorry. Let’s just find some form of life or a village and rent a room. Now all I need are three bumbling companions that need constant healing and I would feel right at home!” She really did tend to ramble when she was nervous, did she not? Sighing to herself, she leaned forward on her saddle somewhat sleepily. At least the hood of her robes kept the sun out of her eyes. Could she die from a few hours without water? It seemed so possibly at this point, and the city in the distance did not look any closer than it had half an hour ago. Lorina realized how long she had gone without traveling and how castle life had really made her soft. She had used to travel with her friends all over the country without batting an eye! Well, not after the first few weeks, anyway. Carmine eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she wondered how her companions were faring. It had been such a long while since she had seen any of them. Lorina sincerely hoped she ran into one of them at some point on her idle journeys. Tag, Open! Notes, She is bad at planning.

made by kiwii at btn!

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Jovial Prince of Thieves

It was a pretty comfortable day. The thief had found himself in a most inconsolable predicament that left him a wreck and lost in the deserts looking for a treasure that probably did not exist. But why bellyache over such inconsequential failures? At least he had the pleasant company of his chocobo partner, minus the loud and annoying complains of a gil-grubbing Mene who probably would have found one way or another to milk the treasure digging adventure for all that it was worth. It really was not worth any sort of trouble.

He had a fine tent set up in the middle of the sandy wastes. Piles of useless maps spread out and anchored down by rocks. He had nothing to triangulate his position from. All the rockfaces honestly began to look the same after a while in the spirit bleeding sun. His boot were cast aside in lazy pleasure, feet half buried in the sand, toes wiggling about as his tail idly brushed about the silky mounds of pulverized stone. His pants were rolled up to keep sand from crawling into awkward places and the rest of his form was leaned back into the shade of his raggedy tent. His back was leaned against the feathery form of his partner-in-crime.

A dead fire, with still barely smoldering tinder lay in the center of the tiny camp as well as beaten up, moldy chests filled with nothing but sand and lost dreams. The best he found was some old, broken sword and a fungus eaten scabbard.

Water was not a big issue for the thief. He has rightly dealt with worse conditions, but it did help having an animal companion who can cruise their way toward water with that sharp sense. Lethargic and lazy the thief's sandy locks were sweat soaked and matted over his forehead. Little could he truly avoid the bit of sweat that made him quite a rank and unpleasant find. His hair, which was usually done up in a ponytail, was loose and splayed out down his neck to help keep him cool. The blue ribbon that oft kept that matted mess in place was strewn over said Chocobo's beak and a pair of wet sock on the thief's head to keep him cool.

Blue eyes had been staring off into the wastes for hours. Need for activity had turned to a petrifying process by the sun. Instead the pair filled the empty time hiding from the harsh mistress, but it left the hyper pair restless. A soft warble escaped the gold-feathered compatriot which stirred the drowsy thief. He had been staring off, watching as waves of heat danced up from the glittering sands and filled he air with twisting shapes and easily mistakable forms. A few times the thief could have sworn he saw the sultry sashay of his beloved canary out in the sands, only to remember the cold truth that send a twisted chill down his idle tail.

His head tilted to the side with a gentle cant, the bird turning to look toward the vast expanse. Crystalline hues turned to follow the bo's curious insistence. There was a dark figure morphing between the melting airs. This could have been a trick of the mind, wishful thoughts calling to the rogue's soul, something of pleasurable reprise: the company of another. Not that Choco was not brilliant company, it was merely the fact that the bird could only respond so accurately to the ever prattling queries of the hyper crook. Pushing his gloved hands into the sands, the thief would reach up and twist the buttons decorating his cuffs and remove the leather covers to allow his sweating hands a moment to breathe. He pushed to his feet, gently raising the flap of the tent to not take his hard work down and be without shade, after all he was still content to the idea of this being a mirage mocking him once again.

The hot sand below was little bother with his feet having been properly exposed for a while so he had no problem standing out in the glaring sun and staring off to better focus. He was sloppy: sleeveless shirt let untucked, his vest open with his neck ribbon undid. His pant legs were still rolled up and his tail swayed in the candid grace of curiosity. Was this but a figment of his frazzled imagination, or was the Crystal kind enough to grace him with a fleck of hope? Either way, with socks still settled on his head and dripping cooling liquid into that sandy top of hair, he would press forward a few short feet to claim clear sight of his visitor.

Thief. Light. Genome.

WORDS: 784

NOTES: Boom baby! --Er, wrong world.

Made by Queen Kassy of Cheyenne; Edited by OuRex Draco