[䏠xote]

res w/ nomadic magician named silas who travels the world to record the history of the planet

[Medd]

HELLO

[elio.]

Mark <3

[iBrevity]

In the desert
I saw a creature, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”
-Stephen Crane

They call him the nomad, for their mouths will not relent to the shape of his name.
He has lived in the desert for as long as any of them can remember, a smudged shadow on
a distant rise, a lonely man accompanied by a restless bird. The locals talk of legend and
myth and the god Iusaaset, who once considered this desert his home; but the nomad never
visits their cities, and all they truly know of him is the shape of his departing back.

He spends his nights in a cradle between dunes, his body curled as a comma, his knees
drawn to his stomach like a child might sleep. He is accompanied everywhere by an
Egyptian vulture with ivory feathers and startling obsidian eyes, and at night, when the
skies sag with the cold desert wind, they find solace in each other. He has called her
Serket for years, a name pulled from the memory of his pantheon, the goddess of scorpions,
he thinks, a goddess to be feared. Serket the bird puts scarlet gashes into his shoulder and
preens the hood he draws around his face, and reminds him of the goddess who once walked
beside him.

When he desires water he walks to whatever spring to closest with an innate knowledge of
where the ground gives way to life; and when he is hungry, which seems infrequent, he
draws nutrients from the reluctant cacti and the stubby, golden grasses that grow only in
the shade.

Some nights he studies the cities he can see, silver buildings standing like exclamation
points at the horizon, sharp, glittering edges and music and laughter and civilization. He
has seen so many cities and yet he finds himself uninterested in going to them, content
with the desert and the wonders she yields. But sometimes, while the sand burns callouses
into his feet and he twists the worn binding of his clothes, he wonders. He has not seen
people for some time, not since the caravan that happened upon him three months back,
not since he shared a drink of water from a proffered flask and offered his name as Set in
a hoarse, untidy whisper. He wonders what has become of the mortals. He wonders if Ra
still guides his barge where he cannot see, if he still fights the serpent that wishes them
death; if the deities he remembers live at the curve of the sun and wonder about him. He
does not join them, and he would not still if given a chance. The desert holds him here,
to the dirt and brush, to burnt soles and restive hands.

He speaks to Serket, if only to recognize that he still may talk, and she looks considerably
at him with one dark eye when he suggests they go to the cities. He strokes a hand down
her pale head and feeds from between his fingers a snatch of meat, and he says, "I must see
what they have become."

It takes him weeks to get close enough to a city to recognize it as such, and he hesitates
for some days in among the familiar sand, arguing with himself and Serket and anyone who
might listen. When he finally ventures into the streets, where the desert has been stripped
bare and cemented over, where the vegetation grows so green it draws water from his eyes,
he finds little has changed. The mortals as still as he remembers them, consumed with their
fleeting lives. They pay no heed to the man in the dirty clothes, the one with bare feet and
a vulture on his shoulder. If they give him a second look it is only because they see a flicker
of something; of godhood maybe, of a gold crown fitted with the sun. But they soon dismiss
these things, because mortals have always been wary to know their gods.

[700/700]

[NE0N-UMBR30N]

maybe res?

[Hawky<3]

res with a respected priest turned away from the gods, named qebui after the god of the north wind (change)
>> agender and asexual
>> hardly speaks and when they do, it's regarded as hypnotic (well, was hypnotic)
>> was tired of corruption in the temples and set off without a trace into the sands, stole plenty of tomes and scrolls in a bag
>> a wanted kalon, will be executed if found

[hounder]

have to drop out

[sillies]

using idea !!

[Anza]

✹ -- -- -- ✹

Your walking in the middle of the desert, exhausted without food or water. As you feel yourself stumbling foreword, collapsing from the heat you see something glittering in the sunlight ahead of you. Am I seeing things? Is this a mirage? You think to yourself. But no. As you approach you see what looks like dream catchers dangling from the side of a tent, built up into a cave at the bottom of the desert mountain. The glass beads reflect the sun's light, and you cover your eyes with your hand. Rustling sounds from inside the tent. A head pokes out from between the entrance flaps. "You want something or are you lost?" "Lost," You all but whisper. The creature tisks and shakes its head side to side "Come in then. Let me get you something to drink"

➛ Name :: Rosa-Grace Adams
➛ Nicknames :: Desert Rose, Rosa
➛ Gender :: female
➛ Age :: 22 years old
➛ Birthday :: July 24
➛ Birth Location :: Unknown city
➛ Chinese Zodiac :: Leo

➛ Nationality :: Mixed
➛ Currently located :: Who knows?
➛ Accent :: Spanish
➛ Language :: English and Spanish

To be perfectly honest, not much is known about Rose herself or her past. Perhaps she keeps such stories to herself, or perhaps she doesn't trust the world enough to share. Whatever the truth, Rose is surrounded with an aura of mystery and legend. Many call her the "Desert Rose" believing she's the saint of those who's hearts send them to wander the world. Others believe her to be a spirit, who appears to those in their times of need. Those who know her, however, know that she is flesh and blood, with a heart as free as the wind and as wild as fire. Stories of grandeur spread quickly among the community of wanderlusts. Perhaps that is why Rose herself quickly became more of a legend then the actual person she is. Rose herself is just an adventures and free-spirited girl who's tales and deeds in travel have made her less of a person and more of a story. She knows about these tails but doesn't bother correcting or stopping them as there's no point anymore.

A Guide on The Legends of "The Desert Rose" and how to safely travel
The Saint of Wanderers - She's a goddess of adventure; you should probably burn some white sage to please her before heading off on a journey; if you forgot to burn to burn some sage buy a rose and leave it somewhere where you have spent the night
An Assisting Spirit of the Lost - Appearing as a mirage; usually in a tent or some sort of equipment; you might stumble upon her when you have gotten lost and are approaching exhaustion or dehydration; she will help you but then you'll probably wake up somewhere safe like a hotel but know one will believe you that a spirt saved your life
The Horse Girl - A magnificent creature in a violet or white dress; usually appears besides a horse or riding one; This is the Desert Rose in her Angel form and you shouldn't stare for long otherwise you might be blinded by her aura

[704/750]

[Esther~]

mark