i don't like sand | OTA

[extortionate]

WHO: Lazar + OTA
WHAT: Finally intro-ing
WHEN: Wobbles hand vaguely
WHERE: The Western Approach
NOTES: hmu on plurk for whatever

The village had a name once.

No one's left to speak it now. These ruins have been abandoned for an Age, stone worn soft by the dunes that still bury its shape. The village had a name, but the guides didn't know it. Wouldn't mark it on a map. Averted their eyes when you grabbed your own pen.

Those guides fled last night — with the horses, and the water —

So it's a good thing you've got company.

Comments

SHOWDOWN

[extortionate]

Eventually, a single tunnel opens onto the altar-room, and its prize. The air about the idol wafts unnaturally cool, damp. It tastes of salt.

Schiele's already shoving it in a bag.

"You gotta be kidding," Lazar mutters, draws his blade. Mostly that's show. Two on everyone else isn't great odds. One's worse. "Suppose we better come to an agreement."

His companion sputters something in Ander. Doesn't sound like an agreement.

[imbroccata]

He wasn't with the party that happened upon Lazar's camp because he was scouting their surroundings, but now he's here and though he sees the old man first it doesn't take long for his attention to fall upon the bastard that tried to feed him to a bear not so long ago.

It might be longer than not so long ago but grudges make time immaterial.

The word agreement is barely uttered into the air between them when Lino hurls his spear at Lazar.