[!] Dressed in blue silks, a light-colored Azari'lunn quietly moves into the library in the dead of night. With a candle in her right hand and a book in her left, she quietly puts in the correct section. To then hurriedly left, hoping no one saw her. She trips on her way out-- but picks herself back up. If opened, the story reads as follows,
The Sands of Redemption
By Merikh
┌──── •✧• ────┐
A man who carries himself with the entire weight of the ocean. Not even the breeze and slight rocking could soothe the man on the desolate ship. As big as it was. It was strange only one, tall and stocky man, managed one vessel. His hands were on the steer– tightly on the nubs. For as intimidating the man was, he seemed to be in deep thought. Mahib’s beard reached to his collarbones. His hair was unkempt. Years and years passed by, and when was the last time he felt anything but salt water through his naturally bleached hair? What was once a starch black– as dark as the night once the moon settled into the sky, greeting him with its unusual quiet “cooing”. Now is a dark dirty blonde. Dipping in the salt water and then baking in the heat, repeating for decades. That must not be healthy for anyone. Once vibrant, curious green eyes were now dull. Void of any wonder it once had. He only stared at the horizon.
It was entrancing. Like Sirens swarming the vessel. Though in reality, eerily hushed.
How much longer would he pretend this lifestyle was for him? He had already made a name for himself in all of the continents she knew of. A criminal. Ruthless, with mounds of dead bodies beneath him. Wanted for more than forty thousand Andros. He was fatigued in every way. No God was watching over him. No one to come home to. So, what was the point? It was at this moment the brute looked over to the vast sea. Over his right, heavily scarred shoulder. Endless. Though… more inviting than the living. It wasn’t a trail of thought he’d had since he was a juvenile. Locked behind cells for the first time. It took him back. Mahib wondered how he got here. And he could blame it on his parents, the world, system. For not giving him the justice he deserved at the ripe age of five. That wouldn’t be right. He was rash, but not foolish.
His wrinkled forehead thumped across the back of his left hand that was steering. As his graveled voice was about to speak, unholy, he heard faint… almost nonexistent strings of glory. Wait, what?
Now back to attention, his eyes looked to the distance. This wasn’t suspected. He swore he had taken this trip before, now he wondered if he was lost. He was a pirate though. They were supposed to know every inch of the land and sea.
Usually, his mind would jump to how much this distant city looked to be worth. One could tell by the architecture. How impressive the buildings were. Any cracks, though he couldn’t make out. Poorer towns don’t have this kind of harmony, either. It was inviting. If he closed his eyes long enough, it was as though it called his name. Mixed with the ship nearing the docks perfectly– already aligned. Mahib didn’t believe in destiny, but he couldn’t fathom how this could be. Colorful banners hung across the hard sand architecture. Bustling streets, a market square, soldiers on every corner. He almost doubted himself. What if someone knew him? Now that the new beginning was right in his grasp, second thoughts flooded his brain.
“Ova’ ‘ere!” Was yelled out towards the ship. A few dockers converse with each other with rope in hand. They scrambled to get in position.
When the ropes were tied around the bollard, a longboard to connect the ship to the dock was laid out. He paused. It was this easy, all along. Lost in thought– he was frozen. Right past the shore, a few marching bards. A flute and lute player, as well as someone with drums. They are singing songs of stories that came before them. Mahib breathes in, as startled as he was. It was deep. His hands are off the steering now. It was the first time in five years he smelt land. Any type would’ve done. The heat beating down the sand, though, brought more clarity to him. With that, Mahib took the first step to freedom.
The sweet release of death.
└──── •✧• ────┘
The Sands of Redemption
By Merikh
┌──── •✧• ────┐
A man who carries himself with the entire weight of the ocean. Not even the breeze and slight rocking could soothe the man on the desolate ship. As big as it was. It was strange only one, tall and stocky man, managed one vessel. His hands were on the steer– tightly on the nubs. For as intimidating the man was, he seemed to be in deep thought. Mahib’s beard reached to his collarbones. His hair was unkempt. Years and years passed by, and when was the last time he felt anything but salt water through his naturally bleached hair? What was once a starch black– as dark as the night once the moon settled into the sky, greeting him with its unusual quiet “cooing”. Now is a dark dirty blonde. Dipping in the salt water and then baking in the heat, repeating for decades. That must not be healthy for anyone. Once vibrant, curious green eyes were now dull. Void of any wonder it once had. He only stared at the horizon.
It was entrancing. Like Sirens swarming the vessel. Though in reality, eerily hushed.
How much longer would he pretend this lifestyle was for him? He had already made a name for himself in all of the continents she knew of. A criminal. Ruthless, with mounds of dead bodies beneath him. Wanted for more than forty thousand Andros. He was fatigued in every way. No God was watching over him. No one to come home to. So, what was the point? It was at this moment the brute looked over to the vast sea. Over his right, heavily scarred shoulder. Endless. Though… more inviting than the living. It wasn’t a trail of thought he’d had since he was a juvenile. Locked behind cells for the first time. It took him back. Mahib wondered how he got here. And he could blame it on his parents, the world, system. For not giving him the justice he deserved at the ripe age of five. That wouldn’t be right. He was rash, but not foolish.
His wrinkled forehead thumped across the back of his left hand that was steering. As his graveled voice was about to speak, unholy, he heard faint… almost nonexistent strings of glory. Wait, what?
Now back to attention, his eyes looked to the distance. This wasn’t suspected. He swore he had taken this trip before, now he wondered if he was lost. He was a pirate though. They were supposed to know every inch of the land and sea.
Usually, his mind would jump to how much this distant city looked to be worth. One could tell by the architecture. How impressive the buildings were. Any cracks, though he couldn’t make out. Poorer towns don’t have this kind of harmony, either. It was inviting. If he closed his eyes long enough, it was as though it called his name. Mixed with the ship nearing the docks perfectly– already aligned. Mahib didn’t believe in destiny, but he couldn’t fathom how this could be. Colorful banners hung across the hard sand architecture. Bustling streets, a market square, soldiers on every corner. He almost doubted himself. What if someone knew him? Now that the new beginning was right in his grasp, second thoughts flooded his brain.
“Ova’ ‘ere!” Was yelled out towards the ship. A few dockers converse with each other with rope in hand. They scrambled to get in position.
When the ropes were tied around the bollard, a longboard to connect the ship to the dock was laid out. He paused. It was this easy, all along. Lost in thought– he was frozen. Right past the shore, a few marching bards. A flute and lute player, as well as someone with drums. They are singing songs of stories that came before them. Mahib breathes in, as startled as he was. It was deep. His hands are off the steering now. It was the first time in five years he smelt land. Any type would’ve done. The heat beating down the sand, though, brought more clarity to him. With that, Mahib took the first step to freedom.
The sweet release of death.
└──── •✧• ────┘