Cartography

3rd of Tessera, 81379

Khepri

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Dust devil's swirled and ghosted over the dunes, silently weaving their way through the dusk air. The wind ruffled the thin limbs of those few scraggly bushes that managed to survive in the harsh heat and chill nights, and a particularly large gust ruffled the head scarf of a lone pendragon.

Seated on an exposed, eroded patch of sandstone, the tawny anubian adjusted the wayward cloth that piled in silken folds around slender shoulders. The male, deceptively slim and enfeminite, was shrouded in the glaring white silken robes of the nomadic tribesmen, a hunting trisk poised on the leather sheild that adorned his shoulder.

Smokey oculars scanned the sandy horizon, remaining open and unblinking even when the male turned his gaze to the dwindling form of the sun. With a barely audible sigh, the anubi squirmed, rearranging himself on the rock until he was seated in the lotus position.

 

Large audits flicked under the breezy material, the tawny 'dragon lifting his face to the direction of the sounds origin. The trisk on his wrist shifted uncomfortably, then flew, heading for the horizon, for indeed it was a wild creature and Khepri had simply been conversing with it. Methodically, even though he had decerned the nature of the cry as a plea for assistance, he stood, silks rippling down to shelter his slim, delicate form. He set off at a brisk trot, expertly scaleing the side of the nearest dune. As he crested the peak, he saw a form down in the sand, crimson staining the crisp white of her clothing and splattering the sands about her. Something, for he could not see anything but a faint disturbance of dust in the air, was dragging the thill backwards.

Without a word, Khepri sped his pace, closing the distance between himself and the forgein female. As he moved, his eyes flickered and danced, and his hands began scrying strange, arcane symbols into the air that glowed breifly before disappearing in the wake of the next. Barely a yard from the thill and her unseen assailant, he let loose the spell he had woven, a great burst of almost solid air that skimmed over the thill and collided with... something, with a faintly audible 'woomph'. Sweat beading his brow from the energy he had put into the spell weaving, and his breath short in his chest, he only hoped he had scared off, or at least damaged, the unknown creature.

 

"Iyo uja falkyna." Khepri whispered hoarsly, already dropping into a crouch beside the thill, his hands working at ripping strips from the fine cloth that had previously enshrouded his head. He reached for her shoulder, using a wad of the silk to stop the vicious flow that was staining his hands even as he worked. His careful fingers skillfully bound the wound, and even as he worked he whispered under his breath, invoking the various elements as he concentrated on urging the bloodvessels to close and the esposed tissues to knit together. Knowing that healing the thill completely would drain him and most likely cause him to lapse into unconsciousness, he focused mainly on the worst. When he withdrew his hands, the cloth was still stained, but bound about her shoulder with neat strips of his headscarf. The injury itself was still there, but only in the form of a sub-cutainious bruise, an ugly red and purple mark that would be painful to the touch for many days to come.

"Sha patajs thull ra het djuba." he whispered, glancing towards the pit in which the arden was almost totally covered with sand by this point.

 

Sliding down the dune after the now seemling unconcious foreigner, Khepri couldn't resist a bemused sigh. What had been a quiet day had turned into a sudden bout of murder followed swiftly by a fainting female. Thank the gods he was travelling alone. Taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, the smoke eyed arden swept up the thill's pliant bodice, one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders. Hefting her up from the ground, he half walked, half slid, back down onto the more compact sands, and began the slow trek to his encampent.

A deep maroon tent, made of breezy cloth hung over a collapible wooden frame, jutted out, half buried in the side of a mostly compact dune. It was only a stones throw from where he had been seated, but was hidden from view by a simply illusion; disguising it as a commonplace dune.

Brushing aside the hanging door with his shoulder, he stepped into the dwelling, the soft light cast by his blown glass travel lamp casting a rippling glow of blues and aquamarines. It was like stepping from the desert and into the bottom of the ocean, as even the temperature inside dropped to a more temperate, tropical breeze. An incense burner in the corner filled the room with the smells of fresh, clean air with just a hint of some strange plant (evergreen, but Khepri was not familiar with that type of trees).

Crouching down, he carefully laid the thill out on his bedroll, gathering up his scrolls, ink, quill and spare parchment and carefully placing them in his travelling bag. He set out a small, flat cushion for himself on the sandy floor and knelt upon it, leaning over the still form of the thill.

"Kum iyo hauj na?" he murmured softly, reaching for his waterskin and dampening a spare cloth which he drapped over her brow. "Kum iyo tgauc?"

 

Khepri's head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he watched the thill writh upon the bedroll, distracted from the small sheef of parchment clasped in his hands. He frowned slightly, worried she might be taking fever from shock, but a quick touch to her throat reveiled only a quickened pulse and the smell of fear sweet. He'd only just settled back into his reading when she shot-up, crying out as she gripped her injury.

Eyes widening slightly, ears perking erect in confusion and suprise, he relaxed slightly at the words that tumbled from her lips. Setting his work aside, he returned his attention to the thill. Had she been suffering a nightmare? Perhaps... that would explain the thrashing as she lay in unconciousness. She looked at him, in what he took to be gratitude, and touched his hand.

He glanced down at the hand on his own, and placed his free hand atop hers in a return of her gesture, his own muzzle dipping in a nod.

"I understand you, thill." The words on his tongue seemed heavy and cumbersome, but he spoke them fluently, although they were in his usual, slow and low tone. His eyes glinted in bemusement as she seemed to take in her situation, and a small smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "You are in my tent, not far from where you were attacked. You've been unconcious for quite some time..." He turned slightly in his seat, reaching for a spare robe -one of his lighter night-time artivles- and a set of his casual travel clothes and bringing them forward.

"Your attire may not suite you for the chill of the night, and the sun is setting quickly. If you choose, these clothes are yours for the time being." he murmured, offering the small, light-weight bundle.

 

Khepri politely averted his gaze as the thill motioned to change, busying himself with blowing gently on his chicken-scratch markings he had made on his paper, then rolling up the thin, wafer-like sheets and tucking them safely into a tanned leather travel bag.

"Think nothing of it." he murmured, absently lighting another of his precious lamps. This one made of a warmer tone of glass, the blue-purple darkening the shade of turquoise that flickered over his face to a deeper, more tranquil tone. He sighed contentedly, rising up on his knees and toes to hook the lamp over a handy metal crescent protruding from the tentÂ’s woodwork. The incense had long since ceased to burn, but the head-clearing fragrance still clung to the fabric of his temporary home, pleasantly accented by the fresh night breeze that stirred the doorway.

Frowning slightly, he rose to the door and deftly tied it shut, worried that the draft might muss his careful chaos that was his traveling desk. Once sure it was secure against the worst of the wind, he peeked over his shoulder to check if the thill was finished dressing. He caught her just as she was finishing up, and he briskly turned on his heel, digging through yet another pack for his provisions.

He came up with a small oilcloth bound bundle of dried meat, as well as two pieces of crusty flatbread. As a second thought he looped an arm through his canteen, one finger crooked through the handles of a pair of thin, two armed mugs made of simple beaten iron.

"My name is Khepri. Pleasure to meet you, Saiph." he nodded, settling back down onto his cushion, laying out the fair between them.

"IÂ’m sure you must be parched from that stint in the sun," he mused, tapping a carefully filed nail against the metal edged canteen. "I have plenty of both food and water, so feast to your hearts content." he smiled slightly, breaking a small piece of flat bread off and carefully popping it into his mouth.