97th Day of Ashan, 716th Arc
It was the heat, it had to be. Or… if not the heat - for her time on the seas could hardly be described as cold - it was the humidity. On land, where there was no powerful wind, as it was found on the sea, the air felt stagnant. A putrid smell of decomposing waste (which Delta wasn’t even sure was just waste from animals) was all too often found between the brief interludes of fresh grass. The scent of salt, which the young biqaj had become so used to, was nowhere to be found. And the stagnation caused an overwhelming sensation being crushed; the air felt too heavy. It was claustrophobic, and the girl felt as if she could not stand up for the effort it would take in fighting against the pressure of air above and around her. It was wet, her body felt as if she had not washed in days… maybe it had been, she could not remember. But the moist air settled on her skin, on the welts which would not disappear. It itched. And she scratched away at the itch.
Left alone to mind the horse, Delta waited for Lakia to return with her kill, which would be their meal for the night. More importantly, Delta waited for Lakia to return with her next dose of psinia. Thoughts of her family barely entered her mind now, for her world revolved around that vile drug, and the woman who gifted it to her each day. Completely reliant on the low-grade hallucinogen, Delta was keenly aware that she had not received a dose of psinia in two days. This was the third, and Lakia had promised that today she would get more. Delta had even begged to hunt for the ingredients. Yes, she would move, she would fight against the crushing entity that was Central Idalosian air, and search for the herbs.
If it wasn’t for Lakia’s secret ingredient, Delta would leave: she could make it herself where Lakia could not. She could return home. He father would help her. He was the captain of a ship. Maybe by now he might even be in charge of a fleet. Absently, she drew her fingers along the bumps of her unblemished arm, feeling for smooth sections or blemishes, it didn’t matter which. Finding a recently scabbed over patch on the side of her elbow, her middle finger began to pick at it, using more force with each upwards drag with each failed attempt. How long had it been since she had last seen her family?
The general stagnant air made Delta feel hot, yet the layer of damp sweat on her skin sent chills, as if through to her very bones. Waves of the two extreme temperatures washed over the biqaj continuously, each only lasting for a couple of seconds before changing to the other. She felt like she was suffocating under the blanket which she refused to remove. Where was Lakia? Raising a hand away from the raw skin on her arm, she rubbed at the blackened burn which had never truly healed on her neck. It had scabbed over again and slowly, methodically, she began to work her way along the harsh lines of the oval branded into her neck. With each drag of her nail across her skin, she would pull her fingers away and inspect the scab. What had been yellow and pus-filled was now growing redder.
It hurt, but it was a relief, as if the itching desire had increased until she could think of nothing but removal. Tension escaped from her body with each movement of her fingers, as she found a particularly coarse, flaked section of dried blood to peel away from the healing flesh. And all the while, a headache - which had stared at the back of her head as a dull ache this morning - was slowly radiating forward, becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Left alone to mind the horse, Delta waited for Lakia to return with her kill, which would be their meal for the night. More importantly, Delta waited for Lakia to return with her next dose of psinia. Thoughts of her family barely entered her mind now, for her world revolved around that vile drug, and the woman who gifted it to her each day. Completely reliant on the low-grade hallucinogen, Delta was keenly aware that she had not received a dose of psinia in two days. This was the third, and Lakia had promised that today she would get more. Delta had even begged to hunt for the ingredients. Yes, she would move, she would fight against the crushing entity that was Central Idalosian air, and search for the herbs.
If it wasn’t for Lakia’s secret ingredient, Delta would leave: she could make it herself where Lakia could not. She could return home. He father would help her. He was the captain of a ship. Maybe by now he might even be in charge of a fleet. Absently, she drew her fingers along the bumps of her unblemished arm, feeling for smooth sections or blemishes, it didn’t matter which. Finding a recently scabbed over patch on the side of her elbow, her middle finger began to pick at it, using more force with each upwards drag with each failed attempt. How long had it been since she had last seen her family?
The general stagnant air made Delta feel hot, yet the layer of damp sweat on her skin sent chills, as if through to her very bones. Waves of the two extreme temperatures washed over the biqaj continuously, each only lasting for a couple of seconds before changing to the other. She felt like she was suffocating under the blanket which she refused to remove. Where was Lakia? Raising a hand away from the raw skin on her arm, she rubbed at the blackened burn which had never truly healed on her neck. It had scabbed over again and slowly, methodically, she began to work her way along the harsh lines of the oval branded into her neck. With each drag of her nail across her skin, she would pull her fingers away and inspect the scab. What had been yellow and pus-filled was now growing redder.
It hurt, but it was a relief, as if the itching desire had increased until she could think of nothing but removal. Tension escaped from her body with each movement of her fingers, as she found a particularly coarse, flaked section of dried blood to peel away from the healing flesh. And all the while, a headache - which had stared at the back of her head as a dull ache this morning - was slowly radiating forward, becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Thus, the "3".