in the parish of space dust

Tlantli Kimaris · 01-22-2012, 11:28 AM

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For the Clinic project. Tla and Miqui will scavenge any kind of metal tubs, buckets, dishes, etc. Forward dated to 22 January; Tla and Miqui are both Optime form.

Another Salsola member should be permitted to join before anyone else, thanks. Salsola members, you can assume your character has been traveling with Tlantli, or perhaps they've been stalking after her like a weirdo?

Tlantli is by Alaine!

The long and winding streets of the subdivision stretched before her. They were caked with dust. Most streets were in this day and age, of course, but these streets seemed worse, and the dust was of a peculiar red-brown color. Tlantli had no way of knowing the deforestation of this area to build the sudivision, with its cookie-cutter houses, had led to erosion and other such environmental damages, of which this reddish dust was an afterthought. She was aware of only the spooky half-finished houses rising from the flat plainsland. There were a few finished homes among these unfinished ruins, and these were worse than the completed buildings. Their broken and busted windows still held curtains -- tattered and full of holes but natheless curtains -- which caught the wind and billowed.

Tlantli shivered, but made no mention of her disquiet with this area to Miqui. Her strapping brother sat beside her on the horsecart's bench seat, his inexperienced hands still quite able to direct Trader, pacifist gelding he was. The dark man had spoken little since their departure, although Tlantli's sudden demand he accompany her to Halifax was met with a quirked brow and a quiet comment about her recent absence. Tlantli supposed this was the best one could hope for from her brother. Physically pleasing as Miqui was, she sometimes doubted there were any brains at all in his head. It would seem Mantus and his surrogate had allocated their brainpower to their palest daughter, leaving her siblings with nothing but rocks to rattle in their skulls.

The flaxen woman had her reasons for continuing to assist Salsola. The group was life, after all, and Tlantli could not yet depart this place. The travel wasn't right, and neither was the wind -- not the one blowing in the trees, but the one she heard whispering in the pre-dawn and dusk, the voice of Momoztli himself, perhaps. This voice told her that her time in Salsola was not yet finished, and so she must stay. The straw-colored woman murmured quietly to Miqui in Spanish, to which he replied with nothing more than a grunt. Tlantli frowned and turned back toward the scenery, trying not to let the jostle of the cart disturb her greatly. She did not like riding in this apparatus, but they must gather supplies for this new clinic, and so it was a necessary evil.

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