Across the Sands - Formerly Persia, early 1900s, (steampunk-y AU, btw)
Part 1
Lorena Juliet Hepatica piloted her dirigible with ease born of long habit and longer practice. Her brown hair, usually pulled back anyway, today sat atop her head in what appeared to be a bun, though the loosening curls threatened its matronly appearance.
With a kerchief, a dainty embroidered little thing, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and from around her tinted goggles. As usual, with the sweat went bits of sand that had accumulated; gritty stuff, thick. Not at all like the fine white she'd seen elsewhere in the world.
A short sigh passed her lips as she reached with one hand to her waist for the canteen that hung on her belt. For a moment, the sleeve of her loose-fitting shirt blew over her hand, a momentary frustration before she shook the sleeve back up to her elbow, showing off a tanned forearm.
Steering and opening her canteen were no longer any kind of challenge to her, and the warmed water soothed her itchy throat as soon as it made contact. Relieved, her eyes half-lidded with the welcome content of the water, she almost missed the moving speck below.
But she didn't miss that the figure strode alone when there should have been an accompanying caravan.
Nor did Lorena miss the wings unfurling from its back to create a make-shift canopy of shade.
Note: In all likelihood, these blurbs won't actually go anywhere. But, hopefully, eventually, somewhere down the road, they'll make themselves a plot.
Lorena Juliet Hepatica piloted her dirigible with ease born of long habit and longer practice. Her brown hair, usually pulled back anyway, today sat atop her head in what appeared to be a bun, though the loosening curls threatened its matronly appearance.
With a kerchief, a dainty embroidered little thing, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and from around her tinted goggles. As usual, with the sweat went bits of sand that had accumulated; gritty stuff, thick. Not at all like the fine white she'd seen elsewhere in the world.
A short sigh passed her lips as she reached with one hand to her waist for the canteen that hung on her belt. For a moment, the sleeve of her loose-fitting shirt blew over her hand, a momentary frustration before she shook the sleeve back up to her elbow, showing off a tanned forearm.
Steering and opening her canteen were no longer any kind of challenge to her, and the warmed water soothed her itchy throat as soon as it made contact. Relieved, her eyes half-lidded with the welcome content of the water, she almost missed the moving speck below.
But she didn't miss that the figure strode alone when there should have been an accompanying caravan.
Nor did Lorena miss the wings unfurling from its back to create a make-shift canopy of shade.
Note: In all likelihood, these blurbs won't actually go anywhere. But, hopefully, eventually, somewhere down the road, they'll make themselves a plot.