Zaior, upon being tossed into a new world, naturally did not know what to make of it. The terrain alone was something of a shock to his system. What had once been a sea of sand and dying earth gave way to a land of various, living plants and bodies of water that flowed as far as his eyes could see, perhaps even farther. The color green had become foreign to his eyes, which had seen nothing but darkened golds, casted shadows, and browns that had had long since had their life sucked from them, but now it surrounded him, embracing him in the form of vines that grasped for his legs and leaves that brushed the pale skin of his cheeks. Cheeks that had not felt the rays of the sun in so long that it, too, had become foreign to him.
The moon had been his faithful companion for many years, rising when he awoke and slipping to bed when he laid down for rest. His skin, having not felt the heat of the sun since the tender transition stage from childhood to adulthood, had tingled and begun to fade into pink. He barely noticed, however, he did take notice to the searing pain of his eyes that had become too accustomed to the night’s dim light. Stumbling around, holding his eyes, proved to be something of a blessing when he wandered into a small shop off the beaten path. That night, he sent thanks to his former princess and gods for the gift of sunglasses.
Time passed in a very sluggish manner for Zaior after that. With no idea of where he was, he set off for anywhere, hoping it might lead him back to his palace. His heart ached for a princess that would have restless dreams without her knight to stand guard for her as she slept, and that alone drove him forward, over the hills and through what he learned to be forests, despite the growing blisters on his feet.
He realized, after a full night of walking and a day of rest, that he had a much easier time breathing here. The air was not thick with sand particles, and the scent of life was invigorating. His energy, which had been at an all time low before, had returned tenfold, and it was lifting his spirits despite his current predicament of being spit out in a new world with no rhyme or reason and not a dime to his name. The gods had not even spared him his sword, but they had been kind enough to leave the shirt on his back. That was something at least.
Zaior had traveled for months. Had seen the lakes, the ocean and all the sand that pulled memories of his home land to the front of his mind, and with them a bout of nostalgia. He had walked the paved paths and climbed the steep hills, but the moments he found were his happiest, were in the forests that were littered with life, so unlike his world that had been blanketed with drought, disease and famine.
The trees were lush and full with low hanging branches that allowed him to lounge like a lazy cat in the heat of the day. The sun had dipped below the treetops at some point, and night was beginning to bleed into the sky, so Zaior took the last few minutes of daylight to gather the few items he had been given from kind souls along his journey, before setting off. He slipped from the tree with an almost silent landing, and picked his way along the receding path, always careful to step over the flowers and budding life, never on them. His stomach gave a heavy lurch as he passed a branch of berries, and it was enough to give him pause. It had been months since he had been fed a full, healthy meal, and several days since he had eaten anything period. He glared at the berries as if they were mocking him, and as he reached out to pluck one off the trees, his stomach won out over his mind, which wondered cautiously if the berries were poisonous.
The moon had been his faithful companion for many years, rising when he awoke and slipping to bed when he laid down for rest. His skin, having not felt the heat of the sun since the tender transition stage from childhood to adulthood, had tingled and begun to fade into pink. He barely noticed, however, he did take notice to the searing pain of his eyes that had become too accustomed to the night’s dim light. Stumbling around, holding his eyes, proved to be something of a blessing when he wandered into a small shop off the beaten path. That night, he sent thanks to his former princess and gods for the gift of sunglasses.
Time passed in a very sluggish manner for Zaior after that. With no idea of where he was, he set off for anywhere, hoping it might lead him back to his palace. His heart ached for a princess that would have restless dreams without her knight to stand guard for her as she slept, and that alone drove him forward, over the hills and through what he learned to be forests, despite the growing blisters on his feet.
He realized, after a full night of walking and a day of rest, that he had a much easier time breathing here. The air was not thick with sand particles, and the scent of life was invigorating. His energy, which had been at an all time low before, had returned tenfold, and it was lifting his spirits despite his current predicament of being spit out in a new world with no rhyme or reason and not a dime to his name. The gods had not even spared him his sword, but they had been kind enough to leave the shirt on his back. That was something at least.
Zaior had traveled for months. Had seen the lakes, the ocean and all the sand that pulled memories of his home land to the front of his mind, and with them a bout of nostalgia. He had walked the paved paths and climbed the steep hills, but the moments he found were his happiest, were in the forests that were littered with life, so unlike his world that had been blanketed with drought, disease and famine.
The trees were lush and full with low hanging branches that allowed him to lounge like a lazy cat in the heat of the day. The sun had dipped below the treetops at some point, and night was beginning to bleed into the sky, so Zaior took the last few minutes of daylight to gather the few items he had been given from kind souls along his journey, before setting off. He slipped from the tree with an almost silent landing, and picked his way along the receding path, always careful to step over the flowers and budding life, never on them. His stomach gave a heavy lurch as he passed a branch of berries, and it was enough to give him pause. It had been months since he had been fed a full, healthy meal, and several days since he had eaten anything period. He glared at the berries as if they were mocking him, and as he reached out to pluck one off the trees, his stomach won out over his mind, which wondered cautiously if the berries were poisonous.
