Thread: Souls Bound in the Sand (Closed to Armphid/Misanthropiclove)

Kissing Radiant Son Your Plentifulness, we must depart within the hour! The man who spoke had skin weathered from much sun and wind. His hands were rough and calloussed, his frame both strong and bent from hard work over many years. His face was both pleading and afraid. The Dune People will have us if we pass through that place at night. Unless we leave now, there's well be not enough time! We'll have to wait until tomorrow. It's...absolutely impossible! The man he spoke to was seated behind a large desk, imported from the verdant woods and master craftsmen of the East. It was tall and long, decorated with many expensive but useless treasures, a not altogether poor representation of the man behind it. He was fat and soft, accustomed to easy living. His fingers gleamed with rings. Despite the breeze blowing through, and the fact that it was a cool day for the warm South, he was sweating slightly, and seemed distracted and tense. 'You, hnn, you will have to wait. Once I...recieve word that...your papers are in, huhh, order, you may leave. But, Your Opulence-! The fat Guild Factor gasped, then leaned forward, hands spreading on the surface of the desk, I will! Ah, I will hear no more. Go and make ready, withh luck, you may yet...l-leave on time. Then he seemed to relax, letting out a long, slow breath with a smile. He waved his hand at the caravan master, the other man bowing, glaring at the floor, and then leaving the office. The Guild Factor pushed his chair back, looking down into the area of the desk for his legs. It will be as you asked, I will clear them to go immediately. The chubby man smiled, You bargain well, and do not disappoint. Perhaps I could convince you to stay? I have need of a way to...release the stress of my work. From under the desk, a young man was climbing out and standing. He was taller than the factor by a good bit, with a hardy, athletic frame conditioned into hard muscle by the savage North, wiry and strong without sacrificing agility. He wore simple, functional, slightly loose clothes in a dark blue that had been bleached somewhat by the sunlight, yellow at the cuffs and trim of his tunic. He was handsome to the point of being beautiful, his face fine, noble, and strong. His eyes were steady, determined orbs of emerald, and his hair was like a rich cascade of copper to the nape of his neck. You're offer is generous, but my work is with the caravan, and those I hope to meet. He lifted a finger to wipe off a thin trail of cum that was sliding down his chin. I thank you for your willingness to deal and see reason. Radiant Kissing Son inclined his head. I will take my leave and inform the caravan master we may depart immediately. The Factor looked disappointed, but waved for him to go. Radiant Kissing Son turned and left the man to his graft and his shallowness. It would be dealt with in time, but for now, the slug of a man had opened the way to a great undertaking. The caravan would be well past the places where the Dune People dragged men and woman to die and devour them by the time nightfell, but he would not be. He would be there, waiting. And then, he would begin to bring this part of the world into a more beneficent frame.