This is based on Delilah DeSora's Velassi. I don't own any of them so don't sue me and any OC's are mine.
Sand Dunes
Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die,
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.
They are the sea made land
To come at the fisher town,
And bury in solid sand
The men she could not drown.
She may know cove and cape,
But she does not know mankind
If by any change of shape,
She hopes to cut off mind.
Men left her a ship to sink:
They can leave her a hut as well;
And be but more free to think
For the one more cast-off shell
Robert Frost
....
The crimson sun sank slowly amongst the dunes like a ruby being swallowed up by quicksand. The moon rose chasing the last dusting of color from the sky and laid out her starry cloth of night. The last rays of warmth were sweep away by the desert wind as darkness claimed the small cove, which hid a little collection of tents.
A young mare nuzzled her keeper's porcelain cheek, coasting him into wakefulness. Pale lashes fluttered, barely visible against his alabaster skin, revealing crimson orbs still dull with sleep. As he reached up and stroked the velvety soft snout of the dark mare.
"Sahara," sighed Tuhin, gently pushing the horse's head away and rolled over giving the horse his back. "It's too early." he whined sleepily already drifting.
The mare wasn't having any of that, she stomped her hoof and snorted angrily at him as she tugged his blanket from his body. He instantly curled into a ball as if fighting back the sudden chill of the desert night even though his body was naturally cool and didn't need the heat, his body did it instinctively. The mare's eyes laughed as he reached back and blindly tried to grasp the thin cloth only for it to be playful pulled out of his reach.
"Sahara," he groaned, twisting about onto his elbows with a pout. "Give it back."
The mare bobbed her head, taunting her keeper with the wanted theme while slowly backing out of the tent. He growled and shot to his feet and was about to snatch the blanket when Sahara bayed as if laughing -- turned about and out into the small clearing of sand formed by the other tents. Tuhin dashed out only to collide with the muscled chest of the Sheikh, before he could apologies, Almon backhanded him with such force that he didn't even realize he was on the ground until his vision swam back into focus.
The Sire snarled brushing the front of his robes as if the Father's touch was filth.
"Watch where you're going fool." snipped the older male, his gaze narrowed in distaste causing the smaller male to shrink back from the intensity of his cold glare.
A baying screech tore the Sire's eyes from the other as Sahara rushed forward placing herself between the two men -- protecting her master.
Almon sneered eyeing the mare, Tuhin was useless in all aspect, but he bred and trained the best Arabian horses in all of the seven deserts. "Be useful for once and scout ahead to the Jade Gate Pass." snorted the Sire, turning on his heel and entering the nearest tent.
The Velassi pushed himself up with a little help from Sahara. "Thanks girl," he praised, patting the thick column of her neck as he entered his tent, as soon as the tent flap fell back into place did the Father let his tears fall. Ever since he joined the tribe forty years ago they let him know how much they disliked him from the very beginning.
Tuhin wiped at the red trail his tears made wincing when his fingers touched the bruise forming on his cheek. Why didn't the bandits kill him when they ambushed his tribe on the Gansu Corridor? Why did the old Sheikh take him in only to die against a rival tribe? That only made the others hate him more…Tuhin sighed as he slid on his thawb over his gray tunic and loose-fitted pants; the dark red faded mid-waist into yellow as it unfurled at his ankles were orangey-red swirls decorated the hem. A black robe covered up the brightness of the cloth as he gathered his belongings for the night's journey, which wasn't much.
After all was done and set aside, the Velassi braided his long white hair and twisted it into a low bun at the nape of his neck; covering his head with a black ghutra an iqal and securing it with a gold rope. Tuhin pulled some of the dark cloth from the right and tucked the end of it into the left covering his nose, mouth and the bruise.
It didn't take Tuhin long to take down the tent, saddle Sahara and strap the needed things to her sides. There was no farewell from the others, he knew there would be none as he led the mare over the dune and away from the low cheerful murmur of the others.
They traveled across the Gobi desert for the better part of the night until the moon reached mid-sky is when Tuhin began to feel…odd. He shifted in his seat and plucked at his robes, even Sahara became irritated with his constant fidgeting and was tempted to buck him off when an oasis came into view from behind some dunes.
A few palm trees circled the crystal blue water as much as Tuhin's body ached to be free of his constricting clothes, he held Sahara back from the too serene water. Some oasis's couldn't be trusted as he dip the end of his riding stick in it, no smoke or sizzle, but was it drinkable? The Velassi cupped his hand letting it fill with water and brought it up under his nose with a sniff, no scent of poisons or anything that might harm his mare. The Father timidly sipped at it splashing it about his tongue before swallowing it, with a nod he let the mare drink her fill.
Tuhin sighed in relieve once his robe and thawb were off followed by his ghutra an iqal, tunic and pants. The water was cool against his skin, soothing him in watery bliss.
----------
Yong-Sun watched the red twilight die among the sands from his dune perch, his golden gaze reflected the fading rays giving them a shine a crimson before he lowered his bestial stare down to the dull hum of activate below -- observing his men as they broke camp and readied the horses. The desert wind playfully teased the unbound emerald locks of the warlord's hair while the breeze brought forth the scent of his men; the lowly stench of the few human males mixed with the purer aroma of the Velassis in his armory.
Yong-Sun snorted at the humans that had joined his ranks from two of the three kingdoms try to mingle with the Velassis of his court. The warlord smirked at one of the humans laughing with a small group of Velassis -- they're good actors. The mortal fool didn't even notice the four were circling him, picking bitable points between the gaps of his armor. He knew his warriors were hungry, they hadn't fed well in weeks not since Gansu Corridor and because of the human company suddenly with them they couldn't hunt.
"Cong-Min." called the warlord, a brown haired Sire looked up from distracting the human as his Lord began to speak to him in their kin's ancient tongue. "Leave the mortals be until we reach Jade Gate Pass. We will have our fill there."
The Sire nodded and told the others, they were a little disgruntled from eating the humans in their keep but they knew not to go against their Lord's words.
Yong-Sun knew his men dislike being denied their kill, but he knew these humans were spies and if they were to kill them their Lord's will find out and he wished not to war with the other kingdoms…just yet.
Suddenly dark slender hands slid up his breastplate while a other armored chest pressed against his back as a cool breath and even colder lips brushed his ear.
"Be my bedmate this eve my Lord." whispered the raspy voice.
"I rather stuffer the flames of all souls night," brushing the wandering hands away from his person and turned to face the other. Dark red hair cascade from a widows-peek framing a mocha skinned face as wick green eyes shone lustfully at the warlord. The Father was beautiful and he knew it using his looks and body to get what he wanted out of anyone.
"You never turned my company away on the solstice or any other night before." cooed Wuyi, running his long nails down Yong-Sun's chest plate to skim along the red sash, his thumb stroking the golden silted-eye before he could go any farther. The Sire grasped the Father's wrist and jerked it away from him.
"I grew tired of pulling your dagger out of my back." he snipped, brushing pass the Velassi as he donned his bronze dragon helmet. "Go sink your fangs into that Roman, Hannibal you've been eyeing." said the warlord, mounting his steed and tore across the dunes to scout ahead with his massager crow gladding beside him.
A.N. Sheikh or Sheik - Arab chief: the leader of an Arab tribe or village.
Gansu Corridor and Jade Gate Pass are two of other routes through the Silk Road.
Take out the spaces and see what the mare looks like and the helmet
http / believerwoman. wordpress. com /2007/08/15/ arabian-horses/
http / www. arabianhorses. org/ education/ education history intro. asp
Http / www. flickr. com/ photos/ jilliant/ 140751368 /