The woman despises sand. There is something to be hated about the way it feels to walk across it, about the way it lingers between her toes, in her fur, everywhere, even long after she's left the desert.
This is all she can think about as she picks her way across the sloping dunes, the corners of her darkened lips twisted downward in a grimace. It's dawn and the sun has only just begun to break across the horizon, spilling soft, white light over the rolling desert. It's empty here, she decides, emptier than any place she's been so far. What is she supposed to do with nothing? Where are the empires? The congregations? A bitter taste begins to form in her mouth as her pink eyes scan the reddish-orange expanse.
There is only sand, for as far as the eye can see. Nothing she can take as her own. Disappointment comes like an unkindness to Leera, and her tail lashes. If she can't find anything to conquer, she'll just have to build something. She turns her nose to the sky, watching the morning stars wink out as day arrives.
@Nephthys
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
