This sand clad woman's apparel was dirty to say the least, her midriff revealing top bound to her chest like a corset, one could only deduce that it had been white before the sand got to it, bound together by golden rope she was quite glad to have escaped in such a convenient attire. She knew little of his death, simply the lulled whispers within the palace: the emissions they thought she couldn't hear. Her chest heaved with each step she took, how far she had fallen, a mere seven moons ago she was by the reining Pharaohs' side, a servant and royal alchemist at his disposal. Sand still hitched to her fur like freckles blotting a sun-bound child's skin on a scorching summer's day, the sun beating down on her in waves of devastating heat. Obisdian maiden from a land of sand and stone treaded her path with an air of composure to her wary soul.
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