Tales, Scripts, and Accounts

A Lost and Forgotten Love

Once, in a time now past, a sailor washed up on the sandy banks of the Milu Bay after a devastating storm splintered his ship and scattered the crew. Waves swept beneath his body as he coughed up seawater and gasped for air. Without rising from his knees, the man took a moment to breathe. All he could see on his right was a string of mountains and on his left, more ocean and sand. In the far distance, however, seemed to sit a small oasis. Something green. A few scattered trees casting shade across a faint grassy ground. And surely where there were plants, there would be drinkable water. So he headed off.

For hours, the heat was punishing and burning sand engulfed his feet as he stumbled through the barren land. There were several points at which he looked back and regretted leaving the temperate coast, but knew there was nothing there for him. So he continued on. He continued to stumble and struggle, falling quite a few times from exhaustion until dry sand coated his arms as much as his legs. The red-hot sun shone against his back while his temples pounded like never before. Once again, he stumbled. His wrists were buried beneath the sand that now laid just beyond the tip of his nose. Knees pressed against the scalding sand, the weary man hadn't the energy to get back up. As determined as he may have been, he simply couldn't muster the strength. One last time, the man raised his head in search of the meadow.

That evening, his body was found lying in the sand by a slender figure who was wrapped from head to toe in cloth. The sailor was dragged up into a small cabin upon their sand-ship, and without any exchange of words, nursed until he regained consciousness. When he woke, a hazy woman was hanging over him, dabbing his face using a wet cloth she doused with a pitcher from the nightstand. After becoming more present and rightfully thanking the sand sailor for saving him, the man explained he had no way back to where he came from. That even if he wanted to, his best bet would be Omashu's ports or far north to Shi Ban Dao. Regardless, he desperately needed a ride.

So then they set sail. Without a sun beating down on their backs, the midnight desert was almost majestic. The moon continued to creep across the sky over their heads as the small sailer pushed through the blue-gray dunes that littered the Yi Wang Break. By the time the lost man had emerged from the berth for a second time, the mountain range he recognized was far behind them and ahead of them shone a burning sun, rising over endless ripples of Si Wong sand. One of plenty to come.

Many nights consisted of them venturing across vast desert lengths and spending each day in the cabin to avoid the heat. Each eventually explained how they had gotten to such an obscure location. The now less stranded stranger admitted he was once the son of a weaponsmith, who told him many tales that he sought proof for. Rumors of these legends led him to the south eastern seas. On this ride, he was simply another deckhand who got drafted into hunting down some pirates. A fight that he and his crew clearly didn't win. For the sand sailor, it was because she was searching for a lost ship that supposedly held enough wealth to buy a fancy place among the aristocrats in Omashu. At this point, that was the only thing she longed for. It was a long journey for both, without an intent to return.

Together they traveled for weeks. And weeks turned into months of visiting various settlements searching for information about this mysterious treasure. Months of conversation. Months of learning how to survive in the blazing, merciless Si Wong Desert. Scavenging and bartering for food. Countless nights spent navigating the night by constellations. Sketching maps to locate unexplored areas. Sandstorms eventually became just another bi-weekly occurrence where they would sit inside and play obscure card games until the dunes and skies cleared.

Years were spent sailing the sands of the arid lands. As far as the world was concerned, they were long forgotten. Barely a memory. And whether it was in greed, memory, or location, they were lost all the same. Never did either wish they were elsewhere. Never did they stop searching. And although time passed, their enthusiasm did not dwindle.

While far from stellar, still my favorite piece of work.

For my greatest companion,

~Lallasa