Sarita Senbi

Zahra al Asmar's page

655 posts. Alias of Shari.

If there was a more perfect day, Doumane couldn’t recall it from recent memory. The sky is clear and bright, sun shining against a beautiful cerulean blue. The light dazzles off the abalone shells of Starsilver Plaza reminding the halfling of diamonds. His perch is perfect to watch the many people who flood the plaza. Brightly colored clothing, a favorite of Varisians, combine in a swirling rainbow that is pleasant to the eye.

Then music begins to play. At first it is a solo clarinet which causes the movement in the crowd to slow to a stop as they try to find the source. The music continues to build and is followed by an eruption of street performers who run throughout the crowd. Stopping at various places throughout the plaza, they delight the people around them with various displays of acrobatics. Even though the acrobats themselves are amazing to watch, to someone who enjoys people-watching, the reactions of the crowds are just as entertaining. A child’s overt glee, a woman’s rapt attention, a man’s grudging appreciation – Doumane drinks it all in as he watches.

*Thump, thump, thump* A muted, but persistent, banging cuts through the music and causes the halfling to look around at his surroundings a little closer. Seeing nothing, he brushes it off as his imagination and returns to enjoying himself. And sure enough, it stops.

Doumane feels a poke in his side. He jumps to his feet looking for the culprit but is perplexed to see no one. Even though there is a crowd below, he is alone in his perch. Then he faintly hears someone saying his name over and over but again sees no one. Just as he begins to think he's going mad, Starsilver Plaza begins to fade into darkness as Doumane groggily surfaces from his dream. His instincts immediately warn him that he’s not alone and he reaches for a blade that is never far away.

He leaps out of bed but then pauses. What he sees makes him question whether he is still dreaming. He recognizes the man standing at the door to his room. He’s holding a light in one hand and a broom in the other. The broom handle is just long enough to reach the bed and Doumane figures it was the source of the poke in his side he had felt. What makes him think this is still a dream is that for the last three years, he thought this man was dead. ”Mihail?”

Relief shows on the man’s face as he hears his name and sees that Doumane isn’t going to attack. The light reflects a mixture of grief and anger in his amber eyes and there is desperation in his voice as he speaks, ”Doumane, I need your help.”

Trial game...possible trainwreck :)