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01-05-2014, 03:03 PM
 Rasta might have gone unnoticed awhile longer had it not been for Fina who approached from the sky and saw the crafter stumble away from my dome. At first she wasn’t overly concerned about the mare, it was her own stupidity that she didn’t take notice of yon sand sooner—then it dawned on the Phoenix that said alabaster woman was also blind in their previous encounters. “Midas, stop,” she called,“Rasta.” In the center of the swirling mass I opened my eyes, and instantly pulled the sphere closer. After a moment the granules slipped by gravity’s beckon back to earth. The golden sheen turned into the sandy brown and red it had been before; a tight frown is upon my face and the rise of concern now furrowed my brows instead of intimate concentration.
“Are you…” I started to say once my vision was clear enough to see her standing by—eyes wide and awash with care. She didn’t appear injured, perhaps a little dusty, but we usually all where (part of living in a desert), “Forgive me, I didn’t know ye was standing there.” tone was soft and apologetic but still more than a little breathless; aureate gaze rose from her shoulders to the vacant eyes I expected to see—yet surprisingly they weren’t the milky emotionless pools I’d grown used to. “Are you alright?” I asked finally, unsure if it was the trick of the sun or my own tired longings that caused her eyes to come alive. Limbs took a few casually steps closer, partly to get a better look and verify both questions. Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
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