Dark Crown {Crowned Trilogy, Book 1} | ↺

[VIII] Talon - Duststorm ✔ [revised 10/18]

                 

Like the empires of the world unite

We are alive

And the stars make love to the universe

You're my wildfire every single night

We are alive

And the stars make love to the universe

I will follow you down wherever you go

I am, baby, bound to you, and do you know?

Closer, pull me in tight

I wanna be yours, wanna be your hero

And my heart beats

                                     - Empire, by Shakira

                 

"Are we getting closer?" Talon yelled over the wind, howling and twisting all around them, ripping leaves from trees and blowing dust off the ground in a fury. The air had gotten dense and gritty as fine, brown grains of dirt mixed in with leaves, spilled food, and trash blew around. Talon shaded his eyes and kept them on the ground, hoping it would protect them, but instead it make it worse, as whirlwinds of grit slammed up, into his face, into his tunic, into his eyes. He couldn't even breathe inhaling dirt and choking.

Almost half an hour earlier, the wind had started blowing faster, toward them, but neither knew it was going to turn into an all-out duststorm. Barton had insisted on pushing on, saying that they would reach the palace soon.

"We're almost there!" he had said stubbornly.

"But..."

Barton had only shook his head and refused to ask anyone for shelter. Talon obeyed, and objected no further, knowing he already didn't have a choice, and would have even less of one, if that was even possible, by disagreeing.

Barton yelled something back, but the wind destroyed any full sentence that Talon could've heard. He only heard a few broken phrases - "palace...up ahead...can't see..."

He nodded, and the silhouette of Barton nodded slightly in response.

The two companions couldn't see the other's face at all - they were both just merely shadows in the furious duststorm. Most people had hurried home, the moment they realized the wind was getting stronger, and even the vendors, some whom were not close to home at all, went with kind strangers.

Talon wanted to grumble, but he knew Barton wouldn't hear it anyway. It also wasn't worth a mouthful of dirt.

It's so empty out here, he thought as he peered out cautiously from where his hand was shading his eyes. Neither of them had cloths of any sort, except for the clothes they wore, and without them, their bodies would be exposed to the elements. It was better having the face open to the wind and dirt than otherwise. How fitting. Maybe the wind will swallow me up, he thought a moment later, when the dust momentarily stopped whirling and gave him some time to think.

The only sound he could hear was the howling of the wind and the clouded, hazy sound of dirt clashing into dirt as the wind forced them to battle and break into pieces in a mere matter of seconds. Sometimes, the clumps of dirt would break right in front of his face, and his eyes and nose and lips would be pelted with gritty or wet bits.

This is so unpleasant. There wasn't any sign of a duststorm of any kind when we left the inn this morning. The sky was clear and the sun was rising. He wasn't used to being outside when storms would roll in, whether it be dust or rain. He would always have a place to go - it might be some kind vendor's home, or a rowdy tavern (still better than the outside), or even some old lady's - he would wait it out, until it was calm enough for him to make his way home. But now, he was out in the middle of a storm, on foot, trying to find his way to some luxurious palace that housed royalty - a place that was nowhere in sight.