Chapter 2: Tres soles, non Luna
Stars flew past at incomprehensible rates, but one pair of eyes managed to track them almost as fast as the computer that was designed to do so. Those eyes were amber yellow in color, tinged with just the slightest bit of green around the edges, and they belong to a petite young woman. She was smaller than most her age, at least height wise. But that didn't bother her, not now at least. No, she had something much worse bothering her.
Darkness swirled around her like a mother's embrace, swallowing and enveloping her in its comfort. He was gone forever, never to be seen again. Never to be heard from again, and she didn't even get to tell him. She didn't get to tell him she loved him.
The one man who had accepted her for who she was instead of what she was, and he never got to hear how she truly felt about him. He would never know how much she had truly loved him, how much every day after that moment it got a little harder to breath. He would never know how she cried for the first time in decades, simply because he was gone. He was dead and she would never get to feel his skin against hers again.
In her eyes all was lost. Logan was dead, and the one man who might've been able to pull her out of it was killed soon after. Without either of them she was as good as dead. The last of the Tertio Oculus, and her would-be mate was dead. The fates must hate her, or did they plan to rip away everything she cared about again?
"Cruel bastards." she muttered darkly before sinking into the dark oblivion of sleep once more.
Nahl crouched atop one of the rafters, only visible to those who could see in the shadows. Down below her the excavator was rummaging through his belongings, with Fry and Johns on either side. Up by the doorway stood Imam and one of his boys, watching as she was.
“The whole container’s all topsie-turvie.” Paris complained as he unlatched the chains from around what appeared to be a pharaoh's tomb. When he finally managed to get the thing open he pulled out a bottle and happily shook it next to his ear. “Oh, thank goodness it’s not a total loss.” He chimed with an attitude that was more than a little pleased. Nahl could instantly tell he was the kind of man to drown his losses in booze, if he ever got the chance.
“Booze? This is what you have to drink?” Fry huffed, clearly not pleased. The wanderer rolled her eyes at the blonde below. Sure, alcohol will only dehydrate you faster, but at least it would keep your mouth from drying out. Johns seemed to share her sediment as he managed to cast a small glare towards the captain.
“I’m going to need a receipt for that. For all of this. These are my personal stuff!” The cheapskate huffed before taking a swig of one of the bottles. Fry just sighed and took one for herself before turning her attention to the Christlams. She held up the bottle as she addressed them.
“I don’t suppose this will help you at all.” She asked, have worried and half annoyed. Nahl managed to drop into the shadows behind the group without anyone noticing, and just as quickly she swiped a bottle before disappearing into the shadows again. Imam gave the bottles a once over before giving a good hearted sigh and shaking his head.
“Unfortunately, it is not permitted; especially while on haji.” 'Haji, huh? Well, it's too hot out anyway...' Alcohol is more potent when hot, and it was against the Christlams' religion to become intoxicated. 'What a complicated religion. I'll just stick to the basics, always the basics.' Nahl chuckled internally before leaving the compound to head back to the main hull. In the background she could still hear Johns.
“You realize there’s no water. Don’t you?” the bounty-hunter gave a dry chuckle.
“All deserts have water. It only waits to be found.” Imam answered with faith in his voice.
