#(!! hello!!)

@siravron​

Fear like hellfire and liquid glass casting over him is all Tomaj can feel as rapid hazel eyes dart to and fro, scanning his surroundings. There’s nothing here that seems familiar, no sun-baked cobblestone, no desert warmth, no dry air that fills the lungs and leaves without issue.This air clings like molasses to his innards and coats his skin in a sheen of sweat and humidity. He knows of beaches and forests, sure, but he detests the sultry, suffocating heat that goes with them. 

Tomaj looks to his hands and sees them shaking. Trembling hands were the sign of a coward, many customers from the tavern had told him in the past. In the war with Archades, those with trembling hands were the first to die or surrender or flee. They were the ones to not see the light of tomorrow. He focuses on his hands and steadies them as he forces a calm to wash over him. It’s not ironclad, but it’s enough for now. Enough to keep his heart from leaping out of his throat and onto ground below. 

He wipes sweat from his brow and tries to take a slower breath, let himself adjust to the new air, the new pressure, the new...everything. One more time does he look around, calmer, and much more likely to notice that which he might have missed before. In the distance, against the treeline, he spots a man, or what he thinks is a man, anyway, standing tall in a red cloak of sorts. 

Regardless of dress, he was someone Tomaj could speak to and hopefully not lose his head. With this thought in mind, he moves closer to the figure, loud enough to make his presence known.