#original writting

The Orcs who reside in the desert are in two main groups: the nomadic and the settlers. 

The Nomadic and Settlers aren’t that different in some aspects, they did after all come from the same source. Their changes are, however, very obvious. 

For one, the style of dress. 

Nomadic Orcs style of dress is a bit different from that of the settlers. They wear light layers. The fabric is made to be light, to move with the wind and to keep the sun and sand away. Different tribes wear different patterns and colors. Each whorl has meaning, every pattern and color has meaning to that specific tribe.

The settled Desert Orcs have built their cities around oases. The buildings are tall, some pale, some orange. Some with detailed curled buildings and others that are smooth. The architecture is as varied as those who live in the cities. 

Manner of travel is different too.  The nomads travel with large mammals that are similar to the camels that humans use to traverse the deserts; the only differences being the size and separate abilities of the creature. They culture the milk from these creatures in a way that makes it alcoholic. Different strengths of it are ingested in different situations. Some are casual with lunch and dinner and others are only reserved for the holiest of situations: births, weddings and deaths.

Nomadic Desert Orcs also trade the drink with humans. A specially weakened version is made specifically for trade with humans. It doesn’t pay to kill your clientele. 

Those that have settled in their cream colored buildings trade all manner of things with humans. Fruits that can only be grown from various species of cacti in the desert. Medicines made from hardy desert plants. They are even contracted by humans and other Orcs to design homes and businesses. 

Art is a massive part of life whether settled or nomadic. The nomads are weavers, the settlers make mosaics. Plants and animals, desert landscapes and sunsets feature heavily in their artwork. 

Some traditions have stayed the same. The gigivn of blankets to an Orc carrying a child or offered to deities on holy days. Their deities are always thankful, appearing in a whirl of sand to take their gifts and vanishing again. 

Settled Orcs always settle near an oasis due to the significance they hold for their culture. Nomadic and Settled Orcs have maps that show every oases around them.

Those words were gently spoken, there was no hint of smugness. No hint of cruel meaning. There was nothing but kindness, nothing but understanding at why the flames spewed outward in the first place. Flames from anger, and of hurt.

The masked one knew what a monster was, he had face several different kinds. He had been wounded by many, had been forced to fight them until he could barely think. But this one, this one of scales and flame, was no monster. Not to him.

He understood, he had been there. Perhaps not in the same ways, but he knew what it was like. He could not fix it, even though he greatly desired to do so. But the masked one knew, he could at least offer one thing. One thing that his younger self had desired, back in the days old.

He does not look back on it, not out of grief or self pity. The masked one has moved on, learned from pains of the past and used them for lessons of the future. Used them to extend kind words, and comfort to those who need it.

He knows what it’s like. He’s been there several times. It’s with that in mind, that he gazes at the other, sitting down beside the one of scales.

“I am here to listen. Talk as long as you like.”

Title: Remember my life

Genre: Sci-fi, action, tragedy

This is disgusting

I am ashamed I cannot articulate my words

Everything about it make me nauseous

The large wet tongue touching mine and crossing over my teeth

Feeling the groves of my molars

Pulling back and feeling moisture all over my mouth

Having to keep my eyes ajar like crack in the door I watch myself from

I watch the scene play out from someone else

Moving lower the more my stomach turns

Knowing I am lying just lying

I move lower and this is where my mouth begins to salivate

perhaps it wants to only know the taste of itself

Something familiar

It begins and I begin a focus though that focus lasts as long as my interest to do this

I begin to count as I pump my fingers in

Counting as a beat, I never understood why I chose this

As it continues over 12 counts

1 and 2 and

I restart over and over and over again

Until something makes me lose my concentrate

Words and noises that are supposed to be sexy and make me wet anger me

I push faster and harder, I carve my fingernails into her pale skin

Watching the red lines appear

I can compare it to something else

Something less satisfying

“Yes!”

Unbeknownst to my frustration

Finding my false identity sexy and kinky

I pull away and see the webs of saliva attaching to my mouth and chin

I don’t want to bare it

I don’t want to see the same webs across my fingers

It isn’t her fault, she’s beautiful and sexy and everything that is right

She is perfect

I cannot fulfill this desire and I know it

He tells his one friend that he can trust that he is expecting the knife.

The fakes smiles he sends this way are nothing more than an armor.

The gentle way he holds you close is just but a precaution.

And,

His friend is the only one who knows the whole truth,

You don’t understand the lyrics, well, you do, but you like to pretend you don’t.

There is a song in your head, and you don’t understand how you relate to it,

The best isn’t catchy and the vocals aren’t half that good, there is a reason it’s stuck.

There is a song in your head, it has been living there for days and it almost feels like it has a home inside your brain,