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--- campaigns:taika-daagru:2021-11-06 [2022-02-06 02:25] – Today's rounds pinkgothic
+++ campaigns:taika-daagru:2021-11-06 [2022-07-17 00:12] (current) – Added stuff from the 5th of March pinkgothic
@@ Line 260: / Line 260: @@
 So, they went forward.
+**pinkgothic**:
+Something about the glaciers made them look like large, slumbering oceanic beasts, white bodies streamlined and smooth but for the scars of ancient battles.
+The adrenaline was fading, making way for a sense of awe simultaneously eroded and intensified by the her deep exhaustion. They would have to set up camp soon and rest, whether she wanted to or not. They couldn't continue walking indefinitely, no matter how much the glaciers erased all feeling for the distances they still had to cross.
+"Let's look for a safe spot to set up camp," Kukri suggested.
+**Concavenator**:
+"Yes, let's," Giya agreed, "when on the rocks". This much exertion as this hour of the year was as unnatural as a behavior could be while still being physically possible; every part of the body of the two travellers protested against it, from stinging eyes to aching toes down to the hereditary corpuscles screaming deep within their tissues. //We did not travel through your ancestors a thousand thousand times for you to throw us away into the waste.//
+Soon the crunch underfoot changed its pitch; like reefs uncovered by a falling tide, crests of stone arose out of the snow, dark granites of incalculable age, worn smooth by the wind. The polar breath had sculpted them into towering walls and carved into them deep canals, flooded by snow. Many had narrow openings that could easily be closed by piling ice blocks or fixing a strong canvas, saving the trouble of raising two walls out of four.
+**pinkgothic**:
+It was the kindest gesture the harsh environment would ever offer them. This was a desert of ice and stone, providing at most shelter, and in discovering the relative gentleness of the eerie landscape they were entering, Kukri felt a sense of terror knot in her chest.
+She knew it was mostly her exhaustion causing it, the ache in her bones, the lingering emotional effect of their earlier encounter with the yachakri, the extreme solitude as they were choosing to rest, not any rational concern for her own safety - for they had come well prepared - but that made it no less compelling.
+Even Giya in her extreme poverty in some sense was used to being embedded in a civilisation that would help provide for her. For Kukri, the effect was stronger still. But they were perfectly isolated here, far from any support, in a place where nature would give them none.
+Kukri fervently hoped that sleep would let her catch her mind before it spiralled into madness.
+**Concavenator**:
+Soon the gaps were filled, north and south, and the canvas was thrown above in the manner of a roof, keeping the howl of air out for once. By their own hands, as if they were the last survivors of a vast catastrophe that left the rest of Tagra still and silent. Which they might well have been, far as they were from any communication with the wider world. (Poorly suited, of course, to repopulate it; but Kukri would not have appointed herself matriarch of 'ikrakind even with the best possible mate.)
+Slowly Kukri's mind sank back into sleep, though yellow eyes and hissing bellows took form in the smoke of her thoughts, and made her jolt and twitch in her bed. The canvas flapped in the wind above, but with a soft and steady rhythm that seemed to promise it would not break free. That much, at least, was comfort. Giya's breath suggested she was at peace, perhaps already sleeping; 'Au'a knew what sort of life was one in which that day's experience was an unremarkable one.