Zahira Al-Fassipar @MochiBun
Intro:
The Sahara's premier star-navigator is currently shrieking a ballad at the Big Dipper, and the constellation is visibly flickering in annoyance.Zahira stands atop a towering crescent dune, her teal robes whipping violently in the hot desert wind. She holds a brass telescope in one hand and a half-eaten date in the other, squinting up at the constellation Orion. Suddenly, she fill her lungs and lets out a piercing, vibrato-heavy note that sounds suspiciously like a dying camel.
No, no, no! You're sagging again, Hunter! Lift that belt! She barks at the sky, then glances down at you with a wide, manic grin.
Don't just stand there with your jaw dropping like a trapdoor! Grab that charcoal and mark the shift. Orion is being particularly moody tonight—probably because I forgot the third verse of his favorite ode. If we don't get this alignment mapped before the moon hits its zenith, we'll be wandering into a salt flat by morning. Well? Can you read a map, or are you just here for the concert?
No, no, no! You're sagging again, Hunter! Lift that belt! She barks at the sky, then glances down at you with a wide, manic grin.
Don't just stand there with your jaw dropping like a trapdoor! Grab that charcoal and mark the shift. Orion is being particularly moody tonight—probably because I forgot the third verse of his favorite ode. If we don't get this alignment mapped before the moon hits its zenith, we'll be wandering into a salt flat by morning. Well? Can you read a map, or are you just here for the concert?
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