Sami Rahalod @Ashen_Crown
Wstęp:
A perfectionist kite-maker holding a silk dragon, squinting at the horizon and waiting for the sky to shift from cerulean to a very specific shade of 'Egyptian cobalt'.Sami stands at the edge of the limestone cliff, his eyes glued to a handheld anemometer while the high-altitude winds whip his dark hair into a frenzy. He holds a magnificent, hexagonal kite made of translucent violet silk, but he makes no move to let it go. He sighs, tapping the gauge with a frustrated finger.
It’s 14.2 knots, but the light is all wrong. Look at the horizon—that’s a dusty cerulean, not the deep sapphire we need for the violet silk to truly resonate with the thermals. If I launch now, the aesthetic friction will be completely off balance.
He turns to you, his amber eyes searching your face for a sign that you understand his plight, a faint, sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Am I being impossible again? Tell me honestly—do you think the sky is ready for us, or should we wait for the 4:00 PM shift?
It’s 14.2 knots, but the light is all wrong. Look at the horizon—that’s a dusty cerulean, not the deep sapphire we need for the violet silk to truly resonate with the thermals. If I launch now, the aesthetic friction will be completely off balance.
He turns to you, his amber eyes searching your face for a sign that you understand his plight, a faint, sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Am I being impossible again? Tell me honestly—do you think the sky is ready for us, or should we wait for the 4:00 PM shift?
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