RP Between Sand and Stars

He waited patiently, or tried to, the side of his body pressing firmly into the nearby wall - a partial respite from the cold. When the door finally swung open, he moved inside, bringing with him the chill and overwhelming darkness. It was swallowed though, by the single candle and the wooden structure that'd managed to survive the crash.

His gaze briefly wandered over her, noticing the change in clothes but nothing else. It was too dark to notice her reddened eyes. "If we keep to your suggested pace - aim for twenty five kilometers a day, we'll get to the closest military base in just under sixteen days," Ishaan began to say, slinging his bag down onto the ground. "Once we get to the mountains we'll have more of a chance to find water and vegetation. But that'll take at least eight or nine days." He walked over to the flickering candle to light the one that'd been extinguished.

The next week was their biggest problem. With no water source, they'd be dead within days. And even if they did find water, in the middle of the desert, their main food source was buried beneath the sand.
 
Eight or nine days in the desert… It was a long shot, but not impossible. She had trained for this, so the climate wouldn’t be as much of a problem as the endless possibilities of what could happen once they left the faux safety of the carcass of the ship.

“Wear this.” Klaire said after Ishaan got up from lighting the candle, pushing the clothes towards his chest. Her voice was weak, but it could easily be blamed on her tiredness. “It’s clean, and it’ll keep you warm throughout the night. You can sleep on the bed, I’ll keep watch for the first few hours.”

The brunette captain, with her violet eyes already used to the darkness, walked over to an armchair by the door, turning it around with its back facing Ishaan, to grant him enough privacy to change clothes.

“We’ll pack things up and leave before the sunrise. We’ll need to find shelter before noon, rest when the sun is at its highest.” And at night… They’d have to figure it out later.
 
Clutching the fabric to his chest, Ishaan blinked, watching as she strode away from the warm candlelight. Clad in something very similar to what he held; light-weight, plain - the colour of sand, yet soft enough to provide some comfort. For a moment, he considered doffing everything, though the creeping chill quickly reminded him that layers were a necessity. So once she'd turned, he did the same, facing away from her. The outer layer he wore was worn, shredded in some places, intact in others, no doubt because of the crash. Slinging it over his head, he scrunched it into a ball and tossed it onto his pack. It'd provide little protection from the sun, but perhaps they could use it for something else. An undershirt remained, and although a little dusty, he slid the new fabric over the one that remained.

"I don't mind taking the first shift," he said tentatively, as if worried that she'd take the offer as resistance. She'd lost her mentor, her crew. In mourning, unlike him.
 
Klaire sat on the chair, with her legs curled up to her chest. She didn’t realize how tired she was until hesitating to answer Ishaan's suggestion.

“Aren’t you tired?” She asked, unsure if it was safe to look back at him yet. He wouldn’t have suggested it if he was, or maybe he could see how much of a wreck she was, even through the darkness. Slowly, she pulled herself out of the chair.

“Don’t let me sleep all night, you must rest as well.” She said firmly, stepping close enough so she could see his face, and he could see hers. “I”ll let you have the first shift.”
 
Ishaan didn't answer, though his silence was answer enough. Instead, he thanked his very limited blessings that she'd agreed to his proposition.

After exchanging few promises and pleasantries, silence overcame them as Klaire laid to rest. He took a seat in the armchair, draping his new cloak over his body, a single candle burning beside him. He'd looked over the map, double-checking his calculations, noting their location, until there was nothing else left to inspect.

Yet time passed so slowly.

He took to watching the wax drip down the length of the candle, each path hardening along the shaft. The wind howled, and he shifted, yawning. Eventually, initially out of boredom, he pulled out a worn notebook and began to write. Name, date, the series of tragic events that belonged to said date, until he'd filled two pages. Until he felt it'd been long enough and it was time to wake Klaire.

Sleep came quickly, but it didn't last.

Before daybreak, they'd gathered their meager belongings, completing one final sweep of the wreckage. And they left, the coolness of the night lingering, providing comfort in the moment, especially since they very well knew what awaited them soon. They walked in silence mostly, speaking only out of necessity. Truthfully, Ishaan didn't know what to say, or what kind of conversation would be appropriate. The only thing he knew about the Captain was... well, her Captaincy. And her dedication to the mission. The disaster of a mission. It didn't feel like a good time to discuss either of those things. So he kept his chapped lips shut, gaze focused ahead.
 
No amount of training had prepared her for this.

It was chilly at first, but as the sun went up, so did the heat. It only took a few hours for her skin to become sticky due to the thin layer of sweat growing over it, and for her to feel the grains of sand on her hair every time her fingers ran through it. She regretted keeping her hair short, making it impossible for her to tie it in a bun. The air that brushed past them was hot, and the sand that quickly covered their feet after every step made walking even more exhausting than it already was. Klaire questioned if Ishaan had accounted for that when he calculated the duration of their journey, but she didn’t speak about it. In fact, she didn’t speak about anything.

Neither did he, and even though the silence was beginning to bother her, the immense silence of miles and miles of sand and nothing else around them, she had no idea of what there was to say.

Speaking about the weather would only make it more unpleasant, and there was nothing pleasant that had happened in the past 24 hours that she could draw a subject from. The captain unscrewed the cap of the bottle attached to her belt and took a sip of it’s content, only enough to wet her tongue. She decided to take the easiest route.

“Water?” She asked, handing him the bottle.
 
She broke the silence first, offering a single word and a drink of water. Ishaan took the bottle without complaint, halting in place to take a small, steady sip. The water, just like everything else, was warm, but as it passed his lips and slid down his throat, he could think of nothing better. "Thank you," he replied, passing the bottle back to her and resuming his steady steps forward. "What's your poison, back at home? In recent years I've developed a taste for uisce beatha. But I think I'd rather a rumman - pomegranate, with orange and honey."
 
Great, the silence was gone. Klaire reattached the bottle to her belt and glanced at Ishaan, who walked by her side.

“Good ale will do it for me.” She said, the memory of the cold drink making her mouth water. Some of the best memories she had of the academy were spent in the local tavern with her classmates, drinking until she could barely stand. “Rumman… Don’t remember ever trying it. Who produces it?” Klaire knew Uisce Beatha to be a popular Fir Bolg beverage and she’d quite enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t her favorite.
 
"It's hard to find here - in Costa Duba, at least - " Ishaan commented. "Independent producers. Fae, mainly. Those that live northwest of here." In the desert, at the foot of the mountains. "That's where my parents were from, east of Brimstone. I vaguely remember having a sip when I was young, but I've been fortunate to find a merchant who imports rumman."

He glanced over her shoulder, his dark eyes - the only part not concealed by cloth - gazing at her. "But seriously, just ale? That's a safe choice... not even a wine drinker? Actually, no, I'd bet you can hold your liquor."
 
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