The Desert

[comma]

Wandering for days without water or food, you're wondering exactly what possessed you to come to this infernal hell in the first place. Was it the rumor of treasures set deep within the many ancient ruins scattered around the place? Maybe it was the mirages, rumored to formulate out of total nothingness and gain actual substance before disappearing again, sometimes after seconds and sometimes after days--travelers have reported entire towns disappearing before, or even seafaring vessels gliding across the sand dunes.

Whatever it might have been, you're in for the long haul now. Compasses are completely useless here, as the place has its own magnetic field that likes to change on quite an irregular basis, and there's no telling whether the landmark you saw a couple hundred yards back will be in exactly the same place it was in when you passed it. The only option is to wander aimlessly across this nightmarish landscape until you randomly stumble upon slightly greener land--and hope that it isn't just another mirage.

[Κομμα]

Sitting atop a rather tall dune, a vast view was offered of the swirling sands of this vast, unnamed desert that stretched out far into either horizon. Having grown gradually more familiar of the nature of the Realm, Lyon couldn't help but wonder if the far horizon did give way to anything else, or if desert was all their was left in this direction. Supposedly there were ruins somewhere out there teeming with old treasures and mystery. Though he preferred the ocean, he had to admit he didn't necessarily need it in a place like this.

Nor did ships, apparently, he considered as he watched one float lazily over a sand dune and disperse into a pile of sand itself as it reached the other side.

The breathtaking sight was ruined by the sound of labored breathing approaching from behind him, and then a yell from above him.

"What the hell are we doing here you raving bloody lunatic?!"

"Treasure hunting?" At his captain's reply, Janx collapsed at the top of the sand dune, first to his knees and then flat on his front. He had already removed his white sleeveless shirt and tied it around his head like a turban in a futile attempt to keep the sun out of his face, his flintlock ebony and iron rifle still strapped across his back as usual. "I thought I covered that at the last mirage. And the last dune. And at the bottom of this one. And," he went on over Janx's irate groaning and throwing his arms over top of his head like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum, "before we left."

"And I said I wasn't interested!"

"Captain's orders."

"To hell with captain's orders..." Janx grumbled, his words muffled by the loose sand. "I just wanna go back to Tipperary and drink myself into a stupor and forget this little damnable place even exists..."

"The imp doesn't seem to mind it."

Indeed, the foot-tall electric blue imp perched on one of Lyon's shoulders had been content through the whole trip, occasionally amusing himself with climbing down to the money pouch Lyon always kept at his belt, eating one of the odd jellybeans the imp had stashed there, and changing another odd color. The imp was his daughter's pet, Impy, and she had sent it along with him to "watch out for Daddy and Janx."

"The imp," Janx said, picking himself up, "is made," he went on, increasing in volume a little as he sat up and glared, and he finished in a near yell, "of fire!" Unfazed, Lyon shrugged. The blue-haired pirate rolled his eyes dramatically and fell on his back instead.

"I don't mind it." The most that had bothered Lyon the entire time was the wind blowing his already rather unruly mane of dirty blonde hair in all directions, but he had solved this by tearing off one of the sleeves of his white shirt at the elbow and tying it back.

"You're from the most tropical island in the Grand Line, you dimwit." Again, Lyon shrugged a little, unperturbed. "I come from a long, long line of ice people. You do realize that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lyon stretched his arms over his head, nearly knocked Impy off of his shoulder in the process. The imp scurried back up, digging its claws painfully into Lyon's shoulder as it did, and glared at the man menacingly. "Break's over, let's get going."

Janx picked his head up, gawking. "What?!"

But Lyon was already running down the sand dune. Sighing, Janx let his head fall back into the sand. He would have much rather been stuck babysitting Karimi in Tipperary than babysitting his captain in the middle of what had to be the most torturous desert in all known universes.

[Rae]

“I hate you.”

It wasn’t the first time that horribly pessimistic statement had been thrown Reaver’s way in the last few hours. The pirate ignored it, however, in favor of yet more walking. He hated to admit it, but, even though he had an infallible sense of direction, he thought they were lost. All he’d been told was “over in that there direction” by some ghastly looking peasant with quite a few missing teeth. Well, how were they supposed to find these ruins when even the people who supposedly knew where they were didn’t know their exact location? Reaver felt he should have shot them for such weak information.

“I wanted to go swimming at the lake. Or maybe play some cards in Bloodstone, but no-oh. Reaver wants to go look for buried treasure in some Avo-for-effing-saken desert and I just have to come along,” his companion complained. “If my dog was still alive, I’d set him on your crotch. Hannah might talk to me more.”

They’re not the only ones I need to shoot, Reaver thought, annoyed. He turned on his companion, who was, unwittingly, about to unroll one of his dreadlocks. “Oh, Sparrow, love? If you didn’t want to come, perhaps you should have stayed at home?”

“You didn’t really give me a choice,” Sparrow said in a duh tone of voice.

“Next time, remind me to do so. Your petulance is aggravating. Do shut up. Or, better yet, find something else to talk about.”

Sparrow pouted at his friend. The younger Hero always pouted at Reaver, mainly because Reaver didn’t tell him off for it. With an annoyed huff that he didn’t really mean, Reaver stalked off, anxious to get on with the journey. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard voices up ahead.

“Are we there yet?” Sparrow asked, not five minutes later.

Reaver tried not to shoot him.