Pirates and Princes
You enter the arm's room.
The heady scent of laquer and ambergris permeate your nostrils. The enclave has a sunroof that streams light down from above onto the many masculine artifacts.
You peer inside ships in a bottle and marvel at the handiwork, every sinew of wood seems to scale.
You eye the broad scimitars, the hilt made of thick horse skin. Following it down you feel the length of the cold steel, your skin warms underneath it leaving a breath along the edge. You trail back and forth, familiarizing yourself with the blade, reveling in its size. Finally you feel the tip, its thicker than you expect, you press your thumb down, testing it.
A sharp bead of blood shoots down the scimitar, crawling down your wrist.
You gasp, wordlessly.
A large dark hand flourishes out from behind the scarlet curtain surrounding the arm's room. The hand grasps yours and lifts it away from the scimitar. A man's hand.
The heady scent of laquer and ambergris permeate your nostrils. The enclave has a sunroof that streams light down from above onto the many masculine artifacts.
You peer inside ships in a bottle and marvel at the handiwork, every sinew of wood seems to scale.
You eye the broad scimitars, the hilt made of thick horse skin. Following it down you feel the length of the cold steel, your skin warms underneath it leaving a breath along the edge. You trail back and forth, familiarizing yourself with the blade, reveling in its size. Finally you feel the tip, its thicker than you expect, you press your thumb down, testing it.
A sharp bead of blood shoots down the scimitar, crawling down your wrist.
You gasp, wordlessly.
A large dark hand flourishes out from behind the scarlet curtain surrounding the arm's room. The hand grasps yours and lifts it away from the scimitar. A man's hand.