Mirage missed the desert sands. Her and Quen had been hanging around, visiting the vast expanse past her home, to try and figure out what was going on in the caves, but it was so different. There wasn't great hills of dunes, and lovely dry air that was so easy to fly upon... a lot of the caves were dark, and damp...

So it was a strange breath of fresh air to finally be able to go back through the tunnel entrance back into Hydra. She hadn't forgotten the horrible cold storm that had taken the lives of innocent gembound, orchestrated by the masters of the caves, but just then, rising on the hot updrafts of Hydra? She could almost dismiss the whole thing as a nightmare.

It was so good to be home.
@GM

It came on fast: an orange glow to the light, the roar of wind, the sudden tossing of sand grains to the point of being sharp against exposed flesh. In mere minutes it would become a maelstrom: a sandstorm to blind those caught within it, to turn them around and around and leave them lose in the churning dark, to tire and plummet to the Sandworms below--or to strike an obstacle with enough force to perish.

Mirage had but a minute to flee for cover before the sandstorm struck--to be caught out in the open, over the Dunes, would be quickly deadly for most. And even the little owl's stone goggles, if she did not find shelter fast, would buy her merely minutes.

Mirage must roll to find shelter before the sandstorm arrives. A failure will result in further danger.

@Mirage

Mira's head tilted toward the oncoming storm wall. She was no stranger to dangerous winds, and she had been born among the dunes themselves. Still, that was moving quickly. It would be upon her in moments, and she wasted no time turning on her wing toward the distant crucible.

She wanted to go home, right? The storm gave her little choice. She didn't want to try and find a place among the sand to hide-- the only place that would be safe from the winds would be the stomach of a worm. Better to press her luck and try and stay ahead of the whirling sands.

Her wings didn't fail her, not yet. She chased the updrafts, dipping and diving and keeping away from the incoming wall of sand. As long as she could stay ahead of the storm, she'd be fine. Once she reached the crucible at least, she could find a place to take shelter until the winds died down again.

Anything was better than stopping and digging a hole in the sand, unless she wanted to become a sandworm snack.
@GM

Familiarity with Hydra kept one safe, and Mirage was no exception. Where strangers to the cave would have been squinting at the orange glow, the little owl had already flown for all she was worth for shelter.

When the sands hit, they would scour the ravines of the Crucible, and all the Lessers would already be tucked into crevices to wait out the storm--as would Mirage, safe and sound.

@Mirage

Mirage reached the crucible in one piece, flighting down into the familiar, winding ravines. It had been so long since she had been here-- there was the stream that flooded occasionally, and just beyond would be where the ice worm had died.

She wondered, now, if her old den had been taken over. It wouldn't surprise her, as she landed on the cliff-side. It was time to find shelter, the roaring storm drawing closer. She tried to pick up traces of the lessers she knew would be around, but her magic didn't come. Maybe she was rusty...?

The owl made her way to her old den, and shuffled into the darkness. Her feathers fluffed up, half expecting to see a spider that'd she would have to turn her gaze away from. "... hello?" She chirped softly, inching her way inside.

The wind howled, sand crashing into the stone. The entrance of her hiding hole grew dark as the storm crashed over the crucible. Hopefully there was nothing in here worth worrying about... She was hopeful their old quills were still here, among other insignificant treasures. The rain and flooding from the snowmelt might have been enough to wash it all away, though.
@GM

Perhaps it was the old smell of lingering predator, or just luck, but Mirage's crevice in the rock was clear. Outside, the sandstorm would rage, scouring rock and tearing apart the bushes; within, the owl would be safe, sound, and alone.

secondary danger roll by request

@Mirage

Mira was, by all accounts, the most alone she had been since she had first hatched out on the dunes. But now that she was in the quiet of her old den, sandstorm raging outside, she felt nothing but peace.

How much smaller it was now. Had she really been so little, before? (She was still tiny, foolish little bird.) How had Quentin ever tucked himself into place beside her? As she crept further back, she found the quills of mice they had hunted, tufts of fur and feathers they had used for bedding, all shoved back by the wind.

It smelled like home.

She couldn't wait to tell Quentin all about her little adventure out here. But for now, there was no where she could go; the storm had trapped her inside, and she would have to wait for it to end. It had been a hot, exhausting flight out to the Crucible anyway; she was glad for the cooler stone as she leaned up against her old sleeping spot.

Just a little nap, then she could go back to the tunnel...
exit