Ni'Srilan: The Desert: Open

It was a quiet morning. Rin had yet again risen before the sun slowly opened its bleary eyes to greet the day. Amidst the glorious hues of pinks and oranges, stood the statue, the phantom, stood Rin. Unmoving, she stood there in her solemn reverence for the sun. Her canvas colored, satined pelt reflected the sun's hues gloriously, as if the sun were kissing her softly and tenderly, as a mother would a newborn babe. And yet, Rin's posture denotated some sense of malcontent. A bit of dissatisfaction in a way, it was difficult to put a finger on it. It was almost as if the dread and fear and sadness of her mind were projecting an aura that skewed the beauty of the moment. Her morose expression marred the intimacy between her and the colored rays of light in the sky. Was one to know why? Possibly. Maybe, all they had to do was ask? There are no guarantees in life, and none here either. But, perhaps, this once. She-who-is-silent, will talk.