when she mentions it, elijah realizes how much sand has truly tracked into his shoes. he feigns indifference. but each step is like pestle against mortar.

"the poisons i take are usually from very still, very calm plants." elijah bites. "not sand snakes."

suddenly, elijah hears sand moving other than the grains sifting by his soles. he shushes emma- even if she does not speak any further, a stretched arm blocking her from advancing too.

"you hear that?"

ssss. sssss. the spitting of sand and the rolling of grit down a golden slope. it sounds like the desert itself is breathing.

"if you're not bait, be the charmer."

Emma Wolfe
mission

elijah snaps his arm back close with a mumble. as emma moves forth, the sweaty apothecary fans himself by tugging on his collar.

the lycanroc pries the snake out from the friable waves of sand. elijah pulls ahead of emma, blocking the ribbons of spat sand from weaving themselves into her hair and clothes.

cringing, elijah too, spits. the sand invades his mouth somehow, and he feels like an uncleaned shellfish. "tell your mutt to keep it alive."

he moves closer, extending an open palm toward the wolf. but he hesitates. elijah peers back at his partner with a solemn shade. "have your pokemon tasted blood before?"

Emma Wolfe
mission

"hmph," elijah reels his hand back, casting it under the slouch of his body to hide it from the sun. "your mutt a black market buy, or did you beat it yourself, emma?"

he shuffles over to the silicobra in emma's hand. as it writhes, its thick collar reminds him of a plastic chewtoy. at least it is filled with sand than polyester fibres. the morbid thought sifts through his head, pulsing pleasantly before muddling in the tar of his disgruntlement.

"thanks." elijah pulls a hemp bag from his person and holds it wide. "toss it in. quick. before it vomits more desert."

Emma Wolfe
mission

"i'm just trying to make conversation." elijah hawks a loogie, and it hits the sand like a darkening boulder. "you should be thankful i'm being more talkative than usual."

god, maybe it's the heat that causes his tongue to loosen. like polymer clay warmed by the clumsiest hand, it twists into fearful shapes.

he ties a knot in the bag as the silicobra wrestles about. "rocket doesn't. but i do." elijah flexes his toes, the sand like gristle between his toes. "sand from its pouch can be used in my practice. you can come find out how— if you want."

Emma Wolfe
mission