In comparison to the east, life in the Western Cliffs was comparatively more frugal, it was nearly desertics, splits apart by humongous fissures into the ground, almost greenless plateaus, only cacti of great size, leafless bushes and occasional miniature trees could be spotted, it was either at the very bottom of certain cliffs, or within those cacti that one could find water, the people of Jaral Cribler favoured the second option, even setting up rudimentary farms, it was believed that a cactus would nourish itself upon water that was hidden deep underground, but such questions were frivolous.
One did not need to know where the water came from to drink from it.
The western king awoke in a spacious hammock, wearing absolutely nothing as the sun was rarely merciful in this region, the soils were as dry as it went all year long with the only exceptions being rare rains that whilst typically powerful, were never long.
The people either wore little or ample clothing as well as covering their bodies with paint fashioned from blood, bones or cacti to protect themselves from the rays of the sun, they were not originally from here after all, they did not benefit from centuries or millenniums of adaptation, so they had to be smart about it, the cliffs saw much breeze however, so it was here that they established their homes, hanging in between both faces of the cliffs, suspended right above certain death, it might appear overly dangerous, but living upon the plateau was nigh impossible, the heat was tremendous, the wind itself finding it uncomfortable to pass by here.
Still, despite being here and also having the best residence as king, Jaral Cribler was still feeling warm, as tightly wrapped and lying upon his chest was Alintair, who could definitely not be escaped in this situation, it was like trying to do something about a snake when it had already perfected its hold around your neck, utterly futile.
But he would not go as far as to claim that this was uncomfortable, the increased warmth was offset by the body parts pressing upon against his chest, subtle and small, exactly as he liked it, or was it that he enjoyed them because of who they were attached to? Such philosophical questions were not to be answered now.
Like most women, Alintair dyed her hair a bone white, brushing them upward, he always found it difficult to think that such a cute mug was deemed necessary to hide behind a mask all day long, supposedly that it helped her aim better, since she was only second to himself in archery, in had to be true somehow.
Softly running his hands against her sides, feeling each ribs as he went, soon managing to awaken the constrictor.
"Morning already?" lifting her upper body up, stretching arms and back, yawning those words out, both of them were sweating mess, making their skin glossy, bodies rather hard on the nose, neither seemed to care, Alintair leaning forward again for a kiss, both of their unnatural heterochromatic eyes staring into one another, their soon-to-pass amorous congress was interrupted as someone knocked on the door, a rare occurrence.
"One moment please" spoke Jaral, Alintair sighed as she got off the hammock, tying her hair properly and beginning to get dressed as Cribler also stood up, stretching first thing first, putting on his attire.
Unlike Alintair's, which completely covered her silhouette, ample enough to allow any sort of breezes to pass in and be kept within, coloured in a relatively bright shade to chase off the sunlight, perfectly aligned with the colouration of the Western Cliffs.
The warking's clothing left his abdomen exposed nearly entirely, covering every exposed bit of skin with paint, a large hood that only allowed one to gaze at shadows when conversing with him, he never lifted it when out in the open of the west.
Before answering the door, he moved up to Alintair, pulling her close by the waist.
"I'll make sure to make up for this distraction tonight, all right?" he promised, earning a light chuckle from beyond the wooden mask.
"I am certain that you will take what is due, my king" not lingering on close for too long lest he put his words into effect right there and then, opening the door, one of his people standing as straight as an I.
"Boy, what is the matter for coming to me so early in the morning?" he asked, beginning to walk upon a shaky bridge that linked his small home to the rest of the village, walking beside his king, the young man began explaining.
"My lord, I was on hunting duty this night, and I found suspicious marks upon a nearby plateau" replied the boy.
"Night hunting and you are still awake? It must be rather suspicious indeed, what did it look like? Was it completely unknown or something that should not have been there?" passing from hanging constructions to another, he instructed the boy to show him the way to this oddity, Alintair following close behind like a shadow, making no noise whatsoever.
He described as best as he could, but being a young hunter, he did not recognise what he had seen, at least in part, leading his king to the site, all evidence remained as they had been, the sandy ground of this plateau undisturbed.
One thing that the hunter had recognised was the mark of feet standing right up to the edge, pointing right at the suspended village, it was the feet of any of the drylurkers and certainly not that of birds, neither was it that of bottom-prowlers that had somehow climbed up.
"Those are the soles of boots, good manufacture too" commented Alintair, startling the young hunter.
"Oh! Greetings Miss Alintair…"
"And here, of course you wouldn't know that, those footprints look like the hooves of a horse, this plateau is much too far from the borders for a horse to access however…" he remembered such marks from the few times Alisart had attempted to set camps within the Western Cliffs.
From the looks of it, after more careful investigation, the rider and their horse had somehow gone through multiple plateaus, overlooking the village from multiple angles and then vanished out of thin air, the trail ending at an impossible area, in the middle of a flat top.
"Either they floated up, leapt without disturbing the sand or just popped out of existence" rubbing his chin, Cribler listened to Alintair's remarks.
"That is odd, but I think I know exactly what it could be-" all three stopped talking, taking notice of rising dark smoke in the far distance, Combuscrus really had it easy to call for anything, his pyromancy allowing for such things with ease, Jaral would have had to get a hawk to carry a message to do it.
The western king had just thought to call for a meeting himself, this saved time.
"Very well then, before getting on our way, let's gather as many people as possible, we need to remain vigilant from this threat, if it is what I am thinking of, there is a real danger to our people" with these words, he headed back toward the village, it seemed like the approaching death was closer than it appeared.