The bite of his nails digging into his flesh was a comfort to Ubaid. A nervous tick, one of the medicine men had called it. But he didn’t feel nervous. It more so comforted him, the pain. Made him remember that he wasn’t a god, no matter what the others claimed. He was mortal, flesh and blood, same as them. Not that any of the Nubaphians would believe that. Ubaid pulled his blood fingers away, rewrapping his neck with the bandage. If Osahar saw him doing this, he knew his brother would have a fit. Ubaid would simply laugh. His brother had hurt him far worse than merely scratching his skin.

His yellow eyes were once more drawn towards the prison cell. The creak of the torch above him filled the silent room. Ubaid was currently tucked into the shadows, watching the prisoner. They were apparently from Neberin, and according to the man who’d caught them, Abasi, they were a member of the Templar guard. The fool was a soldier and yet was captured. Weak.

Ubaid chewed on his lip, shifting a bit. He hadn’t had a premonition about them, so surely they weren’t important. And yet, there was something about them that just drew him in. He wanted to stare at them, to watch them day in and day out. Osahar would belittle him if he knew. His brother loved him just as much as he loved him, but the two had never been able to be described as ‘normal’.

He once again let his eyes take in the figure. They were attractive, for an outsider. Maybe they’d tell me about Neberin, he thought, desperately wanting to dig into his skin again. If I just go and ask…surely they’d tell me. They’d tell me about everything. The sights, the sounds, the smells…