Book 1 - Sand
Part 3
This thread is intended to be paired with The Hourglass (1.3)
CW - Strong language
Sunday, February 5th, 2023
Shuruq, Dabaab 17th, 412
The one thing you learned to love and hate living in Aldaar was sand. Yes, it was coarse, it was rough, and it was irritating - and it got everywhere. But it was also the way the Aldaari people had made their living, it was the reason for their nation’s existence, and it was what had made Aldaar so strong. To be honest, though, Omar was starting to get tired of it.
Omar Naciri was starting to push 60 at this point, and honestly, he was getting tired of a lot of things. Sure, in most countries, a large number of politicians were on the older side - but Aldaar wasn’t most countries. Everything here was a young person’s game, whether or not people realized it. Omar was a teacher, always had been - and a local business owner, a revolutionary hero, a celebrated politician, and most importantly, a father. And here he was, following his child to the lion’s den. Some people would say that that was bad parenting, but he knew he couldn’t control Yufraan, even if he wanted to - all he could do was support them and make sure they got through it safe.
But Omar was worried about Yufraan’s safety, and not just because they were walking into a powder keg ready to explode - and trying to gently coax it to detonate right in front of them. No, he was more worried about what would come after.
“How’s it going, faara?” Omar asks, breaking the dead silence of the dunes.
“Good,” Yufraan responds succinctly.
“Come on, Yuf. Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Anything you want.” They stop walking for a second, and Omar realizes he can hear the wind starting to pick up. Under his breath, he quietly says “Talk about Aida. I only got to meet her once.”
“Well,” Yufraan begins, starting to walk again. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Why not the beginning?”
“The very beginning?” Yufraan asks with a smirk. An old joke between the two of them. Omar smiles gently.
“If you wish.” It’s turning to evening, and the desert has cooled down substantially, about to 40°. It doesn’t help that the wind has picked up to the point where it’s now creating minor sand flows in especially loose areas, and sending chills through Omar’s 'ashlaizila. Luckily, there’s still enough light to see by - but he does pull down his visor to protect his eyes from the sand.
“I first met Aida when I was getting a coffee with some of my friends, from uni - remember Furqan?” Omar nods at this. He does remember Furqan - Omar wonders what he’s up to now. “Well, we were listening to this random girl on the street busking, and I mentioned how she sounded good. Now, Furqan is all, like, ‘If you like her so much, why don’t you -’” Yufraan stops short, and goes silent for almost a full minute. Omar lets them. “Anyways, we kept joking, and eventually Furqan dares me to ask her out. So, keeping with the bit, I go up to where she’s playing - and damn, was she pretty. She finishes her song and sees that I’m just awkwardly standing in front of her and she’s like, ‘Who are you?’ and I do one of the riskiest things I’ve ever done in my life, because I’m just like ‘Oh, I’m Yufraan, and my friend and I just thought your playing sounded amazing and I just wanted to ask if there are any other cafes you play at?’ to which she says ‘Not really’ and I’m like ‘Okay, so I’ll see you here tomorrow?’ and she’s like ‘Yeah, see you then’ and then, what I do next, I put some money into her guitar case but I also slip in a note with my number on it.” Yufraan pauses for a moment to take a deep breath. “She came back the next day, and she was so chill about it all. And not like Azniv is chill - like calm and collected on the surface but a chaotic dumpster fire underneath? Like, actually chill. She seemed to know everything she wanted out of life, and when something got in the way of that she just moved around it so… so easily. She was the perfect fucking Aldaari, and I’m not even sure that she knew it. She probably did though, considering she was really smart. She knew almost more about our people than I did, just in terms of new ways of thinking or random obscure facts. You would’ve loved her, 'ayn. But… but then they…” Yufraan cuts off, and Omar is sure he can hear them about to cry. “But then they killed her.”
Omar has been through loss - he lost Sa’adah, just as much as Yufraan had, after all. He had even helped countless students deal with their loss, in the worst years of oppression when extrajudicial killings had been almost commonplace. But this felt different, and Omar knew why. Aida had been part of Yufraan’s family - his family. And he wasn’t sure how to fix that, even for himself - let alone Yuf. But at least, and luckily for him, speaking in public for nearly 40 years makes you pretty quick with a reply.
“Oh, Yuf. I did love her.” He hears Yufraan fighting back tears, and is about to go comfort them -
Which makes it all the more surprising when he feels the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.
“Hands up - in the air,” a gruff masculine voice says, just loud enough to be heard above the whipping wind. Omar does as he says. From behind him, he hears the crackle of a radio. “Two intruders found, over.” A brief pause. “Yes. Yes sir. Bringing them in now.” He presses the gun into Omar’s back. Out of his peripherals, Omar can see a man in black tactical gear doing the same to Yufraan. “Start walking, old man.”