[Nil is accustomed to sandstorms. The Sundom is a desert and they can rise quickly, biting at the skin like needles, or teeth, blinding anyone who doesn't know how to handle them.

Nil is accustomed to sandstorms. When it begins, he makes sure to cover his mouth and nose, to narrow his eyes against the grains being swept up by the wind, and he goes about his business tracing his steps around the outside of the city from the day before, and the day before that. He walks the same track like a caged animal, already feeling the frustration at this cage beginning to mount, like a pressure in the back of his skull.

Nil is accustomed to sandstorms, but he is not accustomed to the way that this one rages and grows in its ferocity to the point that it drives him to take shelter on the leeward side of a building, crouched down to keep away from the worst of the blasting sand.

A door, swinging open on its hinges and banging nearby, draws his attention. He doesn't need more than a moment of thought to head towards it, near-blinded by the sand flying on the wind.]