theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...
Although she was always quick to tease Amet, Iset herself didn’t know how to swim. When you live and in a desert and have absentee and abusive parents, swimming lessons aren’t exactly anyones top priority. Her brother’s booming laughter followed the gangly, uneven steps her thin legs took, and Iset couldn’t hide her surprise. Although she had taken and provoked the majority the physical abuse during their time in the Dunes (at least since she had been born), Amet took most of the mental and verbal. For these reasons, Iset had just heard her brother laugh for the first time.
She stumbled once at this realization, nearly taking a nosedive into the crystal clear water. She regained her footing quickly, although the sand sinking beneath her narrow feet made this difficult. Iset runs as fast as the weight of the water allows her, until suddenly… she wasn’t running anymore. She was floating. She was swimming.
Her bright, high pitched laughter rang out as clear as the water suspending them as she trashed her long legs beneath her, keeping her afloat. Amet’s long nose dips into the water and snaps upward just as quickly, sending drops of cool water cascading over her head and neck.
Iset snorts in mock anger, “Hey!” she cries, “Don’t dish out what you can’t take back!” Her narrow head see-saws up and down, spraying water in a veil around the two of them. As quickly as the joking mood surfaced, a heavier one soon arose and Iset's golden eyes drop in awkward affection at his unusual sentiment. However sweet Amet was being, her prickly personality couldn’t help but shine through, “Yes, well as much as you tried to accomplish something to the contrary,” she provides a crooked but sincere smile, “I’m glad I’m here too."
...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut