Memory What: Memory Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Observing Warning, this memory contains: Siblings being cute?
The sunlight was bright enough to suggest heat, coupled with the sand everywhere. There were two children there, a boy and a girl. The boy was a few years older, slightly taller than the girl though it was harder to tell once they crouched down to investigate something along the edge of a brick wall. Her hand outstretched and little index finger pointing but not touching. He was dressed in white, a white tunic and white pants, a mud brown sash around his waist. She was dressed in the same style, but in tan, her long, black hair gleaming in a braid down her spine, the ends tapering mid-back. They were the same shade of nut brown, these two children of the ancient desert.
Down the street came the scents of burning meat, rice cooked with jasmine and spice, coffee, the faintness of tea, the yeasty smell of bread baking in clay ovens, the loud voices of men and the high laughter of women. Mid-day meal would be soon.
"کارتنک*?" She inquired, girlish voice lilting.
"بله، عنکبوت**," he replied, his voice slightly deeper, but still pitched too high to be a man's.
The lane behind them was stamped with the hooves of horses and the wider, fat steps of camels, but there were none there presently, most people having the sense to stay somewhere cooler than be out under the harsh heat of the midday sun. He whispered a word to her and pointed again. She replied, the pronunciation slightly off, and with the long standing patience of an older brother, he repeated it again. The word itself was nonsense, a smash of letters and consonants to make up something that did not belong to any vocabulary on Earth, save for the one that existed between siblings.
This time when she repeated it, it was correct, and he smiled radiant at her. Her own smile was less bright, but her eyes more so.
Across the lane, their mother appeared in the open doorway of their home - dark, heavy wood panels open for the air. "بیا در، کودکان***." She called in a voice thick like honey and soothing as a balm on all those that heard it. They turned, collectively, leaving the spider to its work, and the boy's hand found his sister's before they crossed the lane together.
*spider, Persian **Yes, spider, Persian *** Come in, children, Persian