[It's childish. It's drawing. Jasnah normally wouldn't have the time or the inclination to indulge.
But she's bored, and she's homesick, and almost against her will she finds herself picking up a piece of yellow chalk, and beginning to sketch, a pattern like sunbaked mud cracked into caked scales.]
These are the shattered plains. Each crevasse might be thirty to a hundred feet deep. Men confine themselves to the tops of them, and carry their bridges as they go.
[Beginning to add a small party in the foreground- narrow bridgess towed by large, sturdy creatures that look like a cross between a crab and a buffalo. A few lords on horses, a lady being carried in a palanquin.]
no subject
But she's bored, and she's homesick, and almost against her will she finds herself picking up a piece of yellow chalk, and beginning to sketch, a pattern like sunbaked mud cracked into caked scales.]
These are the shattered plains. Each crevasse might be thirty to a hundred feet deep. Men confine themselves to the tops of them, and carry their bridges as they go.
[Beginning to add a small party in the foreground- narrow bridgess towed by large, sturdy creatures that look like a cross between a crab and a buffalo. A few lords on horses, a lady being carried in a palanquin.]