Caravan Solo Studs Earrings - Amber Green

- Dimensions approximately 1.2 cm x 1.2 cm - Japanese rice beads, Swarovski crystal pearls - Ear pins/ Clip-On can be customized ‹Repeating shapes, repeating arrangements, repeating roads, and repeating the dust. The caravan followed closely behind the companions in front. This was definitely not a leisurely and downwind journey. › It had been two weeks since Malik left the palace and stepped into the desert sands with the Gemstone merchant the night before fasting. There was no sign of the Rifah army that was expected to pursue him, but his destination was still far away; he rode at the end of the queue. He opened the water bag and took a few sips from the camel in front of him, while his most precious love stayed in the wagon closest to him, protected from being burned by the hot noon flames. On the fortieth moonrise, three camels fell ill, which slowed down the entire caravan. The Gemstone merchant smoothed his fluffy beard and wrinkled brows. His attendants did not dare to say a word, but distributed more water and pasture to the accompanying black horses - the finest Arabian breeds. The horses will be sent to the Golden Kingdom in the far west of the continent after the brigade arrives in Constantinople. Malik had never been there, and had only heard that green mounds and plains had replaced the sand dunes he was familiar with back home. It was dusk again. When Malik looked back again, the mirage that kept appearing and twisting in the corner of his eyes disappeared. The flag flying in the hair and the flash of the setting sun reflected on the armor were the real crises he had to worry about. The Gemstone merchant raised his silk-covered whip, patted the camel beast on his crotch, and quickly turned around to the back of the sluggish team. "You, go north, go quickly." The old businessman said loudly, holding the reins with one hand, and made a few gestures to the attendant with his free hand. A black horse was brought to Malik and tied to the right side of the camel again. At the back, another attendant got into the caravan and rummaged around. When he reappeared, he held a tightly closed wide-mouthed Bronze urn decorated with silver carvings and lapis lazuli in his arms. Malik bent slightly and took it carefully. The Bronze urn was put into the traveling pouch hanging on the left side of the camel. "Here is extra water and food. It's not much. Make good use of it." The old businessman shouted hastily, his tired voice being covered by the sound of a wave of huge hooves that was gradually approaching. Before he could thank him, he waved his whip, and the camels and black horses galloped together, kicking up Brown sand. Malik steadied himself, guided the animals under him to the direction they should go, and plunged into the dark night of the desert. He sold the black horse and camel at the port in exchange for a ship ticket and enough food reserves. The Bronze jar was heavy in his backpack, which represented safety - he thought, and followed the passengers to board the ship. When he arrived in the country of the blond man, Malik had no money, only the gorgeous Bronze bottle in his bag; he learned the local language and temporarily stayed in the village as a blacksmith. He knew that he could not publicly worship him. He was the only god in the village, and he also made a small Silver cross and hung it on his chest, so that the Frankish King's patrol would not be too suspicious of him with black hair and thick eyes when passing through the village. Before the end of the tenth summer, Malik said goodbye to this small village and continued to travel north. There were full of lush forests here. When walking, he could only see the wisps of sunlight scattered down to the fallen leaves in front of him. Everything was the same as his childhood. Different, vision, taste, hearing. It was very cold in Normandy, so he exchanged some good knives he forged for his thick fur coat. On the day when the snow fell, he was dining in the inn and ran out exclaiming; the snowflakes stopped at the tips of his long, curved eyelashes and turned into water in a few seconds. There is another kingdom with a different language on the other side of the sea, "English people." The fisherman pointed at the gray sea level and explained, while deftly cutting open the fish's belly. Although the weather was much uglier than the last village, Malik decided to stay here and set up a small shop for making iron and castings. The spring breeze brought a little more vitality to Normandy, and the bright wildflowers reminded him of the mosaic murals in his hometown. The tenth winter was over. When he adjusted a Silver to the finger size of Maria, the bride-to-be in the village, and firmly set it with a ruby he had taken away from the desert several years ago, he looked up and saw Frank on guard. sergeant. "You are not from here." The sergeant said calmly and politely, his sharp blue eyes covered by light eyelashes. "The palace has heard about your skills, so we are taking you away." Malik has only one request: a day and a night to say goodbye to his lover. He returned home and opened the trap door under the bed, which was built to prevent Dane bandits from passing by from time to time. Wrapped in coarse cloth was the delicate Bronze urn. He saddled the horse, took the urn, and set out for the seaside at midnight. Of course, the speed of riding a horse twenty years later was different from that of a young man. It took him a while to finally smell the sea breeze and the cries of flocks of seagulls. The morning sun swept through the low clouds and swept across the Norman beach, making it wet and sticky. Mud and sand scratched her feet; he had heard what the Frankish palaces had, including silks, Gemstone, and banquets, but to Malik they were all cages made of gold and stone, much the same as the high palaces of the oasis in Khorasan. He opened the lid of the urn, which had not been touched for twenty years. The carvings on the urn body were still as exquisite and delicate, and the ashes were stored inside. Malik continued walking until the salt water reached his waist, holding the Bronze urn tightly to his chest. Risheng was carrying him, and the water was very cold—cold enough, Malik thought. Such coldness would surely extinguish the severe pain caused by the burning. The ashes held in his hand were quickly swallowed up by the sea water, and the sparse light spots of dawn moved with the slow waves, lingering between Malik's palms and fingers. / "Your lover, what's his name?" The Master Chief nodded. Malik thought, no one has ever asked such a question in twenty years, and he has not mentioned this name again in twenty years. "Altaïr." Finally, Malik replied softly, his throat full of sorrow, but he held back the tears in order to let his lover rest in peace forever. "Altaïr Ibn-LaʼAhad means bird in your language." ☞ Shipping time THRIVE is an independent design studio. It currently operates with a small quantity of ready stock and a customized order. The shipping date ranges from 7 to 14 working days after the order is successfully placed. Urgent orders or other special needs are welcome to discuss via customer service. , thank you for your support and understanding! ☞ Precautions After the natural materials such as pearls, crystals and other semi- Gemstone are selected, cut and polished, the color, shape or size of each pearl will be slightly different. Natural materials may also have traces of imperfections and gaps, which will be matched by the studio. Shipments are random and no selection is allowed; due to manual assembly and production, the length of the finished product may have a dimensional error within 3 mm; the product may have color differences due to differences in lighting or electronic display screens during shooting, and the actual product shall prevail. ; None of the above are within the range of defects that can be returned or exchanged. Do not apply for a return or exchange on the grounds of "defects / different from your imagination / different from the product photo".