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Nothing else would do. Neena had suggested several alternatives that she could think of being successfully substituted for mandrake when used in medicinal remedies. But, no. Apparently mandrake wasn't so easy to swap out of recipes that were designed to kill someone.
Painful and slow, quick and silent, Neena didn't care; she couldn't help but feel a certain level of distaste for Kreios' profession, even as she travelled with him between the kingdoms of Africa. It wasn't necessarily that she disliked the fact that his income was dictated by death but more a case that she hated the idea of people poisoning an enemy. It just seemed so cowardly and pathetic to her. Just talk it out. And if you couldn't talk it out, at least be a man (or woman) about it and confront your enemy face to face. Why the need to sneak and kill on the sly?
The only reason that Neena could think of was to avoid getting the blame for someone's death which meant you were intending to stick around in the location of the murder and that you probably had a gluttonous or greedy reason for removing your victim from the equation. And Neena had never been able to understand such desire. Money, lust, power... you could have everything you wanted in life if you just let go of the materialistic need to measure your success by the eyes of others. People were so caught up in needing something more in their lives, they never seemed to appreciate what they already had.
Kreios was a perfect example. Determined to get the next item he needed for his 'remedies'... determined to make his next sale, to travel to his next client. He seemed to genuinely find the experiences in between a nuisance and a hindrance to his plans. What he seemed to not be able to grasp was the fact that that bit - the bit he was annoyed at and so deliberately ignored - was life. It was the thing that he surely made money to be able to improve? Else, why bother?
Neena shook her head as she walked the streets of the lower ends of Cairo. She just didn't get it.
Not one to harp on a subject (even in her own head) or judge others by her own measuring stick, Neena threw the notions away and focused on what she was doing.
Mandrake root.
When Kreios' ship had sailed down the Nile and reached the port of Cairo, depositing the both of them on the sands of the Pharaoh, they had been intent on picking up some of ingredients Kreios was missing in his stock. Unfortunately, their timing had been a little off and they had arrived in the middle of the Feast for the Gods. A huge parade through the roads had made market day defunct and Kreios was planning to leave the Egyptian shores before next week's trading day came about.
Explaining that she would be absent for an afternoon, Neena had left the ship and headed into the streets looking for someone she had met nearly nine months ago when she had last passed through Egypt.
Given the price of high-quality mandrake root, she had a fairly confident notion that Nyrla would have some to offer. Or, worst case scenario, know where Neena might get her hands on some so that she could shut up Grumps for the remainder of the journey to Greece.
Whilst the home of the woman she had met last year was mobile and nomadic in nature and no longer set up where she had last found it, it didn't take long for Neena to find what she was looking for. A question here, a momentary query in the right ear, and she was directed to a far-out corner of the poorer areas of Cairo.
On a particular street - half way between where buildings transformed into sturdier structures for the middle classes and the outer walls of the city - there was an open space.
Clearly once a junction of roads, one of which had fallen into misuse and another being used for storage of the stores that backed onto its cobblestone walkway, the area that Nyrla had set up for herself was a cross roads that was now a single corner. Fixing hooks and fastenings to the buildings nearby, the trader had rigged her tent across the open space, turning the two remaining streets into a front and back entrance.
The structure she had created was L-shaped around the corner with additional branches into the darker alleys. Like some giant spider made of capes and cloaks of bright colours, stretching into the human world from a pit in the centre of the intersection.
With a soft smile on her lips, Neena approached the tent, her eyes glancing over the bold geometric shapes and patterns over the sheeting in tones of deep red and passionate plum. Some of the edges had tassels, some were hemmed. Others offered a string of bells that gave only the smallest of tinkling sounds in the non-existent breeze. So small, it might have been missed.
From previous visits, Neena knew that the inside would be just as coated in overlapping sheaths of tapestry. The floor would be so thick with them you could sleep upon them, the walls thin enough to let it dimmed sunlight through the weaves but casting patterns on every surface. Nyrla liked to feel cosy, as far as she could work out.
At the front entrance of the tent, where a flap was held up upon two sticks, clearly indicating it as an opening but the inner sanctum of the tent too dark to make out, a young boy sat upon the stonework of the road beneath. He wore little more than rags and sat with his legs crossed, his little jaw working on something between his teeth. He watched her with an angry, distrustful look.
When Neena approached, he put out a hand, palm outwards and grumbled with poor intonation for her to wait. She duly did so, her little leather thongs brushing the dusty ground as she hovered. The child disappeared inside the tent, likely to mention the visitor's presence, their appearance etc. so that the proprietor inside knew whether they wanted to grant them an audience.
The fact that the kid had darted indoors was a good omen to Neena, given that that had to mean that Nyrla was at least inside her slumberous home. The likelihood that she was alone - given one of her primary businesses - was fairly low though, so Neena was understanding of needing to check with the boss lady before a potential customer was sent inside.
Once she had been given the permission to enter by the little street kid with the belligerent stare, Neena smiled brightly in return (the child's face darkened further) and ducked in order to enter the tent.
Once through the doorway there was no need to duck as the tent was immense, its patterned roofing nearly two storeys high from where it was affixed to nearby structures. It held a deep and dark chasmous feeling, with the warm and cosy hues of the fabric staining everything in the colours of heat. Little lamps hung from particular points, smoking incense, whilst every corner, floor and wall's edge were coated in cushions and silks. The entire place felt like a lost Arabian tomb of treasures and sensual pleasure as it set off the eyes, nose and even ears with the tinkling noise of charms handing along the structure's frame.
Despite the place having moved since last she'd seen it and its main corners and walls different in shape to its last variation, Nyrla had certainly recreated her home in the same effect and tonal atmosphere as it had had before.
Taking only a few steps inside and not wanting to outstay the offer of entrance by charging about the place, Neena waited with her hands folded behind her back, looking around at everything, breathing in the scent of frankincense and dark spices, her attentions duly distracted until Nyrla arrived from the further depths of her cavernous home.
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Sept 19, 2019 15:40:41 GMT
Posted In Trading Scars on Sept 19, 2019 15:40:41 GMT
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Mandrake root.
Nothing else would do. Neena had suggested several alternatives that she could think of being successfully substituted for mandrake when used in medicinal remedies. But, no. Apparently mandrake wasn't so easy to swap out of recipes that were designed to kill someone.
Painful and slow, quick and silent, Neena didn't care; she couldn't help but feel a certain level of distaste for Kreios' profession, even as she travelled with him between the kingdoms of Africa. It wasn't necessarily that she disliked the fact that his income was dictated by death but more a case that she hated the idea of people poisoning an enemy. It just seemed so cowardly and pathetic to her. Just talk it out. And if you couldn't talk it out, at least be a man (or woman) about it and confront your enemy face to face. Why the need to sneak and kill on the sly?
The only reason that Neena could think of was to avoid getting the blame for someone's death which meant you were intending to stick around in the location of the murder and that you probably had a gluttonous or greedy reason for removing your victim from the equation. And Neena had never been able to understand such desire. Money, lust, power... you could have everything you wanted in life if you just let go of the materialistic need to measure your success by the eyes of others. People were so caught up in needing something more in their lives, they never seemed to appreciate what they already had.
Kreios was a perfect example. Determined to get the next item he needed for his 'remedies'... determined to make his next sale, to travel to his next client. He seemed to genuinely find the experiences in between a nuisance and a hindrance to his plans. What he seemed to not be able to grasp was the fact that that bit - the bit he was annoyed at and so deliberately ignored - was life. It was the thing that he surely made money to be able to improve? Else, why bother?
Neena shook her head as she walked the streets of the lower ends of Cairo. She just didn't get it.
Not one to harp on a subject (even in her own head) or judge others by her own measuring stick, Neena threw the notions away and focused on what she was doing.
Mandrake root.
When Kreios' ship had sailed down the Nile and reached the port of Cairo, depositing the both of them on the sands of the Pharaoh, they had been intent on picking up some of ingredients Kreios was missing in his stock. Unfortunately, their timing had been a little off and they had arrived in the middle of the Feast for the Gods. A huge parade through the roads had made market day defunct and Kreios was planning to leave the Egyptian shores before next week's trading day came about.
Explaining that she would be absent for an afternoon, Neena had left the ship and headed into the streets looking for someone she had met nearly nine months ago when she had last passed through Egypt.
Given the price of high-quality mandrake root, she had a fairly confident notion that Nyrla would have some to offer. Or, worst case scenario, know where Neena might get her hands on some so that she could shut up Grumps for the remainder of the journey to Greece.
Whilst the home of the woman she had met last year was mobile and nomadic in nature and no longer set up where she had last found it, it didn't take long for Neena to find what she was looking for. A question here, a momentary query in the right ear, and she was directed to a far-out corner of the poorer areas of Cairo.
On a particular street - half way between where buildings transformed into sturdier structures for the middle classes and the outer walls of the city - there was an open space.
Clearly once a junction of roads, one of which had fallen into misuse and another being used for storage of the stores that backed onto its cobblestone walkway, the area that Nyrla had set up for herself was a cross roads that was now a single corner. Fixing hooks and fastenings to the buildings nearby, the trader had rigged her tent across the open space, turning the two remaining streets into a front and back entrance.
The structure she had created was L-shaped around the corner with additional branches into the darker alleys. Like some giant spider made of capes and cloaks of bright colours, stretching into the human world from a pit in the centre of the intersection.
With a soft smile on her lips, Neena approached the tent, her eyes glancing over the bold geometric shapes and patterns over the sheeting in tones of deep red and passionate plum. Some of the edges had tassels, some were hemmed. Others offered a string of bells that gave only the smallest of tinkling sounds in the non-existent breeze. So small, it might have been missed.
From previous visits, Neena knew that the inside would be just as coated in overlapping sheaths of tapestry. The floor would be so thick with them you could sleep upon them, the walls thin enough to let it dimmed sunlight through the weaves but casting patterns on every surface. Nyrla liked to feel cosy, as far as she could work out.
At the front entrance of the tent, where a flap was held up upon two sticks, clearly indicating it as an opening but the inner sanctum of the tent too dark to make out, a young boy sat upon the stonework of the road beneath. He wore little more than rags and sat with his legs crossed, his little jaw working on something between his teeth. He watched her with an angry, distrustful look.
When Neena approached, he put out a hand, palm outwards and grumbled with poor intonation for her to wait. She duly did so, her little leather thongs brushing the dusty ground as she hovered. The child disappeared inside the tent, likely to mention the visitor's presence, their appearance etc. so that the proprietor inside knew whether they wanted to grant them an audience.
The fact that the kid had darted indoors was a good omen to Neena, given that that had to mean that Nyrla was at least inside her slumberous home. The likelihood that she was alone - given one of her primary businesses - was fairly low though, so Neena was understanding of needing to check with the boss lady before a potential customer was sent inside.
Once she had been given the permission to enter by the little street kid with the belligerent stare, Neena smiled brightly in return (the child's face darkened further) and ducked in order to enter the tent.
Once through the doorway there was no need to duck as the tent was immense, its patterned roofing nearly two storeys high from where it was affixed to nearby structures. It held a deep and dark chasmous feeling, with the warm and cosy hues of the fabric staining everything in the colours of heat. Little lamps hung from particular points, smoking incense, whilst every corner, floor and wall's edge were coated in cushions and silks. The entire place felt like a lost Arabian tomb of treasures and sensual pleasure as it set off the eyes, nose and even ears with the tinkling noise of charms handing along the structure's frame.
Despite the place having moved since last she'd seen it and its main corners and walls different in shape to its last variation, Nyrla had certainly recreated her home in the same effect and tonal atmosphere as it had had before.
Taking only a few steps inside and not wanting to outstay the offer of entrance by charging about the place, Neena waited with her hands folded behind her back, looking around at everything, breathing in the scent of frankincense and dark spices, her attentions duly distracted until Nyrla arrived from the further depths of her cavernous home.
Mandrake root.
Nothing else would do. Neena had suggested several alternatives that she could think of being successfully substituted for mandrake when used in medicinal remedies. But, no. Apparently mandrake wasn't so easy to swap out of recipes that were designed to kill someone.
Painful and slow, quick and silent, Neena didn't care; she couldn't help but feel a certain level of distaste for Kreios' profession, even as she travelled with him between the kingdoms of Africa. It wasn't necessarily that she disliked the fact that his income was dictated by death but more a case that she hated the idea of people poisoning an enemy. It just seemed so cowardly and pathetic to her. Just talk it out. And if you couldn't talk it out, at least be a man (or woman) about it and confront your enemy face to face. Why the need to sneak and kill on the sly?
The only reason that Neena could think of was to avoid getting the blame for someone's death which meant you were intending to stick around in the location of the murder and that you probably had a gluttonous or greedy reason for removing your victim from the equation. And Neena had never been able to understand such desire. Money, lust, power... you could have everything you wanted in life if you just let go of the materialistic need to measure your success by the eyes of others. People were so caught up in needing something more in their lives, they never seemed to appreciate what they already had.
Kreios was a perfect example. Determined to get the next item he needed for his 'remedies'... determined to make his next sale, to travel to his next client. He seemed to genuinely find the experiences in between a nuisance and a hindrance to his plans. What he seemed to not be able to grasp was the fact that that bit - the bit he was annoyed at and so deliberately ignored - was life. It was the thing that he surely made money to be able to improve? Else, why bother?
Neena shook her head as she walked the streets of the lower ends of Cairo. She just didn't get it.
Not one to harp on a subject (even in her own head) or judge others by her own measuring stick, Neena threw the notions away and focused on what she was doing.
Mandrake root.
When Kreios' ship had sailed down the Nile and reached the port of Cairo, depositing the both of them on the sands of the Pharaoh, they had been intent on picking up some of ingredients Kreios was missing in his stock. Unfortunately, their timing had been a little off and they had arrived in the middle of the Feast for the Gods. A huge parade through the roads had made market day defunct and Kreios was planning to leave the Egyptian shores before next week's trading day came about.
Explaining that she would be absent for an afternoon, Neena had left the ship and headed into the streets looking for someone she had met nearly nine months ago when she had last passed through Egypt.
Given the price of high-quality mandrake root, she had a fairly confident notion that Nyrla would have some to offer. Or, worst case scenario, know where Neena might get her hands on some so that she could shut up Grumps for the remainder of the journey to Greece.
Whilst the home of the woman she had met last year was mobile and nomadic in nature and no longer set up where she had last found it, it didn't take long for Neena to find what she was looking for. A question here, a momentary query in the right ear, and she was directed to a far-out corner of the poorer areas of Cairo.
On a particular street - half way between where buildings transformed into sturdier structures for the middle classes and the outer walls of the city - there was an open space.
Clearly once a junction of roads, one of which had fallen into misuse and another being used for storage of the stores that backed onto its cobblestone walkway, the area that Nyrla had set up for herself was a cross roads that was now a single corner. Fixing hooks and fastenings to the buildings nearby, the trader had rigged her tent across the open space, turning the two remaining streets into a front and back entrance.
The structure she had created was L-shaped around the corner with additional branches into the darker alleys. Like some giant spider made of capes and cloaks of bright colours, stretching into the human world from a pit in the centre of the intersection.
With a soft smile on her lips, Neena approached the tent, her eyes glancing over the bold geometric shapes and patterns over the sheeting in tones of deep red and passionate plum. Some of the edges had tassels, some were hemmed. Others offered a string of bells that gave only the smallest of tinkling sounds in the non-existent breeze. So small, it might have been missed.
From previous visits, Neena knew that the inside would be just as coated in overlapping sheaths of tapestry. The floor would be so thick with them you could sleep upon them, the walls thin enough to let it dimmed sunlight through the weaves but casting patterns on every surface. Nyrla liked to feel cosy, as far as she could work out.
At the front entrance of the tent, where a flap was held up upon two sticks, clearly indicating it as an opening but the inner sanctum of the tent too dark to make out, a young boy sat upon the stonework of the road beneath. He wore little more than rags and sat with his legs crossed, his little jaw working on something between his teeth. He watched her with an angry, distrustful look.
When Neena approached, he put out a hand, palm outwards and grumbled with poor intonation for her to wait. She duly did so, her little leather thongs brushing the dusty ground as she hovered. The child disappeared inside the tent, likely to mention the visitor's presence, their appearance etc. so that the proprietor inside knew whether they wanted to grant them an audience.
The fact that the kid had darted indoors was a good omen to Neena, given that that had to mean that Nyrla was at least inside her slumberous home. The likelihood that she was alone - given one of her primary businesses - was fairly low though, so Neena was understanding of needing to check with the boss lady before a potential customer was sent inside.
Once she had been given the permission to enter by the little street kid with the belligerent stare, Neena smiled brightly in return (the child's face darkened further) and ducked in order to enter the tent.
Once through the doorway there was no need to duck as the tent was immense, its patterned roofing nearly two storeys high from where it was affixed to nearby structures. It held a deep and dark chasmous feeling, with the warm and cosy hues of the fabric staining everything in the colours of heat. Little lamps hung from particular points, smoking incense, whilst every corner, floor and wall's edge were coated in cushions and silks. The entire place felt like a lost Arabian tomb of treasures and sensual pleasure as it set off the eyes, nose and even ears with the tinkling noise of charms handing along the structure's frame.
Despite the place having moved since last she'd seen it and its main corners and walls different in shape to its last variation, Nyrla had certainly recreated her home in the same effect and tonal atmosphere as it had had before.
Taking only a few steps inside and not wanting to outstay the offer of entrance by charging about the place, Neena waited with her hands folded behind her back, looking around at everything, breathing in the scent of frankincense and dark spices, her attentions duly distracted until Nyrla arrived from the further depths of her cavernous home.
Neena would have been kept waiting for but a short while before the little fellow came running back, still with an unwaveringly grumpy expression. The woman would have been offered entry into the tent, and a rather broad choice of places to seat herself while waiting.
It wasn't a proper quarter hour before she'd come to see a trio of figures emerging from further within the silken cavern. But a minor strain of the eyes would have revealed Nyrlathotep escorting two winded young fellows out the other end of the tent, just barely visible in the colorful murk several dozen paces away from the entrance at which Neena would have been let in. The mute woman gave the lads a playful slap across the back each and waved them off as they left, before dragging the flaps of that particular entrance to her home closed and turning to where her new guest was seated.
With the unnanounced woman in her sights, Nyrla paused a moment, visibly struggling to recall her appearance. She met entirely too many people on the daily, and remembering everyone's face off the top of her head was an entirely impossible effort to parttake in. Thankfully, however, recognition did light up her face after a moment, and she strode forward to embrace her friend... press their bodies together, and lift her off the ground for good measure.
Nyrla's skin was greasy with sweat, and the scent of perfume and men hung heavy about her, and her tattoos could have been considered more concealing than the pair of cloth straps she'd covered herself with in the wake of conducting business.
After a moment, she'd let go of Neena and her fingers would begin to work away at her quiet sign-speech, eager to see if her friend remembered ought of what she'd tried to teach her when they'd last seen each other, though, even if she didn't, Nyrlathotep could just as easily have had the urchin boy speak in her stead, albeit grumpily and with the occasional stutter.
''It's been a long while. Are you for some tea? Wine? What brings you to my tent, friend?'', the woman's hands inquired.
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Dec 31, 2019 14:03:27 GMT
Posted In Trading Scars on Dec 31, 2019 14:03:27 GMT
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Neena would have been kept waiting for but a short while before the little fellow came running back, still with an unwaveringly grumpy expression. The woman would have been offered entry into the tent, and a rather broad choice of places to seat herself while waiting.
It wasn't a proper quarter hour before she'd come to see a trio of figures emerging from further within the silken cavern. But a minor strain of the eyes would have revealed Nyrlathotep escorting two winded young fellows out the other end of the tent, just barely visible in the colorful murk several dozen paces away from the entrance at which Neena would have been let in. The mute woman gave the lads a playful slap across the back each and waved them off as they left, before dragging the flaps of that particular entrance to her home closed and turning to where her new guest was seated.
With the unnanounced woman in her sights, Nyrla paused a moment, visibly struggling to recall her appearance. She met entirely too many people on the daily, and remembering everyone's face off the top of her head was an entirely impossible effort to parttake in. Thankfully, however, recognition did light up her face after a moment, and she strode forward to embrace her friend... press their bodies together, and lift her off the ground for good measure.
Nyrla's skin was greasy with sweat, and the scent of perfume and men hung heavy about her, and her tattoos could have been considered more concealing than the pair of cloth straps she'd covered herself with in the wake of conducting business.
After a moment, she'd let go of Neena and her fingers would begin to work away at her quiet sign-speech, eager to see if her friend remembered ought of what she'd tried to teach her when they'd last seen each other, though, even if she didn't, Nyrlathotep could just as easily have had the urchin boy speak in her stead, albeit grumpily and with the occasional stutter.
''It's been a long while. Are you for some tea? Wine? What brings you to my tent, friend?'', the woman's hands inquired.
Neena would have been kept waiting for but a short while before the little fellow came running back, still with an unwaveringly grumpy expression. The woman would have been offered entry into the tent, and a rather broad choice of places to seat herself while waiting.
It wasn't a proper quarter hour before she'd come to see a trio of figures emerging from further within the silken cavern. But a minor strain of the eyes would have revealed Nyrlathotep escorting two winded young fellows out the other end of the tent, just barely visible in the colorful murk several dozen paces away from the entrance at which Neena would have been let in. The mute woman gave the lads a playful slap across the back each and waved them off as they left, before dragging the flaps of that particular entrance to her home closed and turning to where her new guest was seated.
With the unnanounced woman in her sights, Nyrla paused a moment, visibly struggling to recall her appearance. She met entirely too many people on the daily, and remembering everyone's face off the top of her head was an entirely impossible effort to parttake in. Thankfully, however, recognition did light up her face after a moment, and she strode forward to embrace her friend... press their bodies together, and lift her off the ground for good measure.
Nyrla's skin was greasy with sweat, and the scent of perfume and men hung heavy about her, and her tattoos could have been considered more concealing than the pair of cloth straps she'd covered herself with in the wake of conducting business.
After a moment, she'd let go of Neena and her fingers would begin to work away at her quiet sign-speech, eager to see if her friend remembered ought of what she'd tried to teach her when they'd last seen each other, though, even if she didn't, Nyrlathotep could just as easily have had the urchin boy speak in her stead, albeit grumpily and with the occasional stutter.
''It's been a long while. Are you for some tea? Wine? What brings you to my tent, friend?'', the woman's hands inquired.
Neena had always loved Nyrla's tent. When she had joined the Bedoan tribe of Zaire, she had felt the hawes of the Leier were similar to the large canvas cavern that Nyrlathotep favoured for her mobile home. The colours, the shapes, the overlap of the flaps changing the way in which light fell upon those inside, distorting the images and shadows over the gauzy walls of the structure.
The only element of the place that Neena struggled with was the smell and fogginess of incense and recreational smoke. It was clinging and while pleasant initially, after a while, it had Neena wishing for the fresh and open air behind on the tented enclosure.
Waiting a short while and looking about herself at the pretty items and chests of goods that Nyrla hoarded and traded, Neena wasn't particularly fazed when the woman appeared from likely lascivious activities beyond the eyes of her guests. As strangers left the tent and its owner turned her full attention upon Neena, the visitor felt no discomfort in the other's state of dress - or lack thereof. Instead, she simply ignored it, accepting Nyrla's wild ways in the same way that she embraced her own wayward tendencies.
Smiling brightly in the darkened gloom of the tent, Neena nodded at the first option given to her and found herself a place on the cushioned seating when she was offered it.
"Tea, please." She said with an open thanks to her tone. Whilst Neena liked a drink and sexual conduct as much as the next person, such habits were a little much for her first thing in the morning. "And I have been sent by a grump of a man to seek out mandrake root." She answered, curling her legs into a crossed position on the floor, her feet coming up to rest on her knees and her elbows rested upon her knees. "I don't suppose you have such a stock at the moment?"
Neena knew well that Nyrlathotep was no normal merchant and didn't keep items continuously in stock. She traded in what was valuable at the time, and only ever had a continuous store of that which she sold with regularity to particular customers. Everything else, you just had to try and see...
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Jan 22, 2020 19:09:16 GMT
Posted In Trading Scars on Jan 22, 2020 19:09:16 GMT
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Neena had always loved Nyrla's tent. When she had joined the Bedoan tribe of Zaire, she had felt the hawes of the Leier were similar to the large canvas cavern that Nyrlathotep favoured for her mobile home. The colours, the shapes, the overlap of the flaps changing the way in which light fell upon those inside, distorting the images and shadows over the gauzy walls of the structure.
The only element of the place that Neena struggled with was the smell and fogginess of incense and recreational smoke. It was clinging and while pleasant initially, after a while, it had Neena wishing for the fresh and open air behind on the tented enclosure.
Waiting a short while and looking about herself at the pretty items and chests of goods that Nyrla hoarded and traded, Neena wasn't particularly fazed when the woman appeared from likely lascivious activities beyond the eyes of her guests. As strangers left the tent and its owner turned her full attention upon Neena, the visitor felt no discomfort in the other's state of dress - or lack thereof. Instead, she simply ignored it, accepting Nyrla's wild ways in the same way that she embraced her own wayward tendencies.
Smiling brightly in the darkened gloom of the tent, Neena nodded at the first option given to her and found herself a place on the cushioned seating when she was offered it.
"Tea, please." She said with an open thanks to her tone. Whilst Neena liked a drink and sexual conduct as much as the next person, such habits were a little much for her first thing in the morning. "And I have been sent by a grump of a man to seek out mandrake root." She answered, curling her legs into a crossed position on the floor, her feet coming up to rest on her knees and her elbows rested upon her knees. "I don't suppose you have such a stock at the moment?"
Neena knew well that Nyrlathotep was no normal merchant and didn't keep items continuously in stock. She traded in what was valuable at the time, and only ever had a continuous store of that which she sold with regularity to particular customers. Everything else, you just had to try and see...
Neena had always loved Nyrla's tent. When she had joined the Bedoan tribe of Zaire, she had felt the hawes of the Leier were similar to the large canvas cavern that Nyrlathotep favoured for her mobile home. The colours, the shapes, the overlap of the flaps changing the way in which light fell upon those inside, distorting the images and shadows over the gauzy walls of the structure.
The only element of the place that Neena struggled with was the smell and fogginess of incense and recreational smoke. It was clinging and while pleasant initially, after a while, it had Neena wishing for the fresh and open air behind on the tented enclosure.
Waiting a short while and looking about herself at the pretty items and chests of goods that Nyrla hoarded and traded, Neena wasn't particularly fazed when the woman appeared from likely lascivious activities beyond the eyes of her guests. As strangers left the tent and its owner turned her full attention upon Neena, the visitor felt no discomfort in the other's state of dress - or lack thereof. Instead, she simply ignored it, accepting Nyrla's wild ways in the same way that she embraced her own wayward tendencies.
Smiling brightly in the darkened gloom of the tent, Neena nodded at the first option given to her and found herself a place on the cushioned seating when she was offered it.
"Tea, please." She said with an open thanks to her tone. Whilst Neena liked a drink and sexual conduct as much as the next person, such habits were a little much for her first thing in the morning. "And I have been sent by a grump of a man to seek out mandrake root." She answered, curling her legs into a crossed position on the floor, her feet coming up to rest on her knees and her elbows rested upon her knees. "I don't suppose you have such a stock at the moment?"
Neena knew well that Nyrlathotep was no normal merchant and didn't keep items continuously in stock. She traded in what was valuable at the time, and only ever had a continuous store of that which she sold with regularity to particular customers. Everything else, you just had to try and see...
Nafretiri had hated being so close to the taverns and brothels while traveling earlier. She knew the rumors that circulated among the other priestesses concerning herself and Aneksi, no matter how she had tried to stop them. The truth was that very few people knew why she felt she had had to come to the temple of Hathor, and those who did often knew they couldn't stop other people from speculation.
Namely, from speculating that she was really a former prostitute who might have reformed her ways once she knew she was with child. Even remembering now, Nafretiri snorted, though she also felt sad in a way that some people's minds never seemed to progress beyond what they wanted to think. Being open to other perspectives might initiate true change, and some people seemed not to want that.
This assumption also bothered her for the sake of her own safety, though, and knowing that she had to pass by an area known for taverns and brothels made her nervous, to say nothing of crossing the desert- at least partway- alone.
But where were those stupid onions, anyway? She wasn't looking for just any old onion, but the ones people called "walking onions." They did look like a person walking in a way. If she hadn't needed them for a specific potion, and if she hadn't been particularly frustrated with her inability to find them lately, the comparison almost would have made her laugh.
They were also called tree onions, though they didn't look like any trees she'd ever seen before.
She hated traveling alone in general, but sometimes there was just no choice, no matter how unprotected she always felt. Sometimes, people asked for very specific things in the potions they purchased.
Speaking of specific things, Nafretiri heard a familiar voice speaking as she prepared to enter a merchant's tent. Something about wanting mandrake root.
Despite herself, Nafretiri smirked. Yes, she knew mandrake root could be used as a poison, but she knew from growing up in Jerusalem that it could also be used for something else... something that Nafretiri suspected could be beautiful if one found the right person and wanted to start a family. Even she thought it was a little strange how she shied away from sex due to fear, but could find a sort of happiness thinking of others finding love.
"Neena! It's good to see you. Have you found a man you like, then?"
Whether Neena might like to have sex with the man or to poison him, Nafretiri did not ask.
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Nafretiri had hated being so close to the taverns and brothels while traveling earlier. She knew the rumors that circulated among the other priestesses concerning herself and Aneksi, no matter how she had tried to stop them. The truth was that very few people knew why she felt she had had to come to the temple of Hathor, and those who did often knew they couldn't stop other people from speculation.
Namely, from speculating that she was really a former prostitute who might have reformed her ways once she knew she was with child. Even remembering now, Nafretiri snorted, though she also felt sad in a way that some people's minds never seemed to progress beyond what they wanted to think. Being open to other perspectives might initiate true change, and some people seemed not to want that.
This assumption also bothered her for the sake of her own safety, though, and knowing that she had to pass by an area known for taverns and brothels made her nervous, to say nothing of crossing the desert- at least partway- alone.
But where were those stupid onions, anyway? She wasn't looking for just any old onion, but the ones people called "walking onions." They did look like a person walking in a way. If she hadn't needed them for a specific potion, and if she hadn't been particularly frustrated with her inability to find them lately, the comparison almost would have made her laugh.
They were also called tree onions, though they didn't look like any trees she'd ever seen before.
She hated traveling alone in general, but sometimes there was just no choice, no matter how unprotected she always felt. Sometimes, people asked for very specific things in the potions they purchased.
Speaking of specific things, Nafretiri heard a familiar voice speaking as she prepared to enter a merchant's tent. Something about wanting mandrake root.
Despite herself, Nafretiri smirked. Yes, she knew mandrake root could be used as a poison, but she knew from growing up in Jerusalem that it could also be used for something else... something that Nafretiri suspected could be beautiful if one found the right person and wanted to start a family. Even she thought it was a little strange how she shied away from sex due to fear, but could find a sort of happiness thinking of others finding love.
"Neena! It's good to see you. Have you found a man you like, then?"
Whether Neena might like to have sex with the man or to poison him, Nafretiri did not ask.
Nafretiri had hated being so close to the taverns and brothels while traveling earlier. She knew the rumors that circulated among the other priestesses concerning herself and Aneksi, no matter how she had tried to stop them. The truth was that very few people knew why she felt she had had to come to the temple of Hathor, and those who did often knew they couldn't stop other people from speculation.
Namely, from speculating that she was really a former prostitute who might have reformed her ways once she knew she was with child. Even remembering now, Nafretiri snorted, though she also felt sad in a way that some people's minds never seemed to progress beyond what they wanted to think. Being open to other perspectives might initiate true change, and some people seemed not to want that.
This assumption also bothered her for the sake of her own safety, though, and knowing that she had to pass by an area known for taverns and brothels made her nervous, to say nothing of crossing the desert- at least partway- alone.
But where were those stupid onions, anyway? She wasn't looking for just any old onion, but the ones people called "walking onions." They did look like a person walking in a way. If she hadn't needed them for a specific potion, and if she hadn't been particularly frustrated with her inability to find them lately, the comparison almost would have made her laugh.
They were also called tree onions, though they didn't look like any trees she'd ever seen before.
She hated traveling alone in general, but sometimes there was just no choice, no matter how unprotected she always felt. Sometimes, people asked for very specific things in the potions they purchased.
Speaking of specific things, Nafretiri heard a familiar voice speaking as she prepared to enter a merchant's tent. Something about wanting mandrake root.
Despite herself, Nafretiri smirked. Yes, she knew mandrake root could be used as a poison, but she knew from growing up in Jerusalem that it could also be used for something else... something that Nafretiri suspected could be beautiful if one found the right person and wanted to start a family. Even she thought it was a little strange how she shied away from sex due to fear, but could find a sort of happiness thinking of others finding love.
"Neena! It's good to see you. Have you found a man you like, then?"
Whether Neena might like to have sex with the man or to poison him, Nafretiri did not ask.
At the mention of mandrake, Nyrla shook a knowing finger at her friend.
Silly woman... who do you take me for?
She'd turned to the ill-tempered boy, presenting a series of relatively complex hand motions which the lad would've stopped attempting to translate after taking a moment to realize he was being addressed as opposed to needing to speak to the customer on Nyrla's behalf.
Get Annipe and tell her to bring tea for two, and you go to Gamal and tell him I sent you for a pouch of mandrake roots.
''Do I really have to...?'', the child asked, exasparated.
Nyrla sternly pointed a finger toward the silk portal that led deeper into the tent, and then to the exit.
''Ugh... fine.'', the boy replied grumpily, disappearing into the bowels of the tent briefly, only to reemerge some few odd ticks later, headed for the same entrance through which Nyrla escorted her latest clients. There he would stop, being passed by by another woman, apparently a customer. He turned on his heel and dismissively hollered: ''You've got another one!'', over at the niche where Nyrla and Neena sat, before shuffling past this new arrival and disappearing down the street to see to the chore he so loathed.
Nyrla, having just seated herself across the way from her friend, quirked a brow at this new arrival's greeting and tease to her guest. She turned to Neena with a quirked brow and a coy smirk. She needed no words or signs to have someone read I see you two are reather familiar already. and Have you ''found a man you like'', indeed?
She would await to see whatever exchange Neena had to offer to this new arrival. Alternatively, she would wait for her next urchin, a shaven-headded girl of nine summers, to emerge carrying two clay cups of cooled herbal bevrage, before presenting signs for the child to translate to the new customer and potentially help explain to Neena. ''Good day to you. How might we be of help?'', to Nafre, and: "Latif should be back within the hour with what you requested, he could be back in half... but he's seemingly decided to be an ass today.", the final part of the latter statement being passed on with a heavy sigh of apologetic, parental laughter, from both the grown, muscular, etched woman... and the innocent nine year old.
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At the mention of mandrake, Nyrla shook a knowing finger at her friend.
Silly woman... who do you take me for?
She'd turned to the ill-tempered boy, presenting a series of relatively complex hand motions which the lad would've stopped attempting to translate after taking a moment to realize he was being addressed as opposed to needing to speak to the customer on Nyrla's behalf.
Get Annipe and tell her to bring tea for two, and you go to Gamal and tell him I sent you for a pouch of mandrake roots.
''Do I really have to...?'', the child asked, exasparated.
Nyrla sternly pointed a finger toward the silk portal that led deeper into the tent, and then to the exit.
''Ugh... fine.'', the boy replied grumpily, disappearing into the bowels of the tent briefly, only to reemerge some few odd ticks later, headed for the same entrance through which Nyrla escorted her latest clients. There he would stop, being passed by by another woman, apparently a customer. He turned on his heel and dismissively hollered: ''You've got another one!'', over at the niche where Nyrla and Neena sat, before shuffling past this new arrival and disappearing down the street to see to the chore he so loathed.
Nyrla, having just seated herself across the way from her friend, quirked a brow at this new arrival's greeting and tease to her guest. She turned to Neena with a quirked brow and a coy smirk. She needed no words or signs to have someone read I see you two are reather familiar already. and Have you ''found a man you like'', indeed?
She would await to see whatever exchange Neena had to offer to this new arrival. Alternatively, she would wait for her next urchin, a shaven-headded girl of nine summers, to emerge carrying two clay cups of cooled herbal bevrage, before presenting signs for the child to translate to the new customer and potentially help explain to Neena. ''Good day to you. How might we be of help?'', to Nafre, and: "Latif should be back within the hour with what you requested, he could be back in half... but he's seemingly decided to be an ass today.", the final part of the latter statement being passed on with a heavy sigh of apologetic, parental laughter, from both the grown, muscular, etched woman... and the innocent nine year old.
At the mention of mandrake, Nyrla shook a knowing finger at her friend.
Silly woman... who do you take me for?
She'd turned to the ill-tempered boy, presenting a series of relatively complex hand motions which the lad would've stopped attempting to translate after taking a moment to realize he was being addressed as opposed to needing to speak to the customer on Nyrla's behalf.
Get Annipe and tell her to bring tea for two, and you go to Gamal and tell him I sent you for a pouch of mandrake roots.
''Do I really have to...?'', the child asked, exasparated.
Nyrla sternly pointed a finger toward the silk portal that led deeper into the tent, and then to the exit.
''Ugh... fine.'', the boy replied grumpily, disappearing into the bowels of the tent briefly, only to reemerge some few odd ticks later, headed for the same entrance through which Nyrla escorted her latest clients. There he would stop, being passed by by another woman, apparently a customer. He turned on his heel and dismissively hollered: ''You've got another one!'', over at the niche where Nyrla and Neena sat, before shuffling past this new arrival and disappearing down the street to see to the chore he so loathed.
Nyrla, having just seated herself across the way from her friend, quirked a brow at this new arrival's greeting and tease to her guest. She turned to Neena with a quirked brow and a coy smirk. She needed no words or signs to have someone read I see you two are reather familiar already. and Have you ''found a man you like'', indeed?
She would await to see whatever exchange Neena had to offer to this new arrival. Alternatively, she would wait for her next urchin, a shaven-headded girl of nine summers, to emerge carrying two clay cups of cooled herbal bevrage, before presenting signs for the child to translate to the new customer and potentially help explain to Neena. ''Good day to you. How might we be of help?'', to Nafre, and: "Latif should be back within the hour with what you requested, he could be back in half... but he's seemingly decided to be an ass today.", the final part of the latter statement being passed on with a heavy sigh of apologetic, parental laughter, from both the grown, muscular, etched woman... and the innocent nine year old.
Neena had known Nyrla for a while and while she wasn't fluent in the signs that she made in order to speak, she knew a few of them well enough to get the basic gist of what she was saying when her words were simple enough or given in blunt sentences. When it was more complex - with tones of personality and details that were more specific - she was reliant on the young slave children that she used as her interpreters.
Some might have thought Neena to be disparaging of the use of children as slaves - especially given that she herself was one when she was of that age. Yet, the opposite was true. Her life as a slave had saved her from no life at all, left to die of exposure in the wilderness between Egypt and Bedoa. And she had had several masters in her time who had been kind to her, fed her and kept her warm on cold nights without expecting more than a simple day's hard work from her. Slavery itself was of no issue to Neena. She, specifically, had just come to resent and dislike the ties that bound through the business because of her unquenchable wanderlust. She needed to be free. And whilst others might flourish under a way of life looked after by others, Neena did not.
When another woman entered the tent, it was too dark and the image of her too masked by layers of hanging silks for Neena to notice her familiarity at first. Instead, it took a moment for her to step inside, towards one of the lit oil lamps, for the warm glow of light to illuminate her features and set her in Neena's mind as someone that she had met recently.
"Naf!" Neena said with a smile of surprise and welcome from where she was perched in a lotus position upon the cushions just a few steps from Nyrla. She waved and beckoned her forwards, unsure how the woman would feel when confronted with someone like Nyrla who was not your average woman.
At the priestess's next words and Nyrlathotep's knowing gaze, Neena made a funny expression with a twist of her lips and rolled her eyes at her.
"Oh, please." She denied with a shake of her head that sent her thick, curling hair flapping left and right. "The mandrake root is for him not for me to use on him." She stated. Then she blew the air from her lips in a light raspberry noise. "Not that I would want to if given the chance. The man is a total grump and entirely not. fun."
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Neena had known Nyrla for a while and while she wasn't fluent in the signs that she made in order to speak, she knew a few of them well enough to get the basic gist of what she was saying when her words were simple enough or given in blunt sentences. When it was more complex - with tones of personality and details that were more specific - she was reliant on the young slave children that she used as her interpreters.
Some might have thought Neena to be disparaging of the use of children as slaves - especially given that she herself was one when she was of that age. Yet, the opposite was true. Her life as a slave had saved her from no life at all, left to die of exposure in the wilderness between Egypt and Bedoa. And she had had several masters in her time who had been kind to her, fed her and kept her warm on cold nights without expecting more than a simple day's hard work from her. Slavery itself was of no issue to Neena. She, specifically, had just come to resent and dislike the ties that bound through the business because of her unquenchable wanderlust. She needed to be free. And whilst others might flourish under a way of life looked after by others, Neena did not.
When another woman entered the tent, it was too dark and the image of her too masked by layers of hanging silks for Neena to notice her familiarity at first. Instead, it took a moment for her to step inside, towards one of the lit oil lamps, for the warm glow of light to illuminate her features and set her in Neena's mind as someone that she had met recently.
"Naf!" Neena said with a smile of surprise and welcome from where she was perched in a lotus position upon the cushions just a few steps from Nyrla. She waved and beckoned her forwards, unsure how the woman would feel when confronted with someone like Nyrla who was not your average woman.
At the priestess's next words and Nyrlathotep's knowing gaze, Neena made a funny expression with a twist of her lips and rolled her eyes at her.
"Oh, please." She denied with a shake of her head that sent her thick, curling hair flapping left and right. "The mandrake root is for him not for me to use on him." She stated. Then she blew the air from her lips in a light raspberry noise. "Not that I would want to if given the chance. The man is a total grump and entirely not. fun."
Neena had known Nyrla for a while and while she wasn't fluent in the signs that she made in order to speak, she knew a few of them well enough to get the basic gist of what she was saying when her words were simple enough or given in blunt sentences. When it was more complex - with tones of personality and details that were more specific - she was reliant on the young slave children that she used as her interpreters.
Some might have thought Neena to be disparaging of the use of children as slaves - especially given that she herself was one when she was of that age. Yet, the opposite was true. Her life as a slave had saved her from no life at all, left to die of exposure in the wilderness between Egypt and Bedoa. And she had had several masters in her time who had been kind to her, fed her and kept her warm on cold nights without expecting more than a simple day's hard work from her. Slavery itself was of no issue to Neena. She, specifically, had just come to resent and dislike the ties that bound through the business because of her unquenchable wanderlust. She needed to be free. And whilst others might flourish under a way of life looked after by others, Neena did not.
When another woman entered the tent, it was too dark and the image of her too masked by layers of hanging silks for Neena to notice her familiarity at first. Instead, it took a moment for her to step inside, towards one of the lit oil lamps, for the warm glow of light to illuminate her features and set her in Neena's mind as someone that she had met recently.
"Naf!" Neena said with a smile of surprise and welcome from where she was perched in a lotus position upon the cushions just a few steps from Nyrla. She waved and beckoned her forwards, unsure how the woman would feel when confronted with someone like Nyrla who was not your average woman.
At the priestess's next words and Nyrlathotep's knowing gaze, Neena made a funny expression with a twist of her lips and rolled her eyes at her.
"Oh, please." She denied with a shake of her head that sent her thick, curling hair flapping left and right. "The mandrake root is for him not for me to use on him." She stated. Then she blew the air from her lips in a light raspberry noise. "Not that I would want to if given the chance. The man is a total grump and entirely not. fun."
Neena would probably have known why Nafretiri was not frightened of Nyria if she had ever seen Mother Sekhemu! All the same, this woman appeared to be a different kind of curiosity, and Nafretiri regarded her carefully all the same, though not unkindly, as she delicately seated herself on a cushion near Neena "Nice to meet you. I'm Nafretiri. Do you have any Walking Onions? I can't seem to find them anywhere in Thebes at the moment. That's why I'm here."
She turned to Neena after a minute, something about her words concerning the man raising a memory from last month that Nafretiri still found painful in some respects. Nafretiri felt torn between laughter- because that seemed to describe the man who'd taken her away perfectly- and tears.
"'A total grump and not fun?' Would this perhaps be the man who dragged you away at Opet? I saw that, by the way. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again, and I think it scared Aneksi, too."
If you only knew! Nafretiri thought with a shudder. It had indeed scared the little girl, who had wanted to say hello to Neena and wasn't sure why she hadn't been allowed to try to follow her mother. Not that Nafretiri thought Neena was incapable of handling herself. She was probably a better fighter than Nafretiri, so Nafretiri thought the man likely wouldn't have gotten far if he were going to try anything. But it wasn't just that.
"I ought to thrash him- for both of us. I could tell you probably didn't want to go. And you're my friend, and I don't have many of those now...because of men who barge in and take what they want." Nafretiri was so angry she had a hard time speaking for a moment.
Nafretiri had been able to tell Neena a little of her story by now. They'd known each other for several months now, after they'd met last Kawwal, and while Nafretiri had been able to relax somewhat after going to Queen Hatshepsut, the feeling that she needed protection and the memories remained, and were especially strong this time of year-Awwal had been the month her mother had died.
"You, I've no doubt, could likely have handled yourself brilliantly, unlike me... but he took away my friend." Suppressed rage made her breathing ragged for a moment, to say nothing of the irritation of dust. "Had you come with him to the festival or did he just show up? And where did you go, afterward? Have you been here the whole time?"
She suddenly chuckled as she remembered what else Neena had said. "It's for him, hmmm? How do I keep running into those- or people who know them? Poison sellers," she clarified, putting Lukos, most likely, in the same category. "They're crafty types, and I don't mean crafty like a carpenter."
She stopped then, realizing that Nyria and anybody else who might have entered the tent during that time might be feeling overwhelmed if they'd tried to follow all that. "Sorry. It's been awhile since she and I have talked." Although she was grinning, a blush tinged her cheeks red.
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Neena would probably have known why Nafretiri was not frightened of Nyria if she had ever seen Mother Sekhemu! All the same, this woman appeared to be a different kind of curiosity, and Nafretiri regarded her carefully all the same, though not unkindly, as she delicately seated herself on a cushion near Neena "Nice to meet you. I'm Nafretiri. Do you have any Walking Onions? I can't seem to find them anywhere in Thebes at the moment. That's why I'm here."
She turned to Neena after a minute, something about her words concerning the man raising a memory from last month that Nafretiri still found painful in some respects. Nafretiri felt torn between laughter- because that seemed to describe the man who'd taken her away perfectly- and tears.
"'A total grump and not fun?' Would this perhaps be the man who dragged you away at Opet? I saw that, by the way. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again, and I think it scared Aneksi, too."
If you only knew! Nafretiri thought with a shudder. It had indeed scared the little girl, who had wanted to say hello to Neena and wasn't sure why she hadn't been allowed to try to follow her mother. Not that Nafretiri thought Neena was incapable of handling herself. She was probably a better fighter than Nafretiri, so Nafretiri thought the man likely wouldn't have gotten far if he were going to try anything. But it wasn't just that.
"I ought to thrash him- for both of us. I could tell you probably didn't want to go. And you're my friend, and I don't have many of those now...because of men who barge in and take what they want." Nafretiri was so angry she had a hard time speaking for a moment.
Nafretiri had been able to tell Neena a little of her story by now. They'd known each other for several months now, after they'd met last Kawwal, and while Nafretiri had been able to relax somewhat after going to Queen Hatshepsut, the feeling that she needed protection and the memories remained, and were especially strong this time of year-Awwal had been the month her mother had died.
"You, I've no doubt, could likely have handled yourself brilliantly, unlike me... but he took away my friend." Suppressed rage made her breathing ragged for a moment, to say nothing of the irritation of dust. "Had you come with him to the festival or did he just show up? And where did you go, afterward? Have you been here the whole time?"
She suddenly chuckled as she remembered what else Neena had said. "It's for him, hmmm? How do I keep running into those- or people who know them? Poison sellers," she clarified, putting Lukos, most likely, in the same category. "They're crafty types, and I don't mean crafty like a carpenter."
She stopped then, realizing that Nyria and anybody else who might have entered the tent during that time might be feeling overwhelmed if they'd tried to follow all that. "Sorry. It's been awhile since she and I have talked." Although she was grinning, a blush tinged her cheeks red.
Neena would probably have known why Nafretiri was not frightened of Nyria if she had ever seen Mother Sekhemu! All the same, this woman appeared to be a different kind of curiosity, and Nafretiri regarded her carefully all the same, though not unkindly, as she delicately seated herself on a cushion near Neena "Nice to meet you. I'm Nafretiri. Do you have any Walking Onions? I can't seem to find them anywhere in Thebes at the moment. That's why I'm here."
She turned to Neena after a minute, something about her words concerning the man raising a memory from last month that Nafretiri still found painful in some respects. Nafretiri felt torn between laughter- because that seemed to describe the man who'd taken her away perfectly- and tears.
"'A total grump and not fun?' Would this perhaps be the man who dragged you away at Opet? I saw that, by the way. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again, and I think it scared Aneksi, too."
If you only knew! Nafretiri thought with a shudder. It had indeed scared the little girl, who had wanted to say hello to Neena and wasn't sure why she hadn't been allowed to try to follow her mother. Not that Nafretiri thought Neena was incapable of handling herself. She was probably a better fighter than Nafretiri, so Nafretiri thought the man likely wouldn't have gotten far if he were going to try anything. But it wasn't just that.
"I ought to thrash him- for both of us. I could tell you probably didn't want to go. And you're my friend, and I don't have many of those now...because of men who barge in and take what they want." Nafretiri was so angry she had a hard time speaking for a moment.
Nafretiri had been able to tell Neena a little of her story by now. They'd known each other for several months now, after they'd met last Kawwal, and while Nafretiri had been able to relax somewhat after going to Queen Hatshepsut, the feeling that she needed protection and the memories remained, and were especially strong this time of year-Awwal had been the month her mother had died.
"You, I've no doubt, could likely have handled yourself brilliantly, unlike me... but he took away my friend." Suppressed rage made her breathing ragged for a moment, to say nothing of the irritation of dust. "Had you come with him to the festival or did he just show up? And where did you go, afterward? Have you been here the whole time?"
She suddenly chuckled as she remembered what else Neena had said. "It's for him, hmmm? How do I keep running into those- or people who know them? Poison sellers," she clarified, putting Lukos, most likely, in the same category. "They're crafty types, and I don't mean crafty like a carpenter."
She stopped then, realizing that Nyria and anybody else who might have entered the tent during that time might be feeling overwhelmed if they'd tried to follow all that. "Sorry. It's been awhile since she and I have talked." Although she was grinning, a blush tinged her cheeks red.
Neena wasn't the best at emotional sympathy. Whilst she was a loving person and a close friend to any and all who came her way, she was also the kind of person who avoided the deeper emotions and seriousness of life that might prompt someone to be in need of the emotional support and comfort that others seemed to give so naturally. Instead, she was the sort of distraction friend - the one who could seem to breeze away your difficulties or issues with a simple smile, wave of her hand or nonchalant look. She appeared to take nothing seriously which then, in turn, seemed to make people's problems become less serious - seen through a different sort of lens that only Neena could provide.
Patting Nafretiri's hand was all she seemed able to do when the young woman spoke of men who took things from her and the difficulties that she went through that raised moments of ire or fear on her face. Neena had learnt a little of Naf's history so could understand that any man being dominating over a woman might immediately cause fear in her heart. Yet, that hadn't been the situation between she and Kreios, so she hastened to eradicate that fear over something that didn't exist in the only way that Neena knew how - she laughed about it.
Kicking out her legs, crossing one ankle over the other and placing her hands behind her head, Neena's elbows stuck out and her body leaned back on the cushions, clearly at home within Nyrla's tented store.
"It was nothing like that, Naf." She assured the woman with a simple shrug. Her bare legs were of no consequent or issue to her as her tunic rose up with her wriggling. "He just wanted me out of the situation because he figured I'd get myself into trouble. He let me go fairly soon after. I was more angry at that stupid noble boy than him..."
Neena's tone had darkened for a moment at the end of her sentence in a way that was rare for the bright and cheerful young woman. But it was diffused and disappeared with a calming exhale. As if Neena had sensed that she was becoming angry or melancholic over the whole thing and released such feelings in a single breath.
"I'm sorry if Aneksi was worried." She concluded, with genuine care. "Maybe I'll come with you to go see her when we're done here."
Her gaze turned to Nyrla, who had been speaking with her servants through her own hand gesture way. Possibly to check upon their stock of mandrake root and walking onion. Neena had absolutely no idea what the latter was but she knew that if it was rare and could be sold for a high price because of that rarity, Nyrla probably had a way to get some.
"What the heck is walking onion anyway?" She asked the room in general, glancing between the purchaser and the would-be seller with mild interest. Just how was a vegetable supposed to walk?
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Neena wasn't the best at emotional sympathy. Whilst she was a loving person and a close friend to any and all who came her way, she was also the kind of person who avoided the deeper emotions and seriousness of life that might prompt someone to be in need of the emotional support and comfort that others seemed to give so naturally. Instead, she was the sort of distraction friend - the one who could seem to breeze away your difficulties or issues with a simple smile, wave of her hand or nonchalant look. She appeared to take nothing seriously which then, in turn, seemed to make people's problems become less serious - seen through a different sort of lens that only Neena could provide.
Patting Nafretiri's hand was all she seemed able to do when the young woman spoke of men who took things from her and the difficulties that she went through that raised moments of ire or fear on her face. Neena had learnt a little of Naf's history so could understand that any man being dominating over a woman might immediately cause fear in her heart. Yet, that hadn't been the situation between she and Kreios, so she hastened to eradicate that fear over something that didn't exist in the only way that Neena knew how - she laughed about it.
Kicking out her legs, crossing one ankle over the other and placing her hands behind her head, Neena's elbows stuck out and her body leaned back on the cushions, clearly at home within Nyrla's tented store.
"It was nothing like that, Naf." She assured the woman with a simple shrug. Her bare legs were of no consequent or issue to her as her tunic rose up with her wriggling. "He just wanted me out of the situation because he figured I'd get myself into trouble. He let me go fairly soon after. I was more angry at that stupid noble boy than him..."
Neena's tone had darkened for a moment at the end of her sentence in a way that was rare for the bright and cheerful young woman. But it was diffused and disappeared with a calming exhale. As if Neena had sensed that she was becoming angry or melancholic over the whole thing and released such feelings in a single breath.
"I'm sorry if Aneksi was worried." She concluded, with genuine care. "Maybe I'll come with you to go see her when we're done here."
Her gaze turned to Nyrla, who had been speaking with her servants through her own hand gesture way. Possibly to check upon their stock of mandrake root and walking onion. Neena had absolutely no idea what the latter was but she knew that if it was rare and could be sold for a high price because of that rarity, Nyrla probably had a way to get some.
"What the heck is walking onion anyway?" She asked the room in general, glancing between the purchaser and the would-be seller with mild interest. Just how was a vegetable supposed to walk?
Neena wasn't the best at emotional sympathy. Whilst she was a loving person and a close friend to any and all who came her way, she was also the kind of person who avoided the deeper emotions and seriousness of life that might prompt someone to be in need of the emotional support and comfort that others seemed to give so naturally. Instead, she was the sort of distraction friend - the one who could seem to breeze away your difficulties or issues with a simple smile, wave of her hand or nonchalant look. She appeared to take nothing seriously which then, in turn, seemed to make people's problems become less serious - seen through a different sort of lens that only Neena could provide.
Patting Nafretiri's hand was all she seemed able to do when the young woman spoke of men who took things from her and the difficulties that she went through that raised moments of ire or fear on her face. Neena had learnt a little of Naf's history so could understand that any man being dominating over a woman might immediately cause fear in her heart. Yet, that hadn't been the situation between she and Kreios, so she hastened to eradicate that fear over something that didn't exist in the only way that Neena knew how - she laughed about it.
Kicking out her legs, crossing one ankle over the other and placing her hands behind her head, Neena's elbows stuck out and her body leaned back on the cushions, clearly at home within Nyrla's tented store.
"It was nothing like that, Naf." She assured the woman with a simple shrug. Her bare legs were of no consequent or issue to her as her tunic rose up with her wriggling. "He just wanted me out of the situation because he figured I'd get myself into trouble. He let me go fairly soon after. I was more angry at that stupid noble boy than him..."
Neena's tone had darkened for a moment at the end of her sentence in a way that was rare for the bright and cheerful young woman. But it was diffused and disappeared with a calming exhale. As if Neena had sensed that she was becoming angry or melancholic over the whole thing and released such feelings in a single breath.
"I'm sorry if Aneksi was worried." She concluded, with genuine care. "Maybe I'll come with you to go see her when we're done here."
Her gaze turned to Nyrla, who had been speaking with her servants through her own hand gesture way. Possibly to check upon their stock of mandrake root and walking onion. Neena had absolutely no idea what the latter was but she knew that if it was rare and could be sold for a high price because of that rarity, Nyrla probably had a way to get some.
"What the heck is walking onion anyway?" She asked the room in general, glancing between the purchaser and the would-be seller with mild interest. Just how was a vegetable supposed to walk?
Nafretiri breathed a sigh of the utmost relief when Neena told her it had been nothing like what it had looked like to her, and that the man had let Neena go soon after.
"He was probably right," she admitted softly. "I was just as horrified, but I had a feeling it would do little good- myself being a priestess and all regardless. People will scapegoat whom they want to, regardless of wrongdoing or not- it's how a person is perceived that seems to really matter." She sighed, still feeling uncomfortable at the remembrance of the entire situation, then smiled at the thought of Aneksi. " That would be wonderful. She'll be glad to see you, I'm sure. As for a walking onion..." Nafretiri paused to laugh herself. They really did amuse her, in a way most plants did not.
She smiled at Nyria. "Have you got any papyrus? If so, I'll try to draw a decent picture. They really are funny-looking! The reason it is called a walking onion is that it has small vines that make it look like it has legs. I use them sometimes for my potions." Onion was a somewhat known aphrodisiac. With that being said, though, Nafretiri had not yet tried any of her own potions, and so really had no clue other than hearsay as to whether they actually worked. Sometimes she wondered if that made her a bad potion maker, selling something she hadn't yet tried herself, but she couldn't help that the way her life had turned out had made her generally uncomfortable with the idea of anything sexual, regardless of the fact that she served the goddess of love.
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Nafretiri breathed a sigh of the utmost relief when Neena told her it had been nothing like what it had looked like to her, and that the man had let Neena go soon after.
"He was probably right," she admitted softly. "I was just as horrified, but I had a feeling it would do little good- myself being a priestess and all regardless. People will scapegoat whom they want to, regardless of wrongdoing or not- it's how a person is perceived that seems to really matter." She sighed, still feeling uncomfortable at the remembrance of the entire situation, then smiled at the thought of Aneksi. " That would be wonderful. She'll be glad to see you, I'm sure. As for a walking onion..." Nafretiri paused to laugh herself. They really did amuse her, in a way most plants did not.
She smiled at Nyria. "Have you got any papyrus? If so, I'll try to draw a decent picture. They really are funny-looking! The reason it is called a walking onion is that it has small vines that make it look like it has legs. I use them sometimes for my potions." Onion was a somewhat known aphrodisiac. With that being said, though, Nafretiri had not yet tried any of her own potions, and so really had no clue other than hearsay as to whether they actually worked. Sometimes she wondered if that made her a bad potion maker, selling something she hadn't yet tried herself, but she couldn't help that the way her life had turned out had made her generally uncomfortable with the idea of anything sexual, regardless of the fact that she served the goddess of love.
Nafretiri breathed a sigh of the utmost relief when Neena told her it had been nothing like what it had looked like to her, and that the man had let Neena go soon after.
"He was probably right," she admitted softly. "I was just as horrified, but I had a feeling it would do little good- myself being a priestess and all regardless. People will scapegoat whom they want to, regardless of wrongdoing or not- it's how a person is perceived that seems to really matter." She sighed, still feeling uncomfortable at the remembrance of the entire situation, then smiled at the thought of Aneksi. " That would be wonderful. She'll be glad to see you, I'm sure. As for a walking onion..." Nafretiri paused to laugh herself. They really did amuse her, in a way most plants did not.
She smiled at Nyria. "Have you got any papyrus? If so, I'll try to draw a decent picture. They really are funny-looking! The reason it is called a walking onion is that it has small vines that make it look like it has legs. I use them sometimes for my potions." Onion was a somewhat known aphrodisiac. With that being said, though, Nafretiri had not yet tried any of her own potions, and so really had no clue other than hearsay as to whether they actually worked. Sometimes she wondered if that made her a bad potion maker, selling something she hadn't yet tried herself, but she couldn't help that the way her life had turned out had made her generally uncomfortable with the idea of anything sexual, regardless of the fact that she served the goddess of love.
Neena's face scrunched up at the very idea that Kreios might have been right about something and she herself wrong. She didn't like that concept at all. Then again, there was also a part of her that didn't much care. She was a woman that ran to her own rules and sailed to her own breeze. She wasn't interested in regrets or arguments of who was right and who was wrong. It was way too much effort to waste. Instead, she tended to focus on the present and how things would be moving forward. Which meant that Nafretiri's description of a walking onion held far more interest to her than anything to do with her grumpy poison peddler.
When the peddler clearly had no paper to hand, Neena was forced to admit the same. Holding up her empty hands and showing that her little multi-coloured tunic had no real pockets, Neena was forced to admit that she had no papyrus, but the woman seemed content to try and describe it anyway. The image she conjured was a funny one and had Neena smiling over the idea of a little onion hop skip and jumping its way across the floor on its roots.
The idea of potions was what sparked her interest, but she didn't have the chance to comment before the servant that Nyrlathotep had sent running came back with the product that Neena was after. The mandrake root looked good and Neena sniffed it, having been told by Kreios that she wasn't to be saddled with something that stank. If it smelt, it was off and it wouldn't do the job. Whatever the job he needed it for, turned out to be.
Accepting the item and offering Nyrlathotep the only coin that she had - an amount that was very specifically assigned to her by her grump ship commander, Neena was quick to then turn back to Naf after her own business had been completed.
"Potions you say?" She asked, having gotten up from the floor and dusted the wrinkles from the back of her dress. "Do they bubble and smoke like they do in the stories?" She grinned at the very idea. "I'm free now if we could maybe go and check it out? Then I could visit Aneksi?"
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Neena's face scrunched up at the very idea that Kreios might have been right about something and she herself wrong. She didn't like that concept at all. Then again, there was also a part of her that didn't much care. She was a woman that ran to her own rules and sailed to her own breeze. She wasn't interested in regrets or arguments of who was right and who was wrong. It was way too much effort to waste. Instead, she tended to focus on the present and how things would be moving forward. Which meant that Nafretiri's description of a walking onion held far more interest to her than anything to do with her grumpy poison peddler.
When the peddler clearly had no paper to hand, Neena was forced to admit the same. Holding up her empty hands and showing that her little multi-coloured tunic had no real pockets, Neena was forced to admit that she had no papyrus, but the woman seemed content to try and describe it anyway. The image she conjured was a funny one and had Neena smiling over the idea of a little onion hop skip and jumping its way across the floor on its roots.
The idea of potions was what sparked her interest, but she didn't have the chance to comment before the servant that Nyrlathotep had sent running came back with the product that Neena was after. The mandrake root looked good and Neena sniffed it, having been told by Kreios that she wasn't to be saddled with something that stank. If it smelt, it was off and it wouldn't do the job. Whatever the job he needed it for, turned out to be.
Accepting the item and offering Nyrlathotep the only coin that she had - an amount that was very specifically assigned to her by her grump ship commander, Neena was quick to then turn back to Naf after her own business had been completed.
"Potions you say?" She asked, having gotten up from the floor and dusted the wrinkles from the back of her dress. "Do they bubble and smoke like they do in the stories?" She grinned at the very idea. "I'm free now if we could maybe go and check it out? Then I could visit Aneksi?"
Neena's face scrunched up at the very idea that Kreios might have been right about something and she herself wrong. She didn't like that concept at all. Then again, there was also a part of her that didn't much care. She was a woman that ran to her own rules and sailed to her own breeze. She wasn't interested in regrets or arguments of who was right and who was wrong. It was way too much effort to waste. Instead, she tended to focus on the present and how things would be moving forward. Which meant that Nafretiri's description of a walking onion held far more interest to her than anything to do with her grumpy poison peddler.
When the peddler clearly had no paper to hand, Neena was forced to admit the same. Holding up her empty hands and showing that her little multi-coloured tunic had no real pockets, Neena was forced to admit that she had no papyrus, but the woman seemed content to try and describe it anyway. The image she conjured was a funny one and had Neena smiling over the idea of a little onion hop skip and jumping its way across the floor on its roots.
The idea of potions was what sparked her interest, but she didn't have the chance to comment before the servant that Nyrlathotep had sent running came back with the product that Neena was after. The mandrake root looked good and Neena sniffed it, having been told by Kreios that she wasn't to be saddled with something that stank. If it smelt, it was off and it wouldn't do the job. Whatever the job he needed it for, turned out to be.
Accepting the item and offering Nyrlathotep the only coin that she had - an amount that was very specifically assigned to her by her grump ship commander, Neena was quick to then turn back to Naf after her own business had been completed.
"Potions you say?" She asked, having gotten up from the floor and dusted the wrinkles from the back of her dress. "Do they bubble and smoke like they do in the stories?" She grinned at the very idea. "I'm free now if we could maybe go and check it out? Then I could visit Aneksi?"
Nafretiri nodded. "Yes, potions. And as to whether or not some bubble and smoke... do you mean when they're being made, or when they're being used? I'm embarrassed to say that I've never tried any myself due to my unfortunate not-so-much-love-life," she said with a somewhat bitter laugh. It wasn't the best joke, but unfortunately, if Nafretiri didn't laugh at herself, someone else might possibly get to it first. Even though many of the priestesses she worked with were polite enough, she couldn't say for certain that they...well... what was the word? Even though one presumably had to have some sort of connection to a god or goddess- a relationship, per se- to be a priest or priestess, she knew from some of the stares she still received occasionally that some of them must question Nafretiri's relationship with Hathor. Not that Nafretiri didn't often question why the goddess had chosen her, too.
But now was not the time for too much looking back. She had brought her circumstances up briefly only to make a point. "I haven't tried them, but that doesn't mean I haven't seen them being used. In fact- assuming the compliments I've received are true and sincere ones- I've heard that a few of the ones I've invented myself have worked." It didn't necessarily mean they'd worked for their intended purpose, she knew. To lie was often to spare someone else's feelings. But at least they might have worked for something. It was enough to return her to a content state of mind, if only temporarily.
She smiled when Neena offered to visit Aneksi, after saying she'd also like to check out some of the potions. "Yes, why don't we go now? I'm sure a couple of the other priestesses might be happy to...um... demonstratedrinking, eating, or applying anything you've never seen." Nafretiri cocked her head questioningly, wondering if Neena would want to use any of her potions.
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Nafretiri nodded. "Yes, potions. And as to whether or not some bubble and smoke... do you mean when they're being made, or when they're being used? I'm embarrassed to say that I've never tried any myself due to my unfortunate not-so-much-love-life," she said with a somewhat bitter laugh. It wasn't the best joke, but unfortunately, if Nafretiri didn't laugh at herself, someone else might possibly get to it first. Even though many of the priestesses she worked with were polite enough, she couldn't say for certain that they...well... what was the word? Even though one presumably had to have some sort of connection to a god or goddess- a relationship, per se- to be a priest or priestess, she knew from some of the stares she still received occasionally that some of them must question Nafretiri's relationship with Hathor. Not that Nafretiri didn't often question why the goddess had chosen her, too.
But now was not the time for too much looking back. She had brought her circumstances up briefly only to make a point. "I haven't tried them, but that doesn't mean I haven't seen them being used. In fact- assuming the compliments I've received are true and sincere ones- I've heard that a few of the ones I've invented myself have worked." It didn't necessarily mean they'd worked for their intended purpose, she knew. To lie was often to spare someone else's feelings. But at least they might have worked for something. It was enough to return her to a content state of mind, if only temporarily.
She smiled when Neena offered to visit Aneksi, after saying she'd also like to check out some of the potions. "Yes, why don't we go now? I'm sure a couple of the other priestesses might be happy to...um... demonstratedrinking, eating, or applying anything you've never seen." Nafretiri cocked her head questioningly, wondering if Neena would want to use any of her potions.
Nafretiri nodded. "Yes, potions. And as to whether or not some bubble and smoke... do you mean when they're being made, or when they're being used? I'm embarrassed to say that I've never tried any myself due to my unfortunate not-so-much-love-life," she said with a somewhat bitter laugh. It wasn't the best joke, but unfortunately, if Nafretiri didn't laugh at herself, someone else might possibly get to it first. Even though many of the priestesses she worked with were polite enough, she couldn't say for certain that they...well... what was the word? Even though one presumably had to have some sort of connection to a god or goddess- a relationship, per se- to be a priest or priestess, she knew from some of the stares she still received occasionally that some of them must question Nafretiri's relationship with Hathor. Not that Nafretiri didn't often question why the goddess had chosen her, too.
But now was not the time for too much looking back. She had brought her circumstances up briefly only to make a point. "I haven't tried them, but that doesn't mean I haven't seen them being used. In fact- assuming the compliments I've received are true and sincere ones- I've heard that a few of the ones I've invented myself have worked." It didn't necessarily mean they'd worked for their intended purpose, she knew. To lie was often to spare someone else's feelings. But at least they might have worked for something. It was enough to return her to a content state of mind, if only temporarily.
She smiled when Neena offered to visit Aneksi, after saying she'd also like to check out some of the potions. "Yes, why don't we go now? I'm sure a couple of the other priestesses might be happy to...um... demonstratedrinking, eating, or applying anything you've never seen." Nafretiri cocked her head questioningly, wondering if Neena would want to use any of her potions.