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Woven in a million shades of a thousand colours, the central square of Thebes is open to all the fabric and textile traders in the known world. Here, they set up shop for a special event in honour of the Queen Dowager. Women of all shapes and sizes, from high birth to low, congregate to inspect the items for sale or simply marvel at the pretty hues...
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JD
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Woven in a million shades of a thousand colours, the central square of Thebes is open to all the fabric and textile traders in the known world. Here, they set up shop for a special event in honour of the Queen Dowager. Women of all shapes and sizes, from high birth to low, congregate to inspect the items for sale or simply marvel at the pretty hues...
A Thousand Threads Provincial Story - Egypt
Woven in a million shades of a thousand colours, the central square of Thebes is open to all the fabric and textile traders in the known world. Here, they set up shop for a special event in honour of the Queen Dowager. Women of all shapes and sizes, from high birth to low, congregate to inspect the items for sale or simply marvel at the pretty hues...
Neena was in some form of heaven. Not one for believing in any kind of religion, she knew of the Greek's answer to the afterlife, the ancestral faith's belief in a second existence somewhere in the dreamworld and the Judean theory on a beautiful or evil place depending on the way in which you lived your mortal life. But none had ever really stood under Neena's judgement or discrimination and she had always fallen back on her own judgement that it was impossible to really know what happens after you died. But this... if there was some kind of beautiful heaven out there... this had to be what it looked like...
So. Much. Colour.
The Bedoan girl - so out of place in the world of the Egyptians, darker than all other faces she came across - had to restrain herself from running between the merchant stalls with her arms out, intent on catching the multiple rainbows of fabrics that hung to sway in the barely existent breeze. She wanted to catch each upon her arms, pushing them into a curving bend of hues that would then gracefully slide along her skin and be set dancing as it fell back into place. Looking directly down the aisle ahead of her, it was almost too exciting a chance to resist. But she knew that if she caused any kind of great stir, the city soldiers that wandered the edges of the central square would have her turned out on her rear end, exiled to the less pretty streets and roads of Thebes. So, Neena restrained herself and kept her arms carefully pinned at her sides to resist the urge to reach out and touch.
Whilst Neena was not a materialistic person and rarely worried about the cloth she wore on her back or what she might wish to wear if she had any money at all to purchase something beyond her simple tunic, she was someone who enjoyed and marvelled at the pretty things in the world. It could be a sunset, a dance, a language or craftsmanship such as that which was on display everywhere that she looked. What made her smile still further was the way in which some of the foreign merchants had taken to advertising their wares...
Instead of simply hanging the sheets of cloth from their stall headers, they had slaves or workers - pretty young women - wearing the cloth in seductive or enticing fashions. Some of the girls were confident in the way they were expected to stand and encourage other women or their husbands to lend a touch or eye to the products for sale. Others were clearly newer at the art and stood nervously, like awkward clay dolls. Neena tried to take the time to smile their way and encourage their confidence a little, regardless of who they were.
She found it interesting how some of the young women had clearly been chosen for their exotic appeal as she spotted a few from much further east than she had ever travelled, a couple that held skin as dark as hers, if not darker, and even one with the palest skin she had ever seen and flaming red hair!
Spinning as she walked to try and take it all in, Neena wasn't careful enough about where she placed her feet and caught her heel on the back of a little stool previously used by a model that wasn't standing in her place. Instead, the little height enhancer was left barren and a trip hazard, leading to Neena falling backwards, arms pinwheeling and her centre of balance thrown entirely off course. Taken too much by surprise, she wasn't able to correct her stance and right herself. Instead, she felt her frame fall further back and, realising that she would not be able to get back on her feet without help, she reached for the top cover of the market stall. Unbeknownst to her, this particular merchant had spared quite a bit of an expense on the stall, the frame poorly constructed. And with the weight of a strong young woman pulling in it with momentum, the entire thing went down!
Neena felt the table of the stall crush beneath her, the top shelter of its structure falling down on top of her, and all manner of cloth, material, beads and shimmering colour immediately buried all sight she had of the sky above, her dark, slim and waving legs the only piece of her left unburied by the carnage of a simple trip.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Neena was in some form of heaven. Not one for believing in any kind of religion, she knew of the Greek's answer to the afterlife, the ancestral faith's belief in a second existence somewhere in the dreamworld and the Judean theory on a beautiful or evil place depending on the way in which you lived your mortal life. But none had ever really stood under Neena's judgement or discrimination and she had always fallen back on her own judgement that it was impossible to really know what happens after you died. But this... if there was some kind of beautiful heaven out there... this had to be what it looked like...
So. Much. Colour.
The Bedoan girl - so out of place in the world of the Egyptians, darker than all other faces she came across - had to restrain herself from running between the merchant stalls with her arms out, intent on catching the multiple rainbows of fabrics that hung to sway in the barely existent breeze. She wanted to catch each upon her arms, pushing them into a curving bend of hues that would then gracefully slide along her skin and be set dancing as it fell back into place. Looking directly down the aisle ahead of her, it was almost too exciting a chance to resist. But she knew that if she caused any kind of great stir, the city soldiers that wandered the edges of the central square would have her turned out on her rear end, exiled to the less pretty streets and roads of Thebes. So, Neena restrained herself and kept her arms carefully pinned at her sides to resist the urge to reach out and touch.
Whilst Neena was not a materialistic person and rarely worried about the cloth she wore on her back or what she might wish to wear if she had any money at all to purchase something beyond her simple tunic, she was someone who enjoyed and marvelled at the pretty things in the world. It could be a sunset, a dance, a language or craftsmanship such as that which was on display everywhere that she looked. What made her smile still further was the way in which some of the foreign merchants had taken to advertising their wares...
Instead of simply hanging the sheets of cloth from their stall headers, they had slaves or workers - pretty young women - wearing the cloth in seductive or enticing fashions. Some of the girls were confident in the way they were expected to stand and encourage other women or their husbands to lend a touch or eye to the products for sale. Others were clearly newer at the art and stood nervously, like awkward clay dolls. Neena tried to take the time to smile their way and encourage their confidence a little, regardless of who they were.
She found it interesting how some of the young women had clearly been chosen for their exotic appeal as she spotted a few from much further east than she had ever travelled, a couple that held skin as dark as hers, if not darker, and even one with the palest skin she had ever seen and flaming red hair!
Spinning as she walked to try and take it all in, Neena wasn't careful enough about where she placed her feet and caught her heel on the back of a little stool previously used by a model that wasn't standing in her place. Instead, the little height enhancer was left barren and a trip hazard, leading to Neena falling backwards, arms pinwheeling and her centre of balance thrown entirely off course. Taken too much by surprise, she wasn't able to correct her stance and right herself. Instead, she felt her frame fall further back and, realising that she would not be able to get back on her feet without help, she reached for the top cover of the market stall. Unbeknownst to her, this particular merchant had spared quite a bit of an expense on the stall, the frame poorly constructed. And with the weight of a strong young woman pulling in it with momentum, the entire thing went down!
Neena felt the table of the stall crush beneath her, the top shelter of its structure falling down on top of her, and all manner of cloth, material, beads and shimmering colour immediately buried all sight she had of the sky above, her dark, slim and waving legs the only piece of her left unburied by the carnage of a simple trip.
Neena was in some form of heaven. Not one for believing in any kind of religion, she knew of the Greek's answer to the afterlife, the ancestral faith's belief in a second existence somewhere in the dreamworld and the Judean theory on a beautiful or evil place depending on the way in which you lived your mortal life. But none had ever really stood under Neena's judgement or discrimination and she had always fallen back on her own judgement that it was impossible to really know what happens after you died. But this... if there was some kind of beautiful heaven out there... this had to be what it looked like...
So. Much. Colour.
The Bedoan girl - so out of place in the world of the Egyptians, darker than all other faces she came across - had to restrain herself from running between the merchant stalls with her arms out, intent on catching the multiple rainbows of fabrics that hung to sway in the barely existent breeze. She wanted to catch each upon her arms, pushing them into a curving bend of hues that would then gracefully slide along her skin and be set dancing as it fell back into place. Looking directly down the aisle ahead of her, it was almost too exciting a chance to resist. But she knew that if she caused any kind of great stir, the city soldiers that wandered the edges of the central square would have her turned out on her rear end, exiled to the less pretty streets and roads of Thebes. So, Neena restrained herself and kept her arms carefully pinned at her sides to resist the urge to reach out and touch.
Whilst Neena was not a materialistic person and rarely worried about the cloth she wore on her back or what she might wish to wear if she had any money at all to purchase something beyond her simple tunic, she was someone who enjoyed and marvelled at the pretty things in the world. It could be a sunset, a dance, a language or craftsmanship such as that which was on display everywhere that she looked. What made her smile still further was the way in which some of the foreign merchants had taken to advertising their wares...
Instead of simply hanging the sheets of cloth from their stall headers, they had slaves or workers - pretty young women - wearing the cloth in seductive or enticing fashions. Some of the girls were confident in the way they were expected to stand and encourage other women or their husbands to lend a touch or eye to the products for sale. Others were clearly newer at the art and stood nervously, like awkward clay dolls. Neena tried to take the time to smile their way and encourage their confidence a little, regardless of who they were.
She found it interesting how some of the young women had clearly been chosen for their exotic appeal as she spotted a few from much further east than she had ever travelled, a couple that held skin as dark as hers, if not darker, and even one with the palest skin she had ever seen and flaming red hair!
Spinning as she walked to try and take it all in, Neena wasn't careful enough about where she placed her feet and caught her heel on the back of a little stool previously used by a model that wasn't standing in her place. Instead, the little height enhancer was left barren and a trip hazard, leading to Neena falling backwards, arms pinwheeling and her centre of balance thrown entirely off course. Taken too much by surprise, she wasn't able to correct her stance and right herself. Instead, she felt her frame fall further back and, realising that she would not be able to get back on her feet without help, she reached for the top cover of the market stall. Unbeknownst to her, this particular merchant had spared quite a bit of an expense on the stall, the frame poorly constructed. And with the weight of a strong young woman pulling in it with momentum, the entire thing went down!
Neena felt the table of the stall crush beneath her, the top shelter of its structure falling down on top of her, and all manner of cloth, material, beads and shimmering colour immediately buried all sight she had of the sky above, her dark, slim and waving legs the only piece of her left unburied by the carnage of a simple trip.
The colors were nothing too special to Chione. She saw them every day. It was the quality that truly set this all apart. She bounced from one stall to another, admiring some wares and admonishing others. Truly being a noblewoman was the greatest thing in the world. She had plenty of money to spend thanks to her many male 'friends' as well as some from her father. She was here to have a good time.
Chione was dressed in a fine black dress trimmed with gold, she wore a wig for once, laid with a fine silver net, as well as her golden necklace and anklet, she set a striking figure. Her servant Khaba, who followed behind her, looked average in comparison, a plain brown dress and her hair, a tangled mess, pulled behind her with a ribbon. Following behind both of them was one of her father's household guards, whom she couldn't remember his name. Sekh? Or something?
"Milady! That one!" Khaba pointed excitedly at one dress that was hanging off a stall. Chione turned and took a look. It did look quite beautiful. A strange purple color, one in which she hadn't seen too much of, and she moved forward to look at it.
The merchant quickly noted her apparel and quickly turned on his charm and sales pitch, "Ah young lady! I see you have a good eye! This is one of my - "
Chione cut him off by holding up a hand, the merchant's eyes raising, "Don't speak about it. I don't want to hear your drivel." She inspected it closely, her light eyes examining the product before her. It was indeed of higher quality, but she had seen better. She could see how it was weaved together, it looked like something any above-average weaver could make. The only thing that stood out was its exquisite color.
"Milady? Is there something wrong with it?" Khaba's voice was soft and quiet in her ear. The lady's face scrunched up as she was scrutinizing it, her lips pursed. She turned to Khaba showing the fabric to her. The servant gingerly touched it and ran her fingers upon it, "I see now. No. This is isn't as wonderful as I thought."
Chione smiled warmly and giggled, "You are indeed correct Khaba. This quality is average at best. The color, while unique, doesn't even seem uniform. It's quite shoddy really." The lady whipped her cold eyes back to the merchant, "This is fit for a merchant, this is not fit for a noble lady. Thank you." She handed the dress back over to the man before spinning around to look elsewhere. It was then she heard a large crash.
Chione's eyes darted around to find what seemed to be a woman underneath a collapsed stall. The merchant of said stall had lost his mind. He was yelling things left and right, calling this woman a klutz and what not. She didn't care what he was saying, but the woman had even gotten out before he had started his tirade.
Chione motioned for Khaba and... What was it again... Seth? to follow her. She made her way over to the stall and spoke up, "Be calm man. It was obviously an accident." She didn't see it happen, but seeing as the woman ended up entirely underneath the now broken stall.
"Don't you tell me what..." The merchant's face was blood red and he wanted to say more, but Chione nodded to... Sevh? and he stepped forward to tower over the merchant. His voice got lower and lower before he quieted.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for the damages to this..." She took a quick look at the stall and saw it poorly constructed, "Thing. So for the love of Osiris, help the woman up!" She handed the merchant a small bag of coin and her guard and the merchant began to remove the stall that was currently on top of the woman.
Not too long later, the woman was out of the mess as Chione offered the strange woman her hand, "I would be careful about leaning against some of these stalls around here." Her smile was big, but it wasn't one hundred percent genuine. She didn't know this woman, she didn't care, but she did like having those around her in her debt. Perhaps she could get this woman to do something for her. Information was always worth money.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The colors were nothing too special to Chione. She saw them every day. It was the quality that truly set this all apart. She bounced from one stall to another, admiring some wares and admonishing others. Truly being a noblewoman was the greatest thing in the world. She had plenty of money to spend thanks to her many male 'friends' as well as some from her father. She was here to have a good time.
Chione was dressed in a fine black dress trimmed with gold, she wore a wig for once, laid with a fine silver net, as well as her golden necklace and anklet, she set a striking figure. Her servant Khaba, who followed behind her, looked average in comparison, a plain brown dress and her hair, a tangled mess, pulled behind her with a ribbon. Following behind both of them was one of her father's household guards, whom she couldn't remember his name. Sekh? Or something?
"Milady! That one!" Khaba pointed excitedly at one dress that was hanging off a stall. Chione turned and took a look. It did look quite beautiful. A strange purple color, one in which she hadn't seen too much of, and she moved forward to look at it.
The merchant quickly noted her apparel and quickly turned on his charm and sales pitch, "Ah young lady! I see you have a good eye! This is one of my - "
Chione cut him off by holding up a hand, the merchant's eyes raising, "Don't speak about it. I don't want to hear your drivel." She inspected it closely, her light eyes examining the product before her. It was indeed of higher quality, but she had seen better. She could see how it was weaved together, it looked like something any above-average weaver could make. The only thing that stood out was its exquisite color.
"Milady? Is there something wrong with it?" Khaba's voice was soft and quiet in her ear. The lady's face scrunched up as she was scrutinizing it, her lips pursed. She turned to Khaba showing the fabric to her. The servant gingerly touched it and ran her fingers upon it, "I see now. No. This is isn't as wonderful as I thought."
Chione smiled warmly and giggled, "You are indeed correct Khaba. This quality is average at best. The color, while unique, doesn't even seem uniform. It's quite shoddy really." The lady whipped her cold eyes back to the merchant, "This is fit for a merchant, this is not fit for a noble lady. Thank you." She handed the dress back over to the man before spinning around to look elsewhere. It was then she heard a large crash.
Chione's eyes darted around to find what seemed to be a woman underneath a collapsed stall. The merchant of said stall had lost his mind. He was yelling things left and right, calling this woman a klutz and what not. She didn't care what he was saying, but the woman had even gotten out before he had started his tirade.
Chione motioned for Khaba and... What was it again... Seth? to follow her. She made her way over to the stall and spoke up, "Be calm man. It was obviously an accident." She didn't see it happen, but seeing as the woman ended up entirely underneath the now broken stall.
"Don't you tell me what..." The merchant's face was blood red and he wanted to say more, but Chione nodded to... Sevh? and he stepped forward to tower over the merchant. His voice got lower and lower before he quieted.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for the damages to this..." She took a quick look at the stall and saw it poorly constructed, "Thing. So for the love of Osiris, help the woman up!" She handed the merchant a small bag of coin and her guard and the merchant began to remove the stall that was currently on top of the woman.
Not too long later, the woman was out of the mess as Chione offered the strange woman her hand, "I would be careful about leaning against some of these stalls around here." Her smile was big, but it wasn't one hundred percent genuine. She didn't know this woman, she didn't care, but she did like having those around her in her debt. Perhaps she could get this woman to do something for her. Information was always worth money.
The colors were nothing too special to Chione. She saw them every day. It was the quality that truly set this all apart. She bounced from one stall to another, admiring some wares and admonishing others. Truly being a noblewoman was the greatest thing in the world. She had plenty of money to spend thanks to her many male 'friends' as well as some from her father. She was here to have a good time.
Chione was dressed in a fine black dress trimmed with gold, she wore a wig for once, laid with a fine silver net, as well as her golden necklace and anklet, she set a striking figure. Her servant Khaba, who followed behind her, looked average in comparison, a plain brown dress and her hair, a tangled mess, pulled behind her with a ribbon. Following behind both of them was one of her father's household guards, whom she couldn't remember his name. Sekh? Or something?
"Milady! That one!" Khaba pointed excitedly at one dress that was hanging off a stall. Chione turned and took a look. It did look quite beautiful. A strange purple color, one in which she hadn't seen too much of, and she moved forward to look at it.
The merchant quickly noted her apparel and quickly turned on his charm and sales pitch, "Ah young lady! I see you have a good eye! This is one of my - "
Chione cut him off by holding up a hand, the merchant's eyes raising, "Don't speak about it. I don't want to hear your drivel." She inspected it closely, her light eyes examining the product before her. It was indeed of higher quality, but she had seen better. She could see how it was weaved together, it looked like something any above-average weaver could make. The only thing that stood out was its exquisite color.
"Milady? Is there something wrong with it?" Khaba's voice was soft and quiet in her ear. The lady's face scrunched up as she was scrutinizing it, her lips pursed. She turned to Khaba showing the fabric to her. The servant gingerly touched it and ran her fingers upon it, "I see now. No. This is isn't as wonderful as I thought."
Chione smiled warmly and giggled, "You are indeed correct Khaba. This quality is average at best. The color, while unique, doesn't even seem uniform. It's quite shoddy really." The lady whipped her cold eyes back to the merchant, "This is fit for a merchant, this is not fit for a noble lady. Thank you." She handed the dress back over to the man before spinning around to look elsewhere. It was then she heard a large crash.
Chione's eyes darted around to find what seemed to be a woman underneath a collapsed stall. The merchant of said stall had lost his mind. He was yelling things left and right, calling this woman a klutz and what not. She didn't care what he was saying, but the woman had even gotten out before he had started his tirade.
Chione motioned for Khaba and... What was it again... Seth? to follow her. She made her way over to the stall and spoke up, "Be calm man. It was obviously an accident." She didn't see it happen, but seeing as the woman ended up entirely underneath the now broken stall.
"Don't you tell me what..." The merchant's face was blood red and he wanted to say more, but Chione nodded to... Sevh? and he stepped forward to tower over the merchant. His voice got lower and lower before he quieted.
"Don't worry, I'll pay for the damages to this..." She took a quick look at the stall and saw it poorly constructed, "Thing. So for the love of Osiris, help the woman up!" She handed the merchant a small bag of coin and her guard and the merchant began to remove the stall that was currently on top of the woman.
Not too long later, the woman was out of the mess as Chione offered the strange woman her hand, "I would be careful about leaning against some of these stalls around here." Her smile was big, but it wasn't one hundred percent genuine. She didn't know this woman, she didn't care, but she did like having those around her in her debt. Perhaps she could get this woman to do something for her. Information was always worth money.
Neena was not an uncoordinated being. In fact, given that she made a life for herself in a myriad of ways that required balance and grace - juggling, dancing, tricks of sleight of hand - not to mention her more significant work in medical skills when they were required, Neena was - all things considered - incredibly well coordinated.
With the strength and muscular power that came from being active from dawn til dusk, the posture of a performer and the grace of someone who grew up swaying to the rhythm of a ship, Neena could have passed for an elegant lady of civil nobility. If it weren't for her clearly foreign appearance. Not to mention her personality.
Despite this elegance of person and capability of stature, however, no-one could remain graceful when half hidden beneath a collapsed merchant's stall without decent leverage to pull yourself back up again. Where she had landed, Neena's legs were propped on the main body of a now sideways and broken table, the wood pressed to the back of her knees and rendering her calves useless - dangling in the air. A pole of some kind lay beneath her lower back and another propped up one of her shoulder blades making her torso twist and her butt have zero purchase on the ground. Unable to right herself upwards - like a stranded turtle - Neena would have sought her only means of escaping the fallen structure by rolling, getting to all fours and then onwards to her feet. But the material on sale by the merchant had already cut off such an exit, creating a sort of hammock on either side of her, stretched by her own weight and ensuring that she was going nowhere.
Not to mention the fact that she could see little to nothing through all the layers of the traders wares that had come piling down on top of her! In one section of her vision, the sky was a darker blue than the light of day beyond would have it, and another it was the brightest of yellows. Where they crossed and overlapped, her vision was blocked with a thicker, almost opaque forest green. Then there were the beads - little round shadows spattered across the tented fabric above her, in strings of dark spots.
Neena tried to get up and free herself from the carnage, regardless of the uselessness of the attempt. Her leg kicked a little with feeble momentum and she reached a hand out to brace herself upwards, only to find beads beneath her palm. With a quick and sudden slip, her hand flung outwards without traction and she fell back again, this time clonking the back of her head against a harsh and sharp beam she had not realised lay at the nape of her neck.
With a harsh intake of breath, Neena squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as a wave of nauseating warmth ran from the top of her spine and down her back. Bleugh. That was not a nice sensation.
Blinking her eyes back open to face the kaleidoscope of colours about her head, Neena tried to ignore the new pounding in her skull and reached a hand up against the satiny canopy beneath which she lay. Her fingers made dents in the silken rooftop that forced gaps between the layers and allowed the sound of voices to break through more clearly.
Within another moment, a shadow appeared over the sheeting - large and imposing. Male most likely. And, without fear, Neena reached up towards it, seeking help from her predicament.
As the two shadows - herself and her helper - found an exploitable gap in the fabrics, new shadows of hands joining the first to dig away the shining cloth. Neena winced and blinked against the direct sunlight as her cocoon was removed and her fingers found the touch of a tall and mildly attractive man, crouching low above her and sporting a look of clear determination but limited personal care.
With the lent hand and the strength of another person, Neena was able to shuffle her body around. Within a few moments, her feet found purchase on the ground once more and she could curl them beneath her butt to work herself onto her knees. From there, it was a simple step and push to gain her feet once more, despite the heaviness in her now sluggish head, and the way her eyes seemed to swim a little as her centre of gravity rapidly shifted.
Now standing, once again, in the sunlight of the morning, ankle deep in the bedraggled remains of the market stall that lay in pieces around her, Neena smiled brightly up at her helper - a man wearing a guard's uniform from one of the Heis - and took his guidance if not his unnecessary strength as she carefully jumped and danced her way free of the wreckage. She offered him a quick word of thanks as her toes picked their route through the debris.
It was then that she noted one of her thong sandals was missing and that she was covered in dust and sand.
Reaching to bat away the texture in little plumes of beige, Neena glanced at the owner of the stall. She had heard yelling of chastisement and clumsiness earlier but if they had been from him, he was surprisingly quiet now.
Which was possibly something to do with the young woman who stood several steps away from what had once been a weakly structured but popular enough trading stand.
"I'm sorry." Neena stated to the young woman, assuming that she was an intended patron of the stall. She glanced between the stressed man of older years who glared daggers at her foreign face and stared with hostile depression over what had been the means to sell his livelihood."I'll help you to fix it." Neena told him with the smile just as bright as she had given her saviour. Her tone was one of great confidence, for her past as a slave of the Bedoan tribes had talk her much of building temporary homes and she would be able to help the trader to secure the stall better this time - no longer leaving it vulnerable to the clumsiness of passing visitors.
It appeared that she had no sense of anger for the issues his own shoddy craftsmanship had escalated.
Neena turned back to the young and intensely beautiful woman before her. A female in control of her skills and knowledge as the siren, by all appearances, the noblewoman oozed glamorous contentedness in her own skin and held her frame in a smug sort of arrogance that Neena found immediately curious.
"I'll help the man rebuild." Neena told the woman - still under a miscomprehension of what had brought the Egyptian towards the stall. "Perhaps you could return here after visiting the other traders to see his wares?" He hand flickered towards the man who stared at her with no small amount of shock. Considering the blame and shame he had been attempting to throw upon her earlier, free labour and aid to fix the results of the accident wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.
In the turning of her head to glance between trader and potential client, Neena winced as heat broke out across the back of her head and a clammy sensation stuck her hair to the back of her skull - where the body of the orb dipped in close to form the nape of her neck. She reached up to probe the area tenderly, her fingertips finding a cloying dampness that she drew back to witness as crimson. The scarlet stain of her own blood was smeared across three of her fingertips and she could only mentally sigh. Head wounds bled a lot, regardless of severity, and she would have a hard enough time patching it herself when it was on the back of her head!
Neena made a low hissing noise by pressing her teeth down into her tongue and then freed it to tut against the roof of her mouth. Today would be a challenging day, apparently. The destinies of all had spoken and this morning so was simply due to be a period of self progression over pleasant ease.
Neena dusted the red from her fingers on one of the layers of her short tunic dress, leaving a stain upon its hem, and resolved herself to fixing that which she had broken...
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Check out their information page here.
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Neena was not an uncoordinated being. In fact, given that she made a life for herself in a myriad of ways that required balance and grace - juggling, dancing, tricks of sleight of hand - not to mention her more significant work in medical skills when they were required, Neena was - all things considered - incredibly well coordinated.
With the strength and muscular power that came from being active from dawn til dusk, the posture of a performer and the grace of someone who grew up swaying to the rhythm of a ship, Neena could have passed for an elegant lady of civil nobility. If it weren't for her clearly foreign appearance. Not to mention her personality.
Despite this elegance of person and capability of stature, however, no-one could remain graceful when half hidden beneath a collapsed merchant's stall without decent leverage to pull yourself back up again. Where she had landed, Neena's legs were propped on the main body of a now sideways and broken table, the wood pressed to the back of her knees and rendering her calves useless - dangling in the air. A pole of some kind lay beneath her lower back and another propped up one of her shoulder blades making her torso twist and her butt have zero purchase on the ground. Unable to right herself upwards - like a stranded turtle - Neena would have sought her only means of escaping the fallen structure by rolling, getting to all fours and then onwards to her feet. But the material on sale by the merchant had already cut off such an exit, creating a sort of hammock on either side of her, stretched by her own weight and ensuring that she was going nowhere.
Not to mention the fact that she could see little to nothing through all the layers of the traders wares that had come piling down on top of her! In one section of her vision, the sky was a darker blue than the light of day beyond would have it, and another it was the brightest of yellows. Where they crossed and overlapped, her vision was blocked with a thicker, almost opaque forest green. Then there were the beads - little round shadows spattered across the tented fabric above her, in strings of dark spots.
Neena tried to get up and free herself from the carnage, regardless of the uselessness of the attempt. Her leg kicked a little with feeble momentum and she reached a hand out to brace herself upwards, only to find beads beneath her palm. With a quick and sudden slip, her hand flung outwards without traction and she fell back again, this time clonking the back of her head against a harsh and sharp beam she had not realised lay at the nape of her neck.
With a harsh intake of breath, Neena squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as a wave of nauseating warmth ran from the top of her spine and down her back. Bleugh. That was not a nice sensation.
Blinking her eyes back open to face the kaleidoscope of colours about her head, Neena tried to ignore the new pounding in her skull and reached a hand up against the satiny canopy beneath which she lay. Her fingers made dents in the silken rooftop that forced gaps between the layers and allowed the sound of voices to break through more clearly.
Within another moment, a shadow appeared over the sheeting - large and imposing. Male most likely. And, without fear, Neena reached up towards it, seeking help from her predicament.
As the two shadows - herself and her helper - found an exploitable gap in the fabrics, new shadows of hands joining the first to dig away the shining cloth. Neena winced and blinked against the direct sunlight as her cocoon was removed and her fingers found the touch of a tall and mildly attractive man, crouching low above her and sporting a look of clear determination but limited personal care.
With the lent hand and the strength of another person, Neena was able to shuffle her body around. Within a few moments, her feet found purchase on the ground once more and she could curl them beneath her butt to work herself onto her knees. From there, it was a simple step and push to gain her feet once more, despite the heaviness in her now sluggish head, and the way her eyes seemed to swim a little as her centre of gravity rapidly shifted.
Now standing, once again, in the sunlight of the morning, ankle deep in the bedraggled remains of the market stall that lay in pieces around her, Neena smiled brightly up at her helper - a man wearing a guard's uniform from one of the Heis - and took his guidance if not his unnecessary strength as she carefully jumped and danced her way free of the wreckage. She offered him a quick word of thanks as her toes picked their route through the debris.
It was then that she noted one of her thong sandals was missing and that she was covered in dust and sand.
Reaching to bat away the texture in little plumes of beige, Neena glanced at the owner of the stall. She had heard yelling of chastisement and clumsiness earlier but if they had been from him, he was surprisingly quiet now.
Which was possibly something to do with the young woman who stood several steps away from what had once been a weakly structured but popular enough trading stand.
"I'm sorry." Neena stated to the young woman, assuming that she was an intended patron of the stall. She glanced between the stressed man of older years who glared daggers at her foreign face and stared with hostile depression over what had been the means to sell his livelihood."I'll help you to fix it." Neena told him with the smile just as bright as she had given her saviour. Her tone was one of great confidence, for her past as a slave of the Bedoan tribes had talk her much of building temporary homes and she would be able to help the trader to secure the stall better this time - no longer leaving it vulnerable to the clumsiness of passing visitors.
It appeared that she had no sense of anger for the issues his own shoddy craftsmanship had escalated.
Neena turned back to the young and intensely beautiful woman before her. A female in control of her skills and knowledge as the siren, by all appearances, the noblewoman oozed glamorous contentedness in her own skin and held her frame in a smug sort of arrogance that Neena found immediately curious.
"I'll help the man rebuild." Neena told the woman - still under a miscomprehension of what had brought the Egyptian towards the stall. "Perhaps you could return here after visiting the other traders to see his wares?" He hand flickered towards the man who stared at her with no small amount of shock. Considering the blame and shame he had been attempting to throw upon her earlier, free labour and aid to fix the results of the accident wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.
In the turning of her head to glance between trader and potential client, Neena winced as heat broke out across the back of her head and a clammy sensation stuck her hair to the back of her skull - where the body of the orb dipped in close to form the nape of her neck. She reached up to probe the area tenderly, her fingertips finding a cloying dampness that she drew back to witness as crimson. The scarlet stain of her own blood was smeared across three of her fingertips and she could only mentally sigh. Head wounds bled a lot, regardless of severity, and she would have a hard enough time patching it herself when it was on the back of her head!
Neena made a low hissing noise by pressing her teeth down into her tongue and then freed it to tut against the roof of her mouth. Today would be a challenging day, apparently. The destinies of all had spoken and this morning so was simply due to be a period of self progression over pleasant ease.
Neena dusted the red from her fingers on one of the layers of her short tunic dress, leaving a stain upon its hem, and resolved herself to fixing that which she had broken...
Neena was not an uncoordinated being. In fact, given that she made a life for herself in a myriad of ways that required balance and grace - juggling, dancing, tricks of sleight of hand - not to mention her more significant work in medical skills when they were required, Neena was - all things considered - incredibly well coordinated.
With the strength and muscular power that came from being active from dawn til dusk, the posture of a performer and the grace of someone who grew up swaying to the rhythm of a ship, Neena could have passed for an elegant lady of civil nobility. If it weren't for her clearly foreign appearance. Not to mention her personality.
Despite this elegance of person and capability of stature, however, no-one could remain graceful when half hidden beneath a collapsed merchant's stall without decent leverage to pull yourself back up again. Where she had landed, Neena's legs were propped on the main body of a now sideways and broken table, the wood pressed to the back of her knees and rendering her calves useless - dangling in the air. A pole of some kind lay beneath her lower back and another propped up one of her shoulder blades making her torso twist and her butt have zero purchase on the ground. Unable to right herself upwards - like a stranded turtle - Neena would have sought her only means of escaping the fallen structure by rolling, getting to all fours and then onwards to her feet. But the material on sale by the merchant had already cut off such an exit, creating a sort of hammock on either side of her, stretched by her own weight and ensuring that she was going nowhere.
Not to mention the fact that she could see little to nothing through all the layers of the traders wares that had come piling down on top of her! In one section of her vision, the sky was a darker blue than the light of day beyond would have it, and another it was the brightest of yellows. Where they crossed and overlapped, her vision was blocked with a thicker, almost opaque forest green. Then there were the beads - little round shadows spattered across the tented fabric above her, in strings of dark spots.
Neena tried to get up and free herself from the carnage, regardless of the uselessness of the attempt. Her leg kicked a little with feeble momentum and she reached a hand out to brace herself upwards, only to find beads beneath her palm. With a quick and sudden slip, her hand flung outwards without traction and she fell back again, this time clonking the back of her head against a harsh and sharp beam she had not realised lay at the nape of her neck.
With a harsh intake of breath, Neena squeezed her eyes shut against the pain as a wave of nauseating warmth ran from the top of her spine and down her back. Bleugh. That was not a nice sensation.
Blinking her eyes back open to face the kaleidoscope of colours about her head, Neena tried to ignore the new pounding in her skull and reached a hand up against the satiny canopy beneath which she lay. Her fingers made dents in the silken rooftop that forced gaps between the layers and allowed the sound of voices to break through more clearly.
Within another moment, a shadow appeared over the sheeting - large and imposing. Male most likely. And, without fear, Neena reached up towards it, seeking help from her predicament.
As the two shadows - herself and her helper - found an exploitable gap in the fabrics, new shadows of hands joining the first to dig away the shining cloth. Neena winced and blinked against the direct sunlight as her cocoon was removed and her fingers found the touch of a tall and mildly attractive man, crouching low above her and sporting a look of clear determination but limited personal care.
With the lent hand and the strength of another person, Neena was able to shuffle her body around. Within a few moments, her feet found purchase on the ground once more and she could curl them beneath her butt to work herself onto her knees. From there, it was a simple step and push to gain her feet once more, despite the heaviness in her now sluggish head, and the way her eyes seemed to swim a little as her centre of gravity rapidly shifted.
Now standing, once again, in the sunlight of the morning, ankle deep in the bedraggled remains of the market stall that lay in pieces around her, Neena smiled brightly up at her helper - a man wearing a guard's uniform from one of the Heis - and took his guidance if not his unnecessary strength as she carefully jumped and danced her way free of the wreckage. She offered him a quick word of thanks as her toes picked their route through the debris.
It was then that she noted one of her thong sandals was missing and that she was covered in dust and sand.
Reaching to bat away the texture in little plumes of beige, Neena glanced at the owner of the stall. She had heard yelling of chastisement and clumsiness earlier but if they had been from him, he was surprisingly quiet now.
Which was possibly something to do with the young woman who stood several steps away from what had once been a weakly structured but popular enough trading stand.
"I'm sorry." Neena stated to the young woman, assuming that she was an intended patron of the stall. She glanced between the stressed man of older years who glared daggers at her foreign face and stared with hostile depression over what had been the means to sell his livelihood."I'll help you to fix it." Neena told him with the smile just as bright as she had given her saviour. Her tone was one of great confidence, for her past as a slave of the Bedoan tribes had talk her much of building temporary homes and she would be able to help the trader to secure the stall better this time - no longer leaving it vulnerable to the clumsiness of passing visitors.
It appeared that she had no sense of anger for the issues his own shoddy craftsmanship had escalated.
Neena turned back to the young and intensely beautiful woman before her. A female in control of her skills and knowledge as the siren, by all appearances, the noblewoman oozed glamorous contentedness in her own skin and held her frame in a smug sort of arrogance that Neena found immediately curious.
"I'll help the man rebuild." Neena told the woman - still under a miscomprehension of what had brought the Egyptian towards the stall. "Perhaps you could return here after visiting the other traders to see his wares?" He hand flickered towards the man who stared at her with no small amount of shock. Considering the blame and shame he had been attempting to throw upon her earlier, free labour and aid to fix the results of the accident wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.
In the turning of her head to glance between trader and potential client, Neena winced as heat broke out across the back of her head and a clammy sensation stuck her hair to the back of her skull - where the body of the orb dipped in close to form the nape of her neck. She reached up to probe the area tenderly, her fingertips finding a cloying dampness that she drew back to witness as crimson. The scarlet stain of her own blood was smeared across three of her fingertips and she could only mentally sigh. Head wounds bled a lot, regardless of severity, and she would have a hard enough time patching it herself when it was on the back of her head!
Neena made a low hissing noise by pressing her teeth down into her tongue and then freed it to tut against the roof of her mouth. Today would be a challenging day, apparently. The destinies of all had spoken and this morning so was simply due to be a period of self progression over pleasant ease.
Neena dusted the red from her fingers on one of the layers of her short tunic dress, leaving a stain upon its hem, and resolved herself to fixing that which she had broken...
Hatshepshut's grip on Osorsen's hand tightened as they entered the Grand Souk. She had never been here before and it was much larger than the one in Cairo, which she had only seen through the curtains of her sedan chair when she was carried past it. Now she was observing a marketplace from her own height. The stalls were larger than they had looked from her seat upon the shoulders of her tall litter bearers. Everything was so close, so colorful, and so exciting.
She had begged Osorsen to take her to this event in disguise so that she could see the world from a commoner's point of view. As it was held in honor of her mother, her presence was not required and nobody would think it strange that their Queen was not in attendance. Her face was well-known, but only her family and closest friends had ever seen her smile. A smile transformed one's features and Hatshepsut had been grinning ever since they had left the boat. As the royal barge had always been at her disposal, she had found it strange to sail to Thebes on a vessel crowded with people. Yet that was how commoners traveled and today she was one of them.
She had dressed in a simple white linen kalisaris so that she would blend in with everyone else. She wore no fancy collar or jewelry, just a simple gold necklace, armbands, and anklets. Instead of a belt made of beads and precious jewels, a simple fabric sash encircled her waist. Usually when she made an appearance. her hair was either woven into many tiny braids or she wore an elaborate wig. Now her rich mass of raven curls tumbled loose down her back. Nobody would believe this young girl with the look of wonder on her face was their Queen.
The best part of this adventure was that she was with Osorsen, alone, without the guards and slaves and retainers that accompanied her everywhere. That was one of the reasons she had suggested this outing, so that she could spend time with him without anyone observing their every move. What did the people wandering around the square think of them? That they were a married couple here to buy new clothing? She hoped so, because that was what she was pretending, and what she wanted more than anything in the world … except that if he wed her, he would be getting much more than just a wife. He would receive the title of Pharaoh and have an entire kingdom under his authority.
But was that what he wanted? Did he feel the same way about her? At first, she had thought that he was yet another ambitious general who paid court to her hoping she would influence the council to choose him as her husband. Yet she had known him since she was a child and he never seemed annoyed when she asked him to tell her stories about his travels abroad. Even then, he had seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.
Did he love her, though? Did he think about what it would be like to hold her in his arms and kiss her? Hatshepsut daydreamed often of those very things. She wanted to know what his lips tasted like and feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers. The young Queen was head over heels in love with him and wished that she could belong to him completely in body, heart, and spirit. Until she knew that he wanted that too, she had to pretend that they were only friends. That he had agreed to take her to the souk told her that he was fond of her and couldn't resist her playful pleas, but maybe he only saw her as the younger sister he had never had and not as a lover or potential wife. How she wished she could let him know how she felt.
Pushing her longings to the back of her mind, she focused on the stalls full of fabric in myriad hues. Merchants hawked their wares in loud voices, drawing in women both rich and poor. Around some of them were pretty girls draped in the merchandise, walking around and showing it off. “Aren't you glad I convinced you to come?” she asked, smiling up at her handsome companion.
Before she could say anything else, she heard a loud crash and spun toward the sound. It looked as if one of the stalls had fallen upon a woman. Another one, dressed finely, came to her aid. Hatshepsut knew her as a member of one of the Heis, though she couldn't remember her name or what house she was from. It was possible that she would recognize her Queen if she saw her, and so the young girl quickly turned away.
Spying a stall selling beautiful silks, she pulled Osorsen toward it. “Let me pick out something for you, General,” she said with a mischievous smile.
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Check out their information page here.
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Hatshepshut's grip on Osorsen's hand tightened as they entered the Grand Souk. She had never been here before and it was much larger than the one in Cairo, which she had only seen through the curtains of her sedan chair when she was carried past it. Now she was observing a marketplace from her own height. The stalls were larger than they had looked from her seat upon the shoulders of her tall litter bearers. Everything was so close, so colorful, and so exciting.
She had begged Osorsen to take her to this event in disguise so that she could see the world from a commoner's point of view. As it was held in honor of her mother, her presence was not required and nobody would think it strange that their Queen was not in attendance. Her face was well-known, but only her family and closest friends had ever seen her smile. A smile transformed one's features and Hatshepsut had been grinning ever since they had left the boat. As the royal barge had always been at her disposal, she had found it strange to sail to Thebes on a vessel crowded with people. Yet that was how commoners traveled and today she was one of them.
She had dressed in a simple white linen kalisaris so that she would blend in with everyone else. She wore no fancy collar or jewelry, just a simple gold necklace, armbands, and anklets. Instead of a belt made of beads and precious jewels, a simple fabric sash encircled her waist. Usually when she made an appearance. her hair was either woven into many tiny braids or she wore an elaborate wig. Now her rich mass of raven curls tumbled loose down her back. Nobody would believe this young girl with the look of wonder on her face was their Queen.
The best part of this adventure was that she was with Osorsen, alone, without the guards and slaves and retainers that accompanied her everywhere. That was one of the reasons she had suggested this outing, so that she could spend time with him without anyone observing their every move. What did the people wandering around the square think of them? That they were a married couple here to buy new clothing? She hoped so, because that was what she was pretending, and what she wanted more than anything in the world … except that if he wed her, he would be getting much more than just a wife. He would receive the title of Pharaoh and have an entire kingdom under his authority.
But was that what he wanted? Did he feel the same way about her? At first, she had thought that he was yet another ambitious general who paid court to her hoping she would influence the council to choose him as her husband. Yet she had known him since she was a child and he never seemed annoyed when she asked him to tell her stories about his travels abroad. Even then, he had seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.
Did he love her, though? Did he think about what it would be like to hold her in his arms and kiss her? Hatshepsut daydreamed often of those very things. She wanted to know what his lips tasted like and feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers. The young Queen was head over heels in love with him and wished that she could belong to him completely in body, heart, and spirit. Until she knew that he wanted that too, she had to pretend that they were only friends. That he had agreed to take her to the souk told her that he was fond of her and couldn't resist her playful pleas, but maybe he only saw her as the younger sister he had never had and not as a lover or potential wife. How she wished she could let him know how she felt.
Pushing her longings to the back of her mind, she focused on the stalls full of fabric in myriad hues. Merchants hawked their wares in loud voices, drawing in women both rich and poor. Around some of them were pretty girls draped in the merchandise, walking around and showing it off. “Aren't you glad I convinced you to come?” she asked, smiling up at her handsome companion.
Before she could say anything else, she heard a loud crash and spun toward the sound. It looked as if one of the stalls had fallen upon a woman. Another one, dressed finely, came to her aid. Hatshepsut knew her as a member of one of the Heis, though she couldn't remember her name or what house she was from. It was possible that she would recognize her Queen if she saw her, and so the young girl quickly turned away.
Spying a stall selling beautiful silks, she pulled Osorsen toward it. “Let me pick out something for you, General,” she said with a mischievous smile.
Hatshepshut's grip on Osorsen's hand tightened as they entered the Grand Souk. She had never been here before and it was much larger than the one in Cairo, which she had only seen through the curtains of her sedan chair when she was carried past it. Now she was observing a marketplace from her own height. The stalls were larger than they had looked from her seat upon the shoulders of her tall litter bearers. Everything was so close, so colorful, and so exciting.
She had begged Osorsen to take her to this event in disguise so that she could see the world from a commoner's point of view. As it was held in honor of her mother, her presence was not required and nobody would think it strange that their Queen was not in attendance. Her face was well-known, but only her family and closest friends had ever seen her smile. A smile transformed one's features and Hatshepsut had been grinning ever since they had left the boat. As the royal barge had always been at her disposal, she had found it strange to sail to Thebes on a vessel crowded with people. Yet that was how commoners traveled and today she was one of them.
She had dressed in a simple white linen kalisaris so that she would blend in with everyone else. She wore no fancy collar or jewelry, just a simple gold necklace, armbands, and anklets. Instead of a belt made of beads and precious jewels, a simple fabric sash encircled her waist. Usually when she made an appearance. her hair was either woven into many tiny braids or she wore an elaborate wig. Now her rich mass of raven curls tumbled loose down her back. Nobody would believe this young girl with the look of wonder on her face was their Queen.
The best part of this adventure was that she was with Osorsen, alone, without the guards and slaves and retainers that accompanied her everywhere. That was one of the reasons she had suggested this outing, so that she could spend time with him without anyone observing their every move. What did the people wandering around the square think of them? That they were a married couple here to buy new clothing? She hoped so, because that was what she was pretending, and what she wanted more than anything in the world … except that if he wed her, he would be getting much more than just a wife. He would receive the title of Pharaoh and have an entire kingdom under his authority.
But was that what he wanted? Did he feel the same way about her? At first, she had thought that he was yet another ambitious general who paid court to her hoping she would influence the council to choose him as her husband. Yet she had known him since she was a child and he never seemed annoyed when she asked him to tell her stories about his travels abroad. Even then, he had seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his.
Did he love her, though? Did he think about what it would be like to hold her in his arms and kiss her? Hatshepsut daydreamed often of those very things. She wanted to know what his lips tasted like and feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers. The young Queen was head over heels in love with him and wished that she could belong to him completely in body, heart, and spirit. Until she knew that he wanted that too, she had to pretend that they were only friends. That he had agreed to take her to the souk told her that he was fond of her and couldn't resist her playful pleas, but maybe he only saw her as the younger sister he had never had and not as a lover or potential wife. How she wished she could let him know how she felt.
Pushing her longings to the back of her mind, she focused on the stalls full of fabric in myriad hues. Merchants hawked their wares in loud voices, drawing in women both rich and poor. Around some of them were pretty girls draped in the merchandise, walking around and showing it off. “Aren't you glad I convinced you to come?” she asked, smiling up at her handsome companion.
Before she could say anything else, she heard a loud crash and spun toward the sound. It looked as if one of the stalls had fallen upon a woman. Another one, dressed finely, came to her aid. Hatshepsut knew her as a member of one of the Heis, though she couldn't remember her name or what house she was from. It was possible that she would recognize her Queen if she saw her, and so the young girl quickly turned away.
Spying a stall selling beautiful silks, she pulled Osorsen toward it. “Let me pick out something for you, General,” she said with a mischievous smile.
Chione's face scrunched up like she had just smelled something terrible. This poor peasant was just going to wave her off like that? The right side of her lips twitched up, but she quickly found her 'pleasant' face. She found this girl's energy and attitude to be an enigma. How could someone not get angry at the level of craftsmanship of the stall? What if someone important had leaned against it and they had been hurt? This merchant would more than likely lose his hands.
"No, I did not come over here to see his wares, I came to check on you. That was quite the ruckus you caused." Chione nodded to Sevh to help the girl fix the stall. She turned to the owner of said stall, "Now, I understand that you have the right to get mad that your stall collapsed, by I suggest you apologize to her, now." Her eyes narrowed and venom dripped from her words.
Turning back to the young dark woman, "After you finish, come find me. I would like to treat you to a light lunch if you don't mind." Without waiting for her response Chione took Khaba's hand and walked off. The two women made their way to another stall, stopping next to a man and a woman.
Chione peered at the wares, beautiful silk from the east. This was truly something to marvel at. She shook away any attempt at a merchant or a servant speaking about their wares, but she eyed them carefully. This was much higher quality than the first stall she stopped at. She did not find any silk in the illustrious purple color she wanted. Her lips pursed in disappointment.
"My lady..." Khaba had leaned in and whispered in her ear. At first, Chione thought Khaba was being way too bold out in public, but the light pulling on her dress and the tone of her voice said otherwise.
"What is it Khaba?" She turned to her servant, who wasn't even looking at her. Her eyes were on the woman a few steps away. Indeed she was beautiful, something about the way she held herself seemed familiar. A few moments passed before it dawned on her.
Chione pinched Khaba, "Do not stare. Do not look. You're here with me. Do not draw attention to her." The crowd was loud, so she wasn't able to keep her voice down, she couldn't have been sure if it was truly the queen or not, but if the queen was here and no officially, it would be the smartest move to not draw attention to her. Chione was often rash and rude, but she wouldn't be dumb enough to cause problems for the queen.
Chione tried her best to just look at the wares around her, but she kept catching herself casting glances over at the woman. Each look she became more and more convinced that this was indeed the Queen of Egypt. This is an auspicious day indeed, Chione couldn't help but smile.
Should this woman turn out to be the queen, this information could be worth something. Chione took another look, or perhaps a friend? It was at this moment her household guard decided to return.
"Lady Chione," he nodded, speaking loudly, "I have done what you asked. That..." the man's mouth twisted up in disgust, "man's stall is almost finished."
"Thank you. Your name was... Seth? Correct?" Chione asked quietly. She began to feel slightly embarrassed to have been traveling with this man for the better part of the day for not knowing his name.
The guard chuckled, "No, my name is Darius." Chione's mouth opened slightly in bewilderment. How on Earth did she constantly think of him as his name starting with S?
"Well, Darius, I think it's time that we grab a bite to eat. What about that strange woman?" Chione said taking one last look over at who she assumed was the queen before looking back over to the stall, "I did promise her a bite to eat."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Chione's face scrunched up like she had just smelled something terrible. This poor peasant was just going to wave her off like that? The right side of her lips twitched up, but she quickly found her 'pleasant' face. She found this girl's energy and attitude to be an enigma. How could someone not get angry at the level of craftsmanship of the stall? What if someone important had leaned against it and they had been hurt? This merchant would more than likely lose his hands.
"No, I did not come over here to see his wares, I came to check on you. That was quite the ruckus you caused." Chione nodded to Sevh to help the girl fix the stall. She turned to the owner of said stall, "Now, I understand that you have the right to get mad that your stall collapsed, by I suggest you apologize to her, now." Her eyes narrowed and venom dripped from her words.
Turning back to the young dark woman, "After you finish, come find me. I would like to treat you to a light lunch if you don't mind." Without waiting for her response Chione took Khaba's hand and walked off. The two women made their way to another stall, stopping next to a man and a woman.
Chione peered at the wares, beautiful silk from the east. This was truly something to marvel at. She shook away any attempt at a merchant or a servant speaking about their wares, but she eyed them carefully. This was much higher quality than the first stall she stopped at. She did not find any silk in the illustrious purple color she wanted. Her lips pursed in disappointment.
"My lady..." Khaba had leaned in and whispered in her ear. At first, Chione thought Khaba was being way too bold out in public, but the light pulling on her dress and the tone of her voice said otherwise.
"What is it Khaba?" She turned to her servant, who wasn't even looking at her. Her eyes were on the woman a few steps away. Indeed she was beautiful, something about the way she held herself seemed familiar. A few moments passed before it dawned on her.
Chione pinched Khaba, "Do not stare. Do not look. You're here with me. Do not draw attention to her." The crowd was loud, so she wasn't able to keep her voice down, she couldn't have been sure if it was truly the queen or not, but if the queen was here and no officially, it would be the smartest move to not draw attention to her. Chione was often rash and rude, but she wouldn't be dumb enough to cause problems for the queen.
Chione tried her best to just look at the wares around her, but she kept catching herself casting glances over at the woman. Each look she became more and more convinced that this was indeed the Queen of Egypt. This is an auspicious day indeed, Chione couldn't help but smile.
Should this woman turn out to be the queen, this information could be worth something. Chione took another look, or perhaps a friend? It was at this moment her household guard decided to return.
"Lady Chione," he nodded, speaking loudly, "I have done what you asked. That..." the man's mouth twisted up in disgust, "man's stall is almost finished."
"Thank you. Your name was... Seth? Correct?" Chione asked quietly. She began to feel slightly embarrassed to have been traveling with this man for the better part of the day for not knowing his name.
The guard chuckled, "No, my name is Darius." Chione's mouth opened slightly in bewilderment. How on Earth did she constantly think of him as his name starting with S?
"Well, Darius, I think it's time that we grab a bite to eat. What about that strange woman?" Chione said taking one last look over at who she assumed was the queen before looking back over to the stall, "I did promise her a bite to eat."
Chione's face scrunched up like she had just smelled something terrible. This poor peasant was just going to wave her off like that? The right side of her lips twitched up, but she quickly found her 'pleasant' face. She found this girl's energy and attitude to be an enigma. How could someone not get angry at the level of craftsmanship of the stall? What if someone important had leaned against it and they had been hurt? This merchant would more than likely lose his hands.
"No, I did not come over here to see his wares, I came to check on you. That was quite the ruckus you caused." Chione nodded to Sevh to help the girl fix the stall. She turned to the owner of said stall, "Now, I understand that you have the right to get mad that your stall collapsed, by I suggest you apologize to her, now." Her eyes narrowed and venom dripped from her words.
Turning back to the young dark woman, "After you finish, come find me. I would like to treat you to a light lunch if you don't mind." Without waiting for her response Chione took Khaba's hand and walked off. The two women made their way to another stall, stopping next to a man and a woman.
Chione peered at the wares, beautiful silk from the east. This was truly something to marvel at. She shook away any attempt at a merchant or a servant speaking about their wares, but she eyed them carefully. This was much higher quality than the first stall she stopped at. She did not find any silk in the illustrious purple color she wanted. Her lips pursed in disappointment.
"My lady..." Khaba had leaned in and whispered in her ear. At first, Chione thought Khaba was being way too bold out in public, but the light pulling on her dress and the tone of her voice said otherwise.
"What is it Khaba?" She turned to her servant, who wasn't even looking at her. Her eyes were on the woman a few steps away. Indeed she was beautiful, something about the way she held herself seemed familiar. A few moments passed before it dawned on her.
Chione pinched Khaba, "Do not stare. Do not look. You're here with me. Do not draw attention to her." The crowd was loud, so she wasn't able to keep her voice down, she couldn't have been sure if it was truly the queen or not, but if the queen was here and no officially, it would be the smartest move to not draw attention to her. Chione was often rash and rude, but she wouldn't be dumb enough to cause problems for the queen.
Chione tried her best to just look at the wares around her, but she kept catching herself casting glances over at the woman. Each look she became more and more convinced that this was indeed the Queen of Egypt. This is an auspicious day indeed, Chione couldn't help but smile.
Should this woman turn out to be the queen, this information could be worth something. Chione took another look, or perhaps a friend? It was at this moment her household guard decided to return.
"Lady Chione," he nodded, speaking loudly, "I have done what you asked. That..." the man's mouth twisted up in disgust, "man's stall is almost finished."
"Thank you. Your name was... Seth? Correct?" Chione asked quietly. She began to feel slightly embarrassed to have been traveling with this man for the better part of the day for not knowing his name.
The guard chuckled, "No, my name is Darius." Chione's mouth opened slightly in bewilderment. How on Earth did she constantly think of him as his name starting with S?
"Well, Darius, I think it's time that we grab a bite to eat. What about that strange woman?" Chione said taking one last look over at who she assumed was the queen before looking back over to the stall, "I did promise her a bite to eat."
As much as the lady known only to those around her as Chione found Neena to be of odd temperament, Neena found her to just as confusing. Having travelled all over kingdoms and grown used to meeting new people over and over meant that it was hard not to judge upon immediate impressions. Often because, as much as first meetings could be odd and out of character, most of the time, they were a fairly good impression of the person put forward for consideration by the stranger. That is to say - people generally turned out to be exactly as they appeared when caught unawares and met on a face-to-face basis by a stranger they had not prepared for.
This one seemed odd to Neena because, at first, she had thought her to fall into a very normal category of the rich, powerful yet decidedly impotent in their power. Neena had met that type so many times before and they were usually women; the wives or daughters of men with money and position (be it political or birthed). Females who were always so perfectly well kept and finely dressed and had the power to send men to prison cells and free others. From Neena's position as a literal street scavenger, these women were as powerful as any tales of Gods and deities. And yet, none of them ever seemed willing or able to use said power to help others or to manipulate the way of the world.
Nor did they ever seem to hold any interest in beings outside of their immediate social sphere.
It wasn't a selfish thing. Neena never supposed such women to be so intrinsically selfish as to be blind to those around them that they did not consider to be of their own rank. It was simply an upbringing thing. Most members of the highest echelons of society - in Neena's experience randomly passing them - were quite literally taught to block out and blind themselves to the existence of those who could do nothing to ensure the maintenance or improvement of their family and name's standing.
So, the fact that this woman not only saw Neena (though that one had been hard to miss given the ridiculous manner in which she had drawn everyone's attention within a twenty-foot radius), but was then inviting her to dine with her for a lunch. Neena could safely say that this was the first time she had ever been asked to join someone of such a rank for such a thing and her wide eyes made clear her surprise. Her mouth, however, was quick to come to her rescue as she thanked the woman.
"That's very kind of you."
Were she a woman of her ilk and wealth - a woman who could decide just how and why she would fill her stomach, Neena might have told the woman that it was kind thought but an unnecessary one. Yet, in her position in life, Neena was far from being able to turn down free food. As such, she nodded before turning back to the stall that she was happy to help repair, given that she had damaged it.
When the strapping young soldier who had helped her to her feet earlier came over to help, Neena was bright and cheerful.
"Hi there! I'm Neena. Oh! You're going to help? Thank you so much!"
With so much practice, Neena's Coptic was almost accentless, despite the fact that her skin gave away her lack of Egyptian origin all the same. Not particularly chatty, the man was happy to work alongside Neena quietly and Neena was happy to fill the gaps of silence with her own aimless and well-meaning chatter whilst the stall owner grumbled and complained but never actually did issue that apology that the noble lady had demanded. Not that Neena minded. It had been an accident: simple as that.
By the time it was done, the man did not speak or wait for Neena but headed off in the direction of his mistress once more. Knowing that she had been invited to join the woman for her midday repast, Neena followed him carefree enough. Whilst he was tall and broad and able to travel through the crowd with easy, Neena was quick on her feet but a little sore and achy and generally quite small. So, she was lost for a few minutes in the crush of bodies before she appeared once more beside the soldier as the last query left the Lady Chione's lips.
"I am here." Neena commented. "And I am most thankful for said promise." She said, making sure that she had thanked the woman for her kindness, even if it was one of the more bizarre suggestions someone had ever offered to her. Just what exactly had possessed a lady of the finer things in life to want to spend a meal with herself? Curiosity was rampant as Neena practically bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting to be directed as to where to go...
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As much as the lady known only to those around her as Chione found Neena to be of odd temperament, Neena found her to just as confusing. Having travelled all over kingdoms and grown used to meeting new people over and over meant that it was hard not to judge upon immediate impressions. Often because, as much as first meetings could be odd and out of character, most of the time, they were a fairly good impression of the person put forward for consideration by the stranger. That is to say - people generally turned out to be exactly as they appeared when caught unawares and met on a face-to-face basis by a stranger they had not prepared for.
This one seemed odd to Neena because, at first, she had thought her to fall into a very normal category of the rich, powerful yet decidedly impotent in their power. Neena had met that type so many times before and they were usually women; the wives or daughters of men with money and position (be it political or birthed). Females who were always so perfectly well kept and finely dressed and had the power to send men to prison cells and free others. From Neena's position as a literal street scavenger, these women were as powerful as any tales of Gods and deities. And yet, none of them ever seemed willing or able to use said power to help others or to manipulate the way of the world.
Nor did they ever seem to hold any interest in beings outside of their immediate social sphere.
It wasn't a selfish thing. Neena never supposed such women to be so intrinsically selfish as to be blind to those around them that they did not consider to be of their own rank. It was simply an upbringing thing. Most members of the highest echelons of society - in Neena's experience randomly passing them - were quite literally taught to block out and blind themselves to the existence of those who could do nothing to ensure the maintenance or improvement of their family and name's standing.
So, the fact that this woman not only saw Neena (though that one had been hard to miss given the ridiculous manner in which she had drawn everyone's attention within a twenty-foot radius), but was then inviting her to dine with her for a lunch. Neena could safely say that this was the first time she had ever been asked to join someone of such a rank for such a thing and her wide eyes made clear her surprise. Her mouth, however, was quick to come to her rescue as she thanked the woman.
"That's very kind of you."
Were she a woman of her ilk and wealth - a woman who could decide just how and why she would fill her stomach, Neena might have told the woman that it was kind thought but an unnecessary one. Yet, in her position in life, Neena was far from being able to turn down free food. As such, she nodded before turning back to the stall that she was happy to help repair, given that she had damaged it.
When the strapping young soldier who had helped her to her feet earlier came over to help, Neena was bright and cheerful.
"Hi there! I'm Neena. Oh! You're going to help? Thank you so much!"
With so much practice, Neena's Coptic was almost accentless, despite the fact that her skin gave away her lack of Egyptian origin all the same. Not particularly chatty, the man was happy to work alongside Neena quietly and Neena was happy to fill the gaps of silence with her own aimless and well-meaning chatter whilst the stall owner grumbled and complained but never actually did issue that apology that the noble lady had demanded. Not that Neena minded. It had been an accident: simple as that.
By the time it was done, the man did not speak or wait for Neena but headed off in the direction of his mistress once more. Knowing that she had been invited to join the woman for her midday repast, Neena followed him carefree enough. Whilst he was tall and broad and able to travel through the crowd with easy, Neena was quick on her feet but a little sore and achy and generally quite small. So, she was lost for a few minutes in the crush of bodies before she appeared once more beside the soldier as the last query left the Lady Chione's lips.
"I am here." Neena commented. "And I am most thankful for said promise." She said, making sure that she had thanked the woman for her kindness, even if it was one of the more bizarre suggestions someone had ever offered to her. Just what exactly had possessed a lady of the finer things in life to want to spend a meal with herself? Curiosity was rampant as Neena practically bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting to be directed as to where to go...
As much as the lady known only to those around her as Chione found Neena to be of odd temperament, Neena found her to just as confusing. Having travelled all over kingdoms and grown used to meeting new people over and over meant that it was hard not to judge upon immediate impressions. Often because, as much as first meetings could be odd and out of character, most of the time, they were a fairly good impression of the person put forward for consideration by the stranger. That is to say - people generally turned out to be exactly as they appeared when caught unawares and met on a face-to-face basis by a stranger they had not prepared for.
This one seemed odd to Neena because, at first, she had thought her to fall into a very normal category of the rich, powerful yet decidedly impotent in their power. Neena had met that type so many times before and they were usually women; the wives or daughters of men with money and position (be it political or birthed). Females who were always so perfectly well kept and finely dressed and had the power to send men to prison cells and free others. From Neena's position as a literal street scavenger, these women were as powerful as any tales of Gods and deities. And yet, none of them ever seemed willing or able to use said power to help others or to manipulate the way of the world.
Nor did they ever seem to hold any interest in beings outside of their immediate social sphere.
It wasn't a selfish thing. Neena never supposed such women to be so intrinsically selfish as to be blind to those around them that they did not consider to be of their own rank. It was simply an upbringing thing. Most members of the highest echelons of society - in Neena's experience randomly passing them - were quite literally taught to block out and blind themselves to the existence of those who could do nothing to ensure the maintenance or improvement of their family and name's standing.
So, the fact that this woman not only saw Neena (though that one had been hard to miss given the ridiculous manner in which she had drawn everyone's attention within a twenty-foot radius), but was then inviting her to dine with her for a lunch. Neena could safely say that this was the first time she had ever been asked to join someone of such a rank for such a thing and her wide eyes made clear her surprise. Her mouth, however, was quick to come to her rescue as she thanked the woman.
"That's very kind of you."
Were she a woman of her ilk and wealth - a woman who could decide just how and why she would fill her stomach, Neena might have told the woman that it was kind thought but an unnecessary one. Yet, in her position in life, Neena was far from being able to turn down free food. As such, she nodded before turning back to the stall that she was happy to help repair, given that she had damaged it.
When the strapping young soldier who had helped her to her feet earlier came over to help, Neena was bright and cheerful.
"Hi there! I'm Neena. Oh! You're going to help? Thank you so much!"
With so much practice, Neena's Coptic was almost accentless, despite the fact that her skin gave away her lack of Egyptian origin all the same. Not particularly chatty, the man was happy to work alongside Neena quietly and Neena was happy to fill the gaps of silence with her own aimless and well-meaning chatter whilst the stall owner grumbled and complained but never actually did issue that apology that the noble lady had demanded. Not that Neena minded. It had been an accident: simple as that.
By the time it was done, the man did not speak or wait for Neena but headed off in the direction of his mistress once more. Knowing that she had been invited to join the woman for her midday repast, Neena followed him carefree enough. Whilst he was tall and broad and able to travel through the crowd with easy, Neena was quick on her feet but a little sore and achy and generally quite small. So, she was lost for a few minutes in the crush of bodies before she appeared once more beside the soldier as the last query left the Lady Chione's lips.
"I am here." Neena commented. "And I am most thankful for said promise." She said, making sure that she had thanked the woman for her kindness, even if it was one of the more bizarre suggestions someone had ever offered to her. Just what exactly had possessed a lady of the finer things in life to want to spend a meal with herself? Curiosity was rampant as Neena practically bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting to be directed as to where to go...
Osorsen was becoming convinced that if Hatshepsut continued smiling at him, he would walk off the docks into the Nile and been happily devoured by crocodiles. All she had to do was tip her head at him that way she did when she looked up at him and he was weak to resist. He hoped she wasn't aware of how tightly she had him wrapped around her finger, that small hand he now held in his own merely had to point for him to jump. And she would never know that it held his heart, stolen from him when he wasn't paying attention and now never to be retrieved.
Watching her excitement as they walked through the souk, her smile matched by one of his own, he was glad she had convinced him to bring her here. He had grown up running through the markets on his own, never afraid to exercise his curiosity and always wandering to and fro without hesitation, but she had never had that freedom before today, and he wanted to give it to her before the crown was settled firmly on her head and she would be untouchable to all. Even him.
He'd been wondering what she would think if he courted her properly, if he broke out of the usual and told her how he felt. Would she laugh at him or call him foolish perhaps? He was a good deal older than she after all, her dreams were probably full of dashing young nobles, not generals with more scars than he could count. Still, when she looked up at him with that eager smile, those wide dark eyes sparkling as his heard melted, he felt hope.
"You were right, as you always are." The brief response was all he could manage before the sound of a crash broke through the peaceful sounds of the souk and his smile vanished. Instinct took hold and he swept Hatshepsut against his side, half lifting her from the ground to put his body between the disturbance and his queen. A hand fell on the sword at his hip, his other arm still wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close as he determined the cause of the commotion.
It was lucky there was nothing more than a stall falling, he would never have forgiven himself if he had put her in harms way. Over by the commotion though there was a face he recognized as one of the women from the court, and he quickly turned away. It wouldn't do for people to recognize them and blow their cover entirely when Hatshepsut had been so excited about being in disguise and able to roam freely. He'd worn a tunic with longer sleeves to hide his tattoos, but otherwise done little to hide his own appearance, a foolish arrogance that most people wouldn't recognize him, or at least not the two of them together.
Taking her hand in his own once more, Osorsen allowed her to pull him toward the stall that had caught her eye, hoping the draping of fabrics would hide them from prying eyes. Her desire to find something for him brought the grin back to his lips and he gave a nod, tilting his head aside and watching as she looked at the selection. "As you wish. Though I can't help but wonder, should I be offended you feel I need your help dressing?" His tone was light and teasing, trying to ease back into the lighthearted mood of before, on a whim lifting a thin gauze of blue up between them as if holding it up for her to examine the color against his skin.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Osorsen was becoming convinced that if Hatshepsut continued smiling at him, he would walk off the docks into the Nile and been happily devoured by crocodiles. All she had to do was tip her head at him that way she did when she looked up at him and he was weak to resist. He hoped she wasn't aware of how tightly she had him wrapped around her finger, that small hand he now held in his own merely had to point for him to jump. And she would never know that it held his heart, stolen from him when he wasn't paying attention and now never to be retrieved.
Watching her excitement as they walked through the souk, her smile matched by one of his own, he was glad she had convinced him to bring her here. He had grown up running through the markets on his own, never afraid to exercise his curiosity and always wandering to and fro without hesitation, but she had never had that freedom before today, and he wanted to give it to her before the crown was settled firmly on her head and she would be untouchable to all. Even him.
He'd been wondering what she would think if he courted her properly, if he broke out of the usual and told her how he felt. Would she laugh at him or call him foolish perhaps? He was a good deal older than she after all, her dreams were probably full of dashing young nobles, not generals with more scars than he could count. Still, when she looked up at him with that eager smile, those wide dark eyes sparkling as his heard melted, he felt hope.
"You were right, as you always are." The brief response was all he could manage before the sound of a crash broke through the peaceful sounds of the souk and his smile vanished. Instinct took hold and he swept Hatshepsut against his side, half lifting her from the ground to put his body between the disturbance and his queen. A hand fell on the sword at his hip, his other arm still wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close as he determined the cause of the commotion.
It was lucky there was nothing more than a stall falling, he would never have forgiven himself if he had put her in harms way. Over by the commotion though there was a face he recognized as one of the women from the court, and he quickly turned away. It wouldn't do for people to recognize them and blow their cover entirely when Hatshepsut had been so excited about being in disguise and able to roam freely. He'd worn a tunic with longer sleeves to hide his tattoos, but otherwise done little to hide his own appearance, a foolish arrogance that most people wouldn't recognize him, or at least not the two of them together.
Taking her hand in his own once more, Osorsen allowed her to pull him toward the stall that had caught her eye, hoping the draping of fabrics would hide them from prying eyes. Her desire to find something for him brought the grin back to his lips and he gave a nod, tilting his head aside and watching as she looked at the selection. "As you wish. Though I can't help but wonder, should I be offended you feel I need your help dressing?" His tone was light and teasing, trying to ease back into the lighthearted mood of before, on a whim lifting a thin gauze of blue up between them as if holding it up for her to examine the color against his skin.
Osorsen was becoming convinced that if Hatshepsut continued smiling at him, he would walk off the docks into the Nile and been happily devoured by crocodiles. All she had to do was tip her head at him that way she did when she looked up at him and he was weak to resist. He hoped she wasn't aware of how tightly she had him wrapped around her finger, that small hand he now held in his own merely had to point for him to jump. And she would never know that it held his heart, stolen from him when he wasn't paying attention and now never to be retrieved.
Watching her excitement as they walked through the souk, her smile matched by one of his own, he was glad she had convinced him to bring her here. He had grown up running through the markets on his own, never afraid to exercise his curiosity and always wandering to and fro without hesitation, but she had never had that freedom before today, and he wanted to give it to her before the crown was settled firmly on her head and she would be untouchable to all. Even him.
He'd been wondering what she would think if he courted her properly, if he broke out of the usual and told her how he felt. Would she laugh at him or call him foolish perhaps? He was a good deal older than she after all, her dreams were probably full of dashing young nobles, not generals with more scars than he could count. Still, when she looked up at him with that eager smile, those wide dark eyes sparkling as his heard melted, he felt hope.
"You were right, as you always are." The brief response was all he could manage before the sound of a crash broke through the peaceful sounds of the souk and his smile vanished. Instinct took hold and he swept Hatshepsut against his side, half lifting her from the ground to put his body between the disturbance and his queen. A hand fell on the sword at his hip, his other arm still wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close as he determined the cause of the commotion.
It was lucky there was nothing more than a stall falling, he would never have forgiven himself if he had put her in harms way. Over by the commotion though there was a face he recognized as one of the women from the court, and he quickly turned away. It wouldn't do for people to recognize them and blow their cover entirely when Hatshepsut had been so excited about being in disguise and able to roam freely. He'd worn a tunic with longer sleeves to hide his tattoos, but otherwise done little to hide his own appearance, a foolish arrogance that most people wouldn't recognize him, or at least not the two of them together.
Taking her hand in his own once more, Osorsen allowed her to pull him toward the stall that had caught her eye, hoping the draping of fabrics would hide them from prying eyes. Her desire to find something for him brought the grin back to his lips and he gave a nod, tilting his head aside and watching as she looked at the selection. "As you wish. Though I can't help but wonder, should I be offended you feel I need your help dressing?" His tone was light and teasing, trying to ease back into the lighthearted mood of before, on a whim lifting a thin gauze of blue up between them as if holding it up for her to examine the color against his skin.
The nude girl was obviously no-one of importance, and even less wealth, her natural hair falling loose and not a stitch of thread or single bit of jewelry to suggest that she was displaying her body by choice. Nor had she any bag or coin with her. She got a suspicious look from one or two vendors which went away when she explained she was shopping on behalf of her master, with payment to be made upon delivery, if she could find something appropriate. That was a perfectly normal arrangement, and the slave both pretty and clean enough to suggest she was speaking the truth - and besides, she had literally nowhere to hide any sort of palmed goods on her person.
Her master would be leaving again soon, only in Cairo long enough to give his reports and receive the latest intelligence from the other Heis and unlike a common soldier, a general had the means to travel in comfort, if not quite as much luxury as he might enjoy at home. Silk bedsheets, or finest linen, good wool blankets against the night's chill in the open desert, thick rugs for the tent floor (which were of particular interest to the girl who did not always merit the privilege of sharing his bed for the whole night). All wore out after being packed tight every morning, or having sand ground into them, or when blood seeped through an injured man's bandages - something that still occurred now and then, for Iahotep did not use his rank to avoid putting himself into the press of heavy fighting.
At the implication her master was wealthy, the merchants tended to start her on the expensive side of their offerings, but she did not have to wade through quite as much sales patter as a wealthy woman would have; a slave would have a fixed budget and a set shopping list, and was far less likely to care about some esoteric quality of a thing she would quite possibly never touch again. She made a single purchase at one stall, and dismissed everything at the next as entirely unsuitable. A bit further along, she had more luck, and finally found something she actually liked. She cared more about texture than color; the dye must be strong and even and the various things she bought today could not clash with each other or the few things she had deemed in good enough condition to keep, but beyond that, it mattered little whether a rug was green or blue, or what pattern on the trim. Was it soft enough not to irritate bruised skin? That was the real question.
The sound of something large falling some way up the street only caught her attention for a moment; she did not see what happened, with stalls and wares in the way and no bellow of anger or subsequent crash of fighting followed it. Some accident, the consequences of which were not spreading towards her, was not really her concern. Tahena only took the time for curiosity when she was not supposed to be doing anything else, and while she was not behind schedule today, neither was she ahead of it.
Concluding her business, she left the merchant to pack and wrap the fabrics to be delivered later, and turned to leave - and practically bumped into someone.
"Excuse me, I'm so sorry." She took a step back, out of his way, and froze when her back touched a tent pole. Knocking a market stall over would certainly get her whipped, even if otherwise no-one would bother tracking down her master to report an exceedingly minor collision she'd immediately apologized for. Tahena had only a split second to see who she'd disturbed before lowering her eyes firmly to the ground. Peripheral vision was not enough to see the look on the other customer's face but only to track whether he chose to step out of her way, or to push past her into the stall, leaving her to escape behind him. If he chose neither of those things, she was rather stuck enduring whatever scolding or worse he chose to lay on her. She should have been watching where she was going, but no, she'd let herself relax, eager to enjoy the privilege of spending the afternoon shopping, away from her master's critical eye, and now look where feeling happy got her.
Story of her life, really.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The nude girl was obviously no-one of importance, and even less wealth, her natural hair falling loose and not a stitch of thread or single bit of jewelry to suggest that she was displaying her body by choice. Nor had she any bag or coin with her. She got a suspicious look from one or two vendors which went away when she explained she was shopping on behalf of her master, with payment to be made upon delivery, if she could find something appropriate. That was a perfectly normal arrangement, and the slave both pretty and clean enough to suggest she was speaking the truth - and besides, she had literally nowhere to hide any sort of palmed goods on her person.
Her master would be leaving again soon, only in Cairo long enough to give his reports and receive the latest intelligence from the other Heis and unlike a common soldier, a general had the means to travel in comfort, if not quite as much luxury as he might enjoy at home. Silk bedsheets, or finest linen, good wool blankets against the night's chill in the open desert, thick rugs for the tent floor (which were of particular interest to the girl who did not always merit the privilege of sharing his bed for the whole night). All wore out after being packed tight every morning, or having sand ground into them, or when blood seeped through an injured man's bandages - something that still occurred now and then, for Iahotep did not use his rank to avoid putting himself into the press of heavy fighting.
At the implication her master was wealthy, the merchants tended to start her on the expensive side of their offerings, but she did not have to wade through quite as much sales patter as a wealthy woman would have; a slave would have a fixed budget and a set shopping list, and was far less likely to care about some esoteric quality of a thing she would quite possibly never touch again. She made a single purchase at one stall, and dismissed everything at the next as entirely unsuitable. A bit further along, she had more luck, and finally found something she actually liked. She cared more about texture than color; the dye must be strong and even and the various things she bought today could not clash with each other or the few things she had deemed in good enough condition to keep, but beyond that, it mattered little whether a rug was green or blue, or what pattern on the trim. Was it soft enough not to irritate bruised skin? That was the real question.
The sound of something large falling some way up the street only caught her attention for a moment; she did not see what happened, with stalls and wares in the way and no bellow of anger or subsequent crash of fighting followed it. Some accident, the consequences of which were not spreading towards her, was not really her concern. Tahena only took the time for curiosity when she was not supposed to be doing anything else, and while she was not behind schedule today, neither was she ahead of it.
Concluding her business, she left the merchant to pack and wrap the fabrics to be delivered later, and turned to leave - and practically bumped into someone.
"Excuse me, I'm so sorry." She took a step back, out of his way, and froze when her back touched a tent pole. Knocking a market stall over would certainly get her whipped, even if otherwise no-one would bother tracking down her master to report an exceedingly minor collision she'd immediately apologized for. Tahena had only a split second to see who she'd disturbed before lowering her eyes firmly to the ground. Peripheral vision was not enough to see the look on the other customer's face but only to track whether he chose to step out of her way, or to push past her into the stall, leaving her to escape behind him. If he chose neither of those things, she was rather stuck enduring whatever scolding or worse he chose to lay on her. She should have been watching where she was going, but no, she'd let herself relax, eager to enjoy the privilege of spending the afternoon shopping, away from her master's critical eye, and now look where feeling happy got her.
Story of her life, really.
The nude girl was obviously no-one of importance, and even less wealth, her natural hair falling loose and not a stitch of thread or single bit of jewelry to suggest that she was displaying her body by choice. Nor had she any bag or coin with her. She got a suspicious look from one or two vendors which went away when she explained she was shopping on behalf of her master, with payment to be made upon delivery, if she could find something appropriate. That was a perfectly normal arrangement, and the slave both pretty and clean enough to suggest she was speaking the truth - and besides, she had literally nowhere to hide any sort of palmed goods on her person.
Her master would be leaving again soon, only in Cairo long enough to give his reports and receive the latest intelligence from the other Heis and unlike a common soldier, a general had the means to travel in comfort, if not quite as much luxury as he might enjoy at home. Silk bedsheets, or finest linen, good wool blankets against the night's chill in the open desert, thick rugs for the tent floor (which were of particular interest to the girl who did not always merit the privilege of sharing his bed for the whole night). All wore out after being packed tight every morning, or having sand ground into them, or when blood seeped through an injured man's bandages - something that still occurred now and then, for Iahotep did not use his rank to avoid putting himself into the press of heavy fighting.
At the implication her master was wealthy, the merchants tended to start her on the expensive side of their offerings, but she did not have to wade through quite as much sales patter as a wealthy woman would have; a slave would have a fixed budget and a set shopping list, and was far less likely to care about some esoteric quality of a thing she would quite possibly never touch again. She made a single purchase at one stall, and dismissed everything at the next as entirely unsuitable. A bit further along, she had more luck, and finally found something she actually liked. She cared more about texture than color; the dye must be strong and even and the various things she bought today could not clash with each other or the few things she had deemed in good enough condition to keep, but beyond that, it mattered little whether a rug was green or blue, or what pattern on the trim. Was it soft enough not to irritate bruised skin? That was the real question.
The sound of something large falling some way up the street only caught her attention for a moment; she did not see what happened, with stalls and wares in the way and no bellow of anger or subsequent crash of fighting followed it. Some accident, the consequences of which were not spreading towards her, was not really her concern. Tahena only took the time for curiosity when she was not supposed to be doing anything else, and while she was not behind schedule today, neither was she ahead of it.
Concluding her business, she left the merchant to pack and wrap the fabrics to be delivered later, and turned to leave - and practically bumped into someone.
"Excuse me, I'm so sorry." She took a step back, out of his way, and froze when her back touched a tent pole. Knocking a market stall over would certainly get her whipped, even if otherwise no-one would bother tracking down her master to report an exceedingly minor collision she'd immediately apologized for. Tahena had only a split second to see who she'd disturbed before lowering her eyes firmly to the ground. Peripheral vision was not enough to see the look on the other customer's face but only to track whether he chose to step out of her way, or to push past her into the stall, leaving her to escape behind him. If he chose neither of those things, she was rather stuck enduring whatever scolding or worse he chose to lay on her. She should have been watching where she was going, but no, she'd let herself relax, eager to enjoy the privilege of spending the afternoon shopping, away from her master's critical eye, and now look where feeling happy got her.
Story of her life, really.
Nafretiri desperately needed to try to find a new veil, one that might cover her face better. She was aware that a lot of the fabrics were more sheer than she had been used to wearing at home, but it didn't exactly help matters when one needed to stay obscured for safety reasons.
Especially when one was a priestess, having to be in public for important religious ceremonies....
Nafretiri sighed. Surely there had to be something here that would be suitable. After all, a sort of bazaar in honor of the queen ought to render quite a selection of goods. She wondered, meanwhile, if it might be breaking some kind of rule in Egypt that she didn't know about yet if she were to buy some of the same kind of material she'd seen Bedouins- but mostly the men- buy in order to make turbans for their heads. It looked different, somehow, and sturdier. She reached to stroke it tentatively to see if it might be the kind of thing she wanted.
She really could use some help here, but wondered if it might require telling a bit too much of her story. This was Thebes, after all, and while she was grateful to now be a priestess in the temple of Hathor, she could not forget- probably for the rest of her life- that she had been a slave here before that. She hoped she didn't run into Badru of Thebes here, or even his wife, Meritaten, her old mistress. She admitted that she would have liked to see the woman again, as she had liked her very much- as much as one perhaps could like someone who owned them. But seeing the woman, irrespective of the fact that she had told Nafretiri she would not seek to take Aneksi away from her, might have meant seeing her husband as well.
May the man rot in the Underworld.
At the thought of him, Nafretiri knew she might need help choosing a suitable fabric, in order to have the veil she was convinced she needed as soon as possible. But who might be a good person to ask? Someone here surely had to know about fabric types and qualities.
The crowd at her particular stand was beginning to close in on her. While Nafretiri generally felt more comfortable in a crowd, a crowd might also mean that anything she said could potentially be overheard and repeated. Briefly, she moved away, winding a stray curl around her finger as she tried to consider her next move.
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Nafretiri desperately needed to try to find a new veil, one that might cover her face better. She was aware that a lot of the fabrics were more sheer than she had been used to wearing at home, but it didn't exactly help matters when one needed to stay obscured for safety reasons.
Especially when one was a priestess, having to be in public for important religious ceremonies....
Nafretiri sighed. Surely there had to be something here that would be suitable. After all, a sort of bazaar in honor of the queen ought to render quite a selection of goods. She wondered, meanwhile, if it might be breaking some kind of rule in Egypt that she didn't know about yet if she were to buy some of the same kind of material she'd seen Bedouins- but mostly the men- buy in order to make turbans for their heads. It looked different, somehow, and sturdier. She reached to stroke it tentatively to see if it might be the kind of thing she wanted.
She really could use some help here, but wondered if it might require telling a bit too much of her story. This was Thebes, after all, and while she was grateful to now be a priestess in the temple of Hathor, she could not forget- probably for the rest of her life- that she had been a slave here before that. She hoped she didn't run into Badru of Thebes here, or even his wife, Meritaten, her old mistress. She admitted that she would have liked to see the woman again, as she had liked her very much- as much as one perhaps could like someone who owned them. But seeing the woman, irrespective of the fact that she had told Nafretiri she would not seek to take Aneksi away from her, might have meant seeing her husband as well.
May the man rot in the Underworld.
At the thought of him, Nafretiri knew she might need help choosing a suitable fabric, in order to have the veil she was convinced she needed as soon as possible. But who might be a good person to ask? Someone here surely had to know about fabric types and qualities.
The crowd at her particular stand was beginning to close in on her. While Nafretiri generally felt more comfortable in a crowd, a crowd might also mean that anything she said could potentially be overheard and repeated. Briefly, she moved away, winding a stray curl around her finger as she tried to consider her next move.
Nafretiri desperately needed to try to find a new veil, one that might cover her face better. She was aware that a lot of the fabrics were more sheer than she had been used to wearing at home, but it didn't exactly help matters when one needed to stay obscured for safety reasons.
Especially when one was a priestess, having to be in public for important religious ceremonies....
Nafretiri sighed. Surely there had to be something here that would be suitable. After all, a sort of bazaar in honor of the queen ought to render quite a selection of goods. She wondered, meanwhile, if it might be breaking some kind of rule in Egypt that she didn't know about yet if she were to buy some of the same kind of material she'd seen Bedouins- but mostly the men- buy in order to make turbans for their heads. It looked different, somehow, and sturdier. She reached to stroke it tentatively to see if it might be the kind of thing she wanted.
She really could use some help here, but wondered if it might require telling a bit too much of her story. This was Thebes, after all, and while she was grateful to now be a priestess in the temple of Hathor, she could not forget- probably for the rest of her life- that she had been a slave here before that. She hoped she didn't run into Badru of Thebes here, or even his wife, Meritaten, her old mistress. She admitted that she would have liked to see the woman again, as she had liked her very much- as much as one perhaps could like someone who owned them. But seeing the woman, irrespective of the fact that she had told Nafretiri she would not seek to take Aneksi away from her, might have meant seeing her husband as well.
May the man rot in the Underworld.
At the thought of him, Nafretiri knew she might need help choosing a suitable fabric, in order to have the veil she was convinced she needed as soon as possible. But who might be a good person to ask? Someone here surely had to know about fabric types and qualities.
The crowd at her particular stand was beginning to close in on her. While Nafretiri generally felt more comfortable in a crowd, a crowd might also mean that anything she said could potentially be overheard and repeated. Briefly, she moved away, winding a stray curl around her finger as she tried to consider her next move.
While it was as much duty that had brought Safiya here, it was nonetheless incredibly exciting to have this kind of change. She was aware that her own natural inclination to basically run off and chase all of the shiny options was probably not the most sensible decision that she could make but it was increasing pressure on her mind the more that she saw.
Not directly in mimicry of the queen, Safiya had also chosen to dress simply, which seemed to be a ploy which was working out in her favour as the vendors attempted to get her attention with their goods. The bolder ones even attempting to put the items on her so that she had to take them with her or at least make sure that she was thinking about each and every one of them. It was the kind of fun that she had been missing for some time in her life. The once commonplace and carefree manner that had made sure that Safiya was often the centre of laughter along with a positive attitude.
She didn't need to be concerned about losing it all but sometimes she wondered what was going to happen to her now.
Well, to all of her family.
"Wha--" she broke off the words as her attention was pulled to the collapsing stall and the woman who was now underneath it as well. That was an unexpected outcome but it resulted in a step toward the incident before she recalled herself and instead hung back. It all looked like it was being taken care of in any case, not to mention that in spite of previous resolutions she still really knew little about being able to help someone out.
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While it was as much duty that had brought Safiya here, it was nonetheless incredibly exciting to have this kind of change. She was aware that her own natural inclination to basically run off and chase all of the shiny options was probably not the most sensible decision that she could make but it was increasing pressure on her mind the more that she saw.
Not directly in mimicry of the queen, Safiya had also chosen to dress simply, which seemed to be a ploy which was working out in her favour as the vendors attempted to get her attention with their goods. The bolder ones even attempting to put the items on her so that she had to take them with her or at least make sure that she was thinking about each and every one of them. It was the kind of fun that she had been missing for some time in her life. The once commonplace and carefree manner that had made sure that Safiya was often the centre of laughter along with a positive attitude.
She didn't need to be concerned about losing it all but sometimes she wondered what was going to happen to her now.
Well, to all of her family.
"Wha--" she broke off the words as her attention was pulled to the collapsing stall and the woman who was now underneath it as well. That was an unexpected outcome but it resulted in a step toward the incident before she recalled herself and instead hung back. It all looked like it was being taken care of in any case, not to mention that in spite of previous resolutions she still really knew little about being able to help someone out.
While it was as much duty that had brought Safiya here, it was nonetheless incredibly exciting to have this kind of change. She was aware that her own natural inclination to basically run off and chase all of the shiny options was probably not the most sensible decision that she could make but it was increasing pressure on her mind the more that she saw.
Not directly in mimicry of the queen, Safiya had also chosen to dress simply, which seemed to be a ploy which was working out in her favour as the vendors attempted to get her attention with their goods. The bolder ones even attempting to put the items on her so that she had to take them with her or at least make sure that she was thinking about each and every one of them. It was the kind of fun that she had been missing for some time in her life. The once commonplace and carefree manner that had made sure that Safiya was often the centre of laughter along with a positive attitude.
She didn't need to be concerned about losing it all but sometimes she wondered what was going to happen to her now.
Well, to all of her family.
"Wha--" she broke off the words as her attention was pulled to the collapsing stall and the woman who was now underneath it as well. That was an unexpected outcome but it resulted in a step toward the incident before she recalled herself and instead hung back. It all looked like it was being taken care of in any case, not to mention that in spite of previous resolutions she still really knew little about being able to help someone out.
Whenever there was an event in Egypt that would expect to draw the richest and most influential people, there Deshra would be as well. With wealth and power came people who were willing to pay good money for companionship. Thus, Deshra had been brought to Thebes for the event in honor of the dowager queen. Of all of the things that Deshra had been brought to, she had to admit that this was one of the better events. Everywhere within the market there was gorgeous fabric that she just had to stop and admire. Technically she was supposed to be trying to finding work, but she couldn’t help but be distracted by colorful draped fabrics. Instead of looking for lonely men, she found herself entranced by the colors and patterns. She stopped to run her hand across a fine piece of silk cloth dyed in a brilliant blue.
These fabrics were so nice compared to what she normally wore. True, her tunic was of a sheer fabric that was expensive enough. Though that feature was as more a boon for the brothel owner than for herself as her curves showed clearly through the thin fabric. Despite the fine weave, the fabric was made from undyed linen. Deshra would have done anything to possess a piece of clothing made from cloth as fine as this. For a few moments, Deshra wondered if she might be able to convince her owner that buying her something so nice would be better for business.
Deshra had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed a girl who had been shopping nearby. Suddenly, the girl ran smack into her backing up and almost smacking a tent pole in her deference. From her dress and her demeanor, it was obvious enough that she was of a lower status. Deshra almost could have laughed out loud at the thought that this girl would be scared of her, but her desire to hold onto whatever dignity she had somehow cultivated stopped her short. Deshra was used to one of two reactions to her presence: desire, or complete invisibility. The idea that anyone might find her anyone of any importance was something completely unexpected.
“Don’t worry, you haven’t offended me,” Deshra couldn’t keep a bit of amusement from her voice. Besides, there was a part of her that felt a small bit of sympathy for this girl. She had been that girl once, and Deshra had no desire to ever have reason to be that meek again. There was no point in trying to scare this girl into doing anything, she was already scared enough. The way to win the undying friendship of someone like this was kindness because no one else would offer it to her. Deshra smiled at the girl, trying to appear friendly, though most of her practice was with sexy smirks, so she wasn’t entirely sure she had the expression nailed. “How about we just pretend that none of this even happened and you can be on your way, safe and sound.”
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Whenever there was an event in Egypt that would expect to draw the richest and most influential people, there Deshra would be as well. With wealth and power came people who were willing to pay good money for companionship. Thus, Deshra had been brought to Thebes for the event in honor of the dowager queen. Of all of the things that Deshra had been brought to, she had to admit that this was one of the better events. Everywhere within the market there was gorgeous fabric that she just had to stop and admire. Technically she was supposed to be trying to finding work, but she couldn’t help but be distracted by colorful draped fabrics. Instead of looking for lonely men, she found herself entranced by the colors and patterns. She stopped to run her hand across a fine piece of silk cloth dyed in a brilliant blue.
These fabrics were so nice compared to what she normally wore. True, her tunic was of a sheer fabric that was expensive enough. Though that feature was as more a boon for the brothel owner than for herself as her curves showed clearly through the thin fabric. Despite the fine weave, the fabric was made from undyed linen. Deshra would have done anything to possess a piece of clothing made from cloth as fine as this. For a few moments, Deshra wondered if she might be able to convince her owner that buying her something so nice would be better for business.
Deshra had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed a girl who had been shopping nearby. Suddenly, the girl ran smack into her backing up and almost smacking a tent pole in her deference. From her dress and her demeanor, it was obvious enough that she was of a lower status. Deshra almost could have laughed out loud at the thought that this girl would be scared of her, but her desire to hold onto whatever dignity she had somehow cultivated stopped her short. Deshra was used to one of two reactions to her presence: desire, or complete invisibility. The idea that anyone might find her anyone of any importance was something completely unexpected.
“Don’t worry, you haven’t offended me,” Deshra couldn’t keep a bit of amusement from her voice. Besides, there was a part of her that felt a small bit of sympathy for this girl. She had been that girl once, and Deshra had no desire to ever have reason to be that meek again. There was no point in trying to scare this girl into doing anything, she was already scared enough. The way to win the undying friendship of someone like this was kindness because no one else would offer it to her. Deshra smiled at the girl, trying to appear friendly, though most of her practice was with sexy smirks, so she wasn’t entirely sure she had the expression nailed. “How about we just pretend that none of this even happened and you can be on your way, safe and sound.”
Whenever there was an event in Egypt that would expect to draw the richest and most influential people, there Deshra would be as well. With wealth and power came people who were willing to pay good money for companionship. Thus, Deshra had been brought to Thebes for the event in honor of the dowager queen. Of all of the things that Deshra had been brought to, she had to admit that this was one of the better events. Everywhere within the market there was gorgeous fabric that she just had to stop and admire. Technically she was supposed to be trying to finding work, but she couldn’t help but be distracted by colorful draped fabrics. Instead of looking for lonely men, she found herself entranced by the colors and patterns. She stopped to run her hand across a fine piece of silk cloth dyed in a brilliant blue.
These fabrics were so nice compared to what she normally wore. True, her tunic was of a sheer fabric that was expensive enough. Though that feature was as more a boon for the brothel owner than for herself as her curves showed clearly through the thin fabric. Despite the fine weave, the fabric was made from undyed linen. Deshra would have done anything to possess a piece of clothing made from cloth as fine as this. For a few moments, Deshra wondered if she might be able to convince her owner that buying her something so nice would be better for business.
Deshra had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed a girl who had been shopping nearby. Suddenly, the girl ran smack into her backing up and almost smacking a tent pole in her deference. From her dress and her demeanor, it was obvious enough that she was of a lower status. Deshra almost could have laughed out loud at the thought that this girl would be scared of her, but her desire to hold onto whatever dignity she had somehow cultivated stopped her short. Deshra was used to one of two reactions to her presence: desire, or complete invisibility. The idea that anyone might find her anyone of any importance was something completely unexpected.
“Don’t worry, you haven’t offended me,” Deshra couldn’t keep a bit of amusement from her voice. Besides, there was a part of her that felt a small bit of sympathy for this girl. She had been that girl once, and Deshra had no desire to ever have reason to be that meek again. There was no point in trying to scare this girl into doing anything, she was already scared enough. The way to win the undying friendship of someone like this was kindness because no one else would offer it to her. Deshra smiled at the girl, trying to appear friendly, though most of her practice was with sexy smirks, so she wasn’t entirely sure she had the expression nailed. “How about we just pretend that none of this even happened and you can be on your way, safe and sound.”
It seemed like whatever the business at the other stall was about it was something that was being taken care of by others.
Not that it made her think she should look away or anything like that, far from it, none of her awareness of it being handled stopped Safiya from being curious but it was one of the reasons that her movement was one that allowed her to drift toward one of the stalls. She hadn't been paying attention to where her feet were taking her but that was just fine under normal circumstances, it only got a little complicated when she ended up getting jostled by some of the others who were standing all around.
This was one of the times when Safiya was reminded of exactly why she didn't like having to be in the middle of a crowd, shifting her weight to try and avoid falling over only resulted in her stepping on someone's toes "Oh! I am sorry, are you okay there? I... this is a popular one, isn't it? I don't think I have ever brought a veil" Safiya had always had someone buying them for her and while she tended to think of them more as practical wear she supposed that there was some beauty in them.
"I got a little jostled but I guess that is to be expected" she admitted, looking down a little bit as her cheeks warmed ever so slightly from the knowledge of what had happened. She wasn't ashamed per se but she was sure that it was the kind of thing that she should be apologising for even if it hadn't been her fault.
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It seemed like whatever the business at the other stall was about it was something that was being taken care of by others.
Not that it made her think she should look away or anything like that, far from it, none of her awareness of it being handled stopped Safiya from being curious but it was one of the reasons that her movement was one that allowed her to drift toward one of the stalls. She hadn't been paying attention to where her feet were taking her but that was just fine under normal circumstances, it only got a little complicated when she ended up getting jostled by some of the others who were standing all around.
This was one of the times when Safiya was reminded of exactly why she didn't like having to be in the middle of a crowd, shifting her weight to try and avoid falling over only resulted in her stepping on someone's toes "Oh! I am sorry, are you okay there? I... this is a popular one, isn't it? I don't think I have ever brought a veil" Safiya had always had someone buying them for her and while she tended to think of them more as practical wear she supposed that there was some beauty in them.
"I got a little jostled but I guess that is to be expected" she admitted, looking down a little bit as her cheeks warmed ever so slightly from the knowledge of what had happened. She wasn't ashamed per se but she was sure that it was the kind of thing that she should be apologising for even if it hadn't been her fault.
It seemed like whatever the business at the other stall was about it was something that was being taken care of by others.
Not that it made her think she should look away or anything like that, far from it, none of her awareness of it being handled stopped Safiya from being curious but it was one of the reasons that her movement was one that allowed her to drift toward one of the stalls. She hadn't been paying attention to where her feet were taking her but that was just fine under normal circumstances, it only got a little complicated when she ended up getting jostled by some of the others who were standing all around.
This was one of the times when Safiya was reminded of exactly why she didn't like having to be in the middle of a crowd, shifting her weight to try and avoid falling over only resulted in her stepping on someone's toes "Oh! I am sorry, are you okay there? I... this is a popular one, isn't it? I don't think I have ever brought a veil" Safiya had always had someone buying them for her and while she tended to think of them more as practical wear she supposed that there was some beauty in them.
"I got a little jostled but I guess that is to be expected" she admitted, looking down a little bit as her cheeks warmed ever so slightly from the knowledge of what had happened. She wasn't ashamed per se but she was sure that it was the kind of thing that she should be apologising for even if it hadn't been her fault.
Nafretiri was not expecting someone to step on her toes, though she supposed that she should have. "Ow!" She took in a rather pain-filled breath, knocked off balance a little, and managed to stay upright only by steadying herself against the table for a moment. Despite her slight unease- for the young woman appeared to be a noble, so it was a probability that she knew the H'Moghadams- Nafretiri did not fail to see a certain kind of humor in the situation. Besides, it was kind of refreshing to find someone who looked so rich apologizing to her instead of her apologizing to them. She laughed good-naturedly as the woman said the stall was a popular one.
"Indeed! I am fine, yes. I suppose we ought to expect it at such an event as this one," she said with a grin to try to hide her feeling of disequilibrium.
Nafretiri considered as the woman said that she didn't think she had ever bought a veil. But surely, she must have had her servants buy them for her, so that was no great problem.
"Hmmm. Well, if you don't mind my asking, my lady, which is your favorite material?" Nafretiri carefully examined a red swath of what appeared to be satin. Being a merchant's daughter, she had been used to seeing such materials, though she rarely wore them herself, not feeling, at least, entitled to do so. She had occasionally seen a councilman, or their wives, wearing such, but Nafretiri's family was neither of those things.
But it was so beautiful, and might match nicely in color with the ceremonial shawl she had to wear. Actually, at that very moment, Nafretiri considered little Aneksi as well. Though still little more than a baby, she was already beginning to look like her mother. Did one hide the hair of little children? She thought not, but something had to be done. She fingered the satin again. Even with the monies provided by the temple for her use, it must be shockingly expensive, reserved as it seemed to be only for royals. But at least it wasn't sheer.
Any price for safety, she reminded herself, and her face turned pensive. Gods forbid the other priestesses- or Mother Sekhemu- become angry over such an expensive thing, regardless of the fact that Mother Sekhemu knew her circumstances. And then there was the fact that none of the other priestesses seemed to wear s veil of s material that one could notpractically see through.
Well, they likely didn't understand it from her perspective.
And despite the fact that being dressed a little differently from the others might in fact make her stand out a little more, Nafretiri prayed at that moment that none of them ever would.
Besides, Jews were by and large raised to be modest, and irrespective that she had changed her religious beliefs, Nafretiri could not quite justify forgetting her homeland completely. She missed her father, and she hoped, if they ever saw each other again, that he would be proud of her for keeping at least that much of her old traditions. As well as security, it also made her feel quite dignified to think of wearing the silk, boosting just a little the self-esteem she had never recovered.
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Nafretiri was not expecting someone to step on her toes, though she supposed that she should have. "Ow!" She took in a rather pain-filled breath, knocked off balance a little, and managed to stay upright only by steadying herself against the table for a moment. Despite her slight unease- for the young woman appeared to be a noble, so it was a probability that she knew the H'Moghadams- Nafretiri did not fail to see a certain kind of humor in the situation. Besides, it was kind of refreshing to find someone who looked so rich apologizing to her instead of her apologizing to them. She laughed good-naturedly as the woman said the stall was a popular one.
"Indeed! I am fine, yes. I suppose we ought to expect it at such an event as this one," she said with a grin to try to hide her feeling of disequilibrium.
Nafretiri considered as the woman said that she didn't think she had ever bought a veil. But surely, she must have had her servants buy them for her, so that was no great problem.
"Hmmm. Well, if you don't mind my asking, my lady, which is your favorite material?" Nafretiri carefully examined a red swath of what appeared to be satin. Being a merchant's daughter, she had been used to seeing such materials, though she rarely wore them herself, not feeling, at least, entitled to do so. She had occasionally seen a councilman, or their wives, wearing such, but Nafretiri's family was neither of those things.
But it was so beautiful, and might match nicely in color with the ceremonial shawl she had to wear. Actually, at that very moment, Nafretiri considered little Aneksi as well. Though still little more than a baby, she was already beginning to look like her mother. Did one hide the hair of little children? She thought not, but something had to be done. She fingered the satin again. Even with the monies provided by the temple for her use, it must be shockingly expensive, reserved as it seemed to be only for royals. But at least it wasn't sheer.
Any price for safety, she reminded herself, and her face turned pensive. Gods forbid the other priestesses- or Mother Sekhemu- become angry over such an expensive thing, regardless of the fact that Mother Sekhemu knew her circumstances. And then there was the fact that none of the other priestesses seemed to wear s veil of s material that one could notpractically see through.
Well, they likely didn't understand it from her perspective.
And despite the fact that being dressed a little differently from the others might in fact make her stand out a little more, Nafretiri prayed at that moment that none of them ever would.
Besides, Jews were by and large raised to be modest, and irrespective that she had changed her religious beliefs, Nafretiri could not quite justify forgetting her homeland completely. She missed her father, and she hoped, if they ever saw each other again, that he would be proud of her for keeping at least that much of her old traditions. As well as security, it also made her feel quite dignified to think of wearing the silk, boosting just a little the self-esteem she had never recovered.
Nafretiri was not expecting someone to step on her toes, though she supposed that she should have. "Ow!" She took in a rather pain-filled breath, knocked off balance a little, and managed to stay upright only by steadying herself against the table for a moment. Despite her slight unease- for the young woman appeared to be a noble, so it was a probability that she knew the H'Moghadams- Nafretiri did not fail to see a certain kind of humor in the situation. Besides, it was kind of refreshing to find someone who looked so rich apologizing to her instead of her apologizing to them. She laughed good-naturedly as the woman said the stall was a popular one.
"Indeed! I am fine, yes. I suppose we ought to expect it at such an event as this one," she said with a grin to try to hide her feeling of disequilibrium.
Nafretiri considered as the woman said that she didn't think she had ever bought a veil. But surely, she must have had her servants buy them for her, so that was no great problem.
"Hmmm. Well, if you don't mind my asking, my lady, which is your favorite material?" Nafretiri carefully examined a red swath of what appeared to be satin. Being a merchant's daughter, she had been used to seeing such materials, though she rarely wore them herself, not feeling, at least, entitled to do so. She had occasionally seen a councilman, or their wives, wearing such, but Nafretiri's family was neither of those things.
But it was so beautiful, and might match nicely in color with the ceremonial shawl she had to wear. Actually, at that very moment, Nafretiri considered little Aneksi as well. Though still little more than a baby, she was already beginning to look like her mother. Did one hide the hair of little children? She thought not, but something had to be done. She fingered the satin again. Even with the monies provided by the temple for her use, it must be shockingly expensive, reserved as it seemed to be only for royals. But at least it wasn't sheer.
Any price for safety, she reminded herself, and her face turned pensive. Gods forbid the other priestesses- or Mother Sekhemu- become angry over such an expensive thing, regardless of the fact that Mother Sekhemu knew her circumstances. And then there was the fact that none of the other priestesses seemed to wear s veil of s material that one could notpractically see through.
Well, they likely didn't understand it from her perspective.
And despite the fact that being dressed a little differently from the others might in fact make her stand out a little more, Nafretiri prayed at that moment that none of them ever would.
Besides, Jews were by and large raised to be modest, and irrespective that she had changed her religious beliefs, Nafretiri could not quite justify forgetting her homeland completely. She missed her father, and she hoped, if they ever saw each other again, that he would be proud of her for keeping at least that much of her old traditions. As well as security, it also made her feel quite dignified to think of wearing the silk, boosting just a little the self-esteem she had never recovered.
Why would she mind?
That was an odd question but as she had all but walked the other woman to the floor with all of the jostlings that were going on right at the moment, and that gracious way that her apology had been accepted it was also a reasonable question to pose in the meantime.
Safiya had to pause though, needing to take more than just a quick breath in order to figure it or at least allow her to gather her own thoughts for some kind of sensible response to the question "I am used to wearing silk and some cotton but it's silk that always feels best, like wearing cool water against your skin" she hadn't really thought about it as a poetical kind of reply but it had become one in spite of her own intention to the contrary. Safiya was not a fool, especially as she liked to tell stories and weave tales. So, poetry might make sense.
It was the kind of thing that she would share with her sister, they shared most thing but Safiya knew that it couldn't include everything in spite of how close they were and intended to remain.
"It's not that much help as a reply though - why did you ask the question?" as it had been asked and she couldn't figure out the why on her own, it was important for her to be able to do that and the fastest and surest way was to just ask. If she didn't get an answer then she would have lost nothing in the slightest.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Why would she mind?
That was an odd question but as she had all but walked the other woman to the floor with all of the jostlings that were going on right at the moment, and that gracious way that her apology had been accepted it was also a reasonable question to pose in the meantime.
Safiya had to pause though, needing to take more than just a quick breath in order to figure it or at least allow her to gather her own thoughts for some kind of sensible response to the question "I am used to wearing silk and some cotton but it's silk that always feels best, like wearing cool water against your skin" she hadn't really thought about it as a poetical kind of reply but it had become one in spite of her own intention to the contrary. Safiya was not a fool, especially as she liked to tell stories and weave tales. So, poetry might make sense.
It was the kind of thing that she would share with her sister, they shared most thing but Safiya knew that it couldn't include everything in spite of how close they were and intended to remain.
"It's not that much help as a reply though - why did you ask the question?" as it had been asked and she couldn't figure out the why on her own, it was important for her to be able to do that and the fastest and surest way was to just ask. If she didn't get an answer then she would have lost nothing in the slightest.
Why would she mind?
That was an odd question but as she had all but walked the other woman to the floor with all of the jostlings that were going on right at the moment, and that gracious way that her apology had been accepted it was also a reasonable question to pose in the meantime.
Safiya had to pause though, needing to take more than just a quick breath in order to figure it or at least allow her to gather her own thoughts for some kind of sensible response to the question "I am used to wearing silk and some cotton but it's silk that always feels best, like wearing cool water against your skin" she hadn't really thought about it as a poetical kind of reply but it had become one in spite of her own intention to the contrary. Safiya was not a fool, especially as she liked to tell stories and weave tales. So, poetry might make sense.
It was the kind of thing that she would share with her sister, they shared most thing but Safiya knew that it couldn't include everything in spite of how close they were and intended to remain.
"It's not that much help as a reply though - why did you ask the question?" as it had been asked and she couldn't figure out the why on her own, it was important for her to be able to do that and the fastest and surest way was to just ask. If she didn't get an answer then she would have lost nothing in the slightest.