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Pushed roughly from her stool, Mara flattens herself against the wall as two men rush from the kitchen to place tables before the gaping hole. The scraping protest of the wood against stone is lost in the din, men shouting, women gesturing. Meanwhile, swirls of hazy red and gold lick along the doorway’s edges, rushing inward to lay sweeping claim across the tavern floor before they can halt its torrent. Her eyes flicker to the small group whose presence seemed to envelope the building whole as she pushes herself up against the wall.
Not even an act of the gods could break through the veil of malice that hung between the two men it seemed. Mara’s bottom lip pulls in slightly as she is pushed out of the way again, blue eyes gazing longingly to the kitchen door where she now hoped to escape this mess. A flurry of brooms and a broad-faced cook stood between her and that particular dream, however. Leaning back once more, long fingers nervously tuck her hair back as she carefully avoids the woman’s commanding gaze.
That she did not belong here was not in question. Sent out to retrieve a mixture of incense and herbs to treat the swollen gums of another slave, her path had turned from home to the northern square hoping to find gossip among the other servants at the fountain. The winds had risen before she had left the merchant’s stall yard. Running along the edges of the street seeking sanctuary, she’d ducked into a side street and been pulled through a doorway into the back of the inn just as the khamsin claimed the narrow alley.
Dusting her off, the cook had offered her a scolding, and, upon discovering Mara’s obstinate lack of usefulness in the kitchen, handed her a cup of watered wine, and pushed her out into the main room to wait out the storm. There were worse places to be. Watching from the safety of a hidden corner, Mara smiled as she watched a woman weave her way through the crowd, entranced as she pulled the men to her, easily beguiling coin and affection alike from their greedy imaginations. The door opened as she watched, but so diverted was she it was not until the woman draped herself across the lap of one of the newcomers that Mara recognized her young master.
Swallowing her wine quickly, Mara sank into a stool to conceal herself as she listened to the women with Akhenaten chatter. The woman she had watched seemed very at ease with her lord, petting and preening through his hair as someone would a prized cat. Shifting in her seat, she froze at Sutekh’s entrance, the brothers’ sharp discourse only adding to her discomfort. To watch them argue at home was one thing, but to observe it in public? Luckily the sands of the Sahara do not wait on the leisure of young lords.
Checking the pouch at her waist, Mara sidles down the edge of the wall to retrieve her fallen cup before looking up to the entrance of the kitchens once more. She had thought to avoid it at first, but now the thought of baking bread and basting meat did not seem so very terrible…
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Pushed roughly from her stool, Mara flattens herself against the wall as two men rush from the kitchen to place tables before the gaping hole. The scraping protest of the wood against stone is lost in the din, men shouting, women gesturing. Meanwhile, swirls of hazy red and gold lick along the doorway’s edges, rushing inward to lay sweeping claim across the tavern floor before they can halt its torrent. Her eyes flicker to the small group whose presence seemed to envelope the building whole as she pushes herself up against the wall.
Not even an act of the gods could break through the veil of malice that hung between the two men it seemed. Mara’s bottom lip pulls in slightly as she is pushed out of the way again, blue eyes gazing longingly to the kitchen door where she now hoped to escape this mess. A flurry of brooms and a broad-faced cook stood between her and that particular dream, however. Leaning back once more, long fingers nervously tuck her hair back as she carefully avoids the woman’s commanding gaze.
That she did not belong here was not in question. Sent out to retrieve a mixture of incense and herbs to treat the swollen gums of another slave, her path had turned from home to the northern square hoping to find gossip among the other servants at the fountain. The winds had risen before she had left the merchant’s stall yard. Running along the edges of the street seeking sanctuary, she’d ducked into a side street and been pulled through a doorway into the back of the inn just as the khamsin claimed the narrow alley.
Dusting her off, the cook had offered her a scolding, and, upon discovering Mara’s obstinate lack of usefulness in the kitchen, handed her a cup of watered wine, and pushed her out into the main room to wait out the storm. There were worse places to be. Watching from the safety of a hidden corner, Mara smiled as she watched a woman weave her way through the crowd, entranced as she pulled the men to her, easily beguiling coin and affection alike from their greedy imaginations. The door opened as she watched, but so diverted was she it was not until the woman draped herself across the lap of one of the newcomers that Mara recognized her young master.
Swallowing her wine quickly, Mara sank into a stool to conceal herself as she listened to the women with Akhenaten chatter. The woman she had watched seemed very at ease with her lord, petting and preening through his hair as someone would a prized cat. Shifting in her seat, she froze at Sutekh’s entrance, the brothers’ sharp discourse only adding to her discomfort. To watch them argue at home was one thing, but to observe it in public? Luckily the sands of the Sahara do not wait on the leisure of young lords.
Checking the pouch at her waist, Mara sidles down the edge of the wall to retrieve her fallen cup before looking up to the entrance of the kitchens once more. She had thought to avoid it at first, but now the thought of baking bread and basting meat did not seem so very terrible…
Pushed roughly from her stool, Mara flattens herself against the wall as two men rush from the kitchen to place tables before the gaping hole. The scraping protest of the wood against stone is lost in the din, men shouting, women gesturing. Meanwhile, swirls of hazy red and gold lick along the doorway’s edges, rushing inward to lay sweeping claim across the tavern floor before they can halt its torrent. Her eyes flicker to the small group whose presence seemed to envelope the building whole as she pushes herself up against the wall.
Not even an act of the gods could break through the veil of malice that hung between the two men it seemed. Mara’s bottom lip pulls in slightly as she is pushed out of the way again, blue eyes gazing longingly to the kitchen door where she now hoped to escape this mess. A flurry of brooms and a broad-faced cook stood between her and that particular dream, however. Leaning back once more, long fingers nervously tuck her hair back as she carefully avoids the woman’s commanding gaze.
That she did not belong here was not in question. Sent out to retrieve a mixture of incense and herbs to treat the swollen gums of another slave, her path had turned from home to the northern square hoping to find gossip among the other servants at the fountain. The winds had risen before she had left the merchant’s stall yard. Running along the edges of the street seeking sanctuary, she’d ducked into a side street and been pulled through a doorway into the back of the inn just as the khamsin claimed the narrow alley.
Dusting her off, the cook had offered her a scolding, and, upon discovering Mara’s obstinate lack of usefulness in the kitchen, handed her a cup of watered wine, and pushed her out into the main room to wait out the storm. There were worse places to be. Watching from the safety of a hidden corner, Mara smiled as she watched a woman weave her way through the crowd, entranced as she pulled the men to her, easily beguiling coin and affection alike from their greedy imaginations. The door opened as she watched, but so diverted was she it was not until the woman draped herself across the lap of one of the newcomers that Mara recognized her young master.
Swallowing her wine quickly, Mara sank into a stool to conceal herself as she listened to the women with Akhenaten chatter. The woman she had watched seemed very at ease with her lord, petting and preening through his hair as someone would a prized cat. Shifting in her seat, she froze at Sutekh’s entrance, the brothers’ sharp discourse only adding to her discomfort. To watch them argue at home was one thing, but to observe it in public? Luckily the sands of the Sahara do not wait on the leisure of young lords.
Checking the pouch at her waist, Mara sidles down the edge of the wall to retrieve her fallen cup before looking up to the entrance of the kitchens once more. She had thought to avoid it at first, but now the thought of baking bread and basting meat did not seem so very terrible…
Callidora was impressed with the remonstrations Lord Akhenaten berated the stranger with, a man who was apparently her savior’s brother. Sutekh, she gleaned his name, a name she filed away to avoid later. With the anger he showed his brother and the casual way he’d dismissed her and Anastasia as if they were barely even people, he was not a man she cared to associate herself with further. Truly, it was remarkable how so many of the nobility looked down on the common folk as if they were a different species. Even in a storm that threatened all of their livelihoods-rich or poor, noble or common, this man still held himself as if he was above them all.
Typical, really, she thought with a roll of her eyes.
Whatever response he gave, it seemed neither Akhenaten nor Anastasia were very perturbed, both turning back to her and asking her to finish her story. Dora couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, the camaraderie of the storm banding them all together in a way she doubted would have been possible in any other situation. Either way, she was grateful for it, finding solace in the presence of others who did not appear to intend her ill.
Opening her mouth to pick up where she left off, she was cut off yet again by an unexpected interruption. The tavern doors flying from their hinges, the merchant jumped to her feet just in time as one of them came flying past her. “Gods above!” she shouted in Greek, the sand from the streets swirling inside across the floor as the wind started knocking beverages and tables to the ground.
Luckily, the worst of it didn’t last long. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and the workers were prepared. Jumping up to the block the doorway with strategically stacked chairs and tables, the worst of the wind and sand was held off again, though Dora had a feeling such a barrier wouldn’t keep up for long. If the winds out there were powerful enough to tear up her stall, eventually they’d break down the makeshift block, as well.
But, in the meantime, Dora simply sighed, forlornly glancing down at her ruined kalasiris. As if she could afford to be replacing her clothing in a time like this. At least, it seemed she’d gained an ally in this disaster. If Lord Akhenaten kept to his word, she’d be back in business soon enough. Though, the problem of gaining customers still remained…
Looking thoughtfully at her benefactor, her head tilted to the side. Perhaps with the replacement of her stand, his lordship could bring business her way too. His family was clearly wealthy, judging from the way he was dressed and the jewels that decorated so much of him. Was it possible he could put her in contact with others who might not be so hesitant to buy from a Greek merchant? She made an internal note to make those inquiries after all this was over. Even if he spurned such suggestions, it never hurt to ask.
“Clearly, my story is simply not meant to be told,” she joked in Coptic with her companions as the tavern warily settled back down. “So, I’ll finish it simply. No, we did not have our first mate returned to us, and our ship was destroyed. Some tales are just doomed not to have a happy ending, aren’t they?”
Glancing around the room at those who remained, she saw a younger woman huddled toward the back, watching Sutekh and Akhenaten with wary eyes. Did she know them, or was it simply their loud argument that drew her attention? Looking between her and the two lords, she shrugged. Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to want to be noticed, so Callidora kept her mouth shut. No use adding fuel to the fiery disaster of a day.
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Callidora was impressed with the remonstrations Lord Akhenaten berated the stranger with, a man who was apparently her savior’s brother. Sutekh, she gleaned his name, a name she filed away to avoid later. With the anger he showed his brother and the casual way he’d dismissed her and Anastasia as if they were barely even people, he was not a man she cared to associate herself with further. Truly, it was remarkable how so many of the nobility looked down on the common folk as if they were a different species. Even in a storm that threatened all of their livelihoods-rich or poor, noble or common, this man still held himself as if he was above them all.
Typical, really, she thought with a roll of her eyes.
Whatever response he gave, it seemed neither Akhenaten nor Anastasia were very perturbed, both turning back to her and asking her to finish her story. Dora couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, the camaraderie of the storm banding them all together in a way she doubted would have been possible in any other situation. Either way, she was grateful for it, finding solace in the presence of others who did not appear to intend her ill.
Opening her mouth to pick up where she left off, she was cut off yet again by an unexpected interruption. The tavern doors flying from their hinges, the merchant jumped to her feet just in time as one of them came flying past her. “Gods above!” she shouted in Greek, the sand from the streets swirling inside across the floor as the wind started knocking beverages and tables to the ground.
Luckily, the worst of it didn’t last long. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and the workers were prepared. Jumping up to the block the doorway with strategically stacked chairs and tables, the worst of the wind and sand was held off again, though Dora had a feeling such a barrier wouldn’t keep up for long. If the winds out there were powerful enough to tear up her stall, eventually they’d break down the makeshift block, as well.
But, in the meantime, Dora simply sighed, forlornly glancing down at her ruined kalasiris. As if she could afford to be replacing her clothing in a time like this. At least, it seemed she’d gained an ally in this disaster. If Lord Akhenaten kept to his word, she’d be back in business soon enough. Though, the problem of gaining customers still remained…
Looking thoughtfully at her benefactor, her head tilted to the side. Perhaps with the replacement of her stand, his lordship could bring business her way too. His family was clearly wealthy, judging from the way he was dressed and the jewels that decorated so much of him. Was it possible he could put her in contact with others who might not be so hesitant to buy from a Greek merchant? She made an internal note to make those inquiries after all this was over. Even if he spurned such suggestions, it never hurt to ask.
“Clearly, my story is simply not meant to be told,” she joked in Coptic with her companions as the tavern warily settled back down. “So, I’ll finish it simply. No, we did not have our first mate returned to us, and our ship was destroyed. Some tales are just doomed not to have a happy ending, aren’t they?”
Glancing around the room at those who remained, she saw a younger woman huddled toward the back, watching Sutekh and Akhenaten with wary eyes. Did she know them, or was it simply their loud argument that drew her attention? Looking between her and the two lords, she shrugged. Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to want to be noticed, so Callidora kept her mouth shut. No use adding fuel to the fiery disaster of a day.
Callidora was impressed with the remonstrations Lord Akhenaten berated the stranger with, a man who was apparently her savior’s brother. Sutekh, she gleaned his name, a name she filed away to avoid later. With the anger he showed his brother and the casual way he’d dismissed her and Anastasia as if they were barely even people, he was not a man she cared to associate herself with further. Truly, it was remarkable how so many of the nobility looked down on the common folk as if they were a different species. Even in a storm that threatened all of their livelihoods-rich or poor, noble or common, this man still held himself as if he was above them all.
Typical, really, she thought with a roll of her eyes.
Whatever response he gave, it seemed neither Akhenaten nor Anastasia were very perturbed, both turning back to her and asking her to finish her story. Dora couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, the camaraderie of the storm banding them all together in a way she doubted would have been possible in any other situation. Either way, she was grateful for it, finding solace in the presence of others who did not appear to intend her ill.
Opening her mouth to pick up where she left off, she was cut off yet again by an unexpected interruption. The tavern doors flying from their hinges, the merchant jumped to her feet just in time as one of them came flying past her. “Gods above!” she shouted in Greek, the sand from the streets swirling inside across the floor as the wind started knocking beverages and tables to the ground.
Luckily, the worst of it didn’t last long. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and the workers were prepared. Jumping up to the block the doorway with strategically stacked chairs and tables, the worst of the wind and sand was held off again, though Dora had a feeling such a barrier wouldn’t keep up for long. If the winds out there were powerful enough to tear up her stall, eventually they’d break down the makeshift block, as well.
But, in the meantime, Dora simply sighed, forlornly glancing down at her ruined kalasiris. As if she could afford to be replacing her clothing in a time like this. At least, it seemed she’d gained an ally in this disaster. If Lord Akhenaten kept to his word, she’d be back in business soon enough. Though, the problem of gaining customers still remained…
Looking thoughtfully at her benefactor, her head tilted to the side. Perhaps with the replacement of her stand, his lordship could bring business her way too. His family was clearly wealthy, judging from the way he was dressed and the jewels that decorated so much of him. Was it possible he could put her in contact with others who might not be so hesitant to buy from a Greek merchant? She made an internal note to make those inquiries after all this was over. Even if he spurned such suggestions, it never hurt to ask.
“Clearly, my story is simply not meant to be told,” she joked in Coptic with her companions as the tavern warily settled back down. “So, I’ll finish it simply. No, we did not have our first mate returned to us, and our ship was destroyed. Some tales are just doomed not to have a happy ending, aren’t they?”
Glancing around the room at those who remained, she saw a younger woman huddled toward the back, watching Sutekh and Akhenaten with wary eyes. Did she know them, or was it simply their loud argument that drew her attention? Looking between her and the two lords, she shrugged. Whatever the case, she didn’t seem to want to be noticed, so Callidora kept her mouth shut. No use adding fuel to the fiery disaster of a day.
Sutekh had not realized how poorly the others were going to react to his entrance. Had it been under different circumstances, Sutekh might not have blamed them for being so harsh with the prince either. But he wasn’t considering that when Sutekh had to fight the urge to roll his eyes when everyone seemed to focus so intently on the Prince demanding to know where the other Sheifas were. However, instead of seeing it for the rhetorical question that it was, they all seemed to think that he was serious in wanting Hena to find the others in their family. Had the sand buried their rational thought along with the merchant’s wares? Of course, Sutekh was not about to send his brother into the sandstorm that had probably buried half of Cairo by now. That was just so utterly ridiculous that even the dimmest of fools would not have thought of doing such a thing. After all, the brothers may have never gotten along, but they were still kin. Sutekh was not going to purposely put the boy in harm’s way, but there was also the mere fact that Hena probably could not be trusted to find his way home… not without stopping in the other Taverns that were offering shelter.
That was why Sutekh was beyond ticked off with Hena. The entire Sheifa family’s future was now on the twenty-year-old’s shoulders and he couldn’t even be trusted to go home without getting distracted by a pretty pair of legs on the way. It didn’t matter that Egypt was well known to be the most hedonistic kingdom of the known world and Hena had grown accustomed to the joys that it brought the boy, it was downright shameful how Hena behaved. All the boy seemed to care about was his wants and his pleasures. Not the responsibilities and duties that he needed to tend to as the heir to the Sheifa family. Sutekh had hoped that the stomach-churning jolt of reality crashing in would have turned the boy away from his foolish path, especially now that he had no longer could hide behind his capable older brother. However, Sutekh could see now that this wasn’t the case. After all, if Hena gave even the slightest thought to his new role, wouldn’t he be shadowing Onuphirious, not seeking shelter with those who could be basically described by Sutekh as a whore and an overgrown street urchin.
This was not the sort of company that the heir of a great and noble Hei should keep.
He glared at Callidora when the woman tried to lecture Sutekh about Hena’s supposed generosity. As if that was even possible. The Naddar Prince knew his brother and Sutekh was firmly under the impression that the boy was not capable of such a thing. Granted, he could be wrong, but Sutekh doubted it. From his experiences with the boy, he was too selfish and narcissistic for such kindness. He was half-tempted to spit something back at the young woman -- making unfounded accusations about what sort of strings were bound to be attached to whatever promise Hena had made, but he decided to hold his tongue for the moment. After all, he felt that he needed to avoid stooping down to the same childish level that Hena had built his life upon. Unlike his brother, Sutekh could hold himself to the standards set by their social rank… Little did the Bastard know that his own inability to keep a cap on his frustrations had already thrown that out of the window.
The following comments from both Ana and Hena did nothing to cool his temper either. Any inkling of doubt that Sutekh was wrong in his assumptions about his fool of a half-brother was completely thrown out the window when Hena greeted his own blood with an eye roll and insults that would have earned him a slap if their mother had overheard. As the phrases ‘distasteful company’ and ‘asshole’ bounced around in his mind, Sutekh had to physically clench his fists to keep him from falling into the habits of their childhood. Back in the Sheifa household, such insults would have been met with equally harsh words as Sutekh tried to wield the power he thought he had as heir against Hena. This, of course, would never work as Hena held no amount of respect for such a rank; but now? Things were different. Sutekh may hate it with every fiber of being as he longed for the familiarity of Thebes and the comfort of not living in fear of his own relatives -- but that didn’t change the fact that he was now a Prince. Whether Hena liked it or not, Sutekh had to be afforded a certain amount of respect due to his divinely royal blood.
This was something that Sutekh was quick to remind Hena and his companions of through gritted teeth, “ May I remind you all that you are speaking with the brother of her Evening Radiance, Queen Hatshepsut and your Prince.” His tone was tense and the silent warning to drop the disrespect was more than clear in his words. Even if they took offense to Sutekh’s frustrations given the circumstances that had led up to this -- it would do everyone well to heed what the Prince had to say. The momentary stress of the situation will pass and the young man would cool. However, if his brother kept up this childish namecalling that would never happen.
He stiffened further at the insult that the Sheifas was no longer his family. Hena might not have known it, but this was the phrase that cut the Prince in the deepest manner. Not even the Asshole comment hurt quite as bad as that. He did not need the reminder that the man that Sutekh had known as his father for the past twenty-four years considered him to be dead. That everything had been so thoroughly erased that not even Nenet, the sister that Sutekh had been closest with, had written to see how her beloved older brother was faring. It hurt more than anything to know that the family he had cared so much for -- had been raised to dedicate his life to could cut him out of their lives so quickly… and for a sin that was not his own! After all, Sutekh had not asked to be born. He had not asked Iaheru to hide the truth that even he did not know for twenty-four years. He had wanted none of this and the possibility of maybe one day being welcomed back into the fold was the only thing that kept Sutekh together most days. But Hena just had to rub salt into that wound, didn’t he?
“ Just because we do not share the same father does not mean that we do not have the same family. They are just as much my kin as they are yours.” Sutekh said in a low tone, warning the boy to not push the subject further. It was more than obvious that Hena had struck a nerve and it was likely that he would continue to do so given how disrespectful Hena had been thus far. In all honesty, Sutekh didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to deal with whatever hateful comment Hena would have to say. So, the prince tried to outmaneuver the boy by asking a pointed question of his own, clearly articulating the reason why Sutekh was so annoyed with Hena, “ And why are you not with them? Isn’t it your duty as the heir to be at Sirdar Onuphrious’s side, receiving the education of how to be a respectful lord that you are so clearly lacking in?” Who was Sutekh kidding? His brother would never be a respectful lord. He would never change his ways.
The Sheifas were doomed if Hena ever had to take the helm.
If Hena was determined to be an idiot and respond to such a question with blows, he would have to save it for another time as before the boy even had a chance to respond the winds began to howl an ungodly sound. A cold chill settled over Sutekh as he turned towards the door. For a moment, it was as if time stood still as the wood creaked and suddenly came crashing in with a loud bang. The noise echoed in his ears as Sutekh instinctively tried to turn away from the door as the sand started to pour in, but the wrath of Set was faster than a mortal man. Soon enough, things began to crash around them, causing the Prince to step away from the group to avoid the crashing of their glasses as they fell to the floor.
A small noise from the back of the room caused the Prince to lift his head as the staff dealt with the problem, ceasing the calamity before it had even really started. As his gaze settled on the figure in the back of the room, a clearly confused expression crossed his face as the Prince recognized the girl who was trying to avoid the warring brothers. “ Mara?” Sutekh called out, the disbelief that one of the favored servants of the Sheifa household would be here too was clear in his voice. Quickly forgetting the fool that was now the heir, Sutekh crossed the room to where Mara sat. It was not far away enough that Sutekh was now separated from the conversation of his brother the girls he thought were more important than his duties, but at least now he wouldn’t have to raise his voice if he wished to speak with her. “ Are you hurt? And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the Sheifas, not in the middle of a sandstorm?” The concern that Sutekh felt over what Mara’s presence might mean for the rest of his natal family had significantly cooled his temper and the prince now spoke in a softer tone… something that would surely annoy the others if they cared to pay attention.
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Sutekh had not realized how poorly the others were going to react to his entrance. Had it been under different circumstances, Sutekh might not have blamed them for being so harsh with the prince either. But he wasn’t considering that when Sutekh had to fight the urge to roll his eyes when everyone seemed to focus so intently on the Prince demanding to know where the other Sheifas were. However, instead of seeing it for the rhetorical question that it was, they all seemed to think that he was serious in wanting Hena to find the others in their family. Had the sand buried their rational thought along with the merchant’s wares? Of course, Sutekh was not about to send his brother into the sandstorm that had probably buried half of Cairo by now. That was just so utterly ridiculous that even the dimmest of fools would not have thought of doing such a thing. After all, the brothers may have never gotten along, but they were still kin. Sutekh was not going to purposely put the boy in harm’s way, but there was also the mere fact that Hena probably could not be trusted to find his way home… not without stopping in the other Taverns that were offering shelter.
That was why Sutekh was beyond ticked off with Hena. The entire Sheifa family’s future was now on the twenty-year-old’s shoulders and he couldn’t even be trusted to go home without getting distracted by a pretty pair of legs on the way. It didn’t matter that Egypt was well known to be the most hedonistic kingdom of the known world and Hena had grown accustomed to the joys that it brought the boy, it was downright shameful how Hena behaved. All the boy seemed to care about was his wants and his pleasures. Not the responsibilities and duties that he needed to tend to as the heir to the Sheifa family. Sutekh had hoped that the stomach-churning jolt of reality crashing in would have turned the boy away from his foolish path, especially now that he had no longer could hide behind his capable older brother. However, Sutekh could see now that this wasn’t the case. After all, if Hena gave even the slightest thought to his new role, wouldn’t he be shadowing Onuphirious, not seeking shelter with those who could be basically described by Sutekh as a whore and an overgrown street urchin.
This was not the sort of company that the heir of a great and noble Hei should keep.
He glared at Callidora when the woman tried to lecture Sutekh about Hena’s supposed generosity. As if that was even possible. The Naddar Prince knew his brother and Sutekh was firmly under the impression that the boy was not capable of such a thing. Granted, he could be wrong, but Sutekh doubted it. From his experiences with the boy, he was too selfish and narcissistic for such kindness. He was half-tempted to spit something back at the young woman -- making unfounded accusations about what sort of strings were bound to be attached to whatever promise Hena had made, but he decided to hold his tongue for the moment. After all, he felt that he needed to avoid stooping down to the same childish level that Hena had built his life upon. Unlike his brother, Sutekh could hold himself to the standards set by their social rank… Little did the Bastard know that his own inability to keep a cap on his frustrations had already thrown that out of the window.
The following comments from both Ana and Hena did nothing to cool his temper either. Any inkling of doubt that Sutekh was wrong in his assumptions about his fool of a half-brother was completely thrown out the window when Hena greeted his own blood with an eye roll and insults that would have earned him a slap if their mother had overheard. As the phrases ‘distasteful company’ and ‘asshole’ bounced around in his mind, Sutekh had to physically clench his fists to keep him from falling into the habits of their childhood. Back in the Sheifa household, such insults would have been met with equally harsh words as Sutekh tried to wield the power he thought he had as heir against Hena. This, of course, would never work as Hena held no amount of respect for such a rank; but now? Things were different. Sutekh may hate it with every fiber of being as he longed for the familiarity of Thebes and the comfort of not living in fear of his own relatives -- but that didn’t change the fact that he was now a Prince. Whether Hena liked it or not, Sutekh had to be afforded a certain amount of respect due to his divinely royal blood.
This was something that Sutekh was quick to remind Hena and his companions of through gritted teeth, “ May I remind you all that you are speaking with the brother of her Evening Radiance, Queen Hatshepsut and your Prince.” His tone was tense and the silent warning to drop the disrespect was more than clear in his words. Even if they took offense to Sutekh’s frustrations given the circumstances that had led up to this -- it would do everyone well to heed what the Prince had to say. The momentary stress of the situation will pass and the young man would cool. However, if his brother kept up this childish namecalling that would never happen.
He stiffened further at the insult that the Sheifas was no longer his family. Hena might not have known it, but this was the phrase that cut the Prince in the deepest manner. Not even the Asshole comment hurt quite as bad as that. He did not need the reminder that the man that Sutekh had known as his father for the past twenty-four years considered him to be dead. That everything had been so thoroughly erased that not even Nenet, the sister that Sutekh had been closest with, had written to see how her beloved older brother was faring. It hurt more than anything to know that the family he had cared so much for -- had been raised to dedicate his life to could cut him out of their lives so quickly… and for a sin that was not his own! After all, Sutekh had not asked to be born. He had not asked Iaheru to hide the truth that even he did not know for twenty-four years. He had wanted none of this and the possibility of maybe one day being welcomed back into the fold was the only thing that kept Sutekh together most days. But Hena just had to rub salt into that wound, didn’t he?
“ Just because we do not share the same father does not mean that we do not have the same family. They are just as much my kin as they are yours.” Sutekh said in a low tone, warning the boy to not push the subject further. It was more than obvious that Hena had struck a nerve and it was likely that he would continue to do so given how disrespectful Hena had been thus far. In all honesty, Sutekh didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to deal with whatever hateful comment Hena would have to say. So, the prince tried to outmaneuver the boy by asking a pointed question of his own, clearly articulating the reason why Sutekh was so annoyed with Hena, “ And why are you not with them? Isn’t it your duty as the heir to be at Sirdar Onuphrious’s side, receiving the education of how to be a respectful lord that you are so clearly lacking in?” Who was Sutekh kidding? His brother would never be a respectful lord. He would never change his ways.
The Sheifas were doomed if Hena ever had to take the helm.
If Hena was determined to be an idiot and respond to such a question with blows, he would have to save it for another time as before the boy even had a chance to respond the winds began to howl an ungodly sound. A cold chill settled over Sutekh as he turned towards the door. For a moment, it was as if time stood still as the wood creaked and suddenly came crashing in with a loud bang. The noise echoed in his ears as Sutekh instinctively tried to turn away from the door as the sand started to pour in, but the wrath of Set was faster than a mortal man. Soon enough, things began to crash around them, causing the Prince to step away from the group to avoid the crashing of their glasses as they fell to the floor.
A small noise from the back of the room caused the Prince to lift his head as the staff dealt with the problem, ceasing the calamity before it had even really started. As his gaze settled on the figure in the back of the room, a clearly confused expression crossed his face as the Prince recognized the girl who was trying to avoid the warring brothers. “ Mara?” Sutekh called out, the disbelief that one of the favored servants of the Sheifa household would be here too was clear in his voice. Quickly forgetting the fool that was now the heir, Sutekh crossed the room to where Mara sat. It was not far away enough that Sutekh was now separated from the conversation of his brother the girls he thought were more important than his duties, but at least now he wouldn’t have to raise his voice if he wished to speak with her. “ Are you hurt? And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the Sheifas, not in the middle of a sandstorm?” The concern that Sutekh felt over what Mara’s presence might mean for the rest of his natal family had significantly cooled his temper and the prince now spoke in a softer tone… something that would surely annoy the others if they cared to pay attention.
Sutekh had not realized how poorly the others were going to react to his entrance. Had it been under different circumstances, Sutekh might not have blamed them for being so harsh with the prince either. But he wasn’t considering that when Sutekh had to fight the urge to roll his eyes when everyone seemed to focus so intently on the Prince demanding to know where the other Sheifas were. However, instead of seeing it for the rhetorical question that it was, they all seemed to think that he was serious in wanting Hena to find the others in their family. Had the sand buried their rational thought along with the merchant’s wares? Of course, Sutekh was not about to send his brother into the sandstorm that had probably buried half of Cairo by now. That was just so utterly ridiculous that even the dimmest of fools would not have thought of doing such a thing. After all, the brothers may have never gotten along, but they were still kin. Sutekh was not going to purposely put the boy in harm’s way, but there was also the mere fact that Hena probably could not be trusted to find his way home… not without stopping in the other Taverns that were offering shelter.
That was why Sutekh was beyond ticked off with Hena. The entire Sheifa family’s future was now on the twenty-year-old’s shoulders and he couldn’t even be trusted to go home without getting distracted by a pretty pair of legs on the way. It didn’t matter that Egypt was well known to be the most hedonistic kingdom of the known world and Hena had grown accustomed to the joys that it brought the boy, it was downright shameful how Hena behaved. All the boy seemed to care about was his wants and his pleasures. Not the responsibilities and duties that he needed to tend to as the heir to the Sheifa family. Sutekh had hoped that the stomach-churning jolt of reality crashing in would have turned the boy away from his foolish path, especially now that he had no longer could hide behind his capable older brother. However, Sutekh could see now that this wasn’t the case. After all, if Hena gave even the slightest thought to his new role, wouldn’t he be shadowing Onuphirious, not seeking shelter with those who could be basically described by Sutekh as a whore and an overgrown street urchin.
This was not the sort of company that the heir of a great and noble Hei should keep.
He glared at Callidora when the woman tried to lecture Sutekh about Hena’s supposed generosity. As if that was even possible. The Naddar Prince knew his brother and Sutekh was firmly under the impression that the boy was not capable of such a thing. Granted, he could be wrong, but Sutekh doubted it. From his experiences with the boy, he was too selfish and narcissistic for such kindness. He was half-tempted to spit something back at the young woman -- making unfounded accusations about what sort of strings were bound to be attached to whatever promise Hena had made, but he decided to hold his tongue for the moment. After all, he felt that he needed to avoid stooping down to the same childish level that Hena had built his life upon. Unlike his brother, Sutekh could hold himself to the standards set by their social rank… Little did the Bastard know that his own inability to keep a cap on his frustrations had already thrown that out of the window.
The following comments from both Ana and Hena did nothing to cool his temper either. Any inkling of doubt that Sutekh was wrong in his assumptions about his fool of a half-brother was completely thrown out the window when Hena greeted his own blood with an eye roll and insults that would have earned him a slap if their mother had overheard. As the phrases ‘distasteful company’ and ‘asshole’ bounced around in his mind, Sutekh had to physically clench his fists to keep him from falling into the habits of their childhood. Back in the Sheifa household, such insults would have been met with equally harsh words as Sutekh tried to wield the power he thought he had as heir against Hena. This, of course, would never work as Hena held no amount of respect for such a rank; but now? Things were different. Sutekh may hate it with every fiber of being as he longed for the familiarity of Thebes and the comfort of not living in fear of his own relatives -- but that didn’t change the fact that he was now a Prince. Whether Hena liked it or not, Sutekh had to be afforded a certain amount of respect due to his divinely royal blood.
This was something that Sutekh was quick to remind Hena and his companions of through gritted teeth, “ May I remind you all that you are speaking with the brother of her Evening Radiance, Queen Hatshepsut and your Prince.” His tone was tense and the silent warning to drop the disrespect was more than clear in his words. Even if they took offense to Sutekh’s frustrations given the circumstances that had led up to this -- it would do everyone well to heed what the Prince had to say. The momentary stress of the situation will pass and the young man would cool. However, if his brother kept up this childish namecalling that would never happen.
He stiffened further at the insult that the Sheifas was no longer his family. Hena might not have known it, but this was the phrase that cut the Prince in the deepest manner. Not even the Asshole comment hurt quite as bad as that. He did not need the reminder that the man that Sutekh had known as his father for the past twenty-four years considered him to be dead. That everything had been so thoroughly erased that not even Nenet, the sister that Sutekh had been closest with, had written to see how her beloved older brother was faring. It hurt more than anything to know that the family he had cared so much for -- had been raised to dedicate his life to could cut him out of their lives so quickly… and for a sin that was not his own! After all, Sutekh had not asked to be born. He had not asked Iaheru to hide the truth that even he did not know for twenty-four years. He had wanted none of this and the possibility of maybe one day being welcomed back into the fold was the only thing that kept Sutekh together most days. But Hena just had to rub salt into that wound, didn’t he?
“ Just because we do not share the same father does not mean that we do not have the same family. They are just as much my kin as they are yours.” Sutekh said in a low tone, warning the boy to not push the subject further. It was more than obvious that Hena had struck a nerve and it was likely that he would continue to do so given how disrespectful Hena had been thus far. In all honesty, Sutekh didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to deal with whatever hateful comment Hena would have to say. So, the prince tried to outmaneuver the boy by asking a pointed question of his own, clearly articulating the reason why Sutekh was so annoyed with Hena, “ And why are you not with them? Isn’t it your duty as the heir to be at Sirdar Onuphrious’s side, receiving the education of how to be a respectful lord that you are so clearly lacking in?” Who was Sutekh kidding? His brother would never be a respectful lord. He would never change his ways.
The Sheifas were doomed if Hena ever had to take the helm.
If Hena was determined to be an idiot and respond to such a question with blows, he would have to save it for another time as before the boy even had a chance to respond the winds began to howl an ungodly sound. A cold chill settled over Sutekh as he turned towards the door. For a moment, it was as if time stood still as the wood creaked and suddenly came crashing in with a loud bang. The noise echoed in his ears as Sutekh instinctively tried to turn away from the door as the sand started to pour in, but the wrath of Set was faster than a mortal man. Soon enough, things began to crash around them, causing the Prince to step away from the group to avoid the crashing of their glasses as they fell to the floor.
A small noise from the back of the room caused the Prince to lift his head as the staff dealt with the problem, ceasing the calamity before it had even really started. As his gaze settled on the figure in the back of the room, a clearly confused expression crossed his face as the Prince recognized the girl who was trying to avoid the warring brothers. “ Mara?” Sutekh called out, the disbelief that one of the favored servants of the Sheifa household would be here too was clear in his voice. Quickly forgetting the fool that was now the heir, Sutekh crossed the room to where Mara sat. It was not far away enough that Sutekh was now separated from the conversation of his brother the girls he thought were more important than his duties, but at least now he wouldn’t have to raise his voice if he wished to speak with her. “ Are you hurt? And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the Sheifas, not in the middle of a sandstorm?” The concern that Sutekh felt over what Mara’s presence might mean for the rest of his natal family had significantly cooled his temper and the prince now spoke in a softer tone… something that would surely annoy the others if they cared to pay attention.
Anastasia should've considered the feelings of the rest of the table before she spoke.
It was growing more and more apparent that she was trying to distract herself from the story Callidora unfolded. The memories of the past were a toxic mire, unwanted reminders of brutalizing pain and the constant reminder of dehumanization. In kinder moments, Anastasia was reminded of why she dehumanized herself now, giving herself anthropomorphic designations of things that were very much inhuman. In her life outside of Athenia, but still among her own people, she was the siren, given legs to walk among humanity but not as them. She was, in the African continent, the fallen star, a power from the sky well-loved by the heathens of Egypt, but also acknowledged as... other.
Being humanized was never the intention, she mused, her features pointedly looking away from Callidora. It wasn't the merchant woman's fault that she was what she was, but the cold disdain couldn't help but overwhelm Anastasia. Her grasp upon Akhenaten grew slightly tighter, as if she wished to hide herself away in him. However, the lord continued his conversation with his brother and it occured to Ana to disconnect herself from him immediately. The bard pushed away from him, turning her head towards the mead on the table and poured herself another cup full. The ire in Hena's words were something she'd never experienced. She'd known his frustration, his desire, his insistence, but never once did he feel...
Was his anger turning her on?
She complied with his pulling at her body. Anastasia folded into his lap, letting her legs dangle over his thigh. Arms looped around the man's neck as he kissed her, fully aware of the fact that she was a means to annoy the other noble and not exactly caring of the fact. She pressed herself into that kiss, and tilted her head to face Sutekh, letting her own head rest on the noble's shoulder. If he wished for her to hang about him, a decoration meant to infuriate the brother who so hated where he placed his affections...
Well, she just had to be game with it.
Anastasia didn't face Callidora at all. Still, the anger boiled within her, but it was impossible to maintain that resentment for very long. Facing Sutekh gave the bard an eye on the door, and she saw it immediately when the whipping winds threw them open and the talk of princeliness, duty, or lordship were thrown out for no one to hear. Anastasia, in the interest of her and Akhenaten's preservation, acted immediately. She threw herself to the floor, positioning herself underneath the table. In an easy twist of her body, she placed her arms beneath the table and threw her weight into it from underneath. Then, she tipped forward, slanting her grasp so that the table fell forward and provided a bulwark from which the sand could not penetrate. Anastasia placed her back against it and reached for Akhenaten to follow suit.
The intrusion of the whipping winds was momentary at best, but the fallen star had no desire to meet her face full of scars or her body with marks of the sand. She had no will to swallow a mouthful of dirt or suffer for the duration of the day. Already, stories of merchant-kind and prince-ship were drawing her comfort to its limits, and so as she brought Hena into her embrace beneath the table, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear,
"Take me away from here when this is over."
A simple request, but one that was met with fire in her hazel eyes. She wanted nothing to do with any of this, and it seemed that Akhenaten's patience was drawing thin, as well.
Then, as the storm subsided, she heard the tell of the Greek woman, finishing the last of the story as he let a low laugh escape her lips.
"Most do not. Happy endings, my friend, are pretty lies to reassure children."
It was a low answer, meant only for her ears and Hena's. The reality of a bard was the knowledge that no tale worth remembering ended well for anyone.
Or was that her anger given speech?
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Anastasia should've considered the feelings of the rest of the table before she spoke.
It was growing more and more apparent that she was trying to distract herself from the story Callidora unfolded. The memories of the past were a toxic mire, unwanted reminders of brutalizing pain and the constant reminder of dehumanization. In kinder moments, Anastasia was reminded of why she dehumanized herself now, giving herself anthropomorphic designations of things that were very much inhuman. In her life outside of Athenia, but still among her own people, she was the siren, given legs to walk among humanity but not as them. She was, in the African continent, the fallen star, a power from the sky well-loved by the heathens of Egypt, but also acknowledged as... other.
Being humanized was never the intention, she mused, her features pointedly looking away from Callidora. It wasn't the merchant woman's fault that she was what she was, but the cold disdain couldn't help but overwhelm Anastasia. Her grasp upon Akhenaten grew slightly tighter, as if she wished to hide herself away in him. However, the lord continued his conversation with his brother and it occured to Ana to disconnect herself from him immediately. The bard pushed away from him, turning her head towards the mead on the table and poured herself another cup full. The ire in Hena's words were something she'd never experienced. She'd known his frustration, his desire, his insistence, but never once did he feel...
Was his anger turning her on?
She complied with his pulling at her body. Anastasia folded into his lap, letting her legs dangle over his thigh. Arms looped around the man's neck as he kissed her, fully aware of the fact that she was a means to annoy the other noble and not exactly caring of the fact. She pressed herself into that kiss, and tilted her head to face Sutekh, letting her own head rest on the noble's shoulder. If he wished for her to hang about him, a decoration meant to infuriate the brother who so hated where he placed his affections...
Well, she just had to be game with it.
Anastasia didn't face Callidora at all. Still, the anger boiled within her, but it was impossible to maintain that resentment for very long. Facing Sutekh gave the bard an eye on the door, and she saw it immediately when the whipping winds threw them open and the talk of princeliness, duty, or lordship were thrown out for no one to hear. Anastasia, in the interest of her and Akhenaten's preservation, acted immediately. She threw herself to the floor, positioning herself underneath the table. In an easy twist of her body, she placed her arms beneath the table and threw her weight into it from underneath. Then, she tipped forward, slanting her grasp so that the table fell forward and provided a bulwark from which the sand could not penetrate. Anastasia placed her back against it and reached for Akhenaten to follow suit.
The intrusion of the whipping winds was momentary at best, but the fallen star had no desire to meet her face full of scars or her body with marks of the sand. She had no will to swallow a mouthful of dirt or suffer for the duration of the day. Already, stories of merchant-kind and prince-ship were drawing her comfort to its limits, and so as she brought Hena into her embrace beneath the table, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear,
"Take me away from here when this is over."
A simple request, but one that was met with fire in her hazel eyes. She wanted nothing to do with any of this, and it seemed that Akhenaten's patience was drawing thin, as well.
Then, as the storm subsided, she heard the tell of the Greek woman, finishing the last of the story as he let a low laugh escape her lips.
"Most do not. Happy endings, my friend, are pretty lies to reassure children."
It was a low answer, meant only for her ears and Hena's. The reality of a bard was the knowledge that no tale worth remembering ended well for anyone.
Or was that her anger given speech?
Anastasia should've considered the feelings of the rest of the table before she spoke.
It was growing more and more apparent that she was trying to distract herself from the story Callidora unfolded. The memories of the past were a toxic mire, unwanted reminders of brutalizing pain and the constant reminder of dehumanization. In kinder moments, Anastasia was reminded of why she dehumanized herself now, giving herself anthropomorphic designations of things that were very much inhuman. In her life outside of Athenia, but still among her own people, she was the siren, given legs to walk among humanity but not as them. She was, in the African continent, the fallen star, a power from the sky well-loved by the heathens of Egypt, but also acknowledged as... other.
Being humanized was never the intention, she mused, her features pointedly looking away from Callidora. It wasn't the merchant woman's fault that she was what she was, but the cold disdain couldn't help but overwhelm Anastasia. Her grasp upon Akhenaten grew slightly tighter, as if she wished to hide herself away in him. However, the lord continued his conversation with his brother and it occured to Ana to disconnect herself from him immediately. The bard pushed away from him, turning her head towards the mead on the table and poured herself another cup full. The ire in Hena's words were something she'd never experienced. She'd known his frustration, his desire, his insistence, but never once did he feel...
Was his anger turning her on?
She complied with his pulling at her body. Anastasia folded into his lap, letting her legs dangle over his thigh. Arms looped around the man's neck as he kissed her, fully aware of the fact that she was a means to annoy the other noble and not exactly caring of the fact. She pressed herself into that kiss, and tilted her head to face Sutekh, letting her own head rest on the noble's shoulder. If he wished for her to hang about him, a decoration meant to infuriate the brother who so hated where he placed his affections...
Well, she just had to be game with it.
Anastasia didn't face Callidora at all. Still, the anger boiled within her, but it was impossible to maintain that resentment for very long. Facing Sutekh gave the bard an eye on the door, and she saw it immediately when the whipping winds threw them open and the talk of princeliness, duty, or lordship were thrown out for no one to hear. Anastasia, in the interest of her and Akhenaten's preservation, acted immediately. She threw herself to the floor, positioning herself underneath the table. In an easy twist of her body, she placed her arms beneath the table and threw her weight into it from underneath. Then, she tipped forward, slanting her grasp so that the table fell forward and provided a bulwark from which the sand could not penetrate. Anastasia placed her back against it and reached for Akhenaten to follow suit.
The intrusion of the whipping winds was momentary at best, but the fallen star had no desire to meet her face full of scars or her body with marks of the sand. She had no will to swallow a mouthful of dirt or suffer for the duration of the day. Already, stories of merchant-kind and prince-ship were drawing her comfort to its limits, and so as she brought Hena into her embrace beneath the table, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear,
"Take me away from here when this is over."
A simple request, but one that was met with fire in her hazel eyes. She wanted nothing to do with any of this, and it seemed that Akhenaten's patience was drawing thin, as well.
Then, as the storm subsided, she heard the tell of the Greek woman, finishing the last of the story as he let a low laugh escape her lips.
"Most do not. Happy endings, my friend, are pretty lies to reassure children."
It was a low answer, meant only for her ears and Hena's. The reality of a bard was the knowledge that no tale worth remembering ended well for anyone.
Or was that her anger given speech?
“Half-brother. And even then, barely that.” Akhenaten retorted back to Sutekh, as if his title mattered little. And in reality, did it really matter? Sure he might be half brother to the Queen, but the Pharoah held the power, and from what Hena could gather, the man saw Sutekh as a threat more than anything.
This was an argument that could go on forever, but the winds would ensure it was ended.
Hena had no time to react, hadn’t expected the winds to blow the doors from their place protecting them against the sand, and so when it happened he felt like he had frozen. Luckily for him, Ana had not. He wasn’t sure what had lead up to her flipping the table, but suddenly she was pulling him in with her, behind the protection of the piece of furniture.
The staff quickly dealt with blocking the doorway, and once again the winds settled, though now the tavern was absolutely covered in a layer of sand that had managed to make its way into the building before it had been mostly blocked.
He had heard Ana’s words, and he gave her a small nod, locking his gaze on hers, he whispered back in a low and tender tone, one that only she would hear over the commotion in the room.
“As soon as I am able.” He assured her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
Once he was sure that the barricade that had been built was not going to come down, he stood and attempted to at least brush some of the sand from his clothes before offering a hand to Ana to help her up off the ground as well.
He also spoke to Dora.
"Send me a letter once this is all over, and I will see that our deal is discussed under better circumstances." He spoke as he helped Ana to her feet.
Once Ana was standing again, his gaze found where his brother had gone and once more his anger flared. Why must Sutekh put his nose where it did not belong. He was not a Shieifa any more, and he would never be. He just needed to accept that and leave well enough alone.
He walked over.
“Do not speak to my slave. She is no longer yours to command, Sutekh. She is property of Hei Sheifa, and if you recall, you no longer bear such a name.” He stated, motioning for Mara to come over to him, the look in his eyes showing that it would be a huge mistake if she chose to disobey him. Over the years of her service to his family, he had never harmed a hair on her head, she had never seen punishment from Akhenaten for any slight, deserved or not. But she had seen and heard what he had done to the other slaves that had angered him. She had likely seen the state of the slave who had dared ruin his hair when she was cutting it, and the deep gouges on her face that he had left with the knife, ones that would leave heavy scars for the rest of her life. That was before his parents had the woman sold off to hide the damage that their son had done out of anger.
He really didn’t care what Mara was doing there, or about the fact that she was there. This was simply a power move over his brother, who clearly cared for Mara’s well being. He would not allow this interaction, and it was all out of spite.
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“Half-brother. And even then, barely that.” Akhenaten retorted back to Sutekh, as if his title mattered little. And in reality, did it really matter? Sure he might be half brother to the Queen, but the Pharoah held the power, and from what Hena could gather, the man saw Sutekh as a threat more than anything.
This was an argument that could go on forever, but the winds would ensure it was ended.
Hena had no time to react, hadn’t expected the winds to blow the doors from their place protecting them against the sand, and so when it happened he felt like he had frozen. Luckily for him, Ana had not. He wasn’t sure what had lead up to her flipping the table, but suddenly she was pulling him in with her, behind the protection of the piece of furniture.
The staff quickly dealt with blocking the doorway, and once again the winds settled, though now the tavern was absolutely covered in a layer of sand that had managed to make its way into the building before it had been mostly blocked.
He had heard Ana’s words, and he gave her a small nod, locking his gaze on hers, he whispered back in a low and tender tone, one that only she would hear over the commotion in the room.
“As soon as I am able.” He assured her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
Once he was sure that the barricade that had been built was not going to come down, he stood and attempted to at least brush some of the sand from his clothes before offering a hand to Ana to help her up off the ground as well.
He also spoke to Dora.
"Send me a letter once this is all over, and I will see that our deal is discussed under better circumstances." He spoke as he helped Ana to her feet.
Once Ana was standing again, his gaze found where his brother had gone and once more his anger flared. Why must Sutekh put his nose where it did not belong. He was not a Shieifa any more, and he would never be. He just needed to accept that and leave well enough alone.
He walked over.
“Do not speak to my slave. She is no longer yours to command, Sutekh. She is property of Hei Sheifa, and if you recall, you no longer bear such a name.” He stated, motioning for Mara to come over to him, the look in his eyes showing that it would be a huge mistake if she chose to disobey him. Over the years of her service to his family, he had never harmed a hair on her head, she had never seen punishment from Akhenaten for any slight, deserved or not. But she had seen and heard what he had done to the other slaves that had angered him. She had likely seen the state of the slave who had dared ruin his hair when she was cutting it, and the deep gouges on her face that he had left with the knife, ones that would leave heavy scars for the rest of her life. That was before his parents had the woman sold off to hide the damage that their son had done out of anger.
He really didn’t care what Mara was doing there, or about the fact that she was there. This was simply a power move over his brother, who clearly cared for Mara’s well being. He would not allow this interaction, and it was all out of spite.
“Half-brother. And even then, barely that.” Akhenaten retorted back to Sutekh, as if his title mattered little. And in reality, did it really matter? Sure he might be half brother to the Queen, but the Pharoah held the power, and from what Hena could gather, the man saw Sutekh as a threat more than anything.
This was an argument that could go on forever, but the winds would ensure it was ended.
Hena had no time to react, hadn’t expected the winds to blow the doors from their place protecting them against the sand, and so when it happened he felt like he had frozen. Luckily for him, Ana had not. He wasn’t sure what had lead up to her flipping the table, but suddenly she was pulling him in with her, behind the protection of the piece of furniture.
The staff quickly dealt with blocking the doorway, and once again the winds settled, though now the tavern was absolutely covered in a layer of sand that had managed to make its way into the building before it had been mostly blocked.
He had heard Ana’s words, and he gave her a small nod, locking his gaze on hers, he whispered back in a low and tender tone, one that only she would hear over the commotion in the room.
“As soon as I am able.” He assured her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.
Once he was sure that the barricade that had been built was not going to come down, he stood and attempted to at least brush some of the sand from his clothes before offering a hand to Ana to help her up off the ground as well.
He also spoke to Dora.
"Send me a letter once this is all over, and I will see that our deal is discussed under better circumstances." He spoke as he helped Ana to her feet.
Once Ana was standing again, his gaze found where his brother had gone and once more his anger flared. Why must Sutekh put his nose where it did not belong. He was not a Shieifa any more, and he would never be. He just needed to accept that and leave well enough alone.
He walked over.
“Do not speak to my slave. She is no longer yours to command, Sutekh. She is property of Hei Sheifa, and if you recall, you no longer bear such a name.” He stated, motioning for Mara to come over to him, the look in his eyes showing that it would be a huge mistake if she chose to disobey him. Over the years of her service to his family, he had never harmed a hair on her head, she had never seen punishment from Akhenaten for any slight, deserved or not. But she had seen and heard what he had done to the other slaves that had angered him. She had likely seen the state of the slave who had dared ruin his hair when she was cutting it, and the deep gouges on her face that he had left with the knife, ones that would leave heavy scars for the rest of her life. That was before his parents had the woman sold off to hide the damage that their son had done out of anger.
He really didn’t care what Mara was doing there, or about the fact that she was there. This was simply a power move over his brother, who clearly cared for Mara’s well being. He would not allow this interaction, and it was all out of spite.
Humanity wasn't exactly a trait that Rubiah could hold a claim to. Compassion and kindness were wonderful things in and of themselves, she was sure, but only when you had the welfare to spare. If she had money coming out of her ears and could shit diamonds then sure, have all the charity and help you might need. But if you're alone in the world and never know when the well is going to run dry then you're an idiot to give away that which you still have.
Which is why there was no way that Rubiah would have stepped out into a sand storm for generous reasons. She wasn't there, in the streets, because she wanted to aid those that she could occasionally hear calling for help. She wasn't outside of her sister's sanctuary of a noble estate because she valued the human spirit of camaraderie.
She was there to line her pockets.
Disasters and harsh weather were fantastic opportunities for search and rescue. In that, you searched for gold and rescued yourself from a future day of poverty. With families shut inside certain parts of their homes or trapped in establishments like their business or leisurely 'private time' at local brothels, certain manors, homes or areas of estates were left barren of people. But not of their wealth.
The leather satchel that hung at Rubiah's hip had begun the day bouncing softly against the sexual sway of her hips, empty and longing to be filled. With every step, her ankle boots of soft leather had kicked aside a skirt that hung down front and back but split to her waist on either side. Her legs, long for her frame, were toned and strong and used to carrying her from A to B and she had had no fear of the soft, sandy wind that had been stirring up. It had been a sign of chance against those too weak and cowardly to stay in their homes beyond the first signs of weather trouble.
Now, Rubiah's stride was just as forceful but not as relaxed. Having lingered a little too long and strayed too far through the streets, she had gotten herself lost. She had timed it fine. The distance between the Abaddi manor and her last target had been short enough to make it back to her sister's home before the very worst of the storm could hinder her. What she had forgotten was how different the streets appeared through a film of haze. Especially when the sand had her wincing her eyes shut and the braids of her hair slapping about her face like tendrils under water.
Having gotten herself lost, Rubiah was left with little option but to find a place to hide out the worst of the storm. Her progress down the streets was a sort of weaving ricochet, as the winds lifted her small body just a little and sent her dancing over the rocky ground to get her grip again.
There was benefit in stealing so much jewellery and metal work, now pulling heavily against her shoulder and across her body. The weight helped to keep her grounded. Literally.
Weaving close to a building of some kind - she couldn't make out its profession as she could barely open her eyes - Rubiah heard the sounds of voices from inside and headed in that direction. If there were people inside, then they must have found somewhere they could wait out the sandstorm. Even more so if they were talking. Rubiah's mouth felt like the Sahara and she couldn't have summoned saliva if she'd seen her worst enemy walking the streets and in need of a good spit in the eye. Her own eyes were drying out, her skin felt like it was disintegrating, rubbed raw by the winds.
With the door to the place already battered down by the gales, Rubiah had to only scramble over the boards of what had once kept out unwanted guests and tried to open her eyes in the slightly clearer air of the inside.
"Hello?" She called out, unable to see much, and paused to whip at her face and cough. She stumbled on the edge of the door she had navigated over. "Arse it! Urgh. it's drier than a camel's cunt out there." She looked around, her braids clinking as they moved. "Yo, anyone dead yet?"
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Humanity wasn't exactly a trait that Rubiah could hold a claim to. Compassion and kindness were wonderful things in and of themselves, she was sure, but only when you had the welfare to spare. If she had money coming out of her ears and could shit diamonds then sure, have all the charity and help you might need. But if you're alone in the world and never know when the well is going to run dry then you're an idiot to give away that which you still have.
Which is why there was no way that Rubiah would have stepped out into a sand storm for generous reasons. She wasn't there, in the streets, because she wanted to aid those that she could occasionally hear calling for help. She wasn't outside of her sister's sanctuary of a noble estate because she valued the human spirit of camaraderie.
She was there to line her pockets.
Disasters and harsh weather were fantastic opportunities for search and rescue. In that, you searched for gold and rescued yourself from a future day of poverty. With families shut inside certain parts of their homes or trapped in establishments like their business or leisurely 'private time' at local brothels, certain manors, homes or areas of estates were left barren of people. But not of their wealth.
The leather satchel that hung at Rubiah's hip had begun the day bouncing softly against the sexual sway of her hips, empty and longing to be filled. With every step, her ankle boots of soft leather had kicked aside a skirt that hung down front and back but split to her waist on either side. Her legs, long for her frame, were toned and strong and used to carrying her from A to B and she had had no fear of the soft, sandy wind that had been stirring up. It had been a sign of chance against those too weak and cowardly to stay in their homes beyond the first signs of weather trouble.
Now, Rubiah's stride was just as forceful but not as relaxed. Having lingered a little too long and strayed too far through the streets, she had gotten herself lost. She had timed it fine. The distance between the Abaddi manor and her last target had been short enough to make it back to her sister's home before the very worst of the storm could hinder her. What she had forgotten was how different the streets appeared through a film of haze. Especially when the sand had her wincing her eyes shut and the braids of her hair slapping about her face like tendrils under water.
Having gotten herself lost, Rubiah was left with little option but to find a place to hide out the worst of the storm. Her progress down the streets was a sort of weaving ricochet, as the winds lifted her small body just a little and sent her dancing over the rocky ground to get her grip again.
There was benefit in stealing so much jewellery and metal work, now pulling heavily against her shoulder and across her body. The weight helped to keep her grounded. Literally.
Weaving close to a building of some kind - she couldn't make out its profession as she could barely open her eyes - Rubiah heard the sounds of voices from inside and headed in that direction. If there were people inside, then they must have found somewhere they could wait out the sandstorm. Even more so if they were talking. Rubiah's mouth felt like the Sahara and she couldn't have summoned saliva if she'd seen her worst enemy walking the streets and in need of a good spit in the eye. Her own eyes were drying out, her skin felt like it was disintegrating, rubbed raw by the winds.
With the door to the place already battered down by the gales, Rubiah had to only scramble over the boards of what had once kept out unwanted guests and tried to open her eyes in the slightly clearer air of the inside.
"Hello?" She called out, unable to see much, and paused to whip at her face and cough. She stumbled on the edge of the door she had navigated over. "Arse it! Urgh. it's drier than a camel's cunt out there." She looked around, her braids clinking as they moved. "Yo, anyone dead yet?"
Humanity wasn't exactly a trait that Rubiah could hold a claim to. Compassion and kindness were wonderful things in and of themselves, she was sure, but only when you had the welfare to spare. If she had money coming out of her ears and could shit diamonds then sure, have all the charity and help you might need. But if you're alone in the world and never know when the well is going to run dry then you're an idiot to give away that which you still have.
Which is why there was no way that Rubiah would have stepped out into a sand storm for generous reasons. She wasn't there, in the streets, because she wanted to aid those that she could occasionally hear calling for help. She wasn't outside of her sister's sanctuary of a noble estate because she valued the human spirit of camaraderie.
She was there to line her pockets.
Disasters and harsh weather were fantastic opportunities for search and rescue. In that, you searched for gold and rescued yourself from a future day of poverty. With families shut inside certain parts of their homes or trapped in establishments like their business or leisurely 'private time' at local brothels, certain manors, homes or areas of estates were left barren of people. But not of their wealth.
The leather satchel that hung at Rubiah's hip had begun the day bouncing softly against the sexual sway of her hips, empty and longing to be filled. With every step, her ankle boots of soft leather had kicked aside a skirt that hung down front and back but split to her waist on either side. Her legs, long for her frame, were toned and strong and used to carrying her from A to B and she had had no fear of the soft, sandy wind that had been stirring up. It had been a sign of chance against those too weak and cowardly to stay in their homes beyond the first signs of weather trouble.
Now, Rubiah's stride was just as forceful but not as relaxed. Having lingered a little too long and strayed too far through the streets, she had gotten herself lost. She had timed it fine. The distance between the Abaddi manor and her last target had been short enough to make it back to her sister's home before the very worst of the storm could hinder her. What she had forgotten was how different the streets appeared through a film of haze. Especially when the sand had her wincing her eyes shut and the braids of her hair slapping about her face like tendrils under water.
Having gotten herself lost, Rubiah was left with little option but to find a place to hide out the worst of the storm. Her progress down the streets was a sort of weaving ricochet, as the winds lifted her small body just a little and sent her dancing over the rocky ground to get her grip again.
There was benefit in stealing so much jewellery and metal work, now pulling heavily against her shoulder and across her body. The weight helped to keep her grounded. Literally.
Weaving close to a building of some kind - she couldn't make out its profession as she could barely open her eyes - Rubiah heard the sounds of voices from inside and headed in that direction. If there were people inside, then they must have found somewhere they could wait out the sandstorm. Even more so if they were talking. Rubiah's mouth felt like the Sahara and she couldn't have summoned saliva if she'd seen her worst enemy walking the streets and in need of a good spit in the eye. Her own eyes were drying out, her skin felt like it was disintegrating, rubbed raw by the winds.
With the door to the place already battered down by the gales, Rubiah had to only scramble over the boards of what had once kept out unwanted guests and tried to open her eyes in the slightly clearer air of the inside.
"Hello?" She called out, unable to see much, and paused to whip at her face and cough. She stumbled on the edge of the door she had navigated over. "Arse it! Urgh. it's drier than a camel's cunt out there." She looked around, her braids clinking as they moved. "Yo, anyone dead yet?"
Storms were fun. Storms were exciting. Storms were chaos incarnate. They were a way for Set to wreck havoc upon the world, and if people died to them, so what? Few would likely shed tears, and it gave Kesi a chance to giggle at the mess as she made her way home. What silly positions could the corpses of those unable to find shelter be left in? What if a passing cart impaled them, or their head got smashed by a mud-brick? It would look really funny! And then Kesi would have a story to tell Nem when she finally made it back to the circus.
The problem with this storm in particular was that Kesi had to shelter in place. She was no idiot, being in the midst of the sandstorm spelled danger for the young snake charmer, and she still had many things to do. Her death would be horribly inconvenient right now. She wasn’t about that, but maybe later.
Before the windstorm truly began to pick up, Kesi was here to discuss with the owner of the tavern the potential of her putting on a show within the next few days. Drumming up more patrons for the circus would be nice, and the hypnotizing sound of her pungi would surely bring more and more crowds to see the full show at The Tempest of Set . Unfortunately, when she arrived, his ear was already held by another woman flirting her way into a stay. And then the winds started roaring, leaving the girl unable to complete her mission and stuck waiting for the storm to calm.
She had nestled herself in the corner of the tavern playing with her dagger, mood entirely soured. Not only was she stuck inside where it was completely and utterly boring but that stupid girl got to the tavern keeper first! Kesi was going to wow him! Kesi was going to score a slot in which to entrance a crowd. And most importantly, she was going to bring bank to the circus and have her brother be really proud of the work she had done. Kesi had this whole plan in her head only for it to be foiled by a stupid flirt.
As people entered Kesi gave no care. They were sharing stories, or bickering, or something. It was all really, really dull and the girl just wanted them to do something cool or to shut up. Especially that girl. Her voice was really irritating. This whole situation was really irritating. People in general were… irritating.
But then suddenly things began to get fun. The doors were ripped off its hinges and the annoying girl tilted the table to cover the entrance. That was exciting! Maybe she wasn’t annoying after all. Kesi who had been sitting idly in the corner playing with her knife was now aptly paying attention to the small group of people.
And then through the other front entrance this establishment had, came another girl making her entrance asking if anyone was dead. Kesi sighed and got up from the corner of the tavern finally moving to join the group. “No, no one is dead. Unfortunately. That would be fun,” She said with a huff as she sat on an empty table. Her head tilted at the two men. “Are you two going to fight? It’s only a fight if there’s blood. Fighting with words is boring .”
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Check out their information page here.
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Storms were fun. Storms were exciting. Storms were chaos incarnate. They were a way for Set to wreck havoc upon the world, and if people died to them, so what? Few would likely shed tears, and it gave Kesi a chance to giggle at the mess as she made her way home. What silly positions could the corpses of those unable to find shelter be left in? What if a passing cart impaled them, or their head got smashed by a mud-brick? It would look really funny! And then Kesi would have a story to tell Nem when she finally made it back to the circus.
The problem with this storm in particular was that Kesi had to shelter in place. She was no idiot, being in the midst of the sandstorm spelled danger for the young snake charmer, and she still had many things to do. Her death would be horribly inconvenient right now. She wasn’t about that, but maybe later.
Before the windstorm truly began to pick up, Kesi was here to discuss with the owner of the tavern the potential of her putting on a show within the next few days. Drumming up more patrons for the circus would be nice, and the hypnotizing sound of her pungi would surely bring more and more crowds to see the full show at The Tempest of Set . Unfortunately, when she arrived, his ear was already held by another woman flirting her way into a stay. And then the winds started roaring, leaving the girl unable to complete her mission and stuck waiting for the storm to calm.
She had nestled herself in the corner of the tavern playing with her dagger, mood entirely soured. Not only was she stuck inside where it was completely and utterly boring but that stupid girl got to the tavern keeper first! Kesi was going to wow him! Kesi was going to score a slot in which to entrance a crowd. And most importantly, she was going to bring bank to the circus and have her brother be really proud of the work she had done. Kesi had this whole plan in her head only for it to be foiled by a stupid flirt.
As people entered Kesi gave no care. They were sharing stories, or bickering, or something. It was all really, really dull and the girl just wanted them to do something cool or to shut up. Especially that girl. Her voice was really irritating. This whole situation was really irritating. People in general were… irritating.
But then suddenly things began to get fun. The doors were ripped off its hinges and the annoying girl tilted the table to cover the entrance. That was exciting! Maybe she wasn’t annoying after all. Kesi who had been sitting idly in the corner playing with her knife was now aptly paying attention to the small group of people.
And then through the other front entrance this establishment had, came another girl making her entrance asking if anyone was dead. Kesi sighed and got up from the corner of the tavern finally moving to join the group. “No, no one is dead. Unfortunately. That would be fun,” She said with a huff as she sat on an empty table. Her head tilted at the two men. “Are you two going to fight? It’s only a fight if there’s blood. Fighting with words is boring .”
Storms were fun. Storms were exciting. Storms were chaos incarnate. They were a way for Set to wreck havoc upon the world, and if people died to them, so what? Few would likely shed tears, and it gave Kesi a chance to giggle at the mess as she made her way home. What silly positions could the corpses of those unable to find shelter be left in? What if a passing cart impaled them, or their head got smashed by a mud-brick? It would look really funny! And then Kesi would have a story to tell Nem when she finally made it back to the circus.
The problem with this storm in particular was that Kesi had to shelter in place. She was no idiot, being in the midst of the sandstorm spelled danger for the young snake charmer, and she still had many things to do. Her death would be horribly inconvenient right now. She wasn’t about that, but maybe later.
Before the windstorm truly began to pick up, Kesi was here to discuss with the owner of the tavern the potential of her putting on a show within the next few days. Drumming up more patrons for the circus would be nice, and the hypnotizing sound of her pungi would surely bring more and more crowds to see the full show at The Tempest of Set . Unfortunately, when she arrived, his ear was already held by another woman flirting her way into a stay. And then the winds started roaring, leaving the girl unable to complete her mission and stuck waiting for the storm to calm.
She had nestled herself in the corner of the tavern playing with her dagger, mood entirely soured. Not only was she stuck inside where it was completely and utterly boring but that stupid girl got to the tavern keeper first! Kesi was going to wow him! Kesi was going to score a slot in which to entrance a crowd. And most importantly, she was going to bring bank to the circus and have her brother be really proud of the work she had done. Kesi had this whole plan in her head only for it to be foiled by a stupid flirt.
As people entered Kesi gave no care. They were sharing stories, or bickering, or something. It was all really, really dull and the girl just wanted them to do something cool or to shut up. Especially that girl. Her voice was really irritating. This whole situation was really irritating. People in general were… irritating.
But then suddenly things began to get fun. The doors were ripped off its hinges and the annoying girl tilted the table to cover the entrance. That was exciting! Maybe she wasn’t annoying after all. Kesi who had been sitting idly in the corner playing with her knife was now aptly paying attention to the small group of people.
And then through the other front entrance this establishment had, came another girl making her entrance asking if anyone was dead. Kesi sighed and got up from the corner of the tavern finally moving to join the group. “No, no one is dead. Unfortunately. That would be fun,” She said with a huff as she sat on an empty table. Her head tilted at the two men. “Are you two going to fight? It’s only a fight if there’s blood. Fighting with words is boring .”
The girl who replied to her wasn't one that Rubiah knew. Despite a few faces - or the half faces that she could make out in the dingy, sand-coated interior of the tavern - being semi-familiar, this one was without a doubt entirely new. She looked towards her with a carefully emotionless mask upon her features, not wishing to spell out the defensiveness she naturally took to heart whenever a stranger entered her life in some way. Growing up without friends or money to one's name turned you a tad cagey when it came to newcomers. People couldn't be trusted. Not ever. But even more so when they were new to your world.
With a narrowing of her kohl lined eyes - a frown that could have been seen as a defence against the wind and sand - she turned her focus on the girl. When she spoke of how no-one was yet dead and this was a disappointment, Rubiah couldn't offer the same level of enthusiasm for new corpses, but she could make an unempathetic noise from between pursed lips that suggested she would care little if anyone was in fact for the scales. She gave little else on it because, in all honesty, she didn't much care over the safety of others - she had just wanted to see who would respond and who was there.
When the stranger moved on to speak about fighting though, Rubiah turned to look at two young Egyptian lords that she knew well enough, despite not being able to call them friends. They were of the Sheifa family. Although one of them couldn't claim that name much anymore. Or so she had heard.
"Blood isn't necessary for a fight to be good." Rubiah challenged the girl, hopping over a jagged bit of what had once been the door. She found an upturned bit of countertop - something that might have once been the bar across the room and, not bothering to dust it off (what was the point when she herself was covered in a sheen of sand) she hopped her arse up on it. Luckily, the wind had shifted direction and they weren't being bombarded with hurricane sand inside but she knew it could change at any minute and they would all need to duck and cover. If they liked their eyeballs that is. She finished her assessment of violence as entertainment as she secured the bag she wore across her chest and let her legs swing. Her eyes flashed wickedly as she looked upon the two ex-brothers. "Oil would do."
She then glanced to her left at the girl who had commented about fighting with words being boring in some way and snorted softly. Her lips smacked together with the gesture.
"And please... fighting with words is only boring if your opponent is a moron. You fight words with me and it's as dangerous as daggers." She snapped her teeth in a bite that seemed half temptation, half challenge. She then smiled and stuck out her tongue, lightening the hints of violence that had gleamed behind her eyes. Rubiah was course and she was different, but she was also someone that people gravitated towards. She offered a confidence and middle-finger to life that those living in a restrictive world seemed to like...
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The girl who replied to her wasn't one that Rubiah knew. Despite a few faces - or the half faces that she could make out in the dingy, sand-coated interior of the tavern - being semi-familiar, this one was without a doubt entirely new. She looked towards her with a carefully emotionless mask upon her features, not wishing to spell out the defensiveness she naturally took to heart whenever a stranger entered her life in some way. Growing up without friends or money to one's name turned you a tad cagey when it came to newcomers. People couldn't be trusted. Not ever. But even more so when they were new to your world.
With a narrowing of her kohl lined eyes - a frown that could have been seen as a defence against the wind and sand - she turned her focus on the girl. When she spoke of how no-one was yet dead and this was a disappointment, Rubiah couldn't offer the same level of enthusiasm for new corpses, but she could make an unempathetic noise from between pursed lips that suggested she would care little if anyone was in fact for the scales. She gave little else on it because, in all honesty, she didn't much care over the safety of others - she had just wanted to see who would respond and who was there.
When the stranger moved on to speak about fighting though, Rubiah turned to look at two young Egyptian lords that she knew well enough, despite not being able to call them friends. They were of the Sheifa family. Although one of them couldn't claim that name much anymore. Or so she had heard.
"Blood isn't necessary for a fight to be good." Rubiah challenged the girl, hopping over a jagged bit of what had once been the door. She found an upturned bit of countertop - something that might have once been the bar across the room and, not bothering to dust it off (what was the point when she herself was covered in a sheen of sand) she hopped her arse up on it. Luckily, the wind had shifted direction and they weren't being bombarded with hurricane sand inside but she knew it could change at any minute and they would all need to duck and cover. If they liked their eyeballs that is. She finished her assessment of violence as entertainment as she secured the bag she wore across her chest and let her legs swing. Her eyes flashed wickedly as she looked upon the two ex-brothers. "Oil would do."
She then glanced to her left at the girl who had commented about fighting with words being boring in some way and snorted softly. Her lips smacked together with the gesture.
"And please... fighting with words is only boring if your opponent is a moron. You fight words with me and it's as dangerous as daggers." She snapped her teeth in a bite that seemed half temptation, half challenge. She then smiled and stuck out her tongue, lightening the hints of violence that had gleamed behind her eyes. Rubiah was course and she was different, but she was also someone that people gravitated towards. She offered a confidence and middle-finger to life that those living in a restrictive world seemed to like...
The girl who replied to her wasn't one that Rubiah knew. Despite a few faces - or the half faces that she could make out in the dingy, sand-coated interior of the tavern - being semi-familiar, this one was without a doubt entirely new. She looked towards her with a carefully emotionless mask upon her features, not wishing to spell out the defensiveness she naturally took to heart whenever a stranger entered her life in some way. Growing up without friends or money to one's name turned you a tad cagey when it came to newcomers. People couldn't be trusted. Not ever. But even more so when they were new to your world.
With a narrowing of her kohl lined eyes - a frown that could have been seen as a defence against the wind and sand - she turned her focus on the girl. When she spoke of how no-one was yet dead and this was a disappointment, Rubiah couldn't offer the same level of enthusiasm for new corpses, but she could make an unempathetic noise from between pursed lips that suggested she would care little if anyone was in fact for the scales. She gave little else on it because, in all honesty, she didn't much care over the safety of others - she had just wanted to see who would respond and who was there.
When the stranger moved on to speak about fighting though, Rubiah turned to look at two young Egyptian lords that she knew well enough, despite not being able to call them friends. They were of the Sheifa family. Although one of them couldn't claim that name much anymore. Or so she had heard.
"Blood isn't necessary for a fight to be good." Rubiah challenged the girl, hopping over a jagged bit of what had once been the door. She found an upturned bit of countertop - something that might have once been the bar across the room and, not bothering to dust it off (what was the point when she herself was covered in a sheen of sand) she hopped her arse up on it. Luckily, the wind had shifted direction and they weren't being bombarded with hurricane sand inside but she knew it could change at any minute and they would all need to duck and cover. If they liked their eyeballs that is. She finished her assessment of violence as entertainment as she secured the bag she wore across her chest and let her legs swing. Her eyes flashed wickedly as she looked upon the two ex-brothers. "Oil would do."
She then glanced to her left at the girl who had commented about fighting with words being boring in some way and snorted softly. Her lips smacked together with the gesture.
"And please... fighting with words is only boring if your opponent is a moron. You fight words with me and it's as dangerous as daggers." She snapped her teeth in a bite that seemed half temptation, half challenge. She then smiled and stuck out her tongue, lightening the hints of violence that had gleamed behind her eyes. Rubiah was course and she was different, but she was also someone that people gravitated towards. She offered a confidence and middle-finger to life that those living in a restrictive world seemed to like...
As the bar slowly filled up with new stragglers that had managed to make their way inside before the door was barred shut to prevent any more sand from blowing in, Sutekh was about ready to implode at the sheer amount of disrespect that his brother was showing him. Who did Hena think he was ordering Sutekh around like he was little more than a common dog. Whether the new Sheifa heir liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. That alone should have the boy thinking carefully about what he was saying as even though Sutekh held very little power as a bastard, the connections he did have could do quite a bit damage to the boy.
He was so angry with Hena that he didn’t pay any mind to the conversation that was unfolding between two of the women who had also sought shelter in the bar. Or at least he didn’t until one of them tried to interject herself into the fight by calling out to the squabbling brothers which earned her a hard glare from Sutekh in response. If he wasn’t so keen to keep this between himself and his brother he might have snapped some sort of quip about minding one’s business at Kesi. However, he was certain that his careless brother would do that for him as his decision to step between Mara and Sutekh showed that the boy had no desire to leave well enough alone.
Sutekh leveled his gaze with Hena, his expression growing cold as the boy tried to direct Mara away from him out of nothing more than sheer spite. The Prince didn’t see the point of beating around the bush -- they both knew that this was what this action was about. After all, since when had Hena cared about who their family’s slaves talked to? Anubis almighty, Sutekh could have even gone as far as to swear that his little brother didn’t even take notice of the slaves unless he was in the mood to hurt someone. Of course, the prince knew that this wasn’t exactly true, but it still painted a far picture of how little Hena cared for those in Mara’s position.
“Akhenaten of the Hei Sheifa,” Sutekh said quietly, but with a certain level of force that indicated that the Prince was in no mood for whatever antics his little brother thought that he was up to. Hena had always been a spoiled brat. From the time he was a little boy, the new heir had always seen himself above the rules and impervious to any form of consequence. This was partly due to their sister, Neithotep, who had effectively babied the boy from childhood. However, it was long past time that such behavior was brought to an end. Sutekh had held out hope that Hena’s father would have taken care to stamp it out the night that Sutekh had been cast out of his home. After all, the Hei would be doomed if Hena’s behavior wasn’t changed quickly. There was no doubt in Sutekh’s mind that this was the grim reality that faced his birth house and he could only hope that the boy’s parents could see it too before Hena could not set upon the right course… if that moment hadn’t already passed them by judging by how Hena seemed to be so quick to forget Sutekh’s new standing in society.
“I am going to assume that you simply forgot your manners and did not just order me about as if I am of the same rank as her.” He continued lowly, motioning to the poor slave girl who was caught between the two warring brothers. The poor girl must be terrified as she was swept up into a power struggle that was just as strong as the raging winds outside. In truth, Sutekh was fairly certain that he would lose this conflict while they were still within the bar. The Prince might have held the higher title and technically held more power (albeit very limited) than Hena did, but he was just one man while Hena had two others who would defend the boy. Sutekh had no one to fight on his side. Not when it felt as if the only people he had left to him were his half-sister and mother. His own power was flimsy at best as the Evening Star Palace seemed to be divided on whether or not he was truly welcomed into the Naddar family. Hena likely knew this, but that did not matter. Sutekh would not forget the insult that had been served to him by his little brother here and once the storm abated, the Bastard Prince who utilize the two allies he did have to remind Hena who his brother now was. Hena might have no qualms about trying to assert dominance over him like an arrogant child, but he would likely think twice if Sutekh called upon the Queen or the boys’ mother to affirm what little power Sutekh did hold.
It did not sit right with Sutekh that he needed to rely upon others to fight his battles for him. Not when he was so used to being in his brother’s shoes, but the Bastard Prince was not going to play this game with his brother. Not when he knew that if he backed down that Hena would never take his rank seriously. Whether the boy liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. It would be best if Hena remembered that.
“Now that you have been reminded of the new order of things,” His words were brisk as he turned to the slave that was caught in the middle of all of this, “Mara, are you hurt?” A glimmer of concern flashed over his expression as even though he had never really been close with the girl or knew her all that well while he could still call himself a Sheifa, Sutekh knew that she was a fixture in the life of his mother and sisters. That alone was enough to ensure that the Prince would treat her with the modicum of kindness that Hena seemed to be lacking. Not that he would ever go as far as to treat her as his equal, especially after the big stink he had just made about titles and rank; but that connection she had to Iaheru and Nenet would be enough to check and make sure that the girl was alright.
Now if only Hena could get off his back long enough for Sutekh to maybe have her pass along a message to them from the outcasted son and brother….
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As the bar slowly filled up with new stragglers that had managed to make their way inside before the door was barred shut to prevent any more sand from blowing in, Sutekh was about ready to implode at the sheer amount of disrespect that his brother was showing him. Who did Hena think he was ordering Sutekh around like he was little more than a common dog. Whether the new Sheifa heir liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. That alone should have the boy thinking carefully about what he was saying as even though Sutekh held very little power as a bastard, the connections he did have could do quite a bit damage to the boy.
He was so angry with Hena that he didn’t pay any mind to the conversation that was unfolding between two of the women who had also sought shelter in the bar. Or at least he didn’t until one of them tried to interject herself into the fight by calling out to the squabbling brothers which earned her a hard glare from Sutekh in response. If he wasn’t so keen to keep this between himself and his brother he might have snapped some sort of quip about minding one’s business at Kesi. However, he was certain that his careless brother would do that for him as his decision to step between Mara and Sutekh showed that the boy had no desire to leave well enough alone.
Sutekh leveled his gaze with Hena, his expression growing cold as the boy tried to direct Mara away from him out of nothing more than sheer spite. The Prince didn’t see the point of beating around the bush -- they both knew that this was what this action was about. After all, since when had Hena cared about who their family’s slaves talked to? Anubis almighty, Sutekh could have even gone as far as to swear that his little brother didn’t even take notice of the slaves unless he was in the mood to hurt someone. Of course, the prince knew that this wasn’t exactly true, but it still painted a far picture of how little Hena cared for those in Mara’s position.
“Akhenaten of the Hei Sheifa,” Sutekh said quietly, but with a certain level of force that indicated that the Prince was in no mood for whatever antics his little brother thought that he was up to. Hena had always been a spoiled brat. From the time he was a little boy, the new heir had always seen himself above the rules and impervious to any form of consequence. This was partly due to their sister, Neithotep, who had effectively babied the boy from childhood. However, it was long past time that such behavior was brought to an end. Sutekh had held out hope that Hena’s father would have taken care to stamp it out the night that Sutekh had been cast out of his home. After all, the Hei would be doomed if Hena’s behavior wasn’t changed quickly. There was no doubt in Sutekh’s mind that this was the grim reality that faced his birth house and he could only hope that the boy’s parents could see it too before Hena could not set upon the right course… if that moment hadn’t already passed them by judging by how Hena seemed to be so quick to forget Sutekh’s new standing in society.
“I am going to assume that you simply forgot your manners and did not just order me about as if I am of the same rank as her.” He continued lowly, motioning to the poor slave girl who was caught between the two warring brothers. The poor girl must be terrified as she was swept up into a power struggle that was just as strong as the raging winds outside. In truth, Sutekh was fairly certain that he would lose this conflict while they were still within the bar. The Prince might have held the higher title and technically held more power (albeit very limited) than Hena did, but he was just one man while Hena had two others who would defend the boy. Sutekh had no one to fight on his side. Not when it felt as if the only people he had left to him were his half-sister and mother. His own power was flimsy at best as the Evening Star Palace seemed to be divided on whether or not he was truly welcomed into the Naddar family. Hena likely knew this, but that did not matter. Sutekh would not forget the insult that had been served to him by his little brother here and once the storm abated, the Bastard Prince who utilize the two allies he did have to remind Hena who his brother now was. Hena might have no qualms about trying to assert dominance over him like an arrogant child, but he would likely think twice if Sutekh called upon the Queen or the boys’ mother to affirm what little power Sutekh did hold.
It did not sit right with Sutekh that he needed to rely upon others to fight his battles for him. Not when he was so used to being in his brother’s shoes, but the Bastard Prince was not going to play this game with his brother. Not when he knew that if he backed down that Hena would never take his rank seriously. Whether the boy liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. It would be best if Hena remembered that.
“Now that you have been reminded of the new order of things,” His words were brisk as he turned to the slave that was caught in the middle of all of this, “Mara, are you hurt?” A glimmer of concern flashed over his expression as even though he had never really been close with the girl or knew her all that well while he could still call himself a Sheifa, Sutekh knew that she was a fixture in the life of his mother and sisters. That alone was enough to ensure that the Prince would treat her with the modicum of kindness that Hena seemed to be lacking. Not that he would ever go as far as to treat her as his equal, especially after the big stink he had just made about titles and rank; but that connection she had to Iaheru and Nenet would be enough to check and make sure that the girl was alright.
Now if only Hena could get off his back long enough for Sutekh to maybe have her pass along a message to them from the outcasted son and brother….
As the bar slowly filled up with new stragglers that had managed to make their way inside before the door was barred shut to prevent any more sand from blowing in, Sutekh was about ready to implode at the sheer amount of disrespect that his brother was showing him. Who did Hena think he was ordering Sutekh around like he was little more than a common dog. Whether the new Sheifa heir liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. That alone should have the boy thinking carefully about what he was saying as even though Sutekh held very little power as a bastard, the connections he did have could do quite a bit damage to the boy.
He was so angry with Hena that he didn’t pay any mind to the conversation that was unfolding between two of the women who had also sought shelter in the bar. Or at least he didn’t until one of them tried to interject herself into the fight by calling out to the squabbling brothers which earned her a hard glare from Sutekh in response. If he wasn’t so keen to keep this between himself and his brother he might have snapped some sort of quip about minding one’s business at Kesi. However, he was certain that his careless brother would do that for him as his decision to step between Mara and Sutekh showed that the boy had no desire to leave well enough alone.
Sutekh leveled his gaze with Hena, his expression growing cold as the boy tried to direct Mara away from him out of nothing more than sheer spite. The Prince didn’t see the point of beating around the bush -- they both knew that this was what this action was about. After all, since when had Hena cared about who their family’s slaves talked to? Anubis almighty, Sutekh could have even gone as far as to swear that his little brother didn’t even take notice of the slaves unless he was in the mood to hurt someone. Of course, the prince knew that this wasn’t exactly true, but it still painted a far picture of how little Hena cared for those in Mara’s position.
“Akhenaten of the Hei Sheifa,” Sutekh said quietly, but with a certain level of force that indicated that the Prince was in no mood for whatever antics his little brother thought that he was up to. Hena had always been a spoiled brat. From the time he was a little boy, the new heir had always seen himself above the rules and impervious to any form of consequence. This was partly due to their sister, Neithotep, who had effectively babied the boy from childhood. However, it was long past time that such behavior was brought to an end. Sutekh had held out hope that Hena’s father would have taken care to stamp it out the night that Sutekh had been cast out of his home. After all, the Hei would be doomed if Hena’s behavior wasn’t changed quickly. There was no doubt in Sutekh’s mind that this was the grim reality that faced his birth house and he could only hope that the boy’s parents could see it too before Hena could not set upon the right course… if that moment hadn’t already passed them by judging by how Hena seemed to be so quick to forget Sutekh’s new standing in society.
“I am going to assume that you simply forgot your manners and did not just order me about as if I am of the same rank as her.” He continued lowly, motioning to the poor slave girl who was caught between the two warring brothers. The poor girl must be terrified as she was swept up into a power struggle that was just as strong as the raging winds outside. In truth, Sutekh was fairly certain that he would lose this conflict while they were still within the bar. The Prince might have held the higher title and technically held more power (albeit very limited) than Hena did, but he was just one man while Hena had two others who would defend the boy. Sutekh had no one to fight on his side. Not when it felt as if the only people he had left to him were his half-sister and mother. His own power was flimsy at best as the Evening Star Palace seemed to be divided on whether or not he was truly welcomed into the Naddar family. Hena likely knew this, but that did not matter. Sutekh would not forget the insult that had been served to him by his little brother here and once the storm abated, the Bastard Prince who utilize the two allies he did have to remind Hena who his brother now was. Hena might have no qualms about trying to assert dominance over him like an arrogant child, but he would likely think twice if Sutekh called upon the Queen or the boys’ mother to affirm what little power Sutekh did hold.
It did not sit right with Sutekh that he needed to rely upon others to fight his battles for him. Not when he was so used to being in his brother’s shoes, but the Bastard Prince was not going to play this game with his brother. Not when he knew that if he backed down that Hena would never take his rank seriously. Whether the boy liked it or not, Sutekh was now a Prince. It would be best if Hena remembered that.
“Now that you have been reminded of the new order of things,” His words were brisk as he turned to the slave that was caught in the middle of all of this, “Mara, are you hurt?” A glimmer of concern flashed over his expression as even though he had never really been close with the girl or knew her all that well while he could still call himself a Sheifa, Sutekh knew that she was a fixture in the life of his mother and sisters. That alone was enough to ensure that the Prince would treat her with the modicum of kindness that Hena seemed to be lacking. Not that he would ever go as far as to treat her as his equal, especially after the big stink he had just made about titles and rank; but that connection she had to Iaheru and Nenet would be enough to check and make sure that the girl was alright.
Now if only Hena could get off his back long enough for Sutekh to maybe have her pass along a message to them from the outcasted son and brother….
It had seemed like a good idea, then again a lot of the situations that she found herself in started off that way.
Being a good idea.
The actual ability to put that idea into any kind of reality and turn it from just being an idea to the application of it all was more often than not completely absent and it was no more obvious than being in the middle of a sand storm. It was true that her mother had told her about such things and of course, explained some of the steps that her own people might take, that meant she wasn't completely exposed or without some protection in the midst of all of this. That was really just fabric and hugging toward the sides of buildings.
Not that it was a perfect solution but then the idea had clearly not been a perfect one either. In fact, she had been struggling for a little while with the idea of just trying to retreat and leaving the whole thing to a better idea. But she had really wanted to be able to find the escaped cat, a young female who had been spooked. It had really seemed like she wouldn't be out long and course that she wouldn't need to be that worried about failing.
Safiya was now very aware of how badly that had managed to be as far as the whole idea had gone, she really wished that Sameera was here or that her twin had been around to successfully talk her out of this madness.
Though even those regrets and recriminations were abandoned with the sweeping rush of the wind down the streets, and action that pushed her into an alcove that had once held a door but which had whisked past her, just barely managing to miss her small frame and then another gust had helpfully pushed her through into the the next building along, though not to any immediate safety as the dust continued to cut and bite into the skin. Coughing, Safiya managed to cover her mouth with the linen of her shawl, tucking it in at the same as she tried to use the hands that she had wrapped around before.
She might look a little bit more like a bandaged mummy risen up and blown in by the storm but she was trying to protect herself and that had been her main concern. Now though she had to review all of that as finally only the sound of the storm remained and she started to take in her surrounding, pulling the fabric from her head and shaking it as she blinked at the rather complex scene in front of her; had everyone turned up in here?
All it would take would be for her sister to be blown in and that would be enough for Safiya to start to think the gods were entertaining themselves right now.
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Check out their information page here.
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It had seemed like a good idea, then again a lot of the situations that she found herself in started off that way.
Being a good idea.
The actual ability to put that idea into any kind of reality and turn it from just being an idea to the application of it all was more often than not completely absent and it was no more obvious than being in the middle of a sand storm. It was true that her mother had told her about such things and of course, explained some of the steps that her own people might take, that meant she wasn't completely exposed or without some protection in the midst of all of this. That was really just fabric and hugging toward the sides of buildings.
Not that it was a perfect solution but then the idea had clearly not been a perfect one either. In fact, she had been struggling for a little while with the idea of just trying to retreat and leaving the whole thing to a better idea. But she had really wanted to be able to find the escaped cat, a young female who had been spooked. It had really seemed like she wouldn't be out long and course that she wouldn't need to be that worried about failing.
Safiya was now very aware of how badly that had managed to be as far as the whole idea had gone, she really wished that Sameera was here or that her twin had been around to successfully talk her out of this madness.
Though even those regrets and recriminations were abandoned with the sweeping rush of the wind down the streets, and action that pushed her into an alcove that had once held a door but which had whisked past her, just barely managing to miss her small frame and then another gust had helpfully pushed her through into the the next building along, though not to any immediate safety as the dust continued to cut and bite into the skin. Coughing, Safiya managed to cover her mouth with the linen of her shawl, tucking it in at the same as she tried to use the hands that she had wrapped around before.
She might look a little bit more like a bandaged mummy risen up and blown in by the storm but she was trying to protect herself and that had been her main concern. Now though she had to review all of that as finally only the sound of the storm remained and she started to take in her surrounding, pulling the fabric from her head and shaking it as she blinked at the rather complex scene in front of her; had everyone turned up in here?
All it would take would be for her sister to be blown in and that would be enough for Safiya to start to think the gods were entertaining themselves right now.
It had seemed like a good idea, then again a lot of the situations that she found herself in started off that way.
Being a good idea.
The actual ability to put that idea into any kind of reality and turn it from just being an idea to the application of it all was more often than not completely absent and it was no more obvious than being in the middle of a sand storm. It was true that her mother had told her about such things and of course, explained some of the steps that her own people might take, that meant she wasn't completely exposed or without some protection in the midst of all of this. That was really just fabric and hugging toward the sides of buildings.
Not that it was a perfect solution but then the idea had clearly not been a perfect one either. In fact, she had been struggling for a little while with the idea of just trying to retreat and leaving the whole thing to a better idea. But she had really wanted to be able to find the escaped cat, a young female who had been spooked. It had really seemed like she wouldn't be out long and course that she wouldn't need to be that worried about failing.
Safiya was now very aware of how badly that had managed to be as far as the whole idea had gone, she really wished that Sameera was here or that her twin had been around to successfully talk her out of this madness.
Though even those regrets and recriminations were abandoned with the sweeping rush of the wind down the streets, and action that pushed her into an alcove that had once held a door but which had whisked past her, just barely managing to miss her small frame and then another gust had helpfully pushed her through into the the next building along, though not to any immediate safety as the dust continued to cut and bite into the skin. Coughing, Safiya managed to cover her mouth with the linen of her shawl, tucking it in at the same as she tried to use the hands that she had wrapped around before.
She might look a little bit more like a bandaged mummy risen up and blown in by the storm but she was trying to protect herself and that had been her main concern. Now though she had to review all of that as finally only the sound of the storm remained and she started to take in her surrounding, pulling the fabric from her head and shaking it as she blinked at the rather complex scene in front of her; had everyone turned up in here?
All it would take would be for her sister to be blown in and that would be enough for Safiya to start to think the gods were entertaining themselves right now.
Hena ignored the two women who seemed to be arguing about the argument that he and Sutekh were having. They mattered little to him, and he did not care enough to pay attention to them. Instead his focus was on his brother, standing up to him and challenging him. In the back of his mind, he kept the knowledge that Ana wanted out of there. He would have taken her away a long time ago if that was possible, but with the storm still raging on outside, there was no chance at either of them leaving, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“You are nothing but a false prince. A bastard is what you are and that is all you will ever be.” He said, the fire still burning in his eyes as Sutekh tried to command him, as if he held any real power. He doubted that the Pharaoh was overly friendly with this man who had suddenly been declared family to his wife, a threat to his potential rule. Hena was not dumb, he knew that people would do anything to eliminate any threat that may face their power and position, the Pharaoh would be no different with Sutekh.
Hena weighed his options. He was not scared of his brother and the power Sutekh seemed to assume he had with him, but he did not see a reason for this to break out into violence either. They were all stuck here for Gods knew how long, and while he thought he could easily kick the shit out of his older brother, it would be best for everyone if he didn’t. Ana’s pleading came back to him, she did not want to face any of this.
He knew this tavern as well as he knew any tavern, and he knew that there were a few private rooms in the back, reserved for important guests only. Hena was important enough, at least in his mind. And if the tavern owner chose to argue, well he would be the one to face Hena’s full on wrath.
“Ana. Come.” He said, motioning her over. He would head straight to the back rooms once she came to him. A look was shot to Mara, one that said she would be in for trouble from him when they were through this and back at the house. He would not stand for his brothers actions, and he would teach Sutekh a lesson by taking it out on her, since he seemed to think her so important. Perhaps he would think twice next time when he saw that his actions had consequences for those he cared about.
Hena moved to grab a pitcher of wine and two glasses from behind the serving counter, and then made his way towards the back rooms. The tavern keeper did not try to stop him, his temper was well known with a lot of people after all.
He pushed the door open to the largest room, his intentions were to drink until the storm was over and he could return home, whether that was alone or with Ana was up to her.
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Hena ignored the two women who seemed to be arguing about the argument that he and Sutekh were having. They mattered little to him, and he did not care enough to pay attention to them. Instead his focus was on his brother, standing up to him and challenging him. In the back of his mind, he kept the knowledge that Ana wanted out of there. He would have taken her away a long time ago if that was possible, but with the storm still raging on outside, there was no chance at either of them leaving, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“You are nothing but a false prince. A bastard is what you are and that is all you will ever be.” He said, the fire still burning in his eyes as Sutekh tried to command him, as if he held any real power. He doubted that the Pharaoh was overly friendly with this man who had suddenly been declared family to his wife, a threat to his potential rule. Hena was not dumb, he knew that people would do anything to eliminate any threat that may face their power and position, the Pharaoh would be no different with Sutekh.
Hena weighed his options. He was not scared of his brother and the power Sutekh seemed to assume he had with him, but he did not see a reason for this to break out into violence either. They were all stuck here for Gods knew how long, and while he thought he could easily kick the shit out of his older brother, it would be best for everyone if he didn’t. Ana’s pleading came back to him, she did not want to face any of this.
He knew this tavern as well as he knew any tavern, and he knew that there were a few private rooms in the back, reserved for important guests only. Hena was important enough, at least in his mind. And if the tavern owner chose to argue, well he would be the one to face Hena’s full on wrath.
“Ana. Come.” He said, motioning her over. He would head straight to the back rooms once she came to him. A look was shot to Mara, one that said she would be in for trouble from him when they were through this and back at the house. He would not stand for his brothers actions, and he would teach Sutekh a lesson by taking it out on her, since he seemed to think her so important. Perhaps he would think twice next time when he saw that his actions had consequences for those he cared about.
Hena moved to grab a pitcher of wine and two glasses from behind the serving counter, and then made his way towards the back rooms. The tavern keeper did not try to stop him, his temper was well known with a lot of people after all.
He pushed the door open to the largest room, his intentions were to drink until the storm was over and he could return home, whether that was alone or with Ana was up to her.
Hena ignored the two women who seemed to be arguing about the argument that he and Sutekh were having. They mattered little to him, and he did not care enough to pay attention to them. Instead his focus was on his brother, standing up to him and challenging him. In the back of his mind, he kept the knowledge that Ana wanted out of there. He would have taken her away a long time ago if that was possible, but with the storm still raging on outside, there was no chance at either of them leaving, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“You are nothing but a false prince. A bastard is what you are and that is all you will ever be.” He said, the fire still burning in his eyes as Sutekh tried to command him, as if he held any real power. He doubted that the Pharaoh was overly friendly with this man who had suddenly been declared family to his wife, a threat to his potential rule. Hena was not dumb, he knew that people would do anything to eliminate any threat that may face their power and position, the Pharaoh would be no different with Sutekh.
Hena weighed his options. He was not scared of his brother and the power Sutekh seemed to assume he had with him, but he did not see a reason for this to break out into violence either. They were all stuck here for Gods knew how long, and while he thought he could easily kick the shit out of his older brother, it would be best for everyone if he didn’t. Ana’s pleading came back to him, she did not want to face any of this.
He knew this tavern as well as he knew any tavern, and he knew that there were a few private rooms in the back, reserved for important guests only. Hena was important enough, at least in his mind. And if the tavern owner chose to argue, well he would be the one to face Hena’s full on wrath.
“Ana. Come.” He said, motioning her over. He would head straight to the back rooms once she came to him. A look was shot to Mara, one that said she would be in for trouble from him when they were through this and back at the house. He would not stand for his brothers actions, and he would teach Sutekh a lesson by taking it out on her, since he seemed to think her so important. Perhaps he would think twice next time when he saw that his actions had consequences for those he cared about.
Hena moved to grab a pitcher of wine and two glasses from behind the serving counter, and then made his way towards the back rooms. The tavern keeper did not try to stop him, his temper was well known with a lot of people after all.
He pushed the door open to the largest room, his intentions were to drink until the storm was over and he could return home, whether that was alone or with Ana was up to her.
Their little gathering was growing, and not in a good way. A woman in the corner making comments about boring and bloodless arguments, another woman arguing with her about how her own words could pierce like knives. The two noblemen squabbling amongst themselves and posturing as if they were adolescent boys. With the storms still going on outside, all of this seemed so insignificant, vexing, and frankly… stupid.
While she was thankful for the Lord Akhenaten’s part in rescuing her and even more thankful for his offer of assistance in rebuilding, this situation was sliding downhill fast. Callidora had nothing to do with any of these people, and getting caught up in the midst of their petty squabbles held little appeal. Let the Egyptians flex their wealth, machismo, prowess, whatever it was. All this Grecian woman wanted was to get out of this tavern, and if she couldn’t do that, then she just wanted a safe place to stay for the night.
Slipping away from the group while they occupied themselves with their bickering, Dora made her way over to the bar and hailed the barkeep. “Excuse me,” she murmured, one wary eye glancing back now and then to the group she’d just left. With the raising voices and increasing hostility, she didn’t want to be around when it inevitably escalated to violence. “Do you have any spare rooms for the night?”
The innkeeper nodded, gruffly muttering out a price that seemed rather exorbitant for the quality of the building and the destruction it had just faced. However, she didn’t really blame the man; witnessing the angry back and forth between the two noblemen was sure to drive other customers away once the storm let up, and he needed money to pay for those repairs somehow. Luckily for Dora, she was an adept haggler and managed to negotiate the rate down to something more reasonable.
Thanking the man and stepping away from the bar, she leveled one last look at the group and rolled her eyes. Her unexpected savior was storming off amidst angry shouts from his brother, his bardic mistress looking just as uncomfortable as she felt. Glancing over at the two women who had managed to stay on the outskirts of it thus far, she shrugged. Ah, well. These people were no longer her concern.
Slipping off quietly to her room for the night, she shut the door firmly behind her with a sigh of relief. Hopefully, by the time she awoke, the storm would be over and the dining room full of bickering men would be gone. One could always hope, at least.
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Their little gathering was growing, and not in a good way. A woman in the corner making comments about boring and bloodless arguments, another woman arguing with her about how her own words could pierce like knives. The two noblemen squabbling amongst themselves and posturing as if they were adolescent boys. With the storms still going on outside, all of this seemed so insignificant, vexing, and frankly… stupid.
While she was thankful for the Lord Akhenaten’s part in rescuing her and even more thankful for his offer of assistance in rebuilding, this situation was sliding downhill fast. Callidora had nothing to do with any of these people, and getting caught up in the midst of their petty squabbles held little appeal. Let the Egyptians flex their wealth, machismo, prowess, whatever it was. All this Grecian woman wanted was to get out of this tavern, and if she couldn’t do that, then she just wanted a safe place to stay for the night.
Slipping away from the group while they occupied themselves with their bickering, Dora made her way over to the bar and hailed the barkeep. “Excuse me,” she murmured, one wary eye glancing back now and then to the group she’d just left. With the raising voices and increasing hostility, she didn’t want to be around when it inevitably escalated to violence. “Do you have any spare rooms for the night?”
The innkeeper nodded, gruffly muttering out a price that seemed rather exorbitant for the quality of the building and the destruction it had just faced. However, she didn’t really blame the man; witnessing the angry back and forth between the two noblemen was sure to drive other customers away once the storm let up, and he needed money to pay for those repairs somehow. Luckily for Dora, she was an adept haggler and managed to negotiate the rate down to something more reasonable.
Thanking the man and stepping away from the bar, she leveled one last look at the group and rolled her eyes. Her unexpected savior was storming off amidst angry shouts from his brother, his bardic mistress looking just as uncomfortable as she felt. Glancing over at the two women who had managed to stay on the outskirts of it thus far, she shrugged. Ah, well. These people were no longer her concern.
Slipping off quietly to her room for the night, she shut the door firmly behind her with a sigh of relief. Hopefully, by the time she awoke, the storm would be over and the dining room full of bickering men would be gone. One could always hope, at least.
Their little gathering was growing, and not in a good way. A woman in the corner making comments about boring and bloodless arguments, another woman arguing with her about how her own words could pierce like knives. The two noblemen squabbling amongst themselves and posturing as if they were adolescent boys. With the storms still going on outside, all of this seemed so insignificant, vexing, and frankly… stupid.
While she was thankful for the Lord Akhenaten’s part in rescuing her and even more thankful for his offer of assistance in rebuilding, this situation was sliding downhill fast. Callidora had nothing to do with any of these people, and getting caught up in the midst of their petty squabbles held little appeal. Let the Egyptians flex their wealth, machismo, prowess, whatever it was. All this Grecian woman wanted was to get out of this tavern, and if she couldn’t do that, then she just wanted a safe place to stay for the night.
Slipping away from the group while they occupied themselves with their bickering, Dora made her way over to the bar and hailed the barkeep. “Excuse me,” she murmured, one wary eye glancing back now and then to the group she’d just left. With the raising voices and increasing hostility, she didn’t want to be around when it inevitably escalated to violence. “Do you have any spare rooms for the night?”
The innkeeper nodded, gruffly muttering out a price that seemed rather exorbitant for the quality of the building and the destruction it had just faced. However, she didn’t really blame the man; witnessing the angry back and forth between the two noblemen was sure to drive other customers away once the storm let up, and he needed money to pay for those repairs somehow. Luckily for Dora, she was an adept haggler and managed to negotiate the rate down to something more reasonable.
Thanking the man and stepping away from the bar, she leveled one last look at the group and rolled her eyes. Her unexpected savior was storming off amidst angry shouts from his brother, his bardic mistress looking just as uncomfortable as she felt. Glancing over at the two women who had managed to stay on the outskirts of it thus far, she shrugged. Ah, well. These people were no longer her concern.
Slipping off quietly to her room for the night, she shut the door firmly behind her with a sigh of relief. Hopefully, by the time she awoke, the storm would be over and the dining room full of bickering men would be gone. One could always hope, at least.
Since everyone else was doing it, Kesi supposed she should get a room too. There was no telling when this sandstorm was going to stop and everything down here was boring. Even the girl who also seemed to be itching with a fight. Words were not like daggers. Daggers drew blood. Daggers could kill. Daggers were the very thing that Kesi loved to play with, to toy with. They could cause a person to scream in anguish, to beg for mercy, and when they realize mercy would never be given to pray that they reach Anubis’s scales quickly for every breath was agony.
But yeah, words just were dull. And Kesi was tired of the boys who seemed to only want to fight using that. At least one of them already split off. Pity there was no blood, but maybe next time. Kesi made her way over to the innkeeper, the same man she had waited for while the annoying girl, the one who disappeared with the man, flirted with him. At least Kesi could finally speak with him, though inquiring about doing a performance could wait. She wanted her room secured.
“What do you mean there are no more rooms?” Kesi said to the man, wrinkling her nose when he had denied her request for a stay. “I just saw three people go up! You can’t tell me there’s nowhere left to stay.”
Kesi was used to sleeping outside. Honestly, she could sleep anywhere. Sleep came easy for the girl. But she was not about to try to venture back to her circus, which was probably elsewhere to stay safe from the sandstorm when it likely meant her death. Being outside the gates of Cairo would not be safe right now. But was she just to buckle down in the Tavern, where the winds had ripped off a door and could possibly take the roof next? The building itself didn’t seem very secure.
The man was very gruff and rude though. He was a bully. Kesi didn’t much like this innkeeper. His tongue was as fat as his gut, and he had a grumpy face on the entire time. Grumpier than the two bickering men! Kesi had half the mind to make him have room. She still had her dagger. His tune would change very quickly.
No, no, Kesi. That tiny voice in her head chastised her. There are people here.
Indeed, there was a slave girl, the other cranky guy, and the weird lady who thought words were dangerous. She couldn’t be violent in front of them. They might be annoying. They might not understand that this was fun. They were already super odd as it was. Kesi had to hold back for now. Nem would be mad at her if she caused trouble. Even if she really, really wanted to.
Her eyes flickered to the three. “There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Since everyone else was doing it, Kesi supposed she should get a room too. There was no telling when this sandstorm was going to stop and everything down here was boring. Even the girl who also seemed to be itching with a fight. Words were not like daggers. Daggers drew blood. Daggers could kill. Daggers were the very thing that Kesi loved to play with, to toy with. They could cause a person to scream in anguish, to beg for mercy, and when they realize mercy would never be given to pray that they reach Anubis’s scales quickly for every breath was agony.
But yeah, words just were dull. And Kesi was tired of the boys who seemed to only want to fight using that. At least one of them already split off. Pity there was no blood, but maybe next time. Kesi made her way over to the innkeeper, the same man she had waited for while the annoying girl, the one who disappeared with the man, flirted with him. At least Kesi could finally speak with him, though inquiring about doing a performance could wait. She wanted her room secured.
“What do you mean there are no more rooms?” Kesi said to the man, wrinkling her nose when he had denied her request for a stay. “I just saw three people go up! You can’t tell me there’s nowhere left to stay.”
Kesi was used to sleeping outside. Honestly, she could sleep anywhere. Sleep came easy for the girl. But she was not about to try to venture back to her circus, which was probably elsewhere to stay safe from the sandstorm when it likely meant her death. Being outside the gates of Cairo would not be safe right now. But was she just to buckle down in the Tavern, where the winds had ripped off a door and could possibly take the roof next? The building itself didn’t seem very secure.
The man was very gruff and rude though. He was a bully. Kesi didn’t much like this innkeeper. His tongue was as fat as his gut, and he had a grumpy face on the entire time. Grumpier than the two bickering men! Kesi had half the mind to make him have room. She still had her dagger. His tune would change very quickly.
No, no, Kesi. That tiny voice in her head chastised her. There are people here.
Indeed, there was a slave girl, the other cranky guy, and the weird lady who thought words were dangerous. She couldn’t be violent in front of them. They might be annoying. They might not understand that this was fun. They were already super odd as it was. Kesi had to hold back for now. Nem would be mad at her if she caused trouble. Even if she really, really wanted to.
Her eyes flickered to the three. “There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.”
Since everyone else was doing it, Kesi supposed she should get a room too. There was no telling when this sandstorm was going to stop and everything down here was boring. Even the girl who also seemed to be itching with a fight. Words were not like daggers. Daggers drew blood. Daggers could kill. Daggers were the very thing that Kesi loved to play with, to toy with. They could cause a person to scream in anguish, to beg for mercy, and when they realize mercy would never be given to pray that they reach Anubis’s scales quickly for every breath was agony.
But yeah, words just were dull. And Kesi was tired of the boys who seemed to only want to fight using that. At least one of them already split off. Pity there was no blood, but maybe next time. Kesi made her way over to the innkeeper, the same man she had waited for while the annoying girl, the one who disappeared with the man, flirted with him. At least Kesi could finally speak with him, though inquiring about doing a performance could wait. She wanted her room secured.
“What do you mean there are no more rooms?” Kesi said to the man, wrinkling her nose when he had denied her request for a stay. “I just saw three people go up! You can’t tell me there’s nowhere left to stay.”
Kesi was used to sleeping outside. Honestly, she could sleep anywhere. Sleep came easy for the girl. But she was not about to try to venture back to her circus, which was probably elsewhere to stay safe from the sandstorm when it likely meant her death. Being outside the gates of Cairo would not be safe right now. But was she just to buckle down in the Tavern, where the winds had ripped off a door and could possibly take the roof next? The building itself didn’t seem very secure.
The man was very gruff and rude though. He was a bully. Kesi didn’t much like this innkeeper. His tongue was as fat as his gut, and he had a grumpy face on the entire time. Grumpier than the two bickering men! Kesi had half the mind to make him have room. She still had her dagger. His tune would change very quickly.
No, no, Kesi. That tiny voice in her head chastised her. There are people here.
Indeed, there was a slave girl, the other cranky guy, and the weird lady who thought words were dangerous. She couldn’t be violent in front of them. They might be annoying. They might not understand that this was fun. They were already super odd as it was. Kesi had to hold back for now. Nem would be mad at her if she caused trouble. Even if she really, really wanted to.
Her eyes flickered to the three. “There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.”
Rubiah sat on the upturned bit of bar top, amazed that the owner of the place was still able to function. His door had broken loose and sailed around the room with the intention of decapitating someone, his bar stools and what was left of the bar itself had been upturned into a crazy and chaotic nonsense, and there was hardly a soul on the street. How the man thought it worth trying to retain business instead of just burying himself in one of his rooms, lowering his head and waiting for it all to pass, Rubiah had no clue. But then, Egyptians always were the money-grabbing type. And when three of the people in the broken up common room went to see if they might be able to stay in the place, Rubiah couldn't help but give the guy kudos that his stoic trading discipline - however crazy it was - might actually pay off.
It was as they were discussing prizes and trying to negotiate rooms that another figure entered the room. It wasn't surprising that so many people had found their way in here. Doors were hard to open when they were a part of a building forming a wind tunnel on the street. The pressure made it nearly impossible. With this one yanked from its hinges and leaving the door way open and gaping, it was an easy mark and target for those on the street looking for shelter.
This particular newcomer was impossible to tell the identity of because she was wrapped practically from head to toe and covered in sand looking like some kind of entombed soul. Thankful that she didn't believe in the Egyptian Gods, else she might have suspected a curse from on high had brought the dead to life in the chaos of the storm, Rubiah just chuckled at the woman - for she was quite short - as she came into the room.
"Hey look, I think King Tut has risen from his grave. You okay there, Sandy?" Rubiah reached out to try and help brush some of the worst of the sand from the girl's frame just as the one who had wanted more blood and fighting left to go and see if she could follow in the stead of the others in the place. Unfortunately - given her squawking at the man that there were no additional rooms for rent, it appeared to be a fruitless effort and she stomped back towards Rubiah and the young girl.
'There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.'
Rubiah rolled her eyes. Always the way. Always last to the table. After a childhood (and adulthood) of everything being more difficult than it needed to be, she was perfectly used to life kicking her in the nuts and letting her work out how to deal with the pain. Now, it just rolled off her back nice and easy.
"Meh." Rubiah commented with a simple shrug. "It happens. I say we head back to mine. I'm pretty sure that we're nearby - I got a little lost on the way here. But it's definitely around here somewhere." She waved a hand around her head and the general area of Cairo in which they sat. "And the storm isn't that bad." She added.
The shutters over the windows roar off in an angry growl and went clattering down the street.
Rubiah looked over at the mummified girl with a smirk.
"What do you say? I have hot bathes at mine? And good food? Wine? It feels worth a little danger to me...?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rubiah sat on the upturned bit of bar top, amazed that the owner of the place was still able to function. His door had broken loose and sailed around the room with the intention of decapitating someone, his bar stools and what was left of the bar itself had been upturned into a crazy and chaotic nonsense, and there was hardly a soul on the street. How the man thought it worth trying to retain business instead of just burying himself in one of his rooms, lowering his head and waiting for it all to pass, Rubiah had no clue. But then, Egyptians always were the money-grabbing type. And when three of the people in the broken up common room went to see if they might be able to stay in the place, Rubiah couldn't help but give the guy kudos that his stoic trading discipline - however crazy it was - might actually pay off.
It was as they were discussing prizes and trying to negotiate rooms that another figure entered the room. It wasn't surprising that so many people had found their way in here. Doors were hard to open when they were a part of a building forming a wind tunnel on the street. The pressure made it nearly impossible. With this one yanked from its hinges and leaving the door way open and gaping, it was an easy mark and target for those on the street looking for shelter.
This particular newcomer was impossible to tell the identity of because she was wrapped practically from head to toe and covered in sand looking like some kind of entombed soul. Thankful that she didn't believe in the Egyptian Gods, else she might have suspected a curse from on high had brought the dead to life in the chaos of the storm, Rubiah just chuckled at the woman - for she was quite short - as she came into the room.
"Hey look, I think King Tut has risen from his grave. You okay there, Sandy?" Rubiah reached out to try and help brush some of the worst of the sand from the girl's frame just as the one who had wanted more blood and fighting left to go and see if she could follow in the stead of the others in the place. Unfortunately - given her squawking at the man that there were no additional rooms for rent, it appeared to be a fruitless effort and she stomped back towards Rubiah and the young girl.
'There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.'
Rubiah rolled her eyes. Always the way. Always last to the table. After a childhood (and adulthood) of everything being more difficult than it needed to be, she was perfectly used to life kicking her in the nuts and letting her work out how to deal with the pain. Now, it just rolled off her back nice and easy.
"Meh." Rubiah commented with a simple shrug. "It happens. I say we head back to mine. I'm pretty sure that we're nearby - I got a little lost on the way here. But it's definitely around here somewhere." She waved a hand around her head and the general area of Cairo in which they sat. "And the storm isn't that bad." She added.
The shutters over the windows roar off in an angry growl and went clattering down the street.
Rubiah looked over at the mummified girl with a smirk.
"What do you say? I have hot bathes at mine? And good food? Wine? It feels worth a little danger to me...?"
Rubiah sat on the upturned bit of bar top, amazed that the owner of the place was still able to function. His door had broken loose and sailed around the room with the intention of decapitating someone, his bar stools and what was left of the bar itself had been upturned into a crazy and chaotic nonsense, and there was hardly a soul on the street. How the man thought it worth trying to retain business instead of just burying himself in one of his rooms, lowering his head and waiting for it all to pass, Rubiah had no clue. But then, Egyptians always were the money-grabbing type. And when three of the people in the broken up common room went to see if they might be able to stay in the place, Rubiah couldn't help but give the guy kudos that his stoic trading discipline - however crazy it was - might actually pay off.
It was as they were discussing prizes and trying to negotiate rooms that another figure entered the room. It wasn't surprising that so many people had found their way in here. Doors were hard to open when they were a part of a building forming a wind tunnel on the street. The pressure made it nearly impossible. With this one yanked from its hinges and leaving the door way open and gaping, it was an easy mark and target for those on the street looking for shelter.
This particular newcomer was impossible to tell the identity of because she was wrapped practically from head to toe and covered in sand looking like some kind of entombed soul. Thankful that she didn't believe in the Egyptian Gods, else she might have suspected a curse from on high had brought the dead to life in the chaos of the storm, Rubiah just chuckled at the woman - for she was quite short - as she came into the room.
"Hey look, I think King Tut has risen from his grave. You okay there, Sandy?" Rubiah reached out to try and help brush some of the worst of the sand from the girl's frame just as the one who had wanted more blood and fighting left to go and see if she could follow in the stead of the others in the place. Unfortunately - given her squawking at the man that there were no additional rooms for rent, it appeared to be a fruitless effort and she stomped back towards Rubiah and the young girl.
'There aren’t any rooms left. The annoying girl, the other guy, and the random lady took the last ones.'
Rubiah rolled her eyes. Always the way. Always last to the table. After a childhood (and adulthood) of everything being more difficult than it needed to be, she was perfectly used to life kicking her in the nuts and letting her work out how to deal with the pain. Now, it just rolled off her back nice and easy.
"Meh." Rubiah commented with a simple shrug. "It happens. I say we head back to mine. I'm pretty sure that we're nearby - I got a little lost on the way here. But it's definitely around here somewhere." She waved a hand around her head and the general area of Cairo in which they sat. "And the storm isn't that bad." She added.
The shutters over the windows roar off in an angry growl and went clattering down the street.
Rubiah looked over at the mummified girl with a smirk.
"What do you say? I have hot bathes at mine? And good food? Wine? It feels worth a little danger to me...?"
It felt a little, okay, a lot, like she had swallowed half the desert and then some. She had the distinct feeling that she would end up picking sand out of her hair, clothes... and various other places for some time. The hot, gritty feeling was not pleasant and while she didn't know any of these people, did she? Safiya was not sure that her vision had cleared entirely but no one was rushing over an telling her off for being out in this so probably not.
Usually, her little adventures resulted in that kind of outcome.
Though that was probably not the time to start thinking about that kind of happenstance, she needed to concentrate and try and clear her lungs, covering her mouth Safiya coughed "You want me to go home with you? Sorry, were you asking me? I think this storm has shaken all my brains about" and then some if she was being honest about the whole thing. Safiya was trying to even begin to remember how it could possibly have ever seemed like a good idea to do something like this in the first place. Clearly, she needed to practise her breathing and counting exercises that her mother had suggested the last time her reckless and headlong behaviour had taken her into trouble.
At least, she was inside and the storm was even mostly on the outside. It could be worst she supposed "I'm Safiya and even if you're not inviting me. Thank you for the help" at least she hoped she should be thanking for the assistance unless this was an elaborate way of robbing her. Not that Safiya was really carrying anything of much worth.
She had been going out into a storm after all. Even if that was entirely stupid and clearly now a very bad idea, she hadn't also then chosen to wear all her jewellery at the same time.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It felt a little, okay, a lot, like she had swallowed half the desert and then some. She had the distinct feeling that she would end up picking sand out of her hair, clothes... and various other places for some time. The hot, gritty feeling was not pleasant and while she didn't know any of these people, did she? Safiya was not sure that her vision had cleared entirely but no one was rushing over an telling her off for being out in this so probably not.
Usually, her little adventures resulted in that kind of outcome.
Though that was probably not the time to start thinking about that kind of happenstance, she needed to concentrate and try and clear her lungs, covering her mouth Safiya coughed "You want me to go home with you? Sorry, were you asking me? I think this storm has shaken all my brains about" and then some if she was being honest about the whole thing. Safiya was trying to even begin to remember how it could possibly have ever seemed like a good idea to do something like this in the first place. Clearly, she needed to practise her breathing and counting exercises that her mother had suggested the last time her reckless and headlong behaviour had taken her into trouble.
At least, she was inside and the storm was even mostly on the outside. It could be worst she supposed "I'm Safiya and even if you're not inviting me. Thank you for the help" at least she hoped she should be thanking for the assistance unless this was an elaborate way of robbing her. Not that Safiya was really carrying anything of much worth.
She had been going out into a storm after all. Even if that was entirely stupid and clearly now a very bad idea, she hadn't also then chosen to wear all her jewellery at the same time.
It felt a little, okay, a lot, like she had swallowed half the desert and then some. She had the distinct feeling that she would end up picking sand out of her hair, clothes... and various other places for some time. The hot, gritty feeling was not pleasant and while she didn't know any of these people, did she? Safiya was not sure that her vision had cleared entirely but no one was rushing over an telling her off for being out in this so probably not.
Usually, her little adventures resulted in that kind of outcome.
Though that was probably not the time to start thinking about that kind of happenstance, she needed to concentrate and try and clear her lungs, covering her mouth Safiya coughed "You want me to go home with you? Sorry, were you asking me? I think this storm has shaken all my brains about" and then some if she was being honest about the whole thing. Safiya was trying to even begin to remember how it could possibly have ever seemed like a good idea to do something like this in the first place. Clearly, she needed to practise her breathing and counting exercises that her mother had suggested the last time her reckless and headlong behaviour had taken her into trouble.
At least, she was inside and the storm was even mostly on the outside. It could be worst she supposed "I'm Safiya and even if you're not inviting me. Thank you for the help" at least she hoped she should be thanking for the assistance unless this was an elaborate way of robbing her. Not that Safiya was really carrying anything of much worth.
She had been going out into a storm after all. Even if that was entirely stupid and clearly now a very bad idea, she hadn't also then chosen to wear all her jewellery at the same time.