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It is the end of summer and the Athenian shoreline and capitol are harrowed by the blasting winds and slating rain. As hurricane winds move towards Colchis, Athenia is caught in the tail ends of the storms furthest reaching fingers. Rain hits hard from sky to land at a slanting angle, whilst the wind tears at clothing and sets faces streaming. Despite all safety measures requiring that people stay in their homes, many of the common born cannot wait to pass the storm out beneath secure roofs, for their livelihoods will be stripped frm the bay if they do not rush to the coastline and work to fasten boats, nets and cargo with stronger lagging. Understanding that such business and trade are integral to the upkeep of Athenia's economic foundations, the men of the upper classes have attended to the coast with their own guardsmen to aid the fishermen in their plight. And, given that the storm has knocked at the Athenian lands so suddenly, just as evening was setting in, there are plenty of young ladies who had been due to return home for evening repasts now trapped by wind and rain.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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It is the end of summer and the Athenian shoreline and capitol are harrowed by the blasting winds and slating rain. As hurricane winds move towards Colchis, Athenia is caught in the tail ends of the storms furthest reaching fingers. Rain hits hard from sky to land at a slanting angle, whilst the wind tears at clothing and sets faces streaming. Despite all safety measures requiring that people stay in their homes, many of the common born cannot wait to pass the storm out beneath secure roofs, for their livelihoods will be stripped frm the bay if they do not rush to the coastline and work to fasten boats, nets and cargo with stronger lagging. Understanding that such business and trade are integral to the upkeep of Athenia's economic foundations, the men of the upper classes have attended to the coast with their own guardsmen to aid the fishermen in their plight. And, given that the storm has knocked at the Athenian lands so suddenly, just as evening was setting in, there are plenty of young ladies who had been due to return home for evening repasts now trapped by wind and rain.
Wind and Rain Provincial Story - Athenia
It is the end of summer and the Athenian shoreline and capitol are harrowed by the blasting winds and slating rain. As hurricane winds move towards Colchis, Athenia is caught in the tail ends of the storms furthest reaching fingers. Rain hits hard from sky to land at a slanting angle, whilst the wind tears at clothing and sets faces streaming. Despite all safety measures requiring that people stay in their homes, many of the common born cannot wait to pass the storm out beneath secure roofs, for their livelihoods will be stripped frm the bay if they do not rush to the coastline and work to fasten boats, nets and cargo with stronger lagging. Understanding that such business and trade are integral to the upkeep of Athenia's economic foundations, the men of the upper classes have attended to the coast with their own guardsmen to aid the fishermen in their plight. And, given that the storm has knocked at the Athenian lands so suddenly, just as evening was setting in, there are plenty of young ladies who had been due to return home for evening repasts now trapped by wind and rain.
All of the bait sold in the stall were cleared out, as well as the pearls which meant that it was time to close shop. Hero grumbled as both her and her grandmother started removing their stall tent. "Can't we stay a little longer? Hmm, how about I look for more pearls and bait- Can I, granny?" Pleaded the girl of fourteen, gazing up to meet her grandmother's eyes as she collected the wooden planks. The days they rode out of Arcana to sell were one of Hero's favorite days - for she was able to see brand new sights... from the darkness of her own tent. Despite being unable to walk around the Harbour as much, she still got to see new people and that was always a plus!
"No Hero, we must head home," Her grandmother replied, tucking the canvas cover under her arm. Just then, she rubbed her reached over and rubbed the goosepimples popping up on her right arm. "Looks like the wind is picking up; I'll get us a room in the inn, go check up on Ismene and see if she's staying with her patient." Hero stood up straight and nodded. "Yes ma'am!" She'd say, raising her horizontally angled palm to her temple in a way she's seen her grandfather and Ismene's father greet each other. The action would've looked a lot more respectful if the plank she was holding didn't fall on her foot. "Yowch!" The blonde cried, lifting her foot to hop around. As Hero hopped in place, her hearty grandmother stooped down and swiped the fallen plank. Her face displayed a cross between amusement and annoyance as she had grown used to Hero's antics. "... I'll be at the inn." Decided the gray-haired woman, stopping a few times to pick up more materials before making her exit down the street, giving one last shout. "Don't hurt yourself!"
Hero sighed, waving off her grandmother's amused concern. Finishing her gauche hop around the small space, her unharmed foot went back down so she could walk over to where her good friend Ismene was staying. Hopefully Ismene could tend to her foot if she had any stamina left, oh having a physician for a friend was the best! Although Ismene was two years older than her, she could tend to wounds like it was nobody's business. Gods, Hero thought she was a lot better than any of the male healers in Arcana - and no, the statement was definitely not made from personal bias! Regardless of bias, Ismene was a rather busy young woman who she followed on their trips outside of their home. And Hero looked up to her for following through with the occupation even when she had no formal training with it. It must be difficult sometimes, but her friend always pulled through!
Her blue eyes flickered from one dwelling to another. Houses dotted along the harbor were sparse due to frequent travel, so it wasn't difficult to find her friend. Finally, she reached the home and knocked on the side of the building. Once she received confirmation that she could come in, Hero pushed the sheets blocking the doorway to the side to enter - though Ismene was just heading out causing her to tread backwards out onto the sidewalk. "Wow, you finished early!" Commented Hero, shivering slightly in response to the winds picking up. She thought about requesting for Ismene to examine her foot, but thought against it since it had been a long day. Besides, she didn't feel anything... was it a numbing pain? With a shrug, she continued to speak. "Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--" Unfortunately, she spoke to soon! Water pelted down hard on the two Athenian commoners, in addition to the winds tousling with their chitons and their hair. Living near the sea has prepared them for harsh storms such as this - except this one felt much worst. Losing her balance, Hero took a few steps back almost colliding with Ismene - but she reached back and grabbed the smaller girl's hand to prevent collision. "Let's hurry--" All of a sudden, movement besides Aelous's winds started to moving past the two in droves making a beeline for the many boats in the ocean.
So much activity, yet a shivering Hero noticed cargo and even people falling out of the boats due to the rain and air's impact. What a harrowing sight to see - and perhaps her eyes was messing with her (or her hair) but some of the cargo on the returning boats were shackled! One of them (a slave maybe) tumbling overboard and into the nets of another! Hero knew how it felt to get stuck into a net, and it was a royal pain! Sure men were physically stronger than women, but nobody could beat Hero when it came to the raging seas! "Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!" She shouted over the loud winds and deep voices. Hero attempted to tighten her grip on her friend's hand to pull her with - unless Ismene protested against it. Whether she protested or not, the impulsive teen would try to pull her regardless.
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All of the bait sold in the stall were cleared out, as well as the pearls which meant that it was time to close shop. Hero grumbled as both her and her grandmother started removing their stall tent. "Can't we stay a little longer? Hmm, how about I look for more pearls and bait- Can I, granny?" Pleaded the girl of fourteen, gazing up to meet her grandmother's eyes as she collected the wooden planks. The days they rode out of Arcana to sell were one of Hero's favorite days - for she was able to see brand new sights... from the darkness of her own tent. Despite being unable to walk around the Harbour as much, she still got to see new people and that was always a plus!
"No Hero, we must head home," Her grandmother replied, tucking the canvas cover under her arm. Just then, she rubbed her reached over and rubbed the goosepimples popping up on her right arm. "Looks like the wind is picking up; I'll get us a room in the inn, go check up on Ismene and see if she's staying with her patient." Hero stood up straight and nodded. "Yes ma'am!" She'd say, raising her horizontally angled palm to her temple in a way she's seen her grandfather and Ismene's father greet each other. The action would've looked a lot more respectful if the plank she was holding didn't fall on her foot. "Yowch!" The blonde cried, lifting her foot to hop around. As Hero hopped in place, her hearty grandmother stooped down and swiped the fallen plank. Her face displayed a cross between amusement and annoyance as she had grown used to Hero's antics. "... I'll be at the inn." Decided the gray-haired woman, stopping a few times to pick up more materials before making her exit down the street, giving one last shout. "Don't hurt yourself!"
Hero sighed, waving off her grandmother's amused concern. Finishing her gauche hop around the small space, her unharmed foot went back down so she could walk over to where her good friend Ismene was staying. Hopefully Ismene could tend to her foot if she had any stamina left, oh having a physician for a friend was the best! Although Ismene was two years older than her, she could tend to wounds like it was nobody's business. Gods, Hero thought she was a lot better than any of the male healers in Arcana - and no, the statement was definitely not made from personal bias! Regardless of bias, Ismene was a rather busy young woman who she followed on their trips outside of their home. And Hero looked up to her for following through with the occupation even when she had no formal training with it. It must be difficult sometimes, but her friend always pulled through!
Her blue eyes flickered from one dwelling to another. Houses dotted along the harbor were sparse due to frequent travel, so it wasn't difficult to find her friend. Finally, she reached the home and knocked on the side of the building. Once she received confirmation that she could come in, Hero pushed the sheets blocking the doorway to the side to enter - though Ismene was just heading out causing her to tread backwards out onto the sidewalk. "Wow, you finished early!" Commented Hero, shivering slightly in response to the winds picking up. She thought about requesting for Ismene to examine her foot, but thought against it since it had been a long day. Besides, she didn't feel anything... was it a numbing pain? With a shrug, she continued to speak. "Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--" Unfortunately, she spoke to soon! Water pelted down hard on the two Athenian commoners, in addition to the winds tousling with their chitons and their hair. Living near the sea has prepared them for harsh storms such as this - except this one felt much worst. Losing her balance, Hero took a few steps back almost colliding with Ismene - but she reached back and grabbed the smaller girl's hand to prevent collision. "Let's hurry--" All of a sudden, movement besides Aelous's winds started to moving past the two in droves making a beeline for the many boats in the ocean.
So much activity, yet a shivering Hero noticed cargo and even people falling out of the boats due to the rain and air's impact. What a harrowing sight to see - and perhaps her eyes was messing with her (or her hair) but some of the cargo on the returning boats were shackled! One of them (a slave maybe) tumbling overboard and into the nets of another! Hero knew how it felt to get stuck into a net, and it was a royal pain! Sure men were physically stronger than women, but nobody could beat Hero when it came to the raging seas! "Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!" She shouted over the loud winds and deep voices. Hero attempted to tighten her grip on her friend's hand to pull her with - unless Ismene protested against it. Whether she protested or not, the impulsive teen would try to pull her regardless.
All of the bait sold in the stall were cleared out, as well as the pearls which meant that it was time to close shop. Hero grumbled as both her and her grandmother started removing their stall tent. "Can't we stay a little longer? Hmm, how about I look for more pearls and bait- Can I, granny?" Pleaded the girl of fourteen, gazing up to meet her grandmother's eyes as she collected the wooden planks. The days they rode out of Arcana to sell were one of Hero's favorite days - for she was able to see brand new sights... from the darkness of her own tent. Despite being unable to walk around the Harbour as much, she still got to see new people and that was always a plus!
"No Hero, we must head home," Her grandmother replied, tucking the canvas cover under her arm. Just then, she rubbed her reached over and rubbed the goosepimples popping up on her right arm. "Looks like the wind is picking up; I'll get us a room in the inn, go check up on Ismene and see if she's staying with her patient." Hero stood up straight and nodded. "Yes ma'am!" She'd say, raising her horizontally angled palm to her temple in a way she's seen her grandfather and Ismene's father greet each other. The action would've looked a lot more respectful if the plank she was holding didn't fall on her foot. "Yowch!" The blonde cried, lifting her foot to hop around. As Hero hopped in place, her hearty grandmother stooped down and swiped the fallen plank. Her face displayed a cross between amusement and annoyance as she had grown used to Hero's antics. "... I'll be at the inn." Decided the gray-haired woman, stopping a few times to pick up more materials before making her exit down the street, giving one last shout. "Don't hurt yourself!"
Hero sighed, waving off her grandmother's amused concern. Finishing her gauche hop around the small space, her unharmed foot went back down so she could walk over to where her good friend Ismene was staying. Hopefully Ismene could tend to her foot if she had any stamina left, oh having a physician for a friend was the best! Although Ismene was two years older than her, she could tend to wounds like it was nobody's business. Gods, Hero thought she was a lot better than any of the male healers in Arcana - and no, the statement was definitely not made from personal bias! Regardless of bias, Ismene was a rather busy young woman who she followed on their trips outside of their home. And Hero looked up to her for following through with the occupation even when she had no formal training with it. It must be difficult sometimes, but her friend always pulled through!
Her blue eyes flickered from one dwelling to another. Houses dotted along the harbor were sparse due to frequent travel, so it wasn't difficult to find her friend. Finally, she reached the home and knocked on the side of the building. Once she received confirmation that she could come in, Hero pushed the sheets blocking the doorway to the side to enter - though Ismene was just heading out causing her to tread backwards out onto the sidewalk. "Wow, you finished early!" Commented Hero, shivering slightly in response to the winds picking up. She thought about requesting for Ismene to examine her foot, but thought against it since it had been a long day. Besides, she didn't feel anything... was it a numbing pain? With a shrug, she continued to speak. "Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--" Unfortunately, she spoke to soon! Water pelted down hard on the two Athenian commoners, in addition to the winds tousling with their chitons and their hair. Living near the sea has prepared them for harsh storms such as this - except this one felt much worst. Losing her balance, Hero took a few steps back almost colliding with Ismene - but she reached back and grabbed the smaller girl's hand to prevent collision. "Let's hurry--" All of a sudden, movement besides Aelous's winds started to moving past the two in droves making a beeline for the many boats in the ocean.
So much activity, yet a shivering Hero noticed cargo and even people falling out of the boats due to the rain and air's impact. What a harrowing sight to see - and perhaps her eyes was messing with her (or her hair) but some of the cargo on the returning boats were shackled! One of them (a slave maybe) tumbling overboard and into the nets of another! Hero knew how it felt to get stuck into a net, and it was a royal pain! Sure men were physically stronger than women, but nobody could beat Hero when it came to the raging seas! "Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!" She shouted over the loud winds and deep voices. Hero attempted to tighten her grip on her friend's hand to pull her with - unless Ismene protested against it. Whether she protested or not, the impulsive teen would try to pull her regardless.
Whilst the people of the outer circle of Athenia struggled with the wind and the rain, the royal palace had other concerns. With the damp weather and cold air, the King had fallen into a stronger bout of poor health. In his stead, his eldest daughter stormed the halls in a swirl of silver, dove grey silks and the flowing curls of raven hair. The silver clasps around her upper arms - formed in the shape of two swan feathers meeting at their tips - flashed hot white as the sun broke through in a moment of lightened cloud and seemed to light the corridor on fire.
"Guards!" Persephone called with a commanding tone sharpened into tension by the fear for her own family. For her father was not the only one in potential danger. "Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately!" For it was just in keeping with her sister's character to decide that today of all days was when she just had to purchase the new silks to be delivered to her favoured dressmaker. Even in her ignorance of weather formations, Emilia liked to cause a stir.
"Palaos!" This next was directed at the steward she had been seeking on her venture through the corridors. "I require a report on the safety measures taken around the palace." For, whilst the storm was most horrendous in the lower levels and entirely destructive at the harbour coast, such winds and rain and the occasional baring hand of Zeus could offer much damage to the regal homes of the capitol if countermeasures were not put in place.
"Your Highness," Reported the man, surprised at her sudden yet still graceful entry to the foyer of the palati. His words were lost momentarily as the wooden entry door were hit with a strong enough force to have them swung open and bash against their moorings. Persephone felt sure of her carriage and her refusal to show fear but even she was surprised at the wind being powerful enough to do that. Those doors took two men a piece to push them open!
"All of the animals have been brought into stables and outhouses, Your Highness, and the servants are boarding windows and doors as we speak."
"Have the servants pulled what they can from the well?" Persephone asked, having o shout now over the gale that stole through the open, clattering doors. Despite their distance from the harbour, if land masses were forced to shift under heavy rain wells could be destroyed or the waters within tainted. It was wise to stock and store what they could, just in case. Whilst the royal house was only that of three, with servants and slaves included, the royal estate had many lives that required such water.
"I shall ensure that it's done, Your Highness!" Palaos shouted back, but not before Persephone's attention was distracted by a clank, shudder and rumbling split from outside.
Flanking the front doors of the palati were two large bronze dishes used for oil burning at night. Attached to the walls with chains hooked into ornate holders, the noise that now screeched through the foyer was metal breaking free of stone!
A second later one of those dishes and the chain and sharp hook that followed like a spinning turret was sent soaring through the doors, into the foyer and shot directly for Persephone's head.
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Whilst the people of the outer circle of Athenia struggled with the wind and the rain, the royal palace had other concerns. With the damp weather and cold air, the King had fallen into a stronger bout of poor health. In his stead, his eldest daughter stormed the halls in a swirl of silver, dove grey silks and the flowing curls of raven hair. The silver clasps around her upper arms - formed in the shape of two swan feathers meeting at their tips - flashed hot white as the sun broke through in a moment of lightened cloud and seemed to light the corridor on fire.
"Guards!" Persephone called with a commanding tone sharpened into tension by the fear for her own family. For her father was not the only one in potential danger. "Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately!" For it was just in keeping with her sister's character to decide that today of all days was when she just had to purchase the new silks to be delivered to her favoured dressmaker. Even in her ignorance of weather formations, Emilia liked to cause a stir.
"Palaos!" This next was directed at the steward she had been seeking on her venture through the corridors. "I require a report on the safety measures taken around the palace." For, whilst the storm was most horrendous in the lower levels and entirely destructive at the harbour coast, such winds and rain and the occasional baring hand of Zeus could offer much damage to the regal homes of the capitol if countermeasures were not put in place.
"Your Highness," Reported the man, surprised at her sudden yet still graceful entry to the foyer of the palati. His words were lost momentarily as the wooden entry door were hit with a strong enough force to have them swung open and bash against their moorings. Persephone felt sure of her carriage and her refusal to show fear but even she was surprised at the wind being powerful enough to do that. Those doors took two men a piece to push them open!
"All of the animals have been brought into stables and outhouses, Your Highness, and the servants are boarding windows and doors as we speak."
"Have the servants pulled what they can from the well?" Persephone asked, having o shout now over the gale that stole through the open, clattering doors. Despite their distance from the harbour, if land masses were forced to shift under heavy rain wells could be destroyed or the waters within tainted. It was wise to stock and store what they could, just in case. Whilst the royal house was only that of three, with servants and slaves included, the royal estate had many lives that required such water.
"I shall ensure that it's done, Your Highness!" Palaos shouted back, but not before Persephone's attention was distracted by a clank, shudder and rumbling split from outside.
Flanking the front doors of the palati were two large bronze dishes used for oil burning at night. Attached to the walls with chains hooked into ornate holders, the noise that now screeched through the foyer was metal breaking free of stone!
A second later one of those dishes and the chain and sharp hook that followed like a spinning turret was sent soaring through the doors, into the foyer and shot directly for Persephone's head.
Whilst the people of the outer circle of Athenia struggled with the wind and the rain, the royal palace had other concerns. With the damp weather and cold air, the King had fallen into a stronger bout of poor health. In his stead, his eldest daughter stormed the halls in a swirl of silver, dove grey silks and the flowing curls of raven hair. The silver clasps around her upper arms - formed in the shape of two swan feathers meeting at their tips - flashed hot white as the sun broke through in a moment of lightened cloud and seemed to light the corridor on fire.
"Guards!" Persephone called with a commanding tone sharpened into tension by the fear for her own family. For her father was not the only one in potential danger. "Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately!" For it was just in keeping with her sister's character to decide that today of all days was when she just had to purchase the new silks to be delivered to her favoured dressmaker. Even in her ignorance of weather formations, Emilia liked to cause a stir.
"Palaos!" This next was directed at the steward she had been seeking on her venture through the corridors. "I require a report on the safety measures taken around the palace." For, whilst the storm was most horrendous in the lower levels and entirely destructive at the harbour coast, such winds and rain and the occasional baring hand of Zeus could offer much damage to the regal homes of the capitol if countermeasures were not put in place.
"Your Highness," Reported the man, surprised at her sudden yet still graceful entry to the foyer of the palati. His words were lost momentarily as the wooden entry door were hit with a strong enough force to have them swung open and bash against their moorings. Persephone felt sure of her carriage and her refusal to show fear but even she was surprised at the wind being powerful enough to do that. Those doors took two men a piece to push them open!
"All of the animals have been brought into stables and outhouses, Your Highness, and the servants are boarding windows and doors as we speak."
"Have the servants pulled what they can from the well?" Persephone asked, having o shout now over the gale that stole through the open, clattering doors. Despite their distance from the harbour, if land masses were forced to shift under heavy rain wells could be destroyed or the waters within tainted. It was wise to stock and store what they could, just in case. Whilst the royal house was only that of three, with servants and slaves included, the royal estate had many lives that required such water.
"I shall ensure that it's done, Your Highness!" Palaos shouted back, but not before Persephone's attention was distracted by a clank, shudder and rumbling split from outside.
Flanking the front doors of the palati were two large bronze dishes used for oil burning at night. Attached to the walls with chains hooked into ornate holders, the noise that now screeched through the foyer was metal breaking free of stone!
A second later one of those dishes and the chain and sharp hook that followed like a spinning turret was sent soaring through the doors, into the foyer and shot directly for Persephone's head.
The morning had not shown it would take such a horrible turn. Emilia had been woken up early, excitement resulting in her unable to sleep. She had gotten a new shipment of silks yesterday from lands with names she could not even pronounce, but whose material felt like clouds upon her skin. Excited to use the materials she had procured to make new dresses for the next court session for both herself and her sister, Emilia had headed out to the favoured dressmaker, and spent a large part of the day discussing technique and design.
It was late in the day before she was finally satisfied, but by then clouds had begun to gather. The dressmaker had offered to let Emilia remain in her residence, until the oncoming storm had passed, but the young brunette had not wised to impose. Instead, the fifteen year old had insisted she would be fine, and with her accompaniment of four guards, had started her way back.
Unluckily for the princess though, the dressmakers residence had been on the far end of the capitol, for the elderly lady preferred the quiet breeze of the trees, instead of staying in the busy heart of the capitol. It had been a good half hour journey to get to the dressmaker itself, and halfway through her journey back, the gale suddenly picked up to a loud squeal, so much so that Emilia's tiny frame suddenly felt so incredibly light, she almost felt as if she would be blown away if her four guards had not pressed in closer to her.
Their larger frames helped in buffeting some of the wind, but as they plodded on with the struggling horses, their approach northern harbor meant the wind grew stronger, until an extra strong gust spooked the horse she was on. The chestnut mare reared, and Emilia, untrained as she was in her horsemanship, found herself thrown off. The ground met her bottom with no cushion at all, and Emilia felt a sharp whack against her head as she fell against the harbor itself, stars swimming in front of her eyes as her breath was knocked out of her.
Emilia felt more then saw some people coming around her, but her ears rang and she suddenly found herself with no energy at all to even reassure people she was fine, and could only groan unintelligibly as people crowded, her eyes fluttering shut as two of the four guards she had came with rode back to the palati to inform the royal family on the situation of the youngest princess.
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The morning had not shown it would take such a horrible turn. Emilia had been woken up early, excitement resulting in her unable to sleep. She had gotten a new shipment of silks yesterday from lands with names she could not even pronounce, but whose material felt like clouds upon her skin. Excited to use the materials she had procured to make new dresses for the next court session for both herself and her sister, Emilia had headed out to the favoured dressmaker, and spent a large part of the day discussing technique and design.
It was late in the day before she was finally satisfied, but by then clouds had begun to gather. The dressmaker had offered to let Emilia remain in her residence, until the oncoming storm had passed, but the young brunette had not wised to impose. Instead, the fifteen year old had insisted she would be fine, and with her accompaniment of four guards, had started her way back.
Unluckily for the princess though, the dressmakers residence had been on the far end of the capitol, for the elderly lady preferred the quiet breeze of the trees, instead of staying in the busy heart of the capitol. It had been a good half hour journey to get to the dressmaker itself, and halfway through her journey back, the gale suddenly picked up to a loud squeal, so much so that Emilia's tiny frame suddenly felt so incredibly light, she almost felt as if she would be blown away if her four guards had not pressed in closer to her.
Their larger frames helped in buffeting some of the wind, but as they plodded on with the struggling horses, their approach northern harbor meant the wind grew stronger, until an extra strong gust spooked the horse she was on. The chestnut mare reared, and Emilia, untrained as she was in her horsemanship, found herself thrown off. The ground met her bottom with no cushion at all, and Emilia felt a sharp whack against her head as she fell against the harbor itself, stars swimming in front of her eyes as her breath was knocked out of her.
Emilia felt more then saw some people coming around her, but her ears rang and she suddenly found herself with no energy at all to even reassure people she was fine, and could only groan unintelligibly as people crowded, her eyes fluttering shut as two of the four guards she had came with rode back to the palati to inform the royal family on the situation of the youngest princess.
The morning had not shown it would take such a horrible turn. Emilia had been woken up early, excitement resulting in her unable to sleep. She had gotten a new shipment of silks yesterday from lands with names she could not even pronounce, but whose material felt like clouds upon her skin. Excited to use the materials she had procured to make new dresses for the next court session for both herself and her sister, Emilia had headed out to the favoured dressmaker, and spent a large part of the day discussing technique and design.
It was late in the day before she was finally satisfied, but by then clouds had begun to gather. The dressmaker had offered to let Emilia remain in her residence, until the oncoming storm had passed, but the young brunette had not wised to impose. Instead, the fifteen year old had insisted she would be fine, and with her accompaniment of four guards, had started her way back.
Unluckily for the princess though, the dressmakers residence had been on the far end of the capitol, for the elderly lady preferred the quiet breeze of the trees, instead of staying in the busy heart of the capitol. It had been a good half hour journey to get to the dressmaker itself, and halfway through her journey back, the gale suddenly picked up to a loud squeal, so much so that Emilia's tiny frame suddenly felt so incredibly light, she almost felt as if she would be blown away if her four guards had not pressed in closer to her.
Their larger frames helped in buffeting some of the wind, but as they plodded on with the struggling horses, their approach northern harbor meant the wind grew stronger, until an extra strong gust spooked the horse she was on. The chestnut mare reared, and Emilia, untrained as she was in her horsemanship, found herself thrown off. The ground met her bottom with no cushion at all, and Emilia felt a sharp whack against her head as she fell against the harbor itself, stars swimming in front of her eyes as her breath was knocked out of her.
Emilia felt more then saw some people coming around her, but her ears rang and she suddenly found herself with no energy at all to even reassure people she was fine, and could only groan unintelligibly as people crowded, her eyes fluttering shut as two of the four guards she had came with rode back to the palati to inform the royal family on the situation of the youngest princess.
Ismene Leaving Hero and Going to Emilia
Struggles were a part of life, that much Ismene had grasp at a very young age. Being a healer was a struggle, but being a woman healer was something in a category all of it’s very own. The small curvy blonde had to be twice as educated, twice as good, and hustle twice as much. She’d been lucky in the regard that her uncle had been a healer too and she’d been allowed to apprentice with him but she was slowly starting to develop her own clients, her own business, and her own set of entirely new struggles.
At sixteen, she was hardly sweet any longer. Leaning against the door frame of one of sailors of the royal fleet, her arms crossed her chest she glared down at the man listening to his protests. She’d found men to be the biggest sorts of babies when it came to being patients. This was proving to be no different.
“No, I don’t think you do understand. The Gods have given us apples… you must see that you start eating at least one a day,” Her grey eyes narrowed at the man as he opened his mouth to protest again, but decidedly closed it. “You are not return to sea until your gums stop bleeding for one week. Do you understand me?” The man cast his eyes down and gave a small nod of his head. He was the third one this afternoon she’d seen who’d been plagued by maladies that the Gods had cursed upon him for not enjoying the fruits of their lands. Turning to his wife, “Limit his rotgut to three suds a day, preferably with one being a nightcap, and see that he eats his apples despite his loose teeth… if you must boil them up until they are soft and add some herbs. He’ll be back to the seas in no time.”
The wind then rattled the small shacks shutters causing her frown to deepen. She had come into Athenia with Hero and her grandmother… her father was still supposed to be here in the capitol on business and of course Ariadne was here. A note had been dispatched to her father the instant she’d left Arcana and another one had been sent to her father after she’d arrived promising to meet up with him and Ariadne after she saw Hero and her grandmother back off to Arcana. However, the winds were shifting and the weather was becoming poorer rapidly. There was a rap on the side of the little building, just before the sheet in the doorway, separating the rooms shifted open and Hero stuck her head inside just as Ismene was making her escape. ‘Wow, you finished early!’
Glancing sidesways at Hero, she sighed and nodded. “Yes, two of the men I was supposed to see are out preparing the ships for the storms and refuse to come in.” She stepped out of the hovels and for not the first time of the day was glad that she lived in the rural little community of Arcana. Perhaps, there was some appeal to the capital, but only if you were among the rich and famous. The hovels that lay on the seaboard were small and cramped, dirtier than the small country shacks. Everything seemed closed in, in this part of the town, and it was simply not to Ismene’s liking. The wind gusted and the moisture on the air was almost palpable. Pausing, she wrinkled her face and looked up towards the sky as Zeus sent a lightning bolt of warning across the sky.
‘Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--’ Hero’s words died off as the fat raindrops started their slow steady pelting coldly staining Ismene’s dark maroon chiton with wet dots. Her first thought was that at least she’d not worn the white one she’d been so close to wearing. A storm didn’t worry Ismene much, living in a coastal town it was her first one to see… even if this one appeared all the mightier. Hero tottered towards her and she reached out to steady her younger friend.
‘Let's hurry--’ Hero didn’t have to tell her twice. Ducking her head, her shoulders curled instinctively as the cold wetness poured down on them.
People were hurrying about with the errands of last minute, the two young women from Arcana being just two of the ants among the nest of people. Keeping her head down and minding her own business, she ran through the different scenarios going on through her mind when all of a sudden Hero was tugging at her attention, ‘Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!’ Her head came up and she looked out at the sea. The words, ‘Um, No.’ Lingered on her lips as she parted them to say her thoughts the sounds of hooves clattering on the pavement caused her to look away from the water and her pleading friend to see the chestnut horse barreling through the crowd towards them.
In a split second, she jerked Hero out of the way of the horse as her grey eyes searched further up the lane to at the commotion up ahead of them. The King’s guards were clustered around and people were hurrying towards the scene. Ismene looked back at the people at the sea and Hero and then back up towards the crowd and a not very nice word echoed out of her mouth. “Do what you must, Hero, but those people… Poseidon’s grip is already upon them.. And soon Hades will be bidding them ‘hello’.” Jerking Hero’s arm to pull her attention up the street, “It looks like there has been some sort of an accident up there. I must see if I can be of aid… Probably one of the royal officials.”
Letting go of Hero’s hand, “Let me check on that and then I’ll meet you back here. We need to get to your grandmother and I need to know where my father and sister are.” Frowning, “Do not do anything stupid, Hero…, I’ll be right back.” Giving the younger girl a look before she took off at a run up the street, “Excuse me. Excuse me. I’m a physician. Excuse me.” She demanded as she scooted around people, but the closer she got the slower she had to go as the crowd had grown thicker and the need to start elbowing people to move became a necessity.
Coming to a stop in front of one of the guards, she looked up at him then peered around to see the youngest Princess on the ground. Oh, So… No to it being an official. Standing her ground, “Excuse me, but I need to examine the princess. I’m a physician. I can help.”
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Ismene Leaving Hero and Going to Emilia
Struggles were a part of life, that much Ismene had grasp at a very young age. Being a healer was a struggle, but being a woman healer was something in a category all of it’s very own. The small curvy blonde had to be twice as educated, twice as good, and hustle twice as much. She’d been lucky in the regard that her uncle had been a healer too and she’d been allowed to apprentice with him but she was slowly starting to develop her own clients, her own business, and her own set of entirely new struggles.
At sixteen, she was hardly sweet any longer. Leaning against the door frame of one of sailors of the royal fleet, her arms crossed her chest she glared down at the man listening to his protests. She’d found men to be the biggest sorts of babies when it came to being patients. This was proving to be no different.
“No, I don’t think you do understand. The Gods have given us apples… you must see that you start eating at least one a day,” Her grey eyes narrowed at the man as he opened his mouth to protest again, but decidedly closed it. “You are not return to sea until your gums stop bleeding for one week. Do you understand me?” The man cast his eyes down and gave a small nod of his head. He was the third one this afternoon she’d seen who’d been plagued by maladies that the Gods had cursed upon him for not enjoying the fruits of their lands. Turning to his wife, “Limit his rotgut to three suds a day, preferably with one being a nightcap, and see that he eats his apples despite his loose teeth… if you must boil them up until they are soft and add some herbs. He’ll be back to the seas in no time.”
The wind then rattled the small shacks shutters causing her frown to deepen. She had come into Athenia with Hero and her grandmother… her father was still supposed to be here in the capitol on business and of course Ariadne was here. A note had been dispatched to her father the instant she’d left Arcana and another one had been sent to her father after she’d arrived promising to meet up with him and Ariadne after she saw Hero and her grandmother back off to Arcana. However, the winds were shifting and the weather was becoming poorer rapidly. There was a rap on the side of the little building, just before the sheet in the doorway, separating the rooms shifted open and Hero stuck her head inside just as Ismene was making her escape. ‘Wow, you finished early!’
Glancing sidesways at Hero, she sighed and nodded. “Yes, two of the men I was supposed to see are out preparing the ships for the storms and refuse to come in.” She stepped out of the hovels and for not the first time of the day was glad that she lived in the rural little community of Arcana. Perhaps, there was some appeal to the capital, but only if you were among the rich and famous. The hovels that lay on the seaboard were small and cramped, dirtier than the small country shacks. Everything seemed closed in, in this part of the town, and it was simply not to Ismene’s liking. The wind gusted and the moisture on the air was almost palpable. Pausing, she wrinkled her face and looked up towards the sky as Zeus sent a lightning bolt of warning across the sky.
‘Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--’ Hero’s words died off as the fat raindrops started their slow steady pelting coldly staining Ismene’s dark maroon chiton with wet dots. Her first thought was that at least she’d not worn the white one she’d been so close to wearing. A storm didn’t worry Ismene much, living in a coastal town it was her first one to see… even if this one appeared all the mightier. Hero tottered towards her and she reached out to steady her younger friend.
‘Let's hurry--’ Hero didn’t have to tell her twice. Ducking her head, her shoulders curled instinctively as the cold wetness poured down on them.
People were hurrying about with the errands of last minute, the two young women from Arcana being just two of the ants among the nest of people. Keeping her head down and minding her own business, she ran through the different scenarios going on through her mind when all of a sudden Hero was tugging at her attention, ‘Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!’ Her head came up and she looked out at the sea. The words, ‘Um, No.’ Lingered on her lips as she parted them to say her thoughts the sounds of hooves clattering on the pavement caused her to look away from the water and her pleading friend to see the chestnut horse barreling through the crowd towards them.
In a split second, she jerked Hero out of the way of the horse as her grey eyes searched further up the lane to at the commotion up ahead of them. The King’s guards were clustered around and people were hurrying towards the scene. Ismene looked back at the people at the sea and Hero and then back up towards the crowd and a not very nice word echoed out of her mouth. “Do what you must, Hero, but those people… Poseidon’s grip is already upon them.. And soon Hades will be bidding them ‘hello’.” Jerking Hero’s arm to pull her attention up the street, “It looks like there has been some sort of an accident up there. I must see if I can be of aid… Probably one of the royal officials.”
Letting go of Hero’s hand, “Let me check on that and then I’ll meet you back here. We need to get to your grandmother and I need to know where my father and sister are.” Frowning, “Do not do anything stupid, Hero…, I’ll be right back.” Giving the younger girl a look before she took off at a run up the street, “Excuse me. Excuse me. I’m a physician. Excuse me.” She demanded as she scooted around people, but the closer she got the slower she had to go as the crowd had grown thicker and the need to start elbowing people to move became a necessity.
Coming to a stop in front of one of the guards, she looked up at him then peered around to see the youngest Princess on the ground. Oh, So… No to it being an official. Standing her ground, “Excuse me, but I need to examine the princess. I’m a physician. I can help.”
Ismene Leaving Hero and Going to Emilia
Struggles were a part of life, that much Ismene had grasp at a very young age. Being a healer was a struggle, but being a woman healer was something in a category all of it’s very own. The small curvy blonde had to be twice as educated, twice as good, and hustle twice as much. She’d been lucky in the regard that her uncle had been a healer too and she’d been allowed to apprentice with him but she was slowly starting to develop her own clients, her own business, and her own set of entirely new struggles.
At sixteen, she was hardly sweet any longer. Leaning against the door frame of one of sailors of the royal fleet, her arms crossed her chest she glared down at the man listening to his protests. She’d found men to be the biggest sorts of babies when it came to being patients. This was proving to be no different.
“No, I don’t think you do understand. The Gods have given us apples… you must see that you start eating at least one a day,” Her grey eyes narrowed at the man as he opened his mouth to protest again, but decidedly closed it. “You are not return to sea until your gums stop bleeding for one week. Do you understand me?” The man cast his eyes down and gave a small nod of his head. He was the third one this afternoon she’d seen who’d been plagued by maladies that the Gods had cursed upon him for not enjoying the fruits of their lands. Turning to his wife, “Limit his rotgut to three suds a day, preferably with one being a nightcap, and see that he eats his apples despite his loose teeth… if you must boil them up until they are soft and add some herbs. He’ll be back to the seas in no time.”
The wind then rattled the small shacks shutters causing her frown to deepen. She had come into Athenia with Hero and her grandmother… her father was still supposed to be here in the capitol on business and of course Ariadne was here. A note had been dispatched to her father the instant she’d left Arcana and another one had been sent to her father after she’d arrived promising to meet up with him and Ariadne after she saw Hero and her grandmother back off to Arcana. However, the winds were shifting and the weather was becoming poorer rapidly. There was a rap on the side of the little building, just before the sheet in the doorway, separating the rooms shifted open and Hero stuck her head inside just as Ismene was making her escape. ‘Wow, you finished early!’
Glancing sidesways at Hero, she sighed and nodded. “Yes, two of the men I was supposed to see are out preparing the ships for the storms and refuse to come in.” She stepped out of the hovels and for not the first time of the day was glad that she lived in the rural little community of Arcana. Perhaps, there was some appeal to the capital, but only if you were among the rich and famous. The hovels that lay on the seaboard were small and cramped, dirtier than the small country shacks. Everything seemed closed in, in this part of the town, and it was simply not to Ismene’s liking. The wind gusted and the moisture on the air was almost palpable. Pausing, she wrinkled her face and looked up towards the sky as Zeus sent a lightning bolt of warning across the sky.
‘Granny is at the inn - we should head back before--’ Hero’s words died off as the fat raindrops started their slow steady pelting coldly staining Ismene’s dark maroon chiton with wet dots. Her first thought was that at least she’d not worn the white one she’d been so close to wearing. A storm didn’t worry Ismene much, living in a coastal town it was her first one to see… even if this one appeared all the mightier. Hero tottered towards her and she reached out to steady her younger friend.
‘Let's hurry--’ Hero didn’t have to tell her twice. Ducking her head, her shoulders curled instinctively as the cold wetness poured down on them.
People were hurrying about with the errands of last minute, the two young women from Arcana being just two of the ants among the nest of people. Keeping her head down and minding her own business, she ran through the different scenarios going on through her mind when all of a sudden Hero was tugging at her attention, ‘Ismene- Ismene, we have to help!’ Her head came up and she looked out at the sea. The words, ‘Um, No.’ Lingered on her lips as she parted them to say her thoughts the sounds of hooves clattering on the pavement caused her to look away from the water and her pleading friend to see the chestnut horse barreling through the crowd towards them.
In a split second, she jerked Hero out of the way of the horse as her grey eyes searched further up the lane to at the commotion up ahead of them. The King’s guards were clustered around and people were hurrying towards the scene. Ismene looked back at the people at the sea and Hero and then back up towards the crowd and a not very nice word echoed out of her mouth. “Do what you must, Hero, but those people… Poseidon’s grip is already upon them.. And soon Hades will be bidding them ‘hello’.” Jerking Hero’s arm to pull her attention up the street, “It looks like there has been some sort of an accident up there. I must see if I can be of aid… Probably one of the royal officials.”
Letting go of Hero’s hand, “Let me check on that and then I’ll meet you back here. We need to get to your grandmother and I need to know where my father and sister are.” Frowning, “Do not do anything stupid, Hero…, I’ll be right back.” Giving the younger girl a look before she took off at a run up the street, “Excuse me. Excuse me. I’m a physician. Excuse me.” She demanded as she scooted around people, but the closer she got the slower she had to go as the crowd had grown thicker and the need to start elbowing people to move became a necessity.
Coming to a stop in front of one of the guards, she looked up at him then peered around to see the youngest Princess on the ground. Oh, So… No to it being an official. Standing her ground, “Excuse me, but I need to examine the princess. I’m a physician. I can help.”
Hebe was glad there was a storm on the way. It meant that her tutors dismissed her early so that they could return home before the worst of it hit. Her lessons had been frustrating as usual and sitting still for so long had left her with a lot of restless energy. Though she knew she should stay inside, she went to the stables instead, fighting against the wind that whipped her hair behind her. The smell of rain was in the air, a scent that the young girl had always loved. It was so fresh and clean, and she imagined that it washed some of the dirt of the world away whenever it fell.
Entering the stables, she told one of the slaves who cared for the horses to saddle Whimsy for her. A ride was just what she needed and her frisky black mare was not frightened of wind or rain. The two of them had been caught out in storms before and she had never once lost control of the horse. After the saddle was in place, she swung herself into it. Taking the reins, she led Whimsy out onto the grounds.
She didn’t plan to go far but the harbor beckoned to her and she headed in that direction. The eleven-year-old loved the water and took great pleasure in watching the waves surge against the docks. She promised herself that she would leave as soon as she felt the first drops of rain. It was already late afternoon and if she didn’t return home before dark, her parents would be worried.
When she reached the harbor, she dismounted and sat on the edge of the dock, swinging her legs back and forth as she watched the billowing waves. They were soothing in a way she didn’t understand, able to calm the myriad thoughts that always rushed through her mind. Hebe let her mind go blank, hypnotized by the water, until a fat splash of rain landed on her nose.
Laughing, she stood up and lifted her face, trying to catch the droplets in her mouth while brushing her hair out of her face. The wind was picking up and without any warning, it began to pour. A lightening bolt lit up the sky. Was Zeus warning her that it was time to go home? Probably. Or maybe he was jealous of all the attention she had been paying to Poseidon’s mastery of the sea.
Traipsing over to where she had left Whimsy, she left the harbor and turned toward home, spurring the mare into a gallop. She had not gone very far when she saw a carriage stopped in the middle of the road. Two servants were trying to calm the panicked horses that were hitched to it. They reared into the air and snorted in fear.
Hebe pulled up next to the carriage and dismounted again. She had a way with animals and believed that she would be able to calm them. “I think I can help,” she said. The two men looked at her dubiously. “At least let me try.”
Not waiting for permission, she moved slowly toward the horses, speaking to them softly. Their ears perked up and they turned their great heads to look at her with their large liquid eyes.
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Mar 18, 2020 19:49:59 GMT
Posted In Wind and Rain on Mar 18, 2020 19:49:59 GMT
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Hebe was glad there was a storm on the way. It meant that her tutors dismissed her early so that they could return home before the worst of it hit. Her lessons had been frustrating as usual and sitting still for so long had left her with a lot of restless energy. Though she knew she should stay inside, she went to the stables instead, fighting against the wind that whipped her hair behind her. The smell of rain was in the air, a scent that the young girl had always loved. It was so fresh and clean, and she imagined that it washed some of the dirt of the world away whenever it fell.
Entering the stables, she told one of the slaves who cared for the horses to saddle Whimsy for her. A ride was just what she needed and her frisky black mare was not frightened of wind or rain. The two of them had been caught out in storms before and she had never once lost control of the horse. After the saddle was in place, she swung herself into it. Taking the reins, she led Whimsy out onto the grounds.
She didn’t plan to go far but the harbor beckoned to her and she headed in that direction. The eleven-year-old loved the water and took great pleasure in watching the waves surge against the docks. She promised herself that she would leave as soon as she felt the first drops of rain. It was already late afternoon and if she didn’t return home before dark, her parents would be worried.
When she reached the harbor, she dismounted and sat on the edge of the dock, swinging her legs back and forth as she watched the billowing waves. They were soothing in a way she didn’t understand, able to calm the myriad thoughts that always rushed through her mind. Hebe let her mind go blank, hypnotized by the water, until a fat splash of rain landed on her nose.
Laughing, she stood up and lifted her face, trying to catch the droplets in her mouth while brushing her hair out of her face. The wind was picking up and without any warning, it began to pour. A lightening bolt lit up the sky. Was Zeus warning her that it was time to go home? Probably. Or maybe he was jealous of all the attention she had been paying to Poseidon’s mastery of the sea.
Traipsing over to where she had left Whimsy, she left the harbor and turned toward home, spurring the mare into a gallop. She had not gone very far when she saw a carriage stopped in the middle of the road. Two servants were trying to calm the panicked horses that were hitched to it. They reared into the air and snorted in fear.
Hebe pulled up next to the carriage and dismounted again. She had a way with animals and believed that she would be able to calm them. “I think I can help,” she said. The two men looked at her dubiously. “At least let me try.”
Not waiting for permission, she moved slowly toward the horses, speaking to them softly. Their ears perked up and they turned their great heads to look at her with their large liquid eyes.
Hebe was glad there was a storm on the way. It meant that her tutors dismissed her early so that they could return home before the worst of it hit. Her lessons had been frustrating as usual and sitting still for so long had left her with a lot of restless energy. Though she knew she should stay inside, she went to the stables instead, fighting against the wind that whipped her hair behind her. The smell of rain was in the air, a scent that the young girl had always loved. It was so fresh and clean, and she imagined that it washed some of the dirt of the world away whenever it fell.
Entering the stables, she told one of the slaves who cared for the horses to saddle Whimsy for her. A ride was just what she needed and her frisky black mare was not frightened of wind or rain. The two of them had been caught out in storms before and she had never once lost control of the horse. After the saddle was in place, she swung herself into it. Taking the reins, she led Whimsy out onto the grounds.
She didn’t plan to go far but the harbor beckoned to her and she headed in that direction. The eleven-year-old loved the water and took great pleasure in watching the waves surge against the docks. She promised herself that she would leave as soon as she felt the first drops of rain. It was already late afternoon and if she didn’t return home before dark, her parents would be worried.
When she reached the harbor, she dismounted and sat on the edge of the dock, swinging her legs back and forth as she watched the billowing waves. They were soothing in a way she didn’t understand, able to calm the myriad thoughts that always rushed through her mind. Hebe let her mind go blank, hypnotized by the water, until a fat splash of rain landed on her nose.
Laughing, she stood up and lifted her face, trying to catch the droplets in her mouth while brushing her hair out of her face. The wind was picking up and without any warning, it began to pour. A lightening bolt lit up the sky. Was Zeus warning her that it was time to go home? Probably. Or maybe he was jealous of all the attention she had been paying to Poseidon’s mastery of the sea.
Traipsing over to where she had left Whimsy, she left the harbor and turned toward home, spurring the mare into a gallop. She had not gone very far when she saw a carriage stopped in the middle of the road. Two servants were trying to calm the panicked horses that were hitched to it. They reared into the air and snorted in fear.
Hebe pulled up next to the carriage and dismounted again. She had a way with animals and believed that she would be able to calm them. “I think I can help,” she said. The two men looked at her dubiously. “At least let me try.”
Not waiting for permission, she moved slowly toward the horses, speaking to them softly. Their ears perked up and they turned their great heads to look at her with their large liquid eyes.
The rain created a sense of peace within Elias of Stravos. Where the world he plunged himself in was one that bent to his whims, from the associates with which he conducted business with to the people who he paid to carry out his means... Everything that Elias of Stravos did was carried to term, imagined from his mind and brought to reality. The stress of that no longer transpiring, the need to be perfect and remain perfect... the rain never cared for any of that. The rain simply persisted as it was, falling inexorably to the ground in the pitter-patter of droplets. The wind did much of the same, impeded only by solid objects too stalwart to be bent to its whims. As Elias thought on the elements and their disregard for anything at all, he felt an inkling of envy.
What's that like? he thought to himself as he stared into the sky, his breath hitched at the whimsy of it all. His day was cut short by the machinations of the elements, and it provided unto the Headlord of Stravos some semblance of distance without the temptation of dalliance and festivity. In the midst of the storm, Elias of Stravos could not pluck a woman like a flower from the garden. Instead, he needed another form of diversion, and it brought him from the archontiko he was born in. As the rain brought on the introspection, he moved from his birthplace and towards the place he believed his life would truly begin.
The throne. He thought on it with a mixture of apprehension and resigned determination. It was his destiny, a necessity of circumstance. Elias of Stravos would have his crown, and wear it proudly as the destination upon which the efforts of his parents and the product of his birth bestowed upon him. To think any other way was foolishness, and as he loomed closer and closer to the palace, as the walls towered higher and higher. When Elias of Stravos entered the palati, he considered the place. Intimately familiar with its layout, and yet it seemed foreign to him. He'd not visited in far too long, and as his thoughts lingered upon the future, he reflected on the place in a different light.
Elias made no effort to reveal himself as he lingered within the palati for a time, silent musings as the rain dried from his chiton and the shivers wilted away.
'Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately?'
Elias heard the Crown Princess from the distance, the bark in her tone contrary to what he'd expect from his cousin. The past was a weave of different perceptions, and perhaps Elias still believed her the girl he'd spent time with as brother and sister conversed. Like a handbag or a similar accessory, the royal children were paraded about. In their adolescence, they'd grown more distant, with the princess and the young lord going through their different sorts of education. Where Elias delved into the trenches of business, learned ruthlessness at the hands of Circenia and Keikelius, Persephone learned... well, whatever it was that the daughter of a monarch learned. Elias hardly had the mind to consider it.
Nonethless, he was surprised to hear her command, and then she bellowed again, calling out to some odd servant or stooge and making her commands known more and more. Elias of Stravos didn't hear what went on next, for while Persephone went about bellowing at the top of her lungs (a means of dictation that the more duplicitious lord of Stravos did not agree with), those beneath her spoke at a more reasonable volume. Then, she shouted out again, it growing even louder as the Stravos closed his distance.
Elias figured, with his royal self being within the palati, that he'd make himself available to the princess and offer insights into what should be done. Or, at the very least, another voice so that hers need not turn hoarse with continuous shout after shout of orders. He almost chuckled at the notion up until the point that he heard the screech of chains. Elias was so very close to the princess that there was no doubt that she'd seen him, and he watched as the spinning hook and chain moved directly for the slightly younger royal's head.
It was a knee-jerk reaction from a lord so very close to the crown princess. As the hook threatened to skewer her head, Elias had no time to imagine the grisly sight of it all. A hand curled about the the back of her chiton, the other resting at her waist as he pulled her in towards the entrance to the palati itself, the barreling of the princess' body directly into himself pushing the both of them back. He sought to correct his posture, and held on to the princess for a moment, perhaps, longer than necessary. He arched his eyebrows, alarmed by both the incident itself and the fact that he'd drawn nearer to it. Ordinarily, he might criticize what had transpired, blaming some servant or shoddy craftsmanship for what had transpired. However, caught between not understanding his own actions and the altruism and a feeling of genuine concern within the Stravos...
"Are you alright, Persephone?" he asked her, forgetting titles and the cadence he was so oft bound to.
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Mar 28, 2020 10:18:33 GMT
Posted In Wind and Rain on Mar 28, 2020 10:18:33 GMT
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The rain created a sense of peace within Elias of Stravos. Where the world he plunged himself in was one that bent to his whims, from the associates with which he conducted business with to the people who he paid to carry out his means... Everything that Elias of Stravos did was carried to term, imagined from his mind and brought to reality. The stress of that no longer transpiring, the need to be perfect and remain perfect... the rain never cared for any of that. The rain simply persisted as it was, falling inexorably to the ground in the pitter-patter of droplets. The wind did much of the same, impeded only by solid objects too stalwart to be bent to its whims. As Elias thought on the elements and their disregard for anything at all, he felt an inkling of envy.
What's that like? he thought to himself as he stared into the sky, his breath hitched at the whimsy of it all. His day was cut short by the machinations of the elements, and it provided unto the Headlord of Stravos some semblance of distance without the temptation of dalliance and festivity. In the midst of the storm, Elias of Stravos could not pluck a woman like a flower from the garden. Instead, he needed another form of diversion, and it brought him from the archontiko he was born in. As the rain brought on the introspection, he moved from his birthplace and towards the place he believed his life would truly begin.
The throne. He thought on it with a mixture of apprehension and resigned determination. It was his destiny, a necessity of circumstance. Elias of Stravos would have his crown, and wear it proudly as the destination upon which the efforts of his parents and the product of his birth bestowed upon him. To think any other way was foolishness, and as he loomed closer and closer to the palace, as the walls towered higher and higher. When Elias of Stravos entered the palati, he considered the place. Intimately familiar with its layout, and yet it seemed foreign to him. He'd not visited in far too long, and as his thoughts lingered upon the future, he reflected on the place in a different light.
Elias made no effort to reveal himself as he lingered within the palati for a time, silent musings as the rain dried from his chiton and the shivers wilted away.
'Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately?'
Elias heard the Crown Princess from the distance, the bark in her tone contrary to what he'd expect from his cousin. The past was a weave of different perceptions, and perhaps Elias still believed her the girl he'd spent time with as brother and sister conversed. Like a handbag or a similar accessory, the royal children were paraded about. In their adolescence, they'd grown more distant, with the princess and the young lord going through their different sorts of education. Where Elias delved into the trenches of business, learned ruthlessness at the hands of Circenia and Keikelius, Persephone learned... well, whatever it was that the daughter of a monarch learned. Elias hardly had the mind to consider it.
Nonethless, he was surprised to hear her command, and then she bellowed again, calling out to some odd servant or stooge and making her commands known more and more. Elias of Stravos didn't hear what went on next, for while Persephone went about bellowing at the top of her lungs (a means of dictation that the more duplicitious lord of Stravos did not agree with), those beneath her spoke at a more reasonable volume. Then, she shouted out again, it growing even louder as the Stravos closed his distance.
Elias figured, with his royal self being within the palati, that he'd make himself available to the princess and offer insights into what should be done. Or, at the very least, another voice so that hers need not turn hoarse with continuous shout after shout of orders. He almost chuckled at the notion up until the point that he heard the screech of chains. Elias was so very close to the princess that there was no doubt that she'd seen him, and he watched as the spinning hook and chain moved directly for the slightly younger royal's head.
It was a knee-jerk reaction from a lord so very close to the crown princess. As the hook threatened to skewer her head, Elias had no time to imagine the grisly sight of it all. A hand curled about the the back of her chiton, the other resting at her waist as he pulled her in towards the entrance to the palati itself, the barreling of the princess' body directly into himself pushing the both of them back. He sought to correct his posture, and held on to the princess for a moment, perhaps, longer than necessary. He arched his eyebrows, alarmed by both the incident itself and the fact that he'd drawn nearer to it. Ordinarily, he might criticize what had transpired, blaming some servant or shoddy craftsmanship for what had transpired. However, caught between not understanding his own actions and the altruism and a feeling of genuine concern within the Stravos...
"Are you alright, Persephone?" he asked her, forgetting titles and the cadence he was so oft bound to.
The rain created a sense of peace within Elias of Stravos. Where the world he plunged himself in was one that bent to his whims, from the associates with which he conducted business with to the people who he paid to carry out his means... Everything that Elias of Stravos did was carried to term, imagined from his mind and brought to reality. The stress of that no longer transpiring, the need to be perfect and remain perfect... the rain never cared for any of that. The rain simply persisted as it was, falling inexorably to the ground in the pitter-patter of droplets. The wind did much of the same, impeded only by solid objects too stalwart to be bent to its whims. As Elias thought on the elements and their disregard for anything at all, he felt an inkling of envy.
What's that like? he thought to himself as he stared into the sky, his breath hitched at the whimsy of it all. His day was cut short by the machinations of the elements, and it provided unto the Headlord of Stravos some semblance of distance without the temptation of dalliance and festivity. In the midst of the storm, Elias of Stravos could not pluck a woman like a flower from the garden. Instead, he needed another form of diversion, and it brought him from the archontiko he was born in. As the rain brought on the introspection, he moved from his birthplace and towards the place he believed his life would truly begin.
The throne. He thought on it with a mixture of apprehension and resigned determination. It was his destiny, a necessity of circumstance. Elias of Stravos would have his crown, and wear it proudly as the destination upon which the efforts of his parents and the product of his birth bestowed upon him. To think any other way was foolishness, and as he loomed closer and closer to the palace, as the walls towered higher and higher. When Elias of Stravos entered the palati, he considered the place. Intimately familiar with its layout, and yet it seemed foreign to him. He'd not visited in far too long, and as his thoughts lingered upon the future, he reflected on the place in a different light.
Elias made no effort to reveal himself as he lingered within the palati for a time, silent musings as the rain dried from his chiton and the shivers wilted away.
'Find Princess Emilia and return her to the palati immediately?'
Elias heard the Crown Princess from the distance, the bark in her tone contrary to what he'd expect from his cousin. The past was a weave of different perceptions, and perhaps Elias still believed her the girl he'd spent time with as brother and sister conversed. Like a handbag or a similar accessory, the royal children were paraded about. In their adolescence, they'd grown more distant, with the princess and the young lord going through their different sorts of education. Where Elias delved into the trenches of business, learned ruthlessness at the hands of Circenia and Keikelius, Persephone learned... well, whatever it was that the daughter of a monarch learned. Elias hardly had the mind to consider it.
Nonethless, he was surprised to hear her command, and then she bellowed again, calling out to some odd servant or stooge and making her commands known more and more. Elias of Stravos didn't hear what went on next, for while Persephone went about bellowing at the top of her lungs (a means of dictation that the more duplicitious lord of Stravos did not agree with), those beneath her spoke at a more reasonable volume. Then, she shouted out again, it growing even louder as the Stravos closed his distance.
Elias figured, with his royal self being within the palati, that he'd make himself available to the princess and offer insights into what should be done. Or, at the very least, another voice so that hers need not turn hoarse with continuous shout after shout of orders. He almost chuckled at the notion up until the point that he heard the screech of chains. Elias was so very close to the princess that there was no doubt that she'd seen him, and he watched as the spinning hook and chain moved directly for the slightly younger royal's head.
It was a knee-jerk reaction from a lord so very close to the crown princess. As the hook threatened to skewer her head, Elias had no time to imagine the grisly sight of it all. A hand curled about the the back of her chiton, the other resting at her waist as he pulled her in towards the entrance to the palati itself, the barreling of the princess' body directly into himself pushing the both of them back. He sought to correct his posture, and held on to the princess for a moment, perhaps, longer than necessary. He arched his eyebrows, alarmed by both the incident itself and the fact that he'd drawn nearer to it. Ordinarily, he might criticize what had transpired, blaming some servant or shoddy craftsmanship for what had transpired. However, caught between not understanding his own actions and the altruism and a feeling of genuine concern within the Stravos...
"Are you alright, Persephone?" he asked her, forgetting titles and the cadence he was so oft bound to.
Hebe didn’t know why she had a way with animals. Perhaps it was because they sensed how much she liked them. She’d been able to soothe them since she was a child and she had simply accepted it. As she visualized the horses becoming calmer, she realized that her own mind was blank except for the pictures she had created for them. They turned to look at her, as if they understood those images somehow. The young girl smiled and looked into their large frightened eyes, willing them to quiet down. “It’s only a storm,” she crooned. “It will not hurt you. You need to pull the carriage home and then you will be able to go to your stalls where you will be safe and warm.”
One of them pawed the ground and she reached out to stroke its mane. Hebe was afraid that it might snap at her but it didn’t. It appeared a bit more peaceful now. The other one tossed its head and snorted. Was it jealous of the attention she was giving its companion? Moving between them, she reached out and they both moved closer to her so that she could caress their long noses. “There,” she whispered in a soft voice. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She heard footsteps behind her. “How can you calm them so easily?” one of the grooms asked. “We’ve tried everything and feared that their rearing would overturn the carriage.”
“I don’t know,” she said, still petting the horses. “Animals react well to me.”
“Are you a witch?” the other of them asked. There was no fear in his voice, just curiosity.
“Do I look like one?” Hebe glanced at him briefly.
“How old are you?”
“Almost twelve.”
“You’re too young to be a witch.”
Hebe turned her attention back to the horses. “I just have an affinity with animals. I’ve had it since I was a child.”
“Do you think they can pull the carriage now?”
“Give me a few more minutes with them. They’re still a bit tense.”
Vaguely, she felt the wind whipping her chiton around her legs. She was soaked to the skin and had to constantly blink to keep water out of her eyes. For the moment, her own comfort wasn’t important. All that mattered were the horses.
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Posted In Wind and Rain on Mar 30, 2020 18:12:39 GMT
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Hebe didn’t know why she had a way with animals. Perhaps it was because they sensed how much she liked them. She’d been able to soothe them since she was a child and she had simply accepted it. As she visualized the horses becoming calmer, she realized that her own mind was blank except for the pictures she had created for them. They turned to look at her, as if they understood those images somehow. The young girl smiled and looked into their large frightened eyes, willing them to quiet down. “It’s only a storm,” she crooned. “It will not hurt you. You need to pull the carriage home and then you will be able to go to your stalls where you will be safe and warm.”
One of them pawed the ground and she reached out to stroke its mane. Hebe was afraid that it might snap at her but it didn’t. It appeared a bit more peaceful now. The other one tossed its head and snorted. Was it jealous of the attention she was giving its companion? Moving between them, she reached out and they both moved closer to her so that she could caress their long noses. “There,” she whispered in a soft voice. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She heard footsteps behind her. “How can you calm them so easily?” one of the grooms asked. “We’ve tried everything and feared that their rearing would overturn the carriage.”
“I don’t know,” she said, still petting the horses. “Animals react well to me.”
“Are you a witch?” the other of them asked. There was no fear in his voice, just curiosity.
“Do I look like one?” Hebe glanced at him briefly.
“How old are you?”
“Almost twelve.”
“You’re too young to be a witch.”
Hebe turned her attention back to the horses. “I just have an affinity with animals. I’ve had it since I was a child.”
“Do you think they can pull the carriage now?”
“Give me a few more minutes with them. They’re still a bit tense.”
Vaguely, she felt the wind whipping her chiton around her legs. She was soaked to the skin and had to constantly blink to keep water out of her eyes. For the moment, her own comfort wasn’t important. All that mattered were the horses.
Hebe didn’t know why she had a way with animals. Perhaps it was because they sensed how much she liked them. She’d been able to soothe them since she was a child and she had simply accepted it. As she visualized the horses becoming calmer, she realized that her own mind was blank except for the pictures she had created for them. They turned to look at her, as if they understood those images somehow. The young girl smiled and looked into their large frightened eyes, willing them to quiet down. “It’s only a storm,” she crooned. “It will not hurt you. You need to pull the carriage home and then you will be able to go to your stalls where you will be safe and warm.”
One of them pawed the ground and she reached out to stroke its mane. Hebe was afraid that it might snap at her but it didn’t. It appeared a bit more peaceful now. The other one tossed its head and snorted. Was it jealous of the attention she was giving its companion? Moving between them, she reached out and they both moved closer to her so that she could caress their long noses. “There,” she whispered in a soft voice. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She heard footsteps behind her. “How can you calm them so easily?” one of the grooms asked. “We’ve tried everything and feared that their rearing would overturn the carriage.”
“I don’t know,” she said, still petting the horses. “Animals react well to me.”
“Are you a witch?” the other of them asked. There was no fear in his voice, just curiosity.
“Do I look like one?” Hebe glanced at him briefly.
“How old are you?”
“Almost twelve.”
“You’re too young to be a witch.”
Hebe turned her attention back to the horses. “I just have an affinity with animals. I’ve had it since I was a child.”
“Do you think they can pull the carriage now?”
“Give me a few more minutes with them. They’re still a bit tense.”
Vaguely, she felt the wind whipping her chiton around her legs. She was soaked to the skin and had to constantly blink to keep water out of her eyes. For the moment, her own comfort wasn’t important. All that mattered were the horses.
Curveball Wind and Rain
As members of the Athenian populace - be they belonging to the nobility or those of common birth - scramble with efforts to return to shelter and to their homes, a bell is heard ringing from the harbour. Despite the roar of the wind, the notes cut through the air, foggy and a little stifled but heard nonetheless. For three large cargo vessels have made it into the harbour on waves and winds that no ship should sail and now pitch dangerously, ready to capsize in the waters of the port. The carcass of a lost ship and it's cargo is one thing - for how many families in Athenia might be relying on those supplies? - but the physical mass in the harbour is just as bad. For how will only ships land if they are blocked by the body of a stagnant vessel?
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Staff Team
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As members of the Athenian populace - be they belonging to the nobility or those of common birth - scramble with efforts to return to shelter and to their homes, a bell is heard ringing from the harbour. Despite the roar of the wind, the notes cut through the air, foggy and a little stifled but heard nonetheless. For three large cargo vessels have made it into the harbour on waves and winds that no ship should sail and now pitch dangerously, ready to capsize in the waters of the port. The carcass of a lost ship and it's cargo is one thing - for how many families in Athenia might be relying on those supplies? - but the physical mass in the harbour is just as bad. For how will only ships land if they are blocked by the body of a stagnant vessel?
Curveball Wind and Rain
As members of the Athenian populace - be they belonging to the nobility or those of common birth - scramble with efforts to return to shelter and to their homes, a bell is heard ringing from the harbour. Despite the roar of the wind, the notes cut through the air, foggy and a little stifled but heard nonetheless. For three large cargo vessels have made it into the harbour on waves and winds that no ship should sail and now pitch dangerously, ready to capsize in the waters of the port. The carcass of a lost ship and it's cargo is one thing - for how many families in Athenia might be relying on those supplies? - but the physical mass in the harbour is just as bad. For how will only ships land if they are blocked by the body of a stagnant vessel?
It was supposed to be a standard trip to Athenia without any qualms. Military business and meetings with the General for standard reports and recruitment should have been the only. Yet, as superstitious as he was, he knew he should have listend to the older women in Arcana as they groaned about their aching joints and warned of impending harsh weather. When he left Arcana, Ismene had spent quite a few moments grumbling about all the numbing poultices she had to make for them.
He should have known better to listen.
Storms were one thing, but the way they grey stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, with lights of Zeus' bolts dancing across far away waves, this was going to be intense.
His plan had been to take the quick sail into Athenia, go about his business, visit with Ariadne, and then collect Ismene and return both of them to Arcana by ship. Time was not on their side. Even as he dove headlong into the chaos at the Harborside alongside other militants in Xanthos colors, he felt far too at ease as his voice carried over the clatter of wood and shouts.
"Those supply crates need to be off the docks and onto dry land! The seas will keep rising and we will likely lose most of the dockage before this is done." There was energy and efficiency behind each command, the words loaded fully with the importance and urgency of the task, without dissolving into the panic of the masses around them. The men were efficient and set to work, taking his orders and delegating them to the others at the dock, switching it from utter chaos to rapid efficiency.
Working alongside the men, he helped hoist crates and catch the nets that unloaded more from the ships. In a perfect world, they would moor out at anchor in the harbor, instead of remaining latched to the docks. The anchor lines were often a bit more forgiving with rising waves and were less likely to take out the docks.
Narrow in his focus on the tasks at hand, seeing as many of the supply crates from the ships to the docks and from the docks to the shore, the tolling of the bell startled him, as everyone in the area seemed to glance up to the bell as it rung, before dissolving into the clamor of shock as the ships sailed towards the harbor at a frightening speed. They lolled and seemed to sway like drunkards across the harbor waters and if they were not bound to collide with one another, they were bound to crash into the docked vessels. Regardless, timber would be smashed and men would be hurt before the wrath of the sky truly unleashed.
Ismene...
The thought of injured men sent his mind immediately concerned with the whereabouts of his daughter and his brother, healers who would find themselves very much in need directly.
"Grab the last of what you can and clear the docks, NOW! MOVE!" Hector ordered, seeing how the ships vaulting along the angry sea could only cause issues. Forceful in his urgency to see that as few around him were injured, he found himself not so much carrying supplies as he was hoisting fallen men from the boardwalks and getting them back to their feet, all but shoving them along the docks to the shore.
The whipping of the wind and rain stung at his eyes and played an angry melody against his cuirass, and he shook his head akin to a dog and wiped away at his eyes, squinting them to see what would happen to the ships in the harbor as he back his way down the dock, ensuring none on that particular finger of it were left behind.
Turning back to shore, he saw a commotion with a carriage and the continued efforts to move the supplies inside or at least away from the waves as they crashed against the bulkheads and created salty pillars of foam ricocheting between the hulls of the ships and the docks.
Through it all, Hector saw a head of golden hair and could not help the way he started to march towards the girl. A few steps closer and he realized it was not Ismene, but her companion, Hero.
"Hero! Get back, further away from the docks!" He ordered, her safety being an initial priority before he managed to grab a hold of her shoulder to ensure she followed the directive. "Where's Ismene?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was supposed to be a standard trip to Athenia without any qualms. Military business and meetings with the General for standard reports and recruitment should have been the only. Yet, as superstitious as he was, he knew he should have listend to the older women in Arcana as they groaned about their aching joints and warned of impending harsh weather. When he left Arcana, Ismene had spent quite a few moments grumbling about all the numbing poultices she had to make for them.
He should have known better to listen.
Storms were one thing, but the way they grey stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, with lights of Zeus' bolts dancing across far away waves, this was going to be intense.
His plan had been to take the quick sail into Athenia, go about his business, visit with Ariadne, and then collect Ismene and return both of them to Arcana by ship. Time was not on their side. Even as he dove headlong into the chaos at the Harborside alongside other militants in Xanthos colors, he felt far too at ease as his voice carried over the clatter of wood and shouts.
"Those supply crates need to be off the docks and onto dry land! The seas will keep rising and we will likely lose most of the dockage before this is done." There was energy and efficiency behind each command, the words loaded fully with the importance and urgency of the task, without dissolving into the panic of the masses around them. The men were efficient and set to work, taking his orders and delegating them to the others at the dock, switching it from utter chaos to rapid efficiency.
Working alongside the men, he helped hoist crates and catch the nets that unloaded more from the ships. In a perfect world, they would moor out at anchor in the harbor, instead of remaining latched to the docks. The anchor lines were often a bit more forgiving with rising waves and were less likely to take out the docks.
Narrow in his focus on the tasks at hand, seeing as many of the supply crates from the ships to the docks and from the docks to the shore, the tolling of the bell startled him, as everyone in the area seemed to glance up to the bell as it rung, before dissolving into the clamor of shock as the ships sailed towards the harbor at a frightening speed. They lolled and seemed to sway like drunkards across the harbor waters and if they were not bound to collide with one another, they were bound to crash into the docked vessels. Regardless, timber would be smashed and men would be hurt before the wrath of the sky truly unleashed.
Ismene...
The thought of injured men sent his mind immediately concerned with the whereabouts of his daughter and his brother, healers who would find themselves very much in need directly.
"Grab the last of what you can and clear the docks, NOW! MOVE!" Hector ordered, seeing how the ships vaulting along the angry sea could only cause issues. Forceful in his urgency to see that as few around him were injured, he found himself not so much carrying supplies as he was hoisting fallen men from the boardwalks and getting them back to their feet, all but shoving them along the docks to the shore.
The whipping of the wind and rain stung at his eyes and played an angry melody against his cuirass, and he shook his head akin to a dog and wiped away at his eyes, squinting them to see what would happen to the ships in the harbor as he back his way down the dock, ensuring none on that particular finger of it were left behind.
Turning back to shore, he saw a commotion with a carriage and the continued efforts to move the supplies inside or at least away from the waves as they crashed against the bulkheads and created salty pillars of foam ricocheting between the hulls of the ships and the docks.
Through it all, Hector saw a head of golden hair and could not help the way he started to march towards the girl. A few steps closer and he realized it was not Ismene, but her companion, Hero.
"Hero! Get back, further away from the docks!" He ordered, her safety being an initial priority before he managed to grab a hold of her shoulder to ensure she followed the directive. "Where's Ismene?"
It was supposed to be a standard trip to Athenia without any qualms. Military business and meetings with the General for standard reports and recruitment should have been the only. Yet, as superstitious as he was, he knew he should have listend to the older women in Arcana as they groaned about their aching joints and warned of impending harsh weather. When he left Arcana, Ismene had spent quite a few moments grumbling about all the numbing poultices she had to make for them.
He should have known better to listen.
Storms were one thing, but the way they grey stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, with lights of Zeus' bolts dancing across far away waves, this was going to be intense.
His plan had been to take the quick sail into Athenia, go about his business, visit with Ariadne, and then collect Ismene and return both of them to Arcana by ship. Time was not on their side. Even as he dove headlong into the chaos at the Harborside alongside other militants in Xanthos colors, he felt far too at ease as his voice carried over the clatter of wood and shouts.
"Those supply crates need to be off the docks and onto dry land! The seas will keep rising and we will likely lose most of the dockage before this is done." There was energy and efficiency behind each command, the words loaded fully with the importance and urgency of the task, without dissolving into the panic of the masses around them. The men were efficient and set to work, taking his orders and delegating them to the others at the dock, switching it from utter chaos to rapid efficiency.
Working alongside the men, he helped hoist crates and catch the nets that unloaded more from the ships. In a perfect world, they would moor out at anchor in the harbor, instead of remaining latched to the docks. The anchor lines were often a bit more forgiving with rising waves and were less likely to take out the docks.
Narrow in his focus on the tasks at hand, seeing as many of the supply crates from the ships to the docks and from the docks to the shore, the tolling of the bell startled him, as everyone in the area seemed to glance up to the bell as it rung, before dissolving into the clamor of shock as the ships sailed towards the harbor at a frightening speed. They lolled and seemed to sway like drunkards across the harbor waters and if they were not bound to collide with one another, they were bound to crash into the docked vessels. Regardless, timber would be smashed and men would be hurt before the wrath of the sky truly unleashed.
Ismene...
The thought of injured men sent his mind immediately concerned with the whereabouts of his daughter and his brother, healers who would find themselves very much in need directly.
"Grab the last of what you can and clear the docks, NOW! MOVE!" Hector ordered, seeing how the ships vaulting along the angry sea could only cause issues. Forceful in his urgency to see that as few around him were injured, he found himself not so much carrying supplies as he was hoisting fallen men from the boardwalks and getting them back to their feet, all but shoving them along the docks to the shore.
The whipping of the wind and rain stung at his eyes and played an angry melody against his cuirass, and he shook his head akin to a dog and wiped away at his eyes, squinting them to see what would happen to the ships in the harbor as he back his way down the dock, ensuring none on that particular finger of it were left behind.
Turning back to shore, he saw a commotion with a carriage and the continued efforts to move the supplies inside or at least away from the waves as they crashed against the bulkheads and created salty pillars of foam ricocheting between the hulls of the ships and the docks.
Through it all, Hector saw a head of golden hair and could not help the way he started to march towards the girl. A few steps closer and he realized it was not Ismene, but her companion, Hero.
"Hero! Get back, further away from the docks!" He ordered, her safety being an initial priority before he managed to grab a hold of her shoulder to ensure she followed the directive. "Where's Ismene?"
It was not Marietta’s finest hour. Upon hearing of rain, curiosity sparked from within her. What did the docks look like as a storm blew in. How did people act when the weather turned foul? What did those who had no means to protect themselves do? An image like that could produce a masterpiece. The chaos of nature, a force only the gods could control, was an experience that Marietta never witnessed before. She dreamed of experiences, stories of which she could sing and paint of, but never did she have one of her own. And so, reason left the girl as she took a horse from her family’s stables, riding towards the docks with only her paint supplies and a few coin.
There was nothing to regret as Marietta arrived. She had little time to set up before the events truly kicked off. The dark clouds on the horizon were getting closer and closer, swirling with each other in a deadly dance. The waves were picking up, pulling back and crashing forward with a sharp bite. Marietta’s hand raced against her easel, trying to stand out of the way of the commoners as they went to secure boats and fishing lines. Curious, she found them. They would risk their lives for such material items. Why? Boats can be rebuilt, and fish caught another day. Perhaps, though, that’s the only thing they have. Much like Marietta’s painting, it’s what drives them. It keeps them alive to see another day.
Marietta was foolish for coming out in this weather. She realized this now as the winds picked up even more. She saw the cargo ships rocking back and forth, the weather having no mercy and showing no signs of stopping. It was now that she realized that if weather had no mercy on ships that were many times her size, a young girl who just wanted to paint would be that of a fly who wanted to land. She was nothing in this weather, and safety was now Marietta’s primary concern.
Quickly she packed her things and returned to her horse, who was very, very nervous. “Shh,” She tried soothing him. “It’s only but a bit of rain. You trust me, don’t you? Let’s go home and get dry. It’s okay. Shh.”
But Marietta did not have the skills her sister had when it came to horses. Perhaps it was Marietta’s innate nervousness, but too often she found it difficult to gain a horse’s trust. This was one of those times as it bucked back. Marietta had scantly a second to move, stumbling onto to the ground with a twist of her ankle. Her painting tumbled from her arms, the now soaked paint smearing on the way down. The typically clean, elegant woman was wet, and dirty from mud and paint. She was like a toddler who left their mother’s sight for just one moment. Her hair was down, stringy and clinging to her flesh.
And the pain shot up her leg. Marietta cried out as she gripped her ankle. She would glare at the horse if the wind and rain were not blinding her. She tried to get up only for the pain to resurface the moment she put pressure on her ankle.
Once again, she moved to the horse, with an ankle throbbing. “Calm now,” She said much more firmly. “You would not want to be left in the rain. Calm so we can return home.”
It took far too long but Marietta was able to soothe the horse enough to mount it. She turned towards home. Each step the horse took gave way to new pain. Marietta’s jaw was clenched. Then barely through the rain she saw something. A young woman helping a carriage.
What on earth did Hebe think she was doing?
Marietta managed to stop her horse, “Hebe, for heaven’s sake, what on earth are you doing out here?” Marietta called out. She then got off her horse much clumsier than she would typically.
That was a big mistake. She heard the snap of her ankle as she landed on the ground. Marietta collapsed, with new pain that caused the old to pale in comparison. It was as if fire had sparked through her veins, pulsating around a now purple ankle. Tears stung her eyes, masked only by the whipping rain. “Help me stand, Hebe.” She said through her teeth, reaching out a hand.
Marietta would need help to get to safety, but now that was not any of her concern. Her youngest sister was out here in this weather? She could be hurt! Never mind Marietta’s decision to come to the docks instead of staying home. Marietta didn’t matter, but Hebe did. She would get a long lecture when calm returns.
Then she heard another voice barking orders. Marietta recognized the voice, clear as could be. Her heart picked up as she looked around, seeing a figure in the distance. “Captain!” She called out for help. He certainly could assist Marietta and Hebe getting into shelter.
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It was not Marietta’s finest hour. Upon hearing of rain, curiosity sparked from within her. What did the docks look like as a storm blew in. How did people act when the weather turned foul? What did those who had no means to protect themselves do? An image like that could produce a masterpiece. The chaos of nature, a force only the gods could control, was an experience that Marietta never witnessed before. She dreamed of experiences, stories of which she could sing and paint of, but never did she have one of her own. And so, reason left the girl as she took a horse from her family’s stables, riding towards the docks with only her paint supplies and a few coin.
There was nothing to regret as Marietta arrived. She had little time to set up before the events truly kicked off. The dark clouds on the horizon were getting closer and closer, swirling with each other in a deadly dance. The waves were picking up, pulling back and crashing forward with a sharp bite. Marietta’s hand raced against her easel, trying to stand out of the way of the commoners as they went to secure boats and fishing lines. Curious, she found them. They would risk their lives for such material items. Why? Boats can be rebuilt, and fish caught another day. Perhaps, though, that’s the only thing they have. Much like Marietta’s painting, it’s what drives them. It keeps them alive to see another day.
Marietta was foolish for coming out in this weather. She realized this now as the winds picked up even more. She saw the cargo ships rocking back and forth, the weather having no mercy and showing no signs of stopping. It was now that she realized that if weather had no mercy on ships that were many times her size, a young girl who just wanted to paint would be that of a fly who wanted to land. She was nothing in this weather, and safety was now Marietta’s primary concern.
Quickly she packed her things and returned to her horse, who was very, very nervous. “Shh,” She tried soothing him. “It’s only but a bit of rain. You trust me, don’t you? Let’s go home and get dry. It’s okay. Shh.”
But Marietta did not have the skills her sister had when it came to horses. Perhaps it was Marietta’s innate nervousness, but too often she found it difficult to gain a horse’s trust. This was one of those times as it bucked back. Marietta had scantly a second to move, stumbling onto to the ground with a twist of her ankle. Her painting tumbled from her arms, the now soaked paint smearing on the way down. The typically clean, elegant woman was wet, and dirty from mud and paint. She was like a toddler who left their mother’s sight for just one moment. Her hair was down, stringy and clinging to her flesh.
And the pain shot up her leg. Marietta cried out as she gripped her ankle. She would glare at the horse if the wind and rain were not blinding her. She tried to get up only for the pain to resurface the moment she put pressure on her ankle.
Once again, she moved to the horse, with an ankle throbbing. “Calm now,” She said much more firmly. “You would not want to be left in the rain. Calm so we can return home.”
It took far too long but Marietta was able to soothe the horse enough to mount it. She turned towards home. Each step the horse took gave way to new pain. Marietta’s jaw was clenched. Then barely through the rain she saw something. A young woman helping a carriage.
What on earth did Hebe think she was doing?
Marietta managed to stop her horse, “Hebe, for heaven’s sake, what on earth are you doing out here?” Marietta called out. She then got off her horse much clumsier than she would typically.
That was a big mistake. She heard the snap of her ankle as she landed on the ground. Marietta collapsed, with new pain that caused the old to pale in comparison. It was as if fire had sparked through her veins, pulsating around a now purple ankle. Tears stung her eyes, masked only by the whipping rain. “Help me stand, Hebe.” She said through her teeth, reaching out a hand.
Marietta would need help to get to safety, but now that was not any of her concern. Her youngest sister was out here in this weather? She could be hurt! Never mind Marietta’s decision to come to the docks instead of staying home. Marietta didn’t matter, but Hebe did. She would get a long lecture when calm returns.
Then she heard another voice barking orders. Marietta recognized the voice, clear as could be. Her heart picked up as she looked around, seeing a figure in the distance. “Captain!” She called out for help. He certainly could assist Marietta and Hebe getting into shelter.
It was not Marietta’s finest hour. Upon hearing of rain, curiosity sparked from within her. What did the docks look like as a storm blew in. How did people act when the weather turned foul? What did those who had no means to protect themselves do? An image like that could produce a masterpiece. The chaos of nature, a force only the gods could control, was an experience that Marietta never witnessed before. She dreamed of experiences, stories of which she could sing and paint of, but never did she have one of her own. And so, reason left the girl as she took a horse from her family’s stables, riding towards the docks with only her paint supplies and a few coin.
There was nothing to regret as Marietta arrived. She had little time to set up before the events truly kicked off. The dark clouds on the horizon were getting closer and closer, swirling with each other in a deadly dance. The waves were picking up, pulling back and crashing forward with a sharp bite. Marietta’s hand raced against her easel, trying to stand out of the way of the commoners as they went to secure boats and fishing lines. Curious, she found them. They would risk their lives for such material items. Why? Boats can be rebuilt, and fish caught another day. Perhaps, though, that’s the only thing they have. Much like Marietta’s painting, it’s what drives them. It keeps them alive to see another day.
Marietta was foolish for coming out in this weather. She realized this now as the winds picked up even more. She saw the cargo ships rocking back and forth, the weather having no mercy and showing no signs of stopping. It was now that she realized that if weather had no mercy on ships that were many times her size, a young girl who just wanted to paint would be that of a fly who wanted to land. She was nothing in this weather, and safety was now Marietta’s primary concern.
Quickly she packed her things and returned to her horse, who was very, very nervous. “Shh,” She tried soothing him. “It’s only but a bit of rain. You trust me, don’t you? Let’s go home and get dry. It’s okay. Shh.”
But Marietta did not have the skills her sister had when it came to horses. Perhaps it was Marietta’s innate nervousness, but too often she found it difficult to gain a horse’s trust. This was one of those times as it bucked back. Marietta had scantly a second to move, stumbling onto to the ground with a twist of her ankle. Her painting tumbled from her arms, the now soaked paint smearing on the way down. The typically clean, elegant woman was wet, and dirty from mud and paint. She was like a toddler who left their mother’s sight for just one moment. Her hair was down, stringy and clinging to her flesh.
And the pain shot up her leg. Marietta cried out as she gripped her ankle. She would glare at the horse if the wind and rain were not blinding her. She tried to get up only for the pain to resurface the moment she put pressure on her ankle.
Once again, she moved to the horse, with an ankle throbbing. “Calm now,” She said much more firmly. “You would not want to be left in the rain. Calm so we can return home.”
It took far too long but Marietta was able to soothe the horse enough to mount it. She turned towards home. Each step the horse took gave way to new pain. Marietta’s jaw was clenched. Then barely through the rain she saw something. A young woman helping a carriage.
What on earth did Hebe think she was doing?
Marietta managed to stop her horse, “Hebe, for heaven’s sake, what on earth are you doing out here?” Marietta called out. She then got off her horse much clumsier than she would typically.
That was a big mistake. She heard the snap of her ankle as she landed on the ground. Marietta collapsed, with new pain that caused the old to pale in comparison. It was as if fire had sparked through her veins, pulsating around a now purple ankle. Tears stung her eyes, masked only by the whipping rain. “Help me stand, Hebe.” She said through her teeth, reaching out a hand.
Marietta would need help to get to safety, but now that was not any of her concern. Her youngest sister was out here in this weather? She could be hurt! Never mind Marietta’s decision to come to the docks instead of staying home. Marietta didn’t matter, but Hebe did. She would get a long lecture when calm returns.
Then she heard another voice barking orders. Marietta recognized the voice, clear as could be. Her heart picked up as she looked around, seeing a figure in the distance. “Captain!” She called out for help. He certainly could assist Marietta and Hebe getting into shelter.
The mention of Ismene’s patients missing their appointments for the incoming storm made Hero nod in understanding. As the sister of a sailor, she knew all too well about the consequences of storms, whether minimal or grand all caused greater impact to the ports and sometimes the economy if cargo didn’t arrive soon enough. Regardless of the missed appointments, Ismene also seemed to empathize as she neither scoffed nor displayed any signs of frustration. It was unfortunate, but both citizens of Arcana possessed knowledge concerning the raging seas and were aware of how hard sea mongers worked to fix docks so it was warranted. “Well once they’re all done, they’ll need two extra appointments to make up for this one.” Recalled the girl, subtly mentioning the injuries the men may sustain during the storm. “That’ll be extra money for you to spend!”
The raindrops pelted over their golden heads, and a crowd of men ran towards the harbor among many other commotions happening. As Hero urged her friend about helping the others, she was suddenly pulled out of the way of a startled horse heading upwards and away from the docks. “Whoa-- thanks Is!” She cried, squeezing her friend's hand in appreciation for saving her butt from being galloped to death. Ismene was familiar with Hero’s rather… unorthodox and unladylike impulses as she told her to do whatever she wanted while she would tend to do accident up ahead. “B-But--” Hero sputtered as she was told to stay put and not do anything stupid as if stupid wasn’t her middle name! “Fine, good luck!” She shouted once her good friend separated to deal with the horse and the rider from earlier.
Left to her own devices, she turned to face the docks and watched as-- some familiar-looking men ran up the street to drop off cargo boxes at the sidewalks before rushing back to the harbor. Whilst knowing she had to stay put so she and Ismene could walk to the inn together, she felt like- perhaps walking only a few steps ahead wouldn’t be so bad. Rubbing at her damp arms popping with goosebumps, Hero’s fewer steps turned into large strides as she staggered down the sidewalk and closer to the docks. Her dark blonde hair dampened in the rain and tousled with the harsh winds, flowing behind her as she kept walking- but stopped once she heard Ismene’s father.
Captain Hector of the White Shields and a friend of her grandfather’s ordered her to step away from the docks and questioned his daughter’s whereabouts. “Ismene’s up there,” She answered, pointing up to the semi-crowd surrounding a skittish horse and two expensive-looking guards. And with that out of the way, she placed her hand over his which was on her shoulder, widening her eyes locked onto his. “Sir, please don’t send me away, I can help!” Grabbing his hand, she attempted to point it over to the dock where three ships were starting to head. “I can help clear the docks- maybe retrieve any fallen cargo with the help of ropes-- you can help Ismene and I’ll-” The voice of a highly educated woman called out for who she can assume to be Captain Hector or another captain within the vicinity. Giving his hand a reassuring yet hurried pat, she ran towards the docks without another word.
Only to be shunned away by the men who gave her rather mixed responses such as: ‘Go home, girl!’ or strained laughter. She wanted to scream back at them or spit or retaliate, but there was nothing she could do and that hurt her the most. “Please-- let me…” Hero muttered, pleading to be of aid but it was swallowed up by the storm. Suddenly the three vessels were coming closer to collide with a ship nobody was manning. And what if the cargo were to fall? Well, she did offer to retrieve any fallen cargo to the captain. And not to brag, but she was able to hold her breath for a certain amount of time thanks to pearl-diving. But cargo was heavy- no worries, she could get a few men to help tie it and hoist it up! Finally, there was something she could do! Enthusiastic about doing her part, she ran off the dock and over to where the Captain was but a few feet away, she grabbed a stray rope, kicked off her sandals and waited for the ships to collide. Looking back, she waved to the Captain before turning around to spectate the aftermath.
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The mention of Ismene’s patients missing their appointments for the incoming storm made Hero nod in understanding. As the sister of a sailor, she knew all too well about the consequences of storms, whether minimal or grand all caused greater impact to the ports and sometimes the economy if cargo didn’t arrive soon enough. Regardless of the missed appointments, Ismene also seemed to empathize as she neither scoffed nor displayed any signs of frustration. It was unfortunate, but both citizens of Arcana possessed knowledge concerning the raging seas and were aware of how hard sea mongers worked to fix docks so it was warranted. “Well once they’re all done, they’ll need two extra appointments to make up for this one.” Recalled the girl, subtly mentioning the injuries the men may sustain during the storm. “That’ll be extra money for you to spend!”
The raindrops pelted over their golden heads, and a crowd of men ran towards the harbor among many other commotions happening. As Hero urged her friend about helping the others, she was suddenly pulled out of the way of a startled horse heading upwards and away from the docks. “Whoa-- thanks Is!” She cried, squeezing her friend's hand in appreciation for saving her butt from being galloped to death. Ismene was familiar with Hero’s rather… unorthodox and unladylike impulses as she told her to do whatever she wanted while she would tend to do accident up ahead. “B-But--” Hero sputtered as she was told to stay put and not do anything stupid as if stupid wasn’t her middle name! “Fine, good luck!” She shouted once her good friend separated to deal with the horse and the rider from earlier.
Left to her own devices, she turned to face the docks and watched as-- some familiar-looking men ran up the street to drop off cargo boxes at the sidewalks before rushing back to the harbor. Whilst knowing she had to stay put so she and Ismene could walk to the inn together, she felt like- perhaps walking only a few steps ahead wouldn’t be so bad. Rubbing at her damp arms popping with goosebumps, Hero’s fewer steps turned into large strides as she staggered down the sidewalk and closer to the docks. Her dark blonde hair dampened in the rain and tousled with the harsh winds, flowing behind her as she kept walking- but stopped once she heard Ismene’s father.
Captain Hector of the White Shields and a friend of her grandfather’s ordered her to step away from the docks and questioned his daughter’s whereabouts. “Ismene’s up there,” She answered, pointing up to the semi-crowd surrounding a skittish horse and two expensive-looking guards. And with that out of the way, she placed her hand over his which was on her shoulder, widening her eyes locked onto his. “Sir, please don’t send me away, I can help!” Grabbing his hand, she attempted to point it over to the dock where three ships were starting to head. “I can help clear the docks- maybe retrieve any fallen cargo with the help of ropes-- you can help Ismene and I’ll-” The voice of a highly educated woman called out for who she can assume to be Captain Hector or another captain within the vicinity. Giving his hand a reassuring yet hurried pat, she ran towards the docks without another word.
Only to be shunned away by the men who gave her rather mixed responses such as: ‘Go home, girl!’ or strained laughter. She wanted to scream back at them or spit or retaliate, but there was nothing she could do and that hurt her the most. “Please-- let me…” Hero muttered, pleading to be of aid but it was swallowed up by the storm. Suddenly the three vessels were coming closer to collide with a ship nobody was manning. And what if the cargo were to fall? Well, she did offer to retrieve any fallen cargo to the captain. And not to brag, but she was able to hold her breath for a certain amount of time thanks to pearl-diving. But cargo was heavy- no worries, she could get a few men to help tie it and hoist it up! Finally, there was something she could do! Enthusiastic about doing her part, she ran off the dock and over to where the Captain was but a few feet away, she grabbed a stray rope, kicked off her sandals and waited for the ships to collide. Looking back, she waved to the Captain before turning around to spectate the aftermath.
The mention of Ismene’s patients missing their appointments for the incoming storm made Hero nod in understanding. As the sister of a sailor, she knew all too well about the consequences of storms, whether minimal or grand all caused greater impact to the ports and sometimes the economy if cargo didn’t arrive soon enough. Regardless of the missed appointments, Ismene also seemed to empathize as she neither scoffed nor displayed any signs of frustration. It was unfortunate, but both citizens of Arcana possessed knowledge concerning the raging seas and were aware of how hard sea mongers worked to fix docks so it was warranted. “Well once they’re all done, they’ll need two extra appointments to make up for this one.” Recalled the girl, subtly mentioning the injuries the men may sustain during the storm. “That’ll be extra money for you to spend!”
The raindrops pelted over their golden heads, and a crowd of men ran towards the harbor among many other commotions happening. As Hero urged her friend about helping the others, she was suddenly pulled out of the way of a startled horse heading upwards and away from the docks. “Whoa-- thanks Is!” She cried, squeezing her friend's hand in appreciation for saving her butt from being galloped to death. Ismene was familiar with Hero’s rather… unorthodox and unladylike impulses as she told her to do whatever she wanted while she would tend to do accident up ahead. “B-But--” Hero sputtered as she was told to stay put and not do anything stupid as if stupid wasn’t her middle name! “Fine, good luck!” She shouted once her good friend separated to deal with the horse and the rider from earlier.
Left to her own devices, she turned to face the docks and watched as-- some familiar-looking men ran up the street to drop off cargo boxes at the sidewalks before rushing back to the harbor. Whilst knowing she had to stay put so she and Ismene could walk to the inn together, she felt like- perhaps walking only a few steps ahead wouldn’t be so bad. Rubbing at her damp arms popping with goosebumps, Hero’s fewer steps turned into large strides as she staggered down the sidewalk and closer to the docks. Her dark blonde hair dampened in the rain and tousled with the harsh winds, flowing behind her as she kept walking- but stopped once she heard Ismene’s father.
Captain Hector of the White Shields and a friend of her grandfather’s ordered her to step away from the docks and questioned his daughter’s whereabouts. “Ismene’s up there,” She answered, pointing up to the semi-crowd surrounding a skittish horse and two expensive-looking guards. And with that out of the way, she placed her hand over his which was on her shoulder, widening her eyes locked onto his. “Sir, please don’t send me away, I can help!” Grabbing his hand, she attempted to point it over to the dock where three ships were starting to head. “I can help clear the docks- maybe retrieve any fallen cargo with the help of ropes-- you can help Ismene and I’ll-” The voice of a highly educated woman called out for who she can assume to be Captain Hector or another captain within the vicinity. Giving his hand a reassuring yet hurried pat, she ran towards the docks without another word.
Only to be shunned away by the men who gave her rather mixed responses such as: ‘Go home, girl!’ or strained laughter. She wanted to scream back at them or spit or retaliate, but there was nothing she could do and that hurt her the most. “Please-- let me…” Hero muttered, pleading to be of aid but it was swallowed up by the storm. Suddenly the three vessels were coming closer to collide with a ship nobody was manning. And what if the cargo were to fall? Well, she did offer to retrieve any fallen cargo to the captain. And not to brag, but she was able to hold her breath for a certain amount of time thanks to pearl-diving. But cargo was heavy- no worries, she could get a few men to help tie it and hoist it up! Finally, there was something she could do! Enthusiastic about doing her part, she ran off the dock and over to where the Captain was but a few feet away, she grabbed a stray rope, kicked off her sandals and waited for the ships to collide. Looking back, she waved to the Captain before turning around to spectate the aftermath.
Daily, Hector knelt before the gods at the shrine in his home or at the Temples in Athenia if that was where he laid his head. He was a pious man who knew that he had been granted too many second chances by the grace of the gods not to bend the knee to them. There were many things he thanked the gods for each day, and near the top of his list every time was that young women were not allowed to join the military in their teen years the same as their male counterparts.
Men would heed orders the Captain issued without question, at least, without outright questioning. He had been a young soldier once and knew of the talk around meals and muttered while shoveling shit out of a latrine, but never back to the Captain. Men, you could reason with or break and batter down if needed, but in general, if he gave an order, it was typically followed.
For the past several years, he had been issuing orders to adolescent girls - both his daughters and the temporary wards like Hero that he found himself looking after from time to time - and he found it to be about as efficient as screaming at the sidewalls of the Palace and expecting it to listen. There was simply no reasoning with them.
"Heroooo..." The Captain growled, the rain in his eyes and causing him to have shake it away from his face a moment, doubling as the prelude to him telling her 'no' yet again. The girl was passionate, overeager to help, but unfortunately with her size and her age, about as useless in this sort of circumstance as one of the nets scattered and abandoned on the docks - more of a hazard than a help and likely to get someone hurt in the process.
"For once girl, can't you just listen to what I-" he began, nearly dragging her away from the fray before he heard a sharp cry and then a call of his title. His head snapped around in the direction of the sound to find the familiar face of Lady Marietta of Antonis on the ground, her face screwed tight in pain and near the chaoic fray that Ismene was apparently deep in.
Giving a glare of frustration as Hero managed to pry herself from under his paw, Hector gritted his teeth, the tendon in his jaw and neck twitching a moment before he led with his shoulder away in a jog toward the distressed noblewoman.
"Lady Marietta, are you alright?" Hector asked, quickly assessing the situation. Her sister, Lady Hebe, was attempting to calm the two, spooked mounts. Hair and fabric seemed to be whipping everywhere as the winds blew down in bursts, switching directions every second. It did not take long for him to see the distinct discoloration and the unnatural slant of the young woman's ankle as it rested in the sand. His face betrayed him as he empathized with the pain she was in, but glanced up nervously at the horses her sister tried to calm. One crack of lighting could spook them and send them swaying side to side, still attached to the damaged carriage, potentially trampling the elder sister - and himself.
"We need to move you and then stabilize that," the Captain said, once again falling back onto a steady issue of commands, though a concerned edge lacing his voice. Their interactions the past two years had been brief and only ever in the rare formal occasions where he attended the Athenian court sessions. Given the circumstances, he hoped that she might pardon him later on for the action he took to loop his arm firmly around her shoulder and under her knees, pulling her in closer to lift her up from the sand. "Hold on. I've got you."
Standing, he took a few steps back and took a quick glance around, seeing the gathering of people who were being quite useless and in the way, crowded around something. His brows furrowed in frustration at the issues they posed, his voice calling out over the wind, looking between them and the struggling horses. "Unhook them! Leave the carriage! Get away from the beach, go!"
A few of the crowd heard his orders and worked to unlatch the horses from the carriage. If fate worked in his favor, they would run away off the beach and then away from this - one less element of chaos as this storm drove in. Readjusting his hold on Lady Marietta, he saw Ismene through the thinning gaggle of onlookers, hovering over someone laying prone on the ground.
"Ismene, what going o-" he started, his jaw going slack with realization as he recognized Princess Emilia's form in the sand. If it had not have been such a shocking sight, he would have been more aware of the word that slipped between his lips.
"Shit."
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Apr 10, 2020 20:23:28 GMT
Posted In Wind and Rain on Apr 10, 2020 20:23:28 GMT
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Daily, Hector knelt before the gods at the shrine in his home or at the Temples in Athenia if that was where he laid his head. He was a pious man who knew that he had been granted too many second chances by the grace of the gods not to bend the knee to them. There were many things he thanked the gods for each day, and near the top of his list every time was that young women were not allowed to join the military in their teen years the same as their male counterparts.
Men would heed orders the Captain issued without question, at least, without outright questioning. He had been a young soldier once and knew of the talk around meals and muttered while shoveling shit out of a latrine, but never back to the Captain. Men, you could reason with or break and batter down if needed, but in general, if he gave an order, it was typically followed.
For the past several years, he had been issuing orders to adolescent girls - both his daughters and the temporary wards like Hero that he found himself looking after from time to time - and he found it to be about as efficient as screaming at the sidewalls of the Palace and expecting it to listen. There was simply no reasoning with them.
"Heroooo..." The Captain growled, the rain in his eyes and causing him to have shake it away from his face a moment, doubling as the prelude to him telling her 'no' yet again. The girl was passionate, overeager to help, but unfortunately with her size and her age, about as useless in this sort of circumstance as one of the nets scattered and abandoned on the docks - more of a hazard than a help and likely to get someone hurt in the process.
"For once girl, can't you just listen to what I-" he began, nearly dragging her away from the fray before he heard a sharp cry and then a call of his title. His head snapped around in the direction of the sound to find the familiar face of Lady Marietta of Antonis on the ground, her face screwed tight in pain and near the chaoic fray that Ismene was apparently deep in.
Giving a glare of frustration as Hero managed to pry herself from under his paw, Hector gritted his teeth, the tendon in his jaw and neck twitching a moment before he led with his shoulder away in a jog toward the distressed noblewoman.
"Lady Marietta, are you alright?" Hector asked, quickly assessing the situation. Her sister, Lady Hebe, was attempting to calm the two, spooked mounts. Hair and fabric seemed to be whipping everywhere as the winds blew down in bursts, switching directions every second. It did not take long for him to see the distinct discoloration and the unnatural slant of the young woman's ankle as it rested in the sand. His face betrayed him as he empathized with the pain she was in, but glanced up nervously at the horses her sister tried to calm. One crack of lighting could spook them and send them swaying side to side, still attached to the damaged carriage, potentially trampling the elder sister - and himself.
"We need to move you and then stabilize that," the Captain said, once again falling back onto a steady issue of commands, though a concerned edge lacing his voice. Their interactions the past two years had been brief and only ever in the rare formal occasions where he attended the Athenian court sessions. Given the circumstances, he hoped that she might pardon him later on for the action he took to loop his arm firmly around her shoulder and under her knees, pulling her in closer to lift her up from the sand. "Hold on. I've got you."
Standing, he took a few steps back and took a quick glance around, seeing the gathering of people who were being quite useless and in the way, crowded around something. His brows furrowed in frustration at the issues they posed, his voice calling out over the wind, looking between them and the struggling horses. "Unhook them! Leave the carriage! Get away from the beach, go!"
A few of the crowd heard his orders and worked to unlatch the horses from the carriage. If fate worked in his favor, they would run away off the beach and then away from this - one less element of chaos as this storm drove in. Readjusting his hold on Lady Marietta, he saw Ismene through the thinning gaggle of onlookers, hovering over someone laying prone on the ground.
"Ismene, what going o-" he started, his jaw going slack with realization as he recognized Princess Emilia's form in the sand. If it had not have been such a shocking sight, he would have been more aware of the word that slipped between his lips.
"Shit."
Daily, Hector knelt before the gods at the shrine in his home or at the Temples in Athenia if that was where he laid his head. He was a pious man who knew that he had been granted too many second chances by the grace of the gods not to bend the knee to them. There were many things he thanked the gods for each day, and near the top of his list every time was that young women were not allowed to join the military in their teen years the same as their male counterparts.
Men would heed orders the Captain issued without question, at least, without outright questioning. He had been a young soldier once and knew of the talk around meals and muttered while shoveling shit out of a latrine, but never back to the Captain. Men, you could reason with or break and batter down if needed, but in general, if he gave an order, it was typically followed.
For the past several years, he had been issuing orders to adolescent girls - both his daughters and the temporary wards like Hero that he found himself looking after from time to time - and he found it to be about as efficient as screaming at the sidewalls of the Palace and expecting it to listen. There was simply no reasoning with them.
"Heroooo..." The Captain growled, the rain in his eyes and causing him to have shake it away from his face a moment, doubling as the prelude to him telling her 'no' yet again. The girl was passionate, overeager to help, but unfortunately with her size and her age, about as useless in this sort of circumstance as one of the nets scattered and abandoned on the docks - more of a hazard than a help and likely to get someone hurt in the process.
"For once girl, can't you just listen to what I-" he began, nearly dragging her away from the fray before he heard a sharp cry and then a call of his title. His head snapped around in the direction of the sound to find the familiar face of Lady Marietta of Antonis on the ground, her face screwed tight in pain and near the chaoic fray that Ismene was apparently deep in.
Giving a glare of frustration as Hero managed to pry herself from under his paw, Hector gritted his teeth, the tendon in his jaw and neck twitching a moment before he led with his shoulder away in a jog toward the distressed noblewoman.
"Lady Marietta, are you alright?" Hector asked, quickly assessing the situation. Her sister, Lady Hebe, was attempting to calm the two, spooked mounts. Hair and fabric seemed to be whipping everywhere as the winds blew down in bursts, switching directions every second. It did not take long for him to see the distinct discoloration and the unnatural slant of the young woman's ankle as it rested in the sand. His face betrayed him as he empathized with the pain she was in, but glanced up nervously at the horses her sister tried to calm. One crack of lighting could spook them and send them swaying side to side, still attached to the damaged carriage, potentially trampling the elder sister - and himself.
"We need to move you and then stabilize that," the Captain said, once again falling back onto a steady issue of commands, though a concerned edge lacing his voice. Their interactions the past two years had been brief and only ever in the rare formal occasions where he attended the Athenian court sessions. Given the circumstances, he hoped that she might pardon him later on for the action he took to loop his arm firmly around her shoulder and under her knees, pulling her in closer to lift her up from the sand. "Hold on. I've got you."
Standing, he took a few steps back and took a quick glance around, seeing the gathering of people who were being quite useless and in the way, crowded around something. His brows furrowed in frustration at the issues they posed, his voice calling out over the wind, looking between them and the struggling horses. "Unhook them! Leave the carriage! Get away from the beach, go!"
A few of the crowd heard his orders and worked to unlatch the horses from the carriage. If fate worked in his favor, they would run away off the beach and then away from this - one less element of chaos as this storm drove in. Readjusting his hold on Lady Marietta, he saw Ismene through the thinning gaggle of onlookers, hovering over someone laying prone on the ground.
"Ismene, what going o-" he started, his jaw going slack with realization as he recognized Princess Emilia's form in the sand. If it had not have been such a shocking sight, he would have been more aware of the word that slipped between his lips.
"Shit."
Elias was within eyesight of Persephone as she turned to witness the horror of the large dish, it's chain and hook a deadly whip around itself, hurtling towards her but she was hardly in a position to react or beg for help. The entire scene happened so quickly - with the shadow of her cousin in her vision for just a moment before her frame was yanked backwards in a way that was unnatural and bent her at her middle.
The episode of danger was over so fast that she barely had time to register that such a threat was a serious one and that she needed to move. Her cousin was quicker off the mark and reacted in a manner that was more humanitarian than she was expecting and suddenly she was pulled off balance, her back hitting something hard that juddered behind her. Her eyes widened, fixed on the spinning dish and its deadly tail as it sailed further into the room, bounces one final time and then hit the base of the main, marble staircase. The hook became entangled around the balustrade and the dish itself had caused fracture lines and chipped stonework over the bottom three steps.
Swallowing, Persephone only then realised that she was a mess of fright. For, whilst her mind had not registered the danger she had been in, her body had. Her breathing had escalated and turned shallow and panicked, and her heart raised a mile a minute, its heavy beat pounding over and over against the arm that was now wrapped around her middle. Her chiton and himation were sloppy with sudden motion and strands of her hair were stuck upon her parted lips.
She hadn't even realised that, whilst her cousin had saved her from having a wrought metal hook embedded in her head, the piece had still managed to catch her just slightly across the cheek. The damage done was hardly more than a papercut, but enough that crimson bloomed across the arch of her face.
Instead, Persephone was more aware of the manner in which she was being held and how she needed to set herself back to rights. Elias's voice set the hair around her ear shifting forwards, avoiding his breath.
Swallowing, Persephone reached for Elias' arm, correcting her balance and ensuring that her feet took back her own weight. Her voice was a little breathless as she broke away and turned to face the man that had saved her life.
"Thank you, Elias." She said, attempting to correct her state of dress quickly and with as much elegance as she could manage. "I am quite well."
Persephone brushed back her hair, strands of it catching in the cut across her cheek and smearing scarlet over her skin. Combined with the sweat that had broken over her temple, she hardly noticed. Instead she was trying to process the fact that it had been Elias that had saved her.
The best word that could be used to describe the relationship between the cousin was 'alien'. Whilst they had been thrown together on numerous occasions in their childhood and then across the years of adolescence, it was as if they were constantly strangers. For in the periods - weeks, months, sometimes years - that passed between each of their more meaningful encounters, the two of them learned so much at the knee of their respective parents that their next significant meeting was of individuals alien to one another.
Both were so valued by their parents in the way that they might grow and change, that such progress was encouraged, expediated. They morphed into someone new perhaps every year; a little more confident, a little more knowledgeable, more ruthless or more arrogant. In tandem with such alterations came their opinions on one another. Never able to truly get to know their cousin for who they were for it would change by the next annual cycle, they were reliant on the observations and chatter of their parents.
Yes... 'alien' was certainly a word for it. As was 'distant' and 'detached'.
Straightening out her skirt, Persephone looked about herself quickly, such thoughts barely flitting through her mind as she frowned at Elias.
"Why are you here?" She asked, in a tone that was not harsh but the words perhaps not the most graciously phrased through her genuine surprise at his presence...
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Apr 12, 2020 12:52:14 GMT
Posted In Wind and Rain on Apr 12, 2020 12:52:14 GMT
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Elias was within eyesight of Persephone as she turned to witness the horror of the large dish, it's chain and hook a deadly whip around itself, hurtling towards her but she was hardly in a position to react or beg for help. The entire scene happened so quickly - with the shadow of her cousin in her vision for just a moment before her frame was yanked backwards in a way that was unnatural and bent her at her middle.
The episode of danger was over so fast that she barely had time to register that such a threat was a serious one and that she needed to move. Her cousin was quicker off the mark and reacted in a manner that was more humanitarian than she was expecting and suddenly she was pulled off balance, her back hitting something hard that juddered behind her. Her eyes widened, fixed on the spinning dish and its deadly tail as it sailed further into the room, bounces one final time and then hit the base of the main, marble staircase. The hook became entangled around the balustrade and the dish itself had caused fracture lines and chipped stonework over the bottom three steps.
Swallowing, Persephone only then realised that she was a mess of fright. For, whilst her mind had not registered the danger she had been in, her body had. Her breathing had escalated and turned shallow and panicked, and her heart raised a mile a minute, its heavy beat pounding over and over against the arm that was now wrapped around her middle. Her chiton and himation were sloppy with sudden motion and strands of her hair were stuck upon her parted lips.
She hadn't even realised that, whilst her cousin had saved her from having a wrought metal hook embedded in her head, the piece had still managed to catch her just slightly across the cheek. The damage done was hardly more than a papercut, but enough that crimson bloomed across the arch of her face.
Instead, Persephone was more aware of the manner in which she was being held and how she needed to set herself back to rights. Elias's voice set the hair around her ear shifting forwards, avoiding his breath.
Swallowing, Persephone reached for Elias' arm, correcting her balance and ensuring that her feet took back her own weight. Her voice was a little breathless as she broke away and turned to face the man that had saved her life.
"Thank you, Elias." She said, attempting to correct her state of dress quickly and with as much elegance as she could manage. "I am quite well."
Persephone brushed back her hair, strands of it catching in the cut across her cheek and smearing scarlet over her skin. Combined with the sweat that had broken over her temple, she hardly noticed. Instead she was trying to process the fact that it had been Elias that had saved her.
The best word that could be used to describe the relationship between the cousin was 'alien'. Whilst they had been thrown together on numerous occasions in their childhood and then across the years of adolescence, it was as if they were constantly strangers. For in the periods - weeks, months, sometimes years - that passed between each of their more meaningful encounters, the two of them learned so much at the knee of their respective parents that their next significant meeting was of individuals alien to one another.
Both were so valued by their parents in the way that they might grow and change, that such progress was encouraged, expediated. They morphed into someone new perhaps every year; a little more confident, a little more knowledgeable, more ruthless or more arrogant. In tandem with such alterations came their opinions on one another. Never able to truly get to know their cousin for who they were for it would change by the next annual cycle, they were reliant on the observations and chatter of their parents.
Yes... 'alien' was certainly a word for it. As was 'distant' and 'detached'.
Straightening out her skirt, Persephone looked about herself quickly, such thoughts barely flitting through her mind as she frowned at Elias.
"Why are you here?" She asked, in a tone that was not harsh but the words perhaps not the most graciously phrased through her genuine surprise at his presence...
Elias was within eyesight of Persephone as she turned to witness the horror of the large dish, it's chain and hook a deadly whip around itself, hurtling towards her but she was hardly in a position to react or beg for help. The entire scene happened so quickly - with the shadow of her cousin in her vision for just a moment before her frame was yanked backwards in a way that was unnatural and bent her at her middle.
The episode of danger was over so fast that she barely had time to register that such a threat was a serious one and that she needed to move. Her cousin was quicker off the mark and reacted in a manner that was more humanitarian than she was expecting and suddenly she was pulled off balance, her back hitting something hard that juddered behind her. Her eyes widened, fixed on the spinning dish and its deadly tail as it sailed further into the room, bounces one final time and then hit the base of the main, marble staircase. The hook became entangled around the balustrade and the dish itself had caused fracture lines and chipped stonework over the bottom three steps.
Swallowing, Persephone only then realised that she was a mess of fright. For, whilst her mind had not registered the danger she had been in, her body had. Her breathing had escalated and turned shallow and panicked, and her heart raised a mile a minute, its heavy beat pounding over and over against the arm that was now wrapped around her middle. Her chiton and himation were sloppy with sudden motion and strands of her hair were stuck upon her parted lips.
She hadn't even realised that, whilst her cousin had saved her from having a wrought metal hook embedded in her head, the piece had still managed to catch her just slightly across the cheek. The damage done was hardly more than a papercut, but enough that crimson bloomed across the arch of her face.
Instead, Persephone was more aware of the manner in which she was being held and how she needed to set herself back to rights. Elias's voice set the hair around her ear shifting forwards, avoiding his breath.
Swallowing, Persephone reached for Elias' arm, correcting her balance and ensuring that her feet took back her own weight. Her voice was a little breathless as she broke away and turned to face the man that had saved her life.
"Thank you, Elias." She said, attempting to correct her state of dress quickly and with as much elegance as she could manage. "I am quite well."
Persephone brushed back her hair, strands of it catching in the cut across her cheek and smearing scarlet over her skin. Combined with the sweat that had broken over her temple, she hardly noticed. Instead she was trying to process the fact that it had been Elias that had saved her.
The best word that could be used to describe the relationship between the cousin was 'alien'. Whilst they had been thrown together on numerous occasions in their childhood and then across the years of adolescence, it was as if they were constantly strangers. For in the periods - weeks, months, sometimes years - that passed between each of their more meaningful encounters, the two of them learned so much at the knee of their respective parents that their next significant meeting was of individuals alien to one another.
Both were so valued by their parents in the way that they might grow and change, that such progress was encouraged, expediated. They morphed into someone new perhaps every year; a little more confident, a little more knowledgeable, more ruthless or more arrogant. In tandem with such alterations came their opinions on one another. Never able to truly get to know their cousin for who they were for it would change by the next annual cycle, they were reliant on the observations and chatter of their parents.
Yes... 'alien' was certainly a word for it. As was 'distant' and 'detached'.
Straightening out her skirt, Persephone looked about herself quickly, such thoughts barely flitting through her mind as she frowned at Elias.
"Why are you here?" She asked, in a tone that was not harsh but the words perhaps not the most graciously phrased through her genuine surprise at his presence...
The wind was howling too fiercely for Hebe to hear anything but the two grooms standing next to her. She was focused on calming the horses and they were focused on her. She could feel their eyes upon her. Had they never known anyone who had a way with animals? The young girl had always taken that ability for granted, but what if she was the only person in Athenia who was able to soothe horses simply by speaking softly to them? Could anyone else lure feral cats out of their hiding places by just the sound of their footsteps? Maybe she was special after all and there was no reason to feel inferior to her scholarly sisters. Everyone had different gifts. Maybe this was hers. It certainly wasn’t her eidetic memory, which she saw as more of a curse than a blessing.
She glanced over at her own horse. Whimsy was standing stoically nearby, seemingly unafraid. She was a very serene horse and nothing much bothered her. But she wasn’t complacent. She could be quite spirited when she was ridden and sometimes a bit difficult to control. It seemed odd to see her so calm when the others were still frightened.
A few minutes later, she released the horses' long snouts and stepped away. “I think they’ll be okay now,” she said to the grooms.
“Thank you, miss,” one of them said. A bit offended that she had not been addressed as ‘my lady,’ she rolled her eyes and turned away. With her chiton soaked and her long hair flying about, she probably looked more like the witch they had suspected her of being than a girl with royal blood running through her veins. She heard the carriage pass her and glanced briefly over at it.
It was then that she noticed some man she had never seen before carrying her sister away. What was Marietta doing here? Had she come to take Hebe home and she had not even known she was there? That must have been what happened because her horse was nearby.
The man barked orders at the people around the other carriage and she watched as the horses were freed and sped away down the beach. The people in that carriage aren’t going to be pleased if they ever find out who he is.
Vaulting onto Whimsy’s back, Hebe grabbed the reins of Marietta’s horse and urged both horses to trot after the man and Marietta. They were headed toward a crowd of people surrounding another carriage. “Hey!” the eleven-year-old yelled at the top of her lungs. “Who are you and where are you taking my sister?”
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Apr 12, 2020 14:31:59 GMT
Posted In Wind and Rain on Apr 12, 2020 14:31:59 GMT
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The wind was howling too fiercely for Hebe to hear anything but the two grooms standing next to her. She was focused on calming the horses and they were focused on her. She could feel their eyes upon her. Had they never known anyone who had a way with animals? The young girl had always taken that ability for granted, but what if she was the only person in Athenia who was able to soothe horses simply by speaking softly to them? Could anyone else lure feral cats out of their hiding places by just the sound of their footsteps? Maybe she was special after all and there was no reason to feel inferior to her scholarly sisters. Everyone had different gifts. Maybe this was hers. It certainly wasn’t her eidetic memory, which she saw as more of a curse than a blessing.
She glanced over at her own horse. Whimsy was standing stoically nearby, seemingly unafraid. She was a very serene horse and nothing much bothered her. But she wasn’t complacent. She could be quite spirited when she was ridden and sometimes a bit difficult to control. It seemed odd to see her so calm when the others were still frightened.
A few minutes later, she released the horses' long snouts and stepped away. “I think they’ll be okay now,” she said to the grooms.
“Thank you, miss,” one of them said. A bit offended that she had not been addressed as ‘my lady,’ she rolled her eyes and turned away. With her chiton soaked and her long hair flying about, she probably looked more like the witch they had suspected her of being than a girl with royal blood running through her veins. She heard the carriage pass her and glanced briefly over at it.
It was then that she noticed some man she had never seen before carrying her sister away. What was Marietta doing here? Had she come to take Hebe home and she had not even known she was there? That must have been what happened because her horse was nearby.
The man barked orders at the people around the other carriage and she watched as the horses were freed and sped away down the beach. The people in that carriage aren’t going to be pleased if they ever find out who he is.
Vaulting onto Whimsy’s back, Hebe grabbed the reins of Marietta’s horse and urged both horses to trot after the man and Marietta. They were headed toward a crowd of people surrounding another carriage. “Hey!” the eleven-year-old yelled at the top of her lungs. “Who are you and where are you taking my sister?”
The wind was howling too fiercely for Hebe to hear anything but the two grooms standing next to her. She was focused on calming the horses and they were focused on her. She could feel their eyes upon her. Had they never known anyone who had a way with animals? The young girl had always taken that ability for granted, but what if she was the only person in Athenia who was able to soothe horses simply by speaking softly to them? Could anyone else lure feral cats out of their hiding places by just the sound of their footsteps? Maybe she was special after all and there was no reason to feel inferior to her scholarly sisters. Everyone had different gifts. Maybe this was hers. It certainly wasn’t her eidetic memory, which she saw as more of a curse than a blessing.
She glanced over at her own horse. Whimsy was standing stoically nearby, seemingly unafraid. She was a very serene horse and nothing much bothered her. But she wasn’t complacent. She could be quite spirited when she was ridden and sometimes a bit difficult to control. It seemed odd to see her so calm when the others were still frightened.
A few minutes later, she released the horses' long snouts and stepped away. “I think they’ll be okay now,” she said to the grooms.
“Thank you, miss,” one of them said. A bit offended that she had not been addressed as ‘my lady,’ she rolled her eyes and turned away. With her chiton soaked and her long hair flying about, she probably looked more like the witch they had suspected her of being than a girl with royal blood running through her veins. She heard the carriage pass her and glanced briefly over at it.
It was then that she noticed some man she had never seen before carrying her sister away. What was Marietta doing here? Had she come to take Hebe home and she had not even known she was there? That must have been what happened because her horse was nearby.
The man barked orders at the people around the other carriage and she watched as the horses were freed and sped away down the beach. The people in that carriage aren’t going to be pleased if they ever find out who he is.
Vaulting onto Whimsy’s back, Hebe grabbed the reins of Marietta’s horse and urged both horses to trot after the man and Marietta. They were headed toward a crowd of people surrounding another carriage. “Hey!” the eleven-year-old yelled at the top of her lungs. “Who are you and where are you taking my sister?”