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In Ammun, trade with foreign lands and eastern nations is more or less common place. Whilst the faces seen on a day to day basis are rarely anything but Hebrew in nature, every month brings strange features, colours and cultures to the great markets of the Ammun lands. This month, a trader brings with him both an expensive product and a spectacle for all. A large cat unlike anything seen in Judea before, bearing the dark stripes of its own caged imprisonment and staring at those who stare back with large topaz eyes...
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JD
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In Ammun, trade with foreign lands and eastern nations is more or less common place. Whilst the faces seen on a day to day basis are rarely anything but Hebrew in nature, every month brings strange features, colours and cultures to the great markets of the Ammun lands. This month, a trader brings with him both an expensive product and a spectacle for all. A large cat unlike anything seen in Judea before, bearing the dark stripes of its own caged imprisonment and staring at those who stare back with large topaz eyes...
Predator Provincial Story - Judea
In Ammun, trade with foreign lands and eastern nations is more or less common place. Whilst the faces seen on a day to day basis are rarely anything but Hebrew in nature, every month brings strange features, colours and cultures to the great markets of the Ammun lands. This month, a trader brings with him both an expensive product and a spectacle for all. A large cat unlike anything seen in Judea before, bearing the dark stripes of its own caged imprisonment and staring at those who stare back with large topaz eyes...
It had been an hour since Hannah's arms had begun to ache. And yet the look in the eye of her master - or in fact the entire ignorance of her presence upon his features - told her clearly that she was not about to be given a reprieve.
Taking a breath, Hannah reshuffled the wooden crate in her arms, near three quarters full now, and continued to walk behind the man that had laid claimed to her leash and bond for several years now. A man without a lot of sympathy for slaves, he took the mentality that slavery was a punishment for crimes against the state or against Yahweh. Which meant those who were felled into the position of a slave, deserved no respect. It wasn't so much their status as a slave that he raised objection to, but the lack of morals that he believed had led to the criminal activity in the first place.
Legally, Hannah was unable to claim such a thing as untruth.
Instead, she continued to walk behind the man, subservient in her demeanour and carriage as she supported the weight of the container she held and continued on her way, pausing whenever the enrobed gentleman before her paused to assess something for sale or barter, and then continued on when he lost interest or had made his sail.
Continuous walking, Hannah found, was easier than the stop and start of a languid market day perusal. With her thighs supporting the burden of the crate and her steps swinging in a rhythm that required less conscious control than other kinds of pace, Hannah was eager to keep up with a procession of constant speed. Instead, the regular hesitations and prolonged pondering were setting her arm muscles to a state of wear and her feet to burn.
Taking a stabilising inhale and summoning strength back into her muscles, Hannah considered the goods in the carton she carried - the fruit and dairy, the fresh produce from lands far away and silks and fabrics for her master's wife. All were heavy but some perishable. So, perhaps the man would head for home soon...
Distracted by a sound, Hannah heard a grumble that sounded like thunder and her skin prickle with excitement. She loved thunder storms and perhaps such a downpour would lead to an early journey back to the homestead for her master and her own tired feet. Yet, as she looked down an eastern row of market stalls, to a staged area at the far end, her eyes widened and her lips parted in an expression of awe.
For before her was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. Moving like a cat but the size of a small horse, it had the mouth of a wolf and the eyes of a hawk. It's fur, set like a feline's was bright orange and marked with scratches of black.
"What on earth...?" She mused to herself, totally failing to notice that her sudden stop had put her into the path of an on-coming pedestrian who succinctly knocked her over and sent her crate falling alongside her. The corner of the wooden carton bashed into her wrist but her yelp of pain was lost in the moment of disorientating chaos and suddenly it was all she could do to reach out, with injured hand or not, to scramble and return all of the items her master had purchased with hard earned coin back into the container...
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It had been an hour since Hannah's arms had begun to ache. And yet the look in the eye of her master - or in fact the entire ignorance of her presence upon his features - told her clearly that she was not about to be given a reprieve.
Taking a breath, Hannah reshuffled the wooden crate in her arms, near three quarters full now, and continued to walk behind the man that had laid claimed to her leash and bond for several years now. A man without a lot of sympathy for slaves, he took the mentality that slavery was a punishment for crimes against the state or against Yahweh. Which meant those who were felled into the position of a slave, deserved no respect. It wasn't so much their status as a slave that he raised objection to, but the lack of morals that he believed had led to the criminal activity in the first place.
Legally, Hannah was unable to claim such a thing as untruth.
Instead, she continued to walk behind the man, subservient in her demeanour and carriage as she supported the weight of the container she held and continued on her way, pausing whenever the enrobed gentleman before her paused to assess something for sale or barter, and then continued on when he lost interest or had made his sail.
Continuous walking, Hannah found, was easier than the stop and start of a languid market day perusal. With her thighs supporting the burden of the crate and her steps swinging in a rhythm that required less conscious control than other kinds of pace, Hannah was eager to keep up with a procession of constant speed. Instead, the regular hesitations and prolonged pondering were setting her arm muscles to a state of wear and her feet to burn.
Taking a stabilising inhale and summoning strength back into her muscles, Hannah considered the goods in the carton she carried - the fruit and dairy, the fresh produce from lands far away and silks and fabrics for her master's wife. All were heavy but some perishable. So, perhaps the man would head for home soon...
Distracted by a sound, Hannah heard a grumble that sounded like thunder and her skin prickle with excitement. She loved thunder storms and perhaps such a downpour would lead to an early journey back to the homestead for her master and her own tired feet. Yet, as she looked down an eastern row of market stalls, to a staged area at the far end, her eyes widened and her lips parted in an expression of awe.
For before her was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. Moving like a cat but the size of a small horse, it had the mouth of a wolf and the eyes of a hawk. It's fur, set like a feline's was bright orange and marked with scratches of black.
"What on earth...?" She mused to herself, totally failing to notice that her sudden stop had put her into the path of an on-coming pedestrian who succinctly knocked her over and sent her crate falling alongside her. The corner of the wooden carton bashed into her wrist but her yelp of pain was lost in the moment of disorientating chaos and suddenly it was all she could do to reach out, with injured hand or not, to scramble and return all of the items her master had purchased with hard earned coin back into the container...
It had been an hour since Hannah's arms had begun to ache. And yet the look in the eye of her master - or in fact the entire ignorance of her presence upon his features - told her clearly that she was not about to be given a reprieve.
Taking a breath, Hannah reshuffled the wooden crate in her arms, near three quarters full now, and continued to walk behind the man that had laid claimed to her leash and bond for several years now. A man without a lot of sympathy for slaves, he took the mentality that slavery was a punishment for crimes against the state or against Yahweh. Which meant those who were felled into the position of a slave, deserved no respect. It wasn't so much their status as a slave that he raised objection to, but the lack of morals that he believed had led to the criminal activity in the first place.
Legally, Hannah was unable to claim such a thing as untruth.
Instead, she continued to walk behind the man, subservient in her demeanour and carriage as she supported the weight of the container she held and continued on her way, pausing whenever the enrobed gentleman before her paused to assess something for sale or barter, and then continued on when he lost interest or had made his sail.
Continuous walking, Hannah found, was easier than the stop and start of a languid market day perusal. With her thighs supporting the burden of the crate and her steps swinging in a rhythm that required less conscious control than other kinds of pace, Hannah was eager to keep up with a procession of constant speed. Instead, the regular hesitations and prolonged pondering were setting her arm muscles to a state of wear and her feet to burn.
Taking a stabilising inhale and summoning strength back into her muscles, Hannah considered the goods in the carton she carried - the fruit and dairy, the fresh produce from lands far away and silks and fabrics for her master's wife. All were heavy but some perishable. So, perhaps the man would head for home soon...
Distracted by a sound, Hannah heard a grumble that sounded like thunder and her skin prickle with excitement. She loved thunder storms and perhaps such a downpour would lead to an early journey back to the homestead for her master and her own tired feet. Yet, as she looked down an eastern row of market stalls, to a staged area at the far end, her eyes widened and her lips parted in an expression of awe.
For before her was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. Moving like a cat but the size of a small horse, it had the mouth of a wolf and the eyes of a hawk. It's fur, set like a feline's was bright orange and marked with scratches of black.
"What on earth...?" She mused to herself, totally failing to notice that her sudden stop had put her into the path of an on-coming pedestrian who succinctly knocked her over and sent her crate falling alongside her. The corner of the wooden carton bashed into her wrist but her yelp of pain was lost in the moment of disorientating chaos and suddenly it was all she could do to reach out, with injured hand or not, to scramble and return all of the items her master had purchased with hard earned coin back into the container...
Having heard of a spectacle in the Judean market that day, Callidora and her husband Demetrius decided to leave their friend Caleb to deal with the shop for the afternoon. The man had acquiesced with a smile, waving them off to their adventures. After all, what was the point of travelling so frequently if they couldn’t take some time to enjoy the sights?
“What do you think it is?” Callidora asked her husband in Greek as they made their way to the Grand Shuk. “I heard tell of some exotic beast from foreign lands, but you know how these things go.” She laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll be lucky if it isn’t just a dog with a lion’s mane.”
Demetrius laughed in turn, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I hope you’re wrong on that one,” he replied warmly, glancing over at her with a grin. “Maybe it’s a bear, or even an actual lion.” He winked. “You never know.”
“Ever the optimist, my love,” she teased, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Good thing we have my more pragmatic mind, eh?”
Their conversation continued in the same vein as they walked, light-hearted and cheerful. The pair were made for each other; that could never be doubted. What Demetrius lacked, Callidora made up for it and vice versa. They were inseparable, perfect halves of a whole, and any who saw them together would know that without a doubt.
Laughing again at some jest her husband made, Dora suddenly stopped laughing when she approached the crowd surrounding the beast they’d come to see. Carefully shouldering her way in so that she could lay eyes on the creature, those same eyes widened in shock and awe. Not a lion, a bear, or a dog, the animal was something else entirely—a massive feline with bright orange fur as vivid as a flame. Slashes of black interrupted the tangerine color, and intense golden eyes watched them from a face nearly as large as a boulder.
Dora was fascinated, peering closer at the large cat with unabashed curiosity. What was it? Where had it come from? How had they managed to catch it? With the size of its teeth and claws, it looked like it could kill a man in minutes, if not seconds. She’d never seen anything like it in her life.
Turning to question Demetrius as to what he thought, her attention was suddenly caught by movement in the corner of her eye. Glancing back to see what it was, she gasped when she saw the young woman taking a tumble and dropping everything she carried. Without even thinking, she rushed over to help, gathering up goods from the dirt to place back in her crate.
“You all right?” she asked the girl in heavily accented Hebrew, her look of concern plain on her face. “Not hurt?”
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Having heard of a spectacle in the Judean market that day, Callidora and her husband Demetrius decided to leave their friend Caleb to deal with the shop for the afternoon. The man had acquiesced with a smile, waving them off to their adventures. After all, what was the point of travelling so frequently if they couldn’t take some time to enjoy the sights?
“What do you think it is?” Callidora asked her husband in Greek as they made their way to the Grand Shuk. “I heard tell of some exotic beast from foreign lands, but you know how these things go.” She laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll be lucky if it isn’t just a dog with a lion’s mane.”
Demetrius laughed in turn, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I hope you’re wrong on that one,” he replied warmly, glancing over at her with a grin. “Maybe it’s a bear, or even an actual lion.” He winked. “You never know.”
“Ever the optimist, my love,” she teased, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Good thing we have my more pragmatic mind, eh?”
Their conversation continued in the same vein as they walked, light-hearted and cheerful. The pair were made for each other; that could never be doubted. What Demetrius lacked, Callidora made up for it and vice versa. They were inseparable, perfect halves of a whole, and any who saw them together would know that without a doubt.
Laughing again at some jest her husband made, Dora suddenly stopped laughing when she approached the crowd surrounding the beast they’d come to see. Carefully shouldering her way in so that she could lay eyes on the creature, those same eyes widened in shock and awe. Not a lion, a bear, or a dog, the animal was something else entirely—a massive feline with bright orange fur as vivid as a flame. Slashes of black interrupted the tangerine color, and intense golden eyes watched them from a face nearly as large as a boulder.
Dora was fascinated, peering closer at the large cat with unabashed curiosity. What was it? Where had it come from? How had they managed to catch it? With the size of its teeth and claws, it looked like it could kill a man in minutes, if not seconds. She’d never seen anything like it in her life.
Turning to question Demetrius as to what he thought, her attention was suddenly caught by movement in the corner of her eye. Glancing back to see what it was, she gasped when she saw the young woman taking a tumble and dropping everything she carried. Without even thinking, she rushed over to help, gathering up goods from the dirt to place back in her crate.
“You all right?” she asked the girl in heavily accented Hebrew, her look of concern plain on her face. “Not hurt?”
Having heard of a spectacle in the Judean market that day, Callidora and her husband Demetrius decided to leave their friend Caleb to deal with the shop for the afternoon. The man had acquiesced with a smile, waving them off to their adventures. After all, what was the point of travelling so frequently if they couldn’t take some time to enjoy the sights?
“What do you think it is?” Callidora asked her husband in Greek as they made their way to the Grand Shuk. “I heard tell of some exotic beast from foreign lands, but you know how these things go.” She laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll be lucky if it isn’t just a dog with a lion’s mane.”
Demetrius laughed in turn, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I hope you’re wrong on that one,” he replied warmly, glancing over at her with a grin. “Maybe it’s a bear, or even an actual lion.” He winked. “You never know.”
“Ever the optimist, my love,” she teased, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Good thing we have my more pragmatic mind, eh?”
Their conversation continued in the same vein as they walked, light-hearted and cheerful. The pair were made for each other; that could never be doubted. What Demetrius lacked, Callidora made up for it and vice versa. They were inseparable, perfect halves of a whole, and any who saw them together would know that without a doubt.
Laughing again at some jest her husband made, Dora suddenly stopped laughing when she approached the crowd surrounding the beast they’d come to see. Carefully shouldering her way in so that she could lay eyes on the creature, those same eyes widened in shock and awe. Not a lion, a bear, or a dog, the animal was something else entirely—a massive feline with bright orange fur as vivid as a flame. Slashes of black interrupted the tangerine color, and intense golden eyes watched them from a face nearly as large as a boulder.
Dora was fascinated, peering closer at the large cat with unabashed curiosity. What was it? Where had it come from? How had they managed to catch it? With the size of its teeth and claws, it looked like it could kill a man in minutes, if not seconds. She’d never seen anything like it in her life.
Turning to question Demetrius as to what he thought, her attention was suddenly caught by movement in the corner of her eye. Glancing back to see what it was, she gasped when she saw the young woman taking a tumble and dropping everything she carried. Without even thinking, she rushed over to help, gathering up goods from the dirt to place back in her crate.
“You all right?” she asked the girl in heavily accented Hebrew, her look of concern plain on her face. “Not hurt?”
Hannah panicked as all of the items that had once been within the crate seemed to go in every direction. Whilst the carton itself had not fallen on its side or been damaged at all - it had simply dropped with a clatter - the force of it hitting the floor had sent everything within it upward and into the air. And it hadn't all come down in a straight path back into its place within the wooden crate. Instead, the items had gone in every direction, bouncing off of each other or off of the edge of their container when they attempted to fall back again. A few clattered about the outside of the box, whilst a larger number tumbled about over the floor, heading for under the feet of passerby.
Hannah had been unable to catch just about any of it, because her focus had been on securing an enamel vase that would have shattered if it had hit the ground. Having saved it, caught awkwardly at an angle that had her hands tangled and her elbow in the air, she had been less successful with the rest of the produce and the carton itself. The crate had landed on her foot, which now smarted like the Gods and everything else was chaos. She winced as some of the fresh fruit rolled over cobbles and doubtlessly became bruised and at the way the clothes her master had already determined to be for his wife upon his return home were now sitting half trailed in the dust of the ground.
Hannah had had several masters in Ammun, sold usually not through fault of her own but when they were unable to afford her anymore or when she was surplus to requirement and this particular one was easy to anger and would not be happy with her if he turned back to see-
Too late.
With a gasp, Hannah hurried about, trying to reach for everything quickly as she witnessed the man - who had managed to cover several yards of pathway ahead of her whilst she was distracted by the magnificent beast, wind his way back in her direction, a look of thunder on his face.
Her panic was interrupted just for a second when a beautiful young woman with an impressive head of copper hair swooped down to speak with her in an accented Hebrew that she recognised instantly to come from a Grecian speaker.
"I am fine." She stated quickly, her Hebrew slow so that the woman could understand, her natural instinct to shy away from her native tongue when her master was approaching into hearing distance. "Please, do not try to help."
Her refusal for aid was not because she didn't need it. Everything had become a mess and items of her master's property were still at risk - or already suffering - from the tread of Judean feet. But she knew that it would be unseemly for a free lady such as this one to be witnessed helping a slave. At worst, her master might think that she had actually asked for the help. And then she really would by at risk of her back seeing a lashing.
"What in all that's holy are you doing, girl?" Came the snapping entrance that she had expected as her master, Jediah spoke with a tone and volume that suggested her to be either stupid, deaf or both. "How hard can it be just to carry and walk at the same time?"
Behind her mitzpahath, Hannah's cheeks blazed with the colour of shame, as she avoided the eyes of the good and pretty Samaritan before her and tried to correct the issue of the scattered goods before the situation could become any more of a spectacle.
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Hannah panicked as all of the items that had once been within the crate seemed to go in every direction. Whilst the carton itself had not fallen on its side or been damaged at all - it had simply dropped with a clatter - the force of it hitting the floor had sent everything within it upward and into the air. And it hadn't all come down in a straight path back into its place within the wooden crate. Instead, the items had gone in every direction, bouncing off of each other or off of the edge of their container when they attempted to fall back again. A few clattered about the outside of the box, whilst a larger number tumbled about over the floor, heading for under the feet of passerby.
Hannah had been unable to catch just about any of it, because her focus had been on securing an enamel vase that would have shattered if it had hit the ground. Having saved it, caught awkwardly at an angle that had her hands tangled and her elbow in the air, she had been less successful with the rest of the produce and the carton itself. The crate had landed on her foot, which now smarted like the Gods and everything else was chaos. She winced as some of the fresh fruit rolled over cobbles and doubtlessly became bruised and at the way the clothes her master had already determined to be for his wife upon his return home were now sitting half trailed in the dust of the ground.
Hannah had had several masters in Ammun, sold usually not through fault of her own but when they were unable to afford her anymore or when she was surplus to requirement and this particular one was easy to anger and would not be happy with her if he turned back to see-
Too late.
With a gasp, Hannah hurried about, trying to reach for everything quickly as she witnessed the man - who had managed to cover several yards of pathway ahead of her whilst she was distracted by the magnificent beast, wind his way back in her direction, a look of thunder on his face.
Her panic was interrupted just for a second when a beautiful young woman with an impressive head of copper hair swooped down to speak with her in an accented Hebrew that she recognised instantly to come from a Grecian speaker.
"I am fine." She stated quickly, her Hebrew slow so that the woman could understand, her natural instinct to shy away from her native tongue when her master was approaching into hearing distance. "Please, do not try to help."
Her refusal for aid was not because she didn't need it. Everything had become a mess and items of her master's property were still at risk - or already suffering - from the tread of Judean feet. But she knew that it would be unseemly for a free lady such as this one to be witnessed helping a slave. At worst, her master might think that she had actually asked for the help. And then she really would by at risk of her back seeing a lashing.
"What in all that's holy are you doing, girl?" Came the snapping entrance that she had expected as her master, Jediah spoke with a tone and volume that suggested her to be either stupid, deaf or both. "How hard can it be just to carry and walk at the same time?"
Behind her mitzpahath, Hannah's cheeks blazed with the colour of shame, as she avoided the eyes of the good and pretty Samaritan before her and tried to correct the issue of the scattered goods before the situation could become any more of a spectacle.
Hannah panicked as all of the items that had once been within the crate seemed to go in every direction. Whilst the carton itself had not fallen on its side or been damaged at all - it had simply dropped with a clatter - the force of it hitting the floor had sent everything within it upward and into the air. And it hadn't all come down in a straight path back into its place within the wooden crate. Instead, the items had gone in every direction, bouncing off of each other or off of the edge of their container when they attempted to fall back again. A few clattered about the outside of the box, whilst a larger number tumbled about over the floor, heading for under the feet of passerby.
Hannah had been unable to catch just about any of it, because her focus had been on securing an enamel vase that would have shattered if it had hit the ground. Having saved it, caught awkwardly at an angle that had her hands tangled and her elbow in the air, she had been less successful with the rest of the produce and the carton itself. The crate had landed on her foot, which now smarted like the Gods and everything else was chaos. She winced as some of the fresh fruit rolled over cobbles and doubtlessly became bruised and at the way the clothes her master had already determined to be for his wife upon his return home were now sitting half trailed in the dust of the ground.
Hannah had had several masters in Ammun, sold usually not through fault of her own but when they were unable to afford her anymore or when she was surplus to requirement and this particular one was easy to anger and would not be happy with her if he turned back to see-
Too late.
With a gasp, Hannah hurried about, trying to reach for everything quickly as she witnessed the man - who had managed to cover several yards of pathway ahead of her whilst she was distracted by the magnificent beast, wind his way back in her direction, a look of thunder on his face.
Her panic was interrupted just for a second when a beautiful young woman with an impressive head of copper hair swooped down to speak with her in an accented Hebrew that she recognised instantly to come from a Grecian speaker.
"I am fine." She stated quickly, her Hebrew slow so that the woman could understand, her natural instinct to shy away from her native tongue when her master was approaching into hearing distance. "Please, do not try to help."
Her refusal for aid was not because she didn't need it. Everything had become a mess and items of her master's property were still at risk - or already suffering - from the tread of Judean feet. But she knew that it would be unseemly for a free lady such as this one to be witnessed helping a slave. At worst, her master might think that she had actually asked for the help. And then she really would by at risk of her back seeing a lashing.
"What in all that's holy are you doing, girl?" Came the snapping entrance that she had expected as her master, Jediah spoke with a tone and volume that suggested her to be either stupid, deaf or both. "How hard can it be just to carry and walk at the same time?"
Behind her mitzpahath, Hannah's cheeks blazed with the colour of shame, as she avoided the eyes of the good and pretty Samaritan before her and tried to correct the issue of the scattered goods before the situation could become any more of a spectacle.
When the young woman asked for Dora not to help, she frowned for a moment until she realized why. A man she presumed to be the girl’s master, or at least caretaker, came barreling through, shouting at her about her presumed clumsiness. More than like a slave, then. No wonder she didn’t want help. Gods only knew how her master would take the Greek woman’s friendly gesture, and Dora couldn’t really blame her for trying to save her own skin.
A silver-tongued merchant’s wife, however, Callidora thought she might be able to stem the tide of the man’s anger before it got out of hand, without it looking like she was purposely trying to help his slave. Seeing the embarrassed flush on the woman’s cheeks only further resolved her intent to do what she could before it all turned into an even bigger spectacle than the striped cat they’d all come to see.
“Pardon, sir,” she interrupted in a cheerful tone, casually stepping between the two as if she was oblivious to the tenseness of the situation. “Forgive, forgive, was my fault.” She did her best to look properly contrite, dropping her gaze to her feet in feigned shame. Let the brunt of his anger fall on the foreign woman instead of the slave only trying to do her job. After all, there wasn’t much he could do to her, and even if there was, let him try. She’d love to see him attempt to hurt her with her own husband so close by.
“So clumsy, me,” she explained in halting Hebrew, gesturing first at the slave and then to the caged feline. “Looking at cat and bumped into girl. Almost knocked down. Was trying to fix wrong, is all.” She indicated the spilled goods on the ground before pointing at the crate. “If anything broken, happy to pay. Husband is merchant.” She nodded to Demetrius, who was walking their way after noting something wasn’t quite right. “Understand value.” She offered a friendly smile. “Might even replace, no cost. Sell lots of things.”
Demetrius looked between his wife and the large man she was speaking to, but he declined to comment. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement, trusting that Callidora wasn’t trying to get them into some sort of mess. Though with his luck and his wife’s rather prominent wiles, he wasn’t sure why he ever thought that would be the case…
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When the young woman asked for Dora not to help, she frowned for a moment until she realized why. A man she presumed to be the girl’s master, or at least caretaker, came barreling through, shouting at her about her presumed clumsiness. More than like a slave, then. No wonder she didn’t want help. Gods only knew how her master would take the Greek woman’s friendly gesture, and Dora couldn’t really blame her for trying to save her own skin.
A silver-tongued merchant’s wife, however, Callidora thought she might be able to stem the tide of the man’s anger before it got out of hand, without it looking like she was purposely trying to help his slave. Seeing the embarrassed flush on the woman’s cheeks only further resolved her intent to do what she could before it all turned into an even bigger spectacle than the striped cat they’d all come to see.
“Pardon, sir,” she interrupted in a cheerful tone, casually stepping between the two as if she was oblivious to the tenseness of the situation. “Forgive, forgive, was my fault.” She did her best to look properly contrite, dropping her gaze to her feet in feigned shame. Let the brunt of his anger fall on the foreign woman instead of the slave only trying to do her job. After all, there wasn’t much he could do to her, and even if there was, let him try. She’d love to see him attempt to hurt her with her own husband so close by.
“So clumsy, me,” she explained in halting Hebrew, gesturing first at the slave and then to the caged feline. “Looking at cat and bumped into girl. Almost knocked down. Was trying to fix wrong, is all.” She indicated the spilled goods on the ground before pointing at the crate. “If anything broken, happy to pay. Husband is merchant.” She nodded to Demetrius, who was walking their way after noting something wasn’t quite right. “Understand value.” She offered a friendly smile. “Might even replace, no cost. Sell lots of things.”
Demetrius looked between his wife and the large man she was speaking to, but he declined to comment. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement, trusting that Callidora wasn’t trying to get them into some sort of mess. Though with his luck and his wife’s rather prominent wiles, he wasn’t sure why he ever thought that would be the case…
When the young woman asked for Dora not to help, she frowned for a moment until she realized why. A man she presumed to be the girl’s master, or at least caretaker, came barreling through, shouting at her about her presumed clumsiness. More than like a slave, then. No wonder she didn’t want help. Gods only knew how her master would take the Greek woman’s friendly gesture, and Dora couldn’t really blame her for trying to save her own skin.
A silver-tongued merchant’s wife, however, Callidora thought she might be able to stem the tide of the man’s anger before it got out of hand, without it looking like she was purposely trying to help his slave. Seeing the embarrassed flush on the woman’s cheeks only further resolved her intent to do what she could before it all turned into an even bigger spectacle than the striped cat they’d all come to see.
“Pardon, sir,” she interrupted in a cheerful tone, casually stepping between the two as if she was oblivious to the tenseness of the situation. “Forgive, forgive, was my fault.” She did her best to look properly contrite, dropping her gaze to her feet in feigned shame. Let the brunt of his anger fall on the foreign woman instead of the slave only trying to do her job. After all, there wasn’t much he could do to her, and even if there was, let him try. She’d love to see him attempt to hurt her with her own husband so close by.
“So clumsy, me,” she explained in halting Hebrew, gesturing first at the slave and then to the caged feline. “Looking at cat and bumped into girl. Almost knocked down. Was trying to fix wrong, is all.” She indicated the spilled goods on the ground before pointing at the crate. “If anything broken, happy to pay. Husband is merchant.” She nodded to Demetrius, who was walking their way after noting something wasn’t quite right. “Understand value.” She offered a friendly smile. “Might even replace, no cost. Sell lots of things.”
Demetrius looked between his wife and the large man she was speaking to, but he declined to comment. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement, trusting that Callidora wasn’t trying to get them into some sort of mess. Though with his luck and his wife’s rather prominent wiles, he wasn’t sure why he ever thought that would be the case…
Darting to her feet as her master came near, hurling his judgement of her uselessness into the open air before him and alerting all those who liked gossip and spectacle to turn in their direction, Hannah felt her cheeks burn in humiliation as she was careful to move the crate she had been filling and ensure that it was out from under anyone's feet before she stood with hands folded over her front and eyes downcast. The chastisement was not a new one. For this particular owner of the different owners she had had in the past, was one of great strictness, of great specificity in what he liked and how he liked it. It was easy to anger him.
Yet this was the first time that he had done so in public before a woman such as this. A woman who spoke Hebrew with an accent that Hannah knew so well, for it had tainted her own use of the language until several years ago. Recognising the woman was so definitely Greek, Hannah felt her embarrassment grow for no real reason. It didn't matter if her circumstances were displayed for all the world to see in their awkward reality. It didn't matter if the audience that partook in witnessing it were Judean, Greek or Egyptian... There was no real difference in the shame.
And yet for Hannah there was.
For some reason, in the presence of one from her homeland, her cheeks burnt hotter and her eyes felt the desire to water (despite her abilities to hold it back). For to witness the wife of a merchant - the sort of life that she might have had as a Grecian lady, in turn witness her in the life that she did in fact have... that of a slave... it was just too much.
It made everything worse.
Closing her eyes and licking her lips behind her mitzpahath, Hannah kept herself quiet looking up only once in surprise when the pretty redheaded woman offered up herself as cause of the issue. The shawl that Hannah wore around her head exposed only her eyes but even in they - in the way that they widened - one could read her shock at this turn of events and she quickly downcast them once more when her master turned his sharp and assessing stare upon her.
There was a grunt of almost... annoyance... that the man had been publicly averted from being able to punish someone that he thought worthy and Hannah closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to God that he would not seek about redressing that once she returned with him to his home.
After the grunt, the man made a shuffling noise with his feet and then pointed towards Hannah imperiously, forcing her to stand still under scrutiny and yet flinch.
"You'll see to it that all goods are undamaged and return to the shop in two hours." He insisted. And with a glance at the Grecian lady, clearly taking her on her offer of replacing anything that needed repairs for Hannah held no money, her master left.
With his absence came the return of air and Hannah felt herself deflate a little with a sighing breath of relief. With an awkward look at the young woman the lower lids of her eyes rose as if to imply a smile behind her mask.
"Toda raba." She thanked her, unsure what else to do besides bending low to inspect the goods she had already collected and check that all was present and accounted for.
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Darting to her feet as her master came near, hurling his judgement of her uselessness into the open air before him and alerting all those who liked gossip and spectacle to turn in their direction, Hannah felt her cheeks burn in humiliation as she was careful to move the crate she had been filling and ensure that it was out from under anyone's feet before she stood with hands folded over her front and eyes downcast. The chastisement was not a new one. For this particular owner of the different owners she had had in the past, was one of great strictness, of great specificity in what he liked and how he liked it. It was easy to anger him.
Yet this was the first time that he had done so in public before a woman such as this. A woman who spoke Hebrew with an accent that Hannah knew so well, for it had tainted her own use of the language until several years ago. Recognising the woman was so definitely Greek, Hannah felt her embarrassment grow for no real reason. It didn't matter if her circumstances were displayed for all the world to see in their awkward reality. It didn't matter if the audience that partook in witnessing it were Judean, Greek or Egyptian... There was no real difference in the shame.
And yet for Hannah there was.
For some reason, in the presence of one from her homeland, her cheeks burnt hotter and her eyes felt the desire to water (despite her abilities to hold it back). For to witness the wife of a merchant - the sort of life that she might have had as a Grecian lady, in turn witness her in the life that she did in fact have... that of a slave... it was just too much.
It made everything worse.
Closing her eyes and licking her lips behind her mitzpahath, Hannah kept herself quiet looking up only once in surprise when the pretty redheaded woman offered up herself as cause of the issue. The shawl that Hannah wore around her head exposed only her eyes but even in they - in the way that they widened - one could read her shock at this turn of events and she quickly downcast them once more when her master turned his sharp and assessing stare upon her.
There was a grunt of almost... annoyance... that the man had been publicly averted from being able to punish someone that he thought worthy and Hannah closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to God that he would not seek about redressing that once she returned with him to his home.
After the grunt, the man made a shuffling noise with his feet and then pointed towards Hannah imperiously, forcing her to stand still under scrutiny and yet flinch.
"You'll see to it that all goods are undamaged and return to the shop in two hours." He insisted. And with a glance at the Grecian lady, clearly taking her on her offer of replacing anything that needed repairs for Hannah held no money, her master left.
With his absence came the return of air and Hannah felt herself deflate a little with a sighing breath of relief. With an awkward look at the young woman the lower lids of her eyes rose as if to imply a smile behind her mask.
"Toda raba." She thanked her, unsure what else to do besides bending low to inspect the goods she had already collected and check that all was present and accounted for.
Darting to her feet as her master came near, hurling his judgement of her uselessness into the open air before him and alerting all those who liked gossip and spectacle to turn in their direction, Hannah felt her cheeks burn in humiliation as she was careful to move the crate she had been filling and ensure that it was out from under anyone's feet before she stood with hands folded over her front and eyes downcast. The chastisement was not a new one. For this particular owner of the different owners she had had in the past, was one of great strictness, of great specificity in what he liked and how he liked it. It was easy to anger him.
Yet this was the first time that he had done so in public before a woman such as this. A woman who spoke Hebrew with an accent that Hannah knew so well, for it had tainted her own use of the language until several years ago. Recognising the woman was so definitely Greek, Hannah felt her embarrassment grow for no real reason. It didn't matter if her circumstances were displayed for all the world to see in their awkward reality. It didn't matter if the audience that partook in witnessing it were Judean, Greek or Egyptian... There was no real difference in the shame.
And yet for Hannah there was.
For some reason, in the presence of one from her homeland, her cheeks burnt hotter and her eyes felt the desire to water (despite her abilities to hold it back). For to witness the wife of a merchant - the sort of life that she might have had as a Grecian lady, in turn witness her in the life that she did in fact have... that of a slave... it was just too much.
It made everything worse.
Closing her eyes and licking her lips behind her mitzpahath, Hannah kept herself quiet looking up only once in surprise when the pretty redheaded woman offered up herself as cause of the issue. The shawl that Hannah wore around her head exposed only her eyes but even in they - in the way that they widened - one could read her shock at this turn of events and she quickly downcast them once more when her master turned his sharp and assessing stare upon her.
There was a grunt of almost... annoyance... that the man had been publicly averted from being able to punish someone that he thought worthy and Hannah closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to God that he would not seek about redressing that once she returned with him to his home.
After the grunt, the man made a shuffling noise with his feet and then pointed towards Hannah imperiously, forcing her to stand still under scrutiny and yet flinch.
"You'll see to it that all goods are undamaged and return to the shop in two hours." He insisted. And with a glance at the Grecian lady, clearly taking her on her offer of replacing anything that needed repairs for Hannah held no money, her master left.
With his absence came the return of air and Hannah felt herself deflate a little with a sighing breath of relief. With an awkward look at the young woman the lower lids of her eyes rose as if to imply a smile behind her mask.
"Toda raba." She thanked her, unsure what else to do besides bending low to inspect the goods she had already collected and check that all was present and accounted for.
Callidora smiled warmly at the man, in spite of his rather repugnant attitude. After all, that was a good part of how she made her living—catering to and pretending to like people who she’d happily push in front of a carriage. He seemed to take her up on her offer, his boorish attitude dissipating nearly as quickly as it manifested. At least she’d managed to save the girl from a public whipping, even if she couldn’t relieve her of much else.
The Grecian woman listened to him bark his orders at the slave girl before watching him walk away, sighing in relief once he was gone. Her husband gave her a sharp look, one that wordlessly asked why she needed to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, and she gave him an innocent smile in response. He’d known what she was like going into this marriage; she wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Besides, she knew he secretly loved that part of her, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. It kept their lives interesting.
Turning to the woman as she thanked her, Dora nodded. “Of course. Try to help where I can.” Now that the man was out of sight and whether the slave protested or not, she leaned down to help replace the scattered items into their receptable, glancing over the box’s contents. “Anything broken? Was serious when said I would replace.”
Another unamused look came from Demetrius, along with a hefty sigh. Of course, she’d offered up his money, and he meant to have a talk with her about that when they were no longer out in public. What if something had broken that was truly valuable? What did she think they would do then? Was she willing to send them into debt over some girl she didn’t even know?
Callidora pointedly ignored his look, about to say something else when a hiss and an inhuman screech interrupted her chain of thought. Startled, she looked up just as the mighty feline’s jaws parted in a ground-shaking roar. Those closest to the animal jumped back with a few gasps and nervous titters of surprise. It was a sound like none she’d ever heard, and she couldn’t help but be glad the creature was behind bars. Gods only knew what sort of damage it might do to its captors otherwise…
Blinking and turning back to the younger woman, she gestured to the caged beast. “Did you get chance to see big cat before…?” She gestured to the scattered goods and scuffs in the ground. “Is impressive. Never see anything like it.”
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Callidora smiled warmly at the man, in spite of his rather repugnant attitude. After all, that was a good part of how she made her living—catering to and pretending to like people who she’d happily push in front of a carriage. He seemed to take her up on her offer, his boorish attitude dissipating nearly as quickly as it manifested. At least she’d managed to save the girl from a public whipping, even if she couldn’t relieve her of much else.
The Grecian woman listened to him bark his orders at the slave girl before watching him walk away, sighing in relief once he was gone. Her husband gave her a sharp look, one that wordlessly asked why she needed to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, and she gave him an innocent smile in response. He’d known what she was like going into this marriage; she wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Besides, she knew he secretly loved that part of her, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. It kept their lives interesting.
Turning to the woman as she thanked her, Dora nodded. “Of course. Try to help where I can.” Now that the man was out of sight and whether the slave protested or not, she leaned down to help replace the scattered items into their receptable, glancing over the box’s contents. “Anything broken? Was serious when said I would replace.”
Another unamused look came from Demetrius, along with a hefty sigh. Of course, she’d offered up his money, and he meant to have a talk with her about that when they were no longer out in public. What if something had broken that was truly valuable? What did she think they would do then? Was she willing to send them into debt over some girl she didn’t even know?
Callidora pointedly ignored his look, about to say something else when a hiss and an inhuman screech interrupted her chain of thought. Startled, she looked up just as the mighty feline’s jaws parted in a ground-shaking roar. Those closest to the animal jumped back with a few gasps and nervous titters of surprise. It was a sound like none she’d ever heard, and she couldn’t help but be glad the creature was behind bars. Gods only knew what sort of damage it might do to its captors otherwise…
Blinking and turning back to the younger woman, she gestured to the caged beast. “Did you get chance to see big cat before…?” She gestured to the scattered goods and scuffs in the ground. “Is impressive. Never see anything like it.”
Callidora smiled warmly at the man, in spite of his rather repugnant attitude. After all, that was a good part of how she made her living—catering to and pretending to like people who she’d happily push in front of a carriage. He seemed to take her up on her offer, his boorish attitude dissipating nearly as quickly as it manifested. At least she’d managed to save the girl from a public whipping, even if she couldn’t relieve her of much else.
The Grecian woman listened to him bark his orders at the slave girl before watching him walk away, sighing in relief once he was gone. Her husband gave her a sharp look, one that wordlessly asked why she needed to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, and she gave him an innocent smile in response. He’d known what she was like going into this marriage; she wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Besides, she knew he secretly loved that part of her, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. It kept their lives interesting.
Turning to the woman as she thanked her, Dora nodded. “Of course. Try to help where I can.” Now that the man was out of sight and whether the slave protested or not, she leaned down to help replace the scattered items into their receptable, glancing over the box’s contents. “Anything broken? Was serious when said I would replace.”
Another unamused look came from Demetrius, along with a hefty sigh. Of course, she’d offered up his money, and he meant to have a talk with her about that when they were no longer out in public. What if something had broken that was truly valuable? What did she think they would do then? Was she willing to send them into debt over some girl she didn’t even know?
Callidora pointedly ignored his look, about to say something else when a hiss and an inhuman screech interrupted her chain of thought. Startled, she looked up just as the mighty feline’s jaws parted in a ground-shaking roar. Those closest to the animal jumped back with a few gasps and nervous titters of surprise. It was a sound like none she’d ever heard, and she couldn’t help but be glad the creature was behind bars. Gods only knew what sort of damage it might do to its captors otherwise…
Blinking and turning back to the younger woman, she gestured to the caged beast. “Did you get chance to see big cat before…?” She gestured to the scattered goods and scuffs in the ground. “Is impressive. Never see anything like it.”
When the Grecian beauty knelt down to offer Hannah help in returning the items to their crate, she was quick to look up with surprise. When the words of assurance over replacing any broken goods left her lips, she was still further shocked. But not so much that she was unaware of the young man's expressions behind her. The way in which he stood at her shoulder, the way that he looked upon her as an indulgent equal, spoke volumes as to their relationship. No master looked at a servant that way, and no servant looked upon their master. This was a pair of equals. Whether they were brother and sister or a married couple, it did not matter - for Hannah could tell that they saw each other in a manner that spoke of compassion and dignity. Though, in truth, their differences in appearance spoke that they were perhaps the latter - a married couple in an affectionate partnership.
Hannah tried not to notice how the appearance of such a thing sparked a little sharp pain of loneliness in her heart. How long had it been since anyone - most specifically the man she loved - had looked at her like that? Had stood by her like that?
The sting of such reminders was painful but had dulled over the years. Where they would have torn her in two seven summers past, they now just poked at a festering and painful wound that seemed unwilling to ever close. That she was unwilling to ever close.
Having returned most of the pieces to the box, Hannah looked upon them to establish if any had been damaged. But her checking was half hearted at best. She did not wish to ask this woman for money after her kindness. Compassion was rare nowadays to be worth something all its own and she did not wish to add all the more debt upon her connection with this Grecian lady.
Spotting a chip in one of the vases that she suspected she might be able to cover with some form of ribbon, Hannah said nothing of the wound on the ceramic but was distracted when the noise from their left rout the air asunder.
With a soft squeal of fearful shock, Hannah lost her balance upon her heels - as if the roar was a physical force that had knocked her down - and fell a few inches to the cobbles beneath her. Looking around in shock, words left her mouth in a hurry that she could not control, her native tongue slipping out in a manner that was unrestrained.
"By the Gods..." She murmured to herself in surprise, before biting her tongue. It had been a while since she had slipped into the language of the Greeks but perhaps it was this woman's presence and the reminder that she represented of her homeland that had put such an instinct to the front of her mind.
Swallowing back the curse and hoping that the lady had not noticed or might not wish to ask questions, Hannah looked out towards the cage of the mighty beast.
"I have never seen such a thing." She admitted to the woman, reverting back to Hebrew. "But I fear it's entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power." Her words were honest and came with little thought as her eyes watched over the weighty muscles and heavy, stalking pace of the animal in the cage. He turned and padded from one end of his barred chamber to the other, never lessening his stare or his determination. The creature was stalking those who saw him as entertainment. And whilst in some ways Hannah was unable to remove her gaze from the animal and desired nothing more than to draw closer and witness it in all its majesty... her survival instincts also told her to run far away...
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When the Grecian beauty knelt down to offer Hannah help in returning the items to their crate, she was quick to look up with surprise. When the words of assurance over replacing any broken goods left her lips, she was still further shocked. But not so much that she was unaware of the young man's expressions behind her. The way in which he stood at her shoulder, the way that he looked upon her as an indulgent equal, spoke volumes as to their relationship. No master looked at a servant that way, and no servant looked upon their master. This was a pair of equals. Whether they were brother and sister or a married couple, it did not matter - for Hannah could tell that they saw each other in a manner that spoke of compassion and dignity. Though, in truth, their differences in appearance spoke that they were perhaps the latter - a married couple in an affectionate partnership.
Hannah tried not to notice how the appearance of such a thing sparked a little sharp pain of loneliness in her heart. How long had it been since anyone - most specifically the man she loved - had looked at her like that? Had stood by her like that?
The sting of such reminders was painful but had dulled over the years. Where they would have torn her in two seven summers past, they now just poked at a festering and painful wound that seemed unwilling to ever close. That she was unwilling to ever close.
Having returned most of the pieces to the box, Hannah looked upon them to establish if any had been damaged. But her checking was half hearted at best. She did not wish to ask this woman for money after her kindness. Compassion was rare nowadays to be worth something all its own and she did not wish to add all the more debt upon her connection with this Grecian lady.
Spotting a chip in one of the vases that she suspected she might be able to cover with some form of ribbon, Hannah said nothing of the wound on the ceramic but was distracted when the noise from their left rout the air asunder.
With a soft squeal of fearful shock, Hannah lost her balance upon her heels - as if the roar was a physical force that had knocked her down - and fell a few inches to the cobbles beneath her. Looking around in shock, words left her mouth in a hurry that she could not control, her native tongue slipping out in a manner that was unrestrained.
"By the Gods..." She murmured to herself in surprise, before biting her tongue. It had been a while since she had slipped into the language of the Greeks but perhaps it was this woman's presence and the reminder that she represented of her homeland that had put such an instinct to the front of her mind.
Swallowing back the curse and hoping that the lady had not noticed or might not wish to ask questions, Hannah looked out towards the cage of the mighty beast.
"I have never seen such a thing." She admitted to the woman, reverting back to Hebrew. "But I fear it's entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power." Her words were honest and came with little thought as her eyes watched over the weighty muscles and heavy, stalking pace of the animal in the cage. He turned and padded from one end of his barred chamber to the other, never lessening his stare or his determination. The creature was stalking those who saw him as entertainment. And whilst in some ways Hannah was unable to remove her gaze from the animal and desired nothing more than to draw closer and witness it in all its majesty... her survival instincts also told her to run far away...
When the Grecian beauty knelt down to offer Hannah help in returning the items to their crate, she was quick to look up with surprise. When the words of assurance over replacing any broken goods left her lips, she was still further shocked. But not so much that she was unaware of the young man's expressions behind her. The way in which he stood at her shoulder, the way that he looked upon her as an indulgent equal, spoke volumes as to their relationship. No master looked at a servant that way, and no servant looked upon their master. This was a pair of equals. Whether they were brother and sister or a married couple, it did not matter - for Hannah could tell that they saw each other in a manner that spoke of compassion and dignity. Though, in truth, their differences in appearance spoke that they were perhaps the latter - a married couple in an affectionate partnership.
Hannah tried not to notice how the appearance of such a thing sparked a little sharp pain of loneliness in her heart. How long had it been since anyone - most specifically the man she loved - had looked at her like that? Had stood by her like that?
The sting of such reminders was painful but had dulled over the years. Where they would have torn her in two seven summers past, they now just poked at a festering and painful wound that seemed unwilling to ever close. That she was unwilling to ever close.
Having returned most of the pieces to the box, Hannah looked upon them to establish if any had been damaged. But her checking was half hearted at best. She did not wish to ask this woman for money after her kindness. Compassion was rare nowadays to be worth something all its own and she did not wish to add all the more debt upon her connection with this Grecian lady.
Spotting a chip in one of the vases that she suspected she might be able to cover with some form of ribbon, Hannah said nothing of the wound on the ceramic but was distracted when the noise from their left rout the air asunder.
With a soft squeal of fearful shock, Hannah lost her balance upon her heels - as if the roar was a physical force that had knocked her down - and fell a few inches to the cobbles beneath her. Looking around in shock, words left her mouth in a hurry that she could not control, her native tongue slipping out in a manner that was unrestrained.
"By the Gods..." She murmured to herself in surprise, before biting her tongue. It had been a while since she had slipped into the language of the Greeks but perhaps it was this woman's presence and the reminder that she represented of her homeland that had put such an instinct to the front of her mind.
Swallowing back the curse and hoping that the lady had not noticed or might not wish to ask questions, Hannah looked out towards the cage of the mighty beast.
"I have never seen such a thing." She admitted to the woman, reverting back to Hebrew. "But I fear it's entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power." Her words were honest and came with little thought as her eyes watched over the weighty muscles and heavy, stalking pace of the animal in the cage. He turned and padded from one end of his barred chamber to the other, never lessening his stare or his determination. The creature was stalking those who saw him as entertainment. And whilst in some ways Hannah was unable to remove her gaze from the animal and desired nothing more than to draw closer and witness it in all its majesty... her survival instincts also told her to run far away...
Callidora glanced up sharply at the sound of the Greek words falling from the other woman’s lips, unsure she’d even heard her correctly to begin with. The only mouth she’d heard her native tongue from since she had arrived in Judea was that of her husband, and to hear it from her someone else was unexpected, to say the least. Though, now that she looked at the slave woman a little closer, she did have features that leaned more toward Greek than Judean…
The Grecian woman had about a million questions she wanted to ask, but judging how quickly her companion switched back to Hebrew, something told her perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to start asking those questions. Was she trying to keep her origin secret? And if so, why? The last thing she’d expected in coming here was finding a Greek slave in Judea, and she was almost as fascinated with that than the spectacle they’d all come to see.
But I fear its entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power.
Turning her gaze back to the striped cat, Dora nodded. “I agree,” she answered in Hebrew, warily watching the beast pace its confines. “But people not always so smart. Like to show own power, forget power in nature.” However foolish, Callidora could understand the sentiment. It was the folly of man to proudly believe they could not be bested, that they could tame the forces of nature to their own whims. But there was a certain seduction to it, to besting that force more powerful than oneself. It was a high some never stopped chasing, herself included. For how did someone improve themself without conquering seemingly unconquerable odds?
Perhaps this massive cat was not the best example, but the point still stood.
Returning her attention to her companion, she offered a friendly smile. “Forgive. So excited, didn’t even ask name.” Placing a hand on her chest, Dora introduced herself, “Am Callidora. From Colchis.” She watched the other carefully for a moment, looking for any sign of her recognizing the name. If she was Greek, what kingdom did she hail from? Nodding to her, she asked, “And you?”
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Callidora glanced up sharply at the sound of the Greek words falling from the other woman’s lips, unsure she’d even heard her correctly to begin with. The only mouth she’d heard her native tongue from since she had arrived in Judea was that of her husband, and to hear it from her someone else was unexpected, to say the least. Though, now that she looked at the slave woman a little closer, she did have features that leaned more toward Greek than Judean…
The Grecian woman had about a million questions she wanted to ask, but judging how quickly her companion switched back to Hebrew, something told her perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to start asking those questions. Was she trying to keep her origin secret? And if so, why? The last thing she’d expected in coming here was finding a Greek slave in Judea, and she was almost as fascinated with that than the spectacle they’d all come to see.
But I fear its entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power.
Turning her gaze back to the striped cat, Dora nodded. “I agree,” she answered in Hebrew, warily watching the beast pace its confines. “But people not always so smart. Like to show own power, forget power in nature.” However foolish, Callidora could understand the sentiment. It was the folly of man to proudly believe they could not be bested, that they could tame the forces of nature to their own whims. But there was a certain seduction to it, to besting that force more powerful than oneself. It was a high some never stopped chasing, herself included. For how did someone improve themself without conquering seemingly unconquerable odds?
Perhaps this massive cat was not the best example, but the point still stood.
Returning her attention to her companion, she offered a friendly smile. “Forgive. So excited, didn’t even ask name.” Placing a hand on her chest, Dora introduced herself, “Am Callidora. From Colchis.” She watched the other carefully for a moment, looking for any sign of her recognizing the name. If she was Greek, what kingdom did she hail from? Nodding to her, she asked, “And you?”
Callidora glanced up sharply at the sound of the Greek words falling from the other woman’s lips, unsure she’d even heard her correctly to begin with. The only mouth she’d heard her native tongue from since she had arrived in Judea was that of her husband, and to hear it from her someone else was unexpected, to say the least. Though, now that she looked at the slave woman a little closer, she did have features that leaned more toward Greek than Judean…
The Grecian woman had about a million questions she wanted to ask, but judging how quickly her companion switched back to Hebrew, something told her perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to start asking those questions. Was she trying to keep her origin secret? And if so, why? The last thing she’d expected in coming here was finding a Greek slave in Judea, and she was almost as fascinated with that than the spectacle they’d all come to see.
But I fear its entrapment. I think it foolish to believe we can contain such power.
Turning her gaze back to the striped cat, Dora nodded. “I agree,” she answered in Hebrew, warily watching the beast pace its confines. “But people not always so smart. Like to show own power, forget power in nature.” However foolish, Callidora could understand the sentiment. It was the folly of man to proudly believe they could not be bested, that they could tame the forces of nature to their own whims. But there was a certain seduction to it, to besting that force more powerful than oneself. It was a high some never stopped chasing, herself included. For how did someone improve themself without conquering seemingly unconquerable odds?
Perhaps this massive cat was not the best example, but the point still stood.
Returning her attention to her companion, she offered a friendly smile. “Forgive. So excited, didn’t even ask name.” Placing a hand on her chest, Dora introduced herself, “Am Callidora. From Colchis.” She watched the other carefully for a moment, looking for any sign of her recognizing the name. If she was Greek, what kingdom did she hail from? Nodding to her, she asked, “And you?”
Managing to get back to her feet, Hannah left the box of goods sitting by her ankles and looked to the woman when she spoke of the power of nature. Despite her basic grasp of Hebrew - so familiar to the ears of one that had learnt the language gradually herself - Hannah could understand her well enough. Enough to know that the acceptance of explanation was mutual on both sides. This... Callidora, as she introduced herself, was able to converse more or less accurately. Even when her sentences were truncated and their meaning at their most truthful.
Hannah swallowed and smiled. She removed the mask of her mitzpahath in order to show such a sign of friendship to the woman and revealed features too pale to be truly Judean. Too rounded and soft, despite the cracks to her lips and the dry skin upon her cheekbones.
When Callidora introduced herself, Hannah was not the political or social expert, able to hide her reactions. She blinked over the name Colchis and her face showed understanding of the word. She knew much of Colchis. And Athenia... even if she had been born in Taengea. She knew of them well enough and yet had not heard their names in some time. It was like the return of an old friend after many years of silence. Hannah was careful to bow her head in a sign of submission and inferiority; snapping to remember her place in the here and now.
"Hannah of Isaiah." She stated simply, feeling the burn in her throat as her husband's name left her lips. It had taken some time before she was truly able to introduce herself by her full name. For every mention of the man was a reminder of his absence, the reason for it and how long he had been away. The trauma and tragedy of that day could never bury itself in her memories where it could do her no harm when there was a constant repetition of such a reminiscence with every introduction.
"Thank you for your aid, Callidora of Colchis." She stated carefully, pronouncing the words accurately because her native tongue could work around them in a way that Hebrews could not. She felt able to repeat her thanks, now that she had a name to attach her gratitude to.
A low roar of the large cat, caught her attention again and she looked upon it padding back and forth with heavy steps.
"Do you think keeping such thing in a cage is akin to riding a mustang untamed yet to the hand of man?" She asked the woman, but belatedly realised that such eloquent Hebrew was beyond the comprehension of others. She wrinkled her nose as if trying to make a difficult decision and then, haltingly at first, she repeated her words in Greek. She continued on in the same tongue, feeling a desire to bond with the redhead, to communicate with someone in a means that did not boil down to solely 'yes master'. 'no master'. Even if she had to break into a language that she was no longer comfortable speaking in a Hebrew land. "I fear that someone will be regret the hubris of such a choice."
As if to prove her point, Hannah was shocked into a yelp when a bash against the iron bars of the cage shocked the crowd and the big, striped cat within roared before pounding its heavy paws against the bars once more...
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Managing to get back to her feet, Hannah left the box of goods sitting by her ankles and looked to the woman when she spoke of the power of nature. Despite her basic grasp of Hebrew - so familiar to the ears of one that had learnt the language gradually herself - Hannah could understand her well enough. Enough to know that the acceptance of explanation was mutual on both sides. This... Callidora, as she introduced herself, was able to converse more or less accurately. Even when her sentences were truncated and their meaning at their most truthful.
Hannah swallowed and smiled. She removed the mask of her mitzpahath in order to show such a sign of friendship to the woman and revealed features too pale to be truly Judean. Too rounded and soft, despite the cracks to her lips and the dry skin upon her cheekbones.
When Callidora introduced herself, Hannah was not the political or social expert, able to hide her reactions. She blinked over the name Colchis and her face showed understanding of the word. She knew much of Colchis. And Athenia... even if she had been born in Taengea. She knew of them well enough and yet had not heard their names in some time. It was like the return of an old friend after many years of silence. Hannah was careful to bow her head in a sign of submission and inferiority; snapping to remember her place in the here and now.
"Hannah of Isaiah." She stated simply, feeling the burn in her throat as her husband's name left her lips. It had taken some time before she was truly able to introduce herself by her full name. For every mention of the man was a reminder of his absence, the reason for it and how long he had been away. The trauma and tragedy of that day could never bury itself in her memories where it could do her no harm when there was a constant repetition of such a reminiscence with every introduction.
"Thank you for your aid, Callidora of Colchis." She stated carefully, pronouncing the words accurately because her native tongue could work around them in a way that Hebrews could not. She felt able to repeat her thanks, now that she had a name to attach her gratitude to.
A low roar of the large cat, caught her attention again and she looked upon it padding back and forth with heavy steps.
"Do you think keeping such thing in a cage is akin to riding a mustang untamed yet to the hand of man?" She asked the woman, but belatedly realised that such eloquent Hebrew was beyond the comprehension of others. She wrinkled her nose as if trying to make a difficult decision and then, haltingly at first, she repeated her words in Greek. She continued on in the same tongue, feeling a desire to bond with the redhead, to communicate with someone in a means that did not boil down to solely 'yes master'. 'no master'. Even if she had to break into a language that she was no longer comfortable speaking in a Hebrew land. "I fear that someone will be regret the hubris of such a choice."
As if to prove her point, Hannah was shocked into a yelp when a bash against the iron bars of the cage shocked the crowd and the big, striped cat within roared before pounding its heavy paws against the bars once more...
Managing to get back to her feet, Hannah left the box of goods sitting by her ankles and looked to the woman when she spoke of the power of nature. Despite her basic grasp of Hebrew - so familiar to the ears of one that had learnt the language gradually herself - Hannah could understand her well enough. Enough to know that the acceptance of explanation was mutual on both sides. This... Callidora, as she introduced herself, was able to converse more or less accurately. Even when her sentences were truncated and their meaning at their most truthful.
Hannah swallowed and smiled. She removed the mask of her mitzpahath in order to show such a sign of friendship to the woman and revealed features too pale to be truly Judean. Too rounded and soft, despite the cracks to her lips and the dry skin upon her cheekbones.
When Callidora introduced herself, Hannah was not the political or social expert, able to hide her reactions. She blinked over the name Colchis and her face showed understanding of the word. She knew much of Colchis. And Athenia... even if she had been born in Taengea. She knew of them well enough and yet had not heard their names in some time. It was like the return of an old friend after many years of silence. Hannah was careful to bow her head in a sign of submission and inferiority; snapping to remember her place in the here and now.
"Hannah of Isaiah." She stated simply, feeling the burn in her throat as her husband's name left her lips. It had taken some time before she was truly able to introduce herself by her full name. For every mention of the man was a reminder of his absence, the reason for it and how long he had been away. The trauma and tragedy of that day could never bury itself in her memories where it could do her no harm when there was a constant repetition of such a reminiscence with every introduction.
"Thank you for your aid, Callidora of Colchis." She stated carefully, pronouncing the words accurately because her native tongue could work around them in a way that Hebrews could not. She felt able to repeat her thanks, now that she had a name to attach her gratitude to.
A low roar of the large cat, caught her attention again and she looked upon it padding back and forth with heavy steps.
"Do you think keeping such thing in a cage is akin to riding a mustang untamed yet to the hand of man?" She asked the woman, but belatedly realised that such eloquent Hebrew was beyond the comprehension of others. She wrinkled her nose as if trying to make a difficult decision and then, haltingly at first, she repeated her words in Greek. She continued on in the same tongue, feeling a desire to bond with the redhead, to communicate with someone in a means that did not boil down to solely 'yes master'. 'no master'. Even if she had to break into a language that she was no longer comfortable speaking in a Hebrew land. "I fear that someone will be regret the hubris of such a choice."
As if to prove her point, Hannah was shocked into a yelp when a bash against the iron bars of the cage shocked the crowd and the big, striped cat within roared before pounding its heavy paws against the bars once more...
“Is very nice meet you, Hannah,” Dora responded with a smile. “No need thank. Would help again if I could.”
The next words Hannah spoke were lost on her, only picking up half the meaning of the sentence. When her lack of comprehension was clear, the woman spoke again in Greek, much to Callidora’s delight. However different their circumstances, like the slave girl, Dora was near desperate for connection, a bit of familiarity in such an unfamiliar land. Judea was a beautiful and unique place, but even to such an ardent traveler, being constantly surrounded by things so foreign could get lonely. Hearing her native tongue from lips other than her husband’s or her own did a bit to soothe that homesickness.
“I agree wholeheartedly,” the merchant’s wife replied with a nod. While she was a woman that was far more practical than philosophical, she could very well see the foolishness in trying to contain the power of such a large and mighty beast. There were hunting dogs in Greece that could rip a man’s face off if provoked; she couldn’t even imagine what such a massive and heavily muscled cat was capable of. “It’s a very interesting sight to behold, but the value of curiosity seems a strange thing to hold over the value of safety.”
Her cry joined Hannah’s when the animal threw itself against the bars of its prison again, the roar that followed shaking the ground. While she had strained to see the cat initially, she was now glad that they stood out of range of such heavy paws. She dreaded to think of what might come of them otherwise should the beast succeed in freeing itself. At least here they had a chance of getting away.
Demetrius, too, seemed wary of the feline, moving in closer to his wife with a cautious eye on the caged animal. Again and again, it strained against the bars that held it, and even its handlers were starting to look nervous. Slowly, the crowd began to back away as the cat roared again, the handler’s whip seeming to only agitate it further.
“Perhaps we ought to-” Callidora’s suggestion was interrupted by the deafening sound of cracking metal, emerald eyes widening in alarm. Another roar, another crash, and another metallic twang was all it took for Dora to grab both the hands of her husband and Hannah, tugging them in the opposite direction.
“We need to run!” she shouted over a crowd that seemed to have the same idea, the market square now filled with the sounds of screams and feet against stone. With two bars broken, it wouldn’t be long before the cat found its way out, and Dora had no wish to be anywhere nearby when that happened…
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“Is very nice meet you, Hannah,” Dora responded with a smile. “No need thank. Would help again if I could.”
The next words Hannah spoke were lost on her, only picking up half the meaning of the sentence. When her lack of comprehension was clear, the woman spoke again in Greek, much to Callidora’s delight. However different their circumstances, like the slave girl, Dora was near desperate for connection, a bit of familiarity in such an unfamiliar land. Judea was a beautiful and unique place, but even to such an ardent traveler, being constantly surrounded by things so foreign could get lonely. Hearing her native tongue from lips other than her husband’s or her own did a bit to soothe that homesickness.
“I agree wholeheartedly,” the merchant’s wife replied with a nod. While she was a woman that was far more practical than philosophical, she could very well see the foolishness in trying to contain the power of such a large and mighty beast. There were hunting dogs in Greece that could rip a man’s face off if provoked; she couldn’t even imagine what such a massive and heavily muscled cat was capable of. “It’s a very interesting sight to behold, but the value of curiosity seems a strange thing to hold over the value of safety.”
Her cry joined Hannah’s when the animal threw itself against the bars of its prison again, the roar that followed shaking the ground. While she had strained to see the cat initially, she was now glad that they stood out of range of such heavy paws. She dreaded to think of what might come of them otherwise should the beast succeed in freeing itself. At least here they had a chance of getting away.
Demetrius, too, seemed wary of the feline, moving in closer to his wife with a cautious eye on the caged animal. Again and again, it strained against the bars that held it, and even its handlers were starting to look nervous. Slowly, the crowd began to back away as the cat roared again, the handler’s whip seeming to only agitate it further.
“Perhaps we ought to-” Callidora’s suggestion was interrupted by the deafening sound of cracking metal, emerald eyes widening in alarm. Another roar, another crash, and another metallic twang was all it took for Dora to grab both the hands of her husband and Hannah, tugging them in the opposite direction.
“We need to run!” she shouted over a crowd that seemed to have the same idea, the market square now filled with the sounds of screams and feet against stone. With two bars broken, it wouldn’t be long before the cat found its way out, and Dora had no wish to be anywhere nearby when that happened…
“Is very nice meet you, Hannah,” Dora responded with a smile. “No need thank. Would help again if I could.”
The next words Hannah spoke were lost on her, only picking up half the meaning of the sentence. When her lack of comprehension was clear, the woman spoke again in Greek, much to Callidora’s delight. However different their circumstances, like the slave girl, Dora was near desperate for connection, a bit of familiarity in such an unfamiliar land. Judea was a beautiful and unique place, but even to such an ardent traveler, being constantly surrounded by things so foreign could get lonely. Hearing her native tongue from lips other than her husband’s or her own did a bit to soothe that homesickness.
“I agree wholeheartedly,” the merchant’s wife replied with a nod. While she was a woman that was far more practical than philosophical, she could very well see the foolishness in trying to contain the power of such a large and mighty beast. There were hunting dogs in Greece that could rip a man’s face off if provoked; she couldn’t even imagine what such a massive and heavily muscled cat was capable of. “It’s a very interesting sight to behold, but the value of curiosity seems a strange thing to hold over the value of safety.”
Her cry joined Hannah’s when the animal threw itself against the bars of its prison again, the roar that followed shaking the ground. While she had strained to see the cat initially, she was now glad that they stood out of range of such heavy paws. She dreaded to think of what might come of them otherwise should the beast succeed in freeing itself. At least here they had a chance of getting away.
Demetrius, too, seemed wary of the feline, moving in closer to his wife with a cautious eye on the caged animal. Again and again, it strained against the bars that held it, and even its handlers were starting to look nervous. Slowly, the crowd began to back away as the cat roared again, the handler’s whip seeming to only agitate it further.
“Perhaps we ought to-” Callidora’s suggestion was interrupted by the deafening sound of cracking metal, emerald eyes widening in alarm. Another roar, another crash, and another metallic twang was all it took for Dora to grab both the hands of her husband and Hannah, tugging them in the opposite direction.
“We need to run!” she shouted over a crowd that seemed to have the same idea, the market square now filled with the sounds of screams and feet against stone. With two bars broken, it wouldn’t be long before the cat found its way out, and Dora had no wish to be anywhere nearby when that happened…
The more time that distanced the Tempest of Set from the bloated and fruitless rule of Somgi of Cairo, the more it seemed to flourish. Content in his livelihood, the hunger for more was simply non-existent. Complacent with his whores and the gold that trickled in, he looked not for new performers and new exhibits and it was irksome. The fact that the performers were getting older, injured, or were otherwise less invested in the life that was offered seemed utterly inconsequential to the man, and so, when Amenemhat took control, he made his changes.
Nem loved his circus. With everything that he was, he treasured its existence and cultivated its strengths. He sought to fiercely defend it from harm, from inside or out, and bring it to the strength it once had under the leadership of its founder, Amenhatep. Nearly four years after he'd taken his mantle, he could tell the difference. The fabrics he wore were finer and newer. He decided to fit himself into the relative custom of Judea, far more covered than he might've been anywhere else. The long tunic wrapped about his broad shoulders and hugged the length of his body down to his knees and secured to his waist with a leather belt. His skin seemed to protest at the lacking ability to breathe, and he wore neither headdress nor additional adornments this day.
Jewelry, after all, was kept to those that would pay to appreciate it.
The Grand Shuk of Ammun wasn't such a place. No, the circus' particular allure wouldn't be as appreciated here. But, nevertheless, there was reason to come. Judea was a place of craftsmanship, of fine artisans whose renown spread throughout the continent of Africa. Today, Amenemhat intended to buy, and brought his fortune teller, Miri, as an interpreter. With him was his sister, Kesi, who he'd encouraged along. There was perhaps some money to be made, provided that her snakes' venom and antivenin was appealing in any way. As the trio passed through the Grand Shuk, the circus ringmaster led the way, though he slowed his pace so that either woman would be on one side of him.
"Have you been here before, Miri?" he asked the girl, curious if she'd know better than he the world around. But, he didn't linger long on the subject. There was a beast on display, proudly standing out amongst the rest. His head tilted with interest, a sort of reverie that clung to the mind. It went without question that Hamidi would enjoy the challenge of breaking yet another cat for the circus. But, more importantly, having additional beasts would make for an even greater spectacle. Already, the thought had whirling thoughts of performance, and the sounds of the Grand Shuk's business dealings muted as he watched the events unfold.
"These fools," he said, just loud enough for his company to hear.
"They're not silencing the beast. Hamidi would laugh at their incompetence. Surely, it'll--"
And before he even finished his sentence, his prediction came true. The cat tore two bars off from its cage, and the young ringmaster did everything he could to stifle the laughter. Foolish people attempting to contain power that they couldn't stop. The beast continued to lash out, to swipe at the remaining bars and though Nem couldn't hear the creaking from so far out, he drew closer rather than retreating. This sort of strife, the sounds of shouts and yells in the distance... it was glorious chaos beginning its bloom.
"Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi? It'd be quite lucrative to have people indebted to us."
Nem turned to his fortune teller, a smile cast upon his lips as he said, "Stay close to me."
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The more time that distanced the Tempest of Set from the bloated and fruitless rule of Somgi of Cairo, the more it seemed to flourish. Content in his livelihood, the hunger for more was simply non-existent. Complacent with his whores and the gold that trickled in, he looked not for new performers and new exhibits and it was irksome. The fact that the performers were getting older, injured, or were otherwise less invested in the life that was offered seemed utterly inconsequential to the man, and so, when Amenemhat took control, he made his changes.
Nem loved his circus. With everything that he was, he treasured its existence and cultivated its strengths. He sought to fiercely defend it from harm, from inside or out, and bring it to the strength it once had under the leadership of its founder, Amenhatep. Nearly four years after he'd taken his mantle, he could tell the difference. The fabrics he wore were finer and newer. He decided to fit himself into the relative custom of Judea, far more covered than he might've been anywhere else. The long tunic wrapped about his broad shoulders and hugged the length of his body down to his knees and secured to his waist with a leather belt. His skin seemed to protest at the lacking ability to breathe, and he wore neither headdress nor additional adornments this day.
Jewelry, after all, was kept to those that would pay to appreciate it.
The Grand Shuk of Ammun wasn't such a place. No, the circus' particular allure wouldn't be as appreciated here. But, nevertheless, there was reason to come. Judea was a place of craftsmanship, of fine artisans whose renown spread throughout the continent of Africa. Today, Amenemhat intended to buy, and brought his fortune teller, Miri, as an interpreter. With him was his sister, Kesi, who he'd encouraged along. There was perhaps some money to be made, provided that her snakes' venom and antivenin was appealing in any way. As the trio passed through the Grand Shuk, the circus ringmaster led the way, though he slowed his pace so that either woman would be on one side of him.
"Have you been here before, Miri?" he asked the girl, curious if she'd know better than he the world around. But, he didn't linger long on the subject. There was a beast on display, proudly standing out amongst the rest. His head tilted with interest, a sort of reverie that clung to the mind. It went without question that Hamidi would enjoy the challenge of breaking yet another cat for the circus. But, more importantly, having additional beasts would make for an even greater spectacle. Already, the thought had whirling thoughts of performance, and the sounds of the Grand Shuk's business dealings muted as he watched the events unfold.
"These fools," he said, just loud enough for his company to hear.
"They're not silencing the beast. Hamidi would laugh at their incompetence. Surely, it'll--"
And before he even finished his sentence, his prediction came true. The cat tore two bars off from its cage, and the young ringmaster did everything he could to stifle the laughter. Foolish people attempting to contain power that they couldn't stop. The beast continued to lash out, to swipe at the remaining bars and though Nem couldn't hear the creaking from so far out, he drew closer rather than retreating. This sort of strife, the sounds of shouts and yells in the distance... it was glorious chaos beginning its bloom.
"Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi? It'd be quite lucrative to have people indebted to us."
Nem turned to his fortune teller, a smile cast upon his lips as he said, "Stay close to me."
The more time that distanced the Tempest of Set from the bloated and fruitless rule of Somgi of Cairo, the more it seemed to flourish. Content in his livelihood, the hunger for more was simply non-existent. Complacent with his whores and the gold that trickled in, he looked not for new performers and new exhibits and it was irksome. The fact that the performers were getting older, injured, or were otherwise less invested in the life that was offered seemed utterly inconsequential to the man, and so, when Amenemhat took control, he made his changes.
Nem loved his circus. With everything that he was, he treasured its existence and cultivated its strengths. He sought to fiercely defend it from harm, from inside or out, and bring it to the strength it once had under the leadership of its founder, Amenhatep. Nearly four years after he'd taken his mantle, he could tell the difference. The fabrics he wore were finer and newer. He decided to fit himself into the relative custom of Judea, far more covered than he might've been anywhere else. The long tunic wrapped about his broad shoulders and hugged the length of his body down to his knees and secured to his waist with a leather belt. His skin seemed to protest at the lacking ability to breathe, and he wore neither headdress nor additional adornments this day.
Jewelry, after all, was kept to those that would pay to appreciate it.
The Grand Shuk of Ammun wasn't such a place. No, the circus' particular allure wouldn't be as appreciated here. But, nevertheless, there was reason to come. Judea was a place of craftsmanship, of fine artisans whose renown spread throughout the continent of Africa. Today, Amenemhat intended to buy, and brought his fortune teller, Miri, as an interpreter. With him was his sister, Kesi, who he'd encouraged along. There was perhaps some money to be made, provided that her snakes' venom and antivenin was appealing in any way. As the trio passed through the Grand Shuk, the circus ringmaster led the way, though he slowed his pace so that either woman would be on one side of him.
"Have you been here before, Miri?" he asked the girl, curious if she'd know better than he the world around. But, he didn't linger long on the subject. There was a beast on display, proudly standing out amongst the rest. His head tilted with interest, a sort of reverie that clung to the mind. It went without question that Hamidi would enjoy the challenge of breaking yet another cat for the circus. But, more importantly, having additional beasts would make for an even greater spectacle. Already, the thought had whirling thoughts of performance, and the sounds of the Grand Shuk's business dealings muted as he watched the events unfold.
"These fools," he said, just loud enough for his company to hear.
"They're not silencing the beast. Hamidi would laugh at their incompetence. Surely, it'll--"
And before he even finished his sentence, his prediction came true. The cat tore two bars off from its cage, and the young ringmaster did everything he could to stifle the laughter. Foolish people attempting to contain power that they couldn't stop. The beast continued to lash out, to swipe at the remaining bars and though Nem couldn't hear the creaking from so far out, he drew closer rather than retreating. This sort of strife, the sounds of shouts and yells in the distance... it was glorious chaos beginning its bloom.
"Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi? It'd be quite lucrative to have people indebted to us."
Nem turned to his fortune teller, a smile cast upon his lips as he said, "Stay close to me."
It was strange, hearing her mother tongue from every direction, echoing off the walls and street. Becoming comfortable speaking Egyptian had been difficult, even with the head start during her childhood. Only recently had Miri become fully fluent, and now she was back in Judea, hearing Hebrew leaping from the lips of dozens of colorful strangers. She felt out of place in her Egyptian garb (though it was loose and modest, as always). Even stranger was to be accompanied by Amenemhat and Kesi, two foreigners, though they were her family and she was grateful for their presence. Her head, too, felt tense, bombarded by the Egyptian voices of the gods from the inside and the Hebrew of mortals from the outside. Reaching up out of habit to lightly massage her pressure points, the sixteen-year-old tried to quiet the noise. Amenemhat’s voice, deep and silky and definitively Egyptian, helped her lock back into the real world.
Miri glanced up at the ringmaster, voice quiet but even, “Ammun? No, never. This is much further east than I’ve ever ventured.” The culture, however, was familiar. Like her merchant hometown, Ammun was a place of boisterous trade, evidenced by the luxurious marketplace they found themselves in. Hazel eyes gazed around, taking everything in. There was gold everywhere, shimmering in the spring sun. Honey, too, just as radiant, wafting towards her on the breeze. This was not her home, but the gods had deigned that she be here to assist Amenemhat, and here she was.
The man next to her, however, was not looking at the magnificent craftsmanship around them. Just ahead, there was a huge beast in a flimsy looking cage, proud and impatient. She had heard the roars from further away as they approached, and now, with a clear view, Miri felt something akin to pity for the animal. Hamidi would be able to tame it in an instant, as Amenemhat implied, but now? The fiery feline looked angry and wild, trapped as he was.
And then, with the gods whispering louder and louder in her head, warning her even as Amenemhat made the prediction, too, the beast broke free. The sound of bars twisting and breaking sent a tingle up her spine, though she did not gasp or scream or react in any tangible way. Her companions, by contrast, seemed positively delighted. Rightfully so, Miri supposed, eyes flickering around at the ensuing chaos. Though they were far from wild beast tamers, and Hamidi had been left behind at their encampment, Amenemhat and Kesi were surely capable of handling a single tiger. They were two of the most powerful mortals she knew, after all, though Kesi’s instability was sometimes cause for wariness.
With Amenemhat beckoning and the gods murmuring their permission, Miri felt no fear as she followed after the man, wide eyes never wavering from the thrashing creature and its tattered cage. There was no use in talking, so she remained silent, hovering just behind Amenemhat’s broad shoulders instead. He was family. He would protect her if things went wrong, which the gods assured her they wouldn’t. The situation was fully under control, they insisted, laughing along at the chaos. Miri was here to translate, and, though she could not speak to tigers, it was her calling to follow Nem’s commands and be as useful to him as possible. He was not afraid, and neither was she.
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It was strange, hearing her mother tongue from every direction, echoing off the walls and street. Becoming comfortable speaking Egyptian had been difficult, even with the head start during her childhood. Only recently had Miri become fully fluent, and now she was back in Judea, hearing Hebrew leaping from the lips of dozens of colorful strangers. She felt out of place in her Egyptian garb (though it was loose and modest, as always). Even stranger was to be accompanied by Amenemhat and Kesi, two foreigners, though they were her family and she was grateful for their presence. Her head, too, felt tense, bombarded by the Egyptian voices of the gods from the inside and the Hebrew of mortals from the outside. Reaching up out of habit to lightly massage her pressure points, the sixteen-year-old tried to quiet the noise. Amenemhat’s voice, deep and silky and definitively Egyptian, helped her lock back into the real world.
Miri glanced up at the ringmaster, voice quiet but even, “Ammun? No, never. This is much further east than I’ve ever ventured.” The culture, however, was familiar. Like her merchant hometown, Ammun was a place of boisterous trade, evidenced by the luxurious marketplace they found themselves in. Hazel eyes gazed around, taking everything in. There was gold everywhere, shimmering in the spring sun. Honey, too, just as radiant, wafting towards her on the breeze. This was not her home, but the gods had deigned that she be here to assist Amenemhat, and here she was.
The man next to her, however, was not looking at the magnificent craftsmanship around them. Just ahead, there was a huge beast in a flimsy looking cage, proud and impatient. She had heard the roars from further away as they approached, and now, with a clear view, Miri felt something akin to pity for the animal. Hamidi would be able to tame it in an instant, as Amenemhat implied, but now? The fiery feline looked angry and wild, trapped as he was.
And then, with the gods whispering louder and louder in her head, warning her even as Amenemhat made the prediction, too, the beast broke free. The sound of bars twisting and breaking sent a tingle up her spine, though she did not gasp or scream or react in any tangible way. Her companions, by contrast, seemed positively delighted. Rightfully so, Miri supposed, eyes flickering around at the ensuing chaos. Though they were far from wild beast tamers, and Hamidi had been left behind at their encampment, Amenemhat and Kesi were surely capable of handling a single tiger. They were two of the most powerful mortals she knew, after all, though Kesi’s instability was sometimes cause for wariness.
With Amenemhat beckoning and the gods murmuring their permission, Miri felt no fear as she followed after the man, wide eyes never wavering from the thrashing creature and its tattered cage. There was no use in talking, so she remained silent, hovering just behind Amenemhat’s broad shoulders instead. He was family. He would protect her if things went wrong, which the gods assured her they wouldn’t. The situation was fully under control, they insisted, laughing along at the chaos. Miri was here to translate, and, though she could not speak to tigers, it was her calling to follow Nem’s commands and be as useful to him as possible. He was not afraid, and neither was she.
It was strange, hearing her mother tongue from every direction, echoing off the walls and street. Becoming comfortable speaking Egyptian had been difficult, even with the head start during her childhood. Only recently had Miri become fully fluent, and now she was back in Judea, hearing Hebrew leaping from the lips of dozens of colorful strangers. She felt out of place in her Egyptian garb (though it was loose and modest, as always). Even stranger was to be accompanied by Amenemhat and Kesi, two foreigners, though they were her family and she was grateful for their presence. Her head, too, felt tense, bombarded by the Egyptian voices of the gods from the inside and the Hebrew of mortals from the outside. Reaching up out of habit to lightly massage her pressure points, the sixteen-year-old tried to quiet the noise. Amenemhat’s voice, deep and silky and definitively Egyptian, helped her lock back into the real world.
Miri glanced up at the ringmaster, voice quiet but even, “Ammun? No, never. This is much further east than I’ve ever ventured.” The culture, however, was familiar. Like her merchant hometown, Ammun was a place of boisterous trade, evidenced by the luxurious marketplace they found themselves in. Hazel eyes gazed around, taking everything in. There was gold everywhere, shimmering in the spring sun. Honey, too, just as radiant, wafting towards her on the breeze. This was not her home, but the gods had deigned that she be here to assist Amenemhat, and here she was.
The man next to her, however, was not looking at the magnificent craftsmanship around them. Just ahead, there was a huge beast in a flimsy looking cage, proud and impatient. She had heard the roars from further away as they approached, and now, with a clear view, Miri felt something akin to pity for the animal. Hamidi would be able to tame it in an instant, as Amenemhat implied, but now? The fiery feline looked angry and wild, trapped as he was.
And then, with the gods whispering louder and louder in her head, warning her even as Amenemhat made the prediction, too, the beast broke free. The sound of bars twisting and breaking sent a tingle up her spine, though she did not gasp or scream or react in any tangible way. Her companions, by contrast, seemed positively delighted. Rightfully so, Miri supposed, eyes flickering around at the ensuing chaos. Though they were far from wild beast tamers, and Hamidi had been left behind at their encampment, Amenemhat and Kesi were surely capable of handling a single tiger. They were two of the most powerful mortals she knew, after all, though Kesi’s instability was sometimes cause for wariness.
With Amenemhat beckoning and the gods murmuring their permission, Miri felt no fear as she followed after the man, wide eyes never wavering from the thrashing creature and its tattered cage. There was no use in talking, so she remained silent, hovering just behind Amenemhat’s broad shoulders instead. He was family. He would protect her if things went wrong, which the gods assured her they wouldn’t. The situation was fully under control, they insisted, laughing along at the chaos. Miri was here to translate, and, though she could not speak to tigers, it was her calling to follow Nem’s commands and be as useful to him as possible. He was not afraid, and neither was she.
Kesi hated Judea. It was so very boring. And the clothing that was worn was certainly not what she enjoyed. Kesi hated the shawl that was on her head and the na’alayim at her feet. She understood the need to be culturally respectful, especially when outside of Egypt, but she did not have to enjoy it. It was as unnatural as the god they worshiped. A single god. Even the Greeks with their false pantheon still didn’t believe in such nonsense that one god controlled all. Judea was absolutely and utterly ridiculous.
Kesi would have much preferred to stay with the circus. While she typically desired to be by her brother’s side, in Judea the opposite was true. She did not care to walk with him, where she would have to hide away like she was something shameful, clothing herself to be ‘modest.’ She knew Hebrew enough to get by conversationally, but it was not near as good as her Greek.
Yet despite her vehement distaste to Judean life and culture, Kesi did not complain when she left with Nem and Miri. For while she had zero desire to roam, she did have a desire to see what herbs, flowers, and toxins that may be for sale. She suspected Rekhmire would be wanting just the same, and while Kesi loathed him as well, she would make note of what he may need and purchase extra. It was, after all, for the circus.
Kesi was honestly not paying much attention to Miri and her brother. She did not care much to make small talk, nor Miri’s experience in Judea. She was instead concerned with her various venoms and mixtures. They should sell well, not all were poisons meant to kill. But Kesi cared less about direct money that could be made and more about what she could trade with them. Whatever Nem and Miri were talking about was mere buzzing in her ear as her eye bounced around.
These fools.
Kesi’s eyes snapped to attention. There she saw the source of her brother’s words. A tiger swiped at his bars, knocking two of them free. Now Kesi was excited. The thought of the beast tearing through the Grand Shuk, ripping someone’s limbs clear off, blood everywhere, and a symphony of screams filling the air… oh, it brought shivers down her spine.
Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi?
How disappointing. She didn’t want to help the boring Judeans. She wanted to watch the carnage and the chaos. This is what she lived for. But her brother was right as he always was. To have the Judean people in their debt would benefit the circus greatly.
If only Hamidi were here. Had the man not have been tasked with something else today, he likely would have been. Hamidi would be on full alert, both to protect Nem and with a hungry desire to tame the beast. Instead, this was now Kesi’s job.
She looked at her wares. “Breadseed poppy juice and lettuce latex.” She murmured shifting her wares around. She had one of Rekhmire’s needles which would work. But she couldn’t just walk up to a tiger and stick it in him.
Why didn’t I bring my blow dart? She thought to herself, scanning the Grand Shuk for what she could use. To be fair, it’s not like Kesi expected to have to need it today. If she was going to kill someone, she had a dagger for that. And she had subtler ways to poison.
Anyway, that didn’t matter. With people running away it was fairly easy for Kesi to just lift a pole off of one stand and a rope from another. Even with the crowds of strangers sprinting in the opposite direction Kesi was able to dance around them, light on her feet just as she always was. She needed to get close enough just… not too close.
“‘Scuse me, pardon me, watch it,” Kesi said to the retreating people. Finally, she was close enough, with barely any bars holding the tiger back she quickly dipped the needle.
Shoulder or hip… shoulder or hip… This was not Kesi’s area of expertise. She only studied with the cat tamers when she was a child before she fell in with her snakes. She balanced the pole the best she could and sunk the needle into the cat’s shoulder. She quickly withdrew it, blood now dripping and the tiger becoming furious . One more for safety. She did it again, the needle going into the hip before she stepped back.
Well, no she didn’t step back. Kesi ran full force as fast as she could away from the tiger. The components should work, and the tiger should fall. But Kesi had learned from watching Hamidi do this time and time again… they don’t simply just go to sleep. They get angry and with that anger, an even worse danger was presented.
As if on queue the last of the bars toppled and the tiger was set free. Kesi sprinted as fast as she could, trying to put more distance between her and the creature who was several times faster than her. She tried not to stumble, though her feet were far heavier than she was used to with these dumb na’alayim. Kesi looked behind her as the teetering tiger lept into the air. She ducked, and its claws landed on some other poor, unfortunate soul.
Maybe if you didn’t believe in a false god, Kesi thought to herself as she continued to sprint, away from the cat, knocking people out of her way uncaring if they fall, or stumble, or slow. This event made her trip to Judea worth it. If she died, she died to chaos, and she died doing the very thing she always strove to do: Pleasing Amenemhat.
What I wouldn’t do for my brother.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Kesi hated Judea. It was so very boring. And the clothing that was worn was certainly not what she enjoyed. Kesi hated the shawl that was on her head and the na’alayim at her feet. She understood the need to be culturally respectful, especially when outside of Egypt, but she did not have to enjoy it. It was as unnatural as the god they worshiped. A single god. Even the Greeks with their false pantheon still didn’t believe in such nonsense that one god controlled all. Judea was absolutely and utterly ridiculous.
Kesi would have much preferred to stay with the circus. While she typically desired to be by her brother’s side, in Judea the opposite was true. She did not care to walk with him, where she would have to hide away like she was something shameful, clothing herself to be ‘modest.’ She knew Hebrew enough to get by conversationally, but it was not near as good as her Greek.
Yet despite her vehement distaste to Judean life and culture, Kesi did not complain when she left with Nem and Miri. For while she had zero desire to roam, she did have a desire to see what herbs, flowers, and toxins that may be for sale. She suspected Rekhmire would be wanting just the same, and while Kesi loathed him as well, she would make note of what he may need and purchase extra. It was, after all, for the circus.
Kesi was honestly not paying much attention to Miri and her brother. She did not care much to make small talk, nor Miri’s experience in Judea. She was instead concerned with her various venoms and mixtures. They should sell well, not all were poisons meant to kill. But Kesi cared less about direct money that could be made and more about what she could trade with them. Whatever Nem and Miri were talking about was mere buzzing in her ear as her eye bounced around.
These fools.
Kesi’s eyes snapped to attention. There she saw the source of her brother’s words. A tiger swiped at his bars, knocking two of them free. Now Kesi was excited. The thought of the beast tearing through the Grand Shuk, ripping someone’s limbs clear off, blood everywhere, and a symphony of screams filling the air… oh, it brought shivers down her spine.
Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi?
How disappointing. She didn’t want to help the boring Judeans. She wanted to watch the carnage and the chaos. This is what she lived for. But her brother was right as he always was. To have the Judean people in their debt would benefit the circus greatly.
If only Hamidi were here. Had the man not have been tasked with something else today, he likely would have been. Hamidi would be on full alert, both to protect Nem and with a hungry desire to tame the beast. Instead, this was now Kesi’s job.
She looked at her wares. “Breadseed poppy juice and lettuce latex.” She murmured shifting her wares around. She had one of Rekhmire’s needles which would work. But she couldn’t just walk up to a tiger and stick it in him.
Why didn’t I bring my blow dart? She thought to herself, scanning the Grand Shuk for what she could use. To be fair, it’s not like Kesi expected to have to need it today. If she was going to kill someone, she had a dagger for that. And she had subtler ways to poison.
Anyway, that didn’t matter. With people running away it was fairly easy for Kesi to just lift a pole off of one stand and a rope from another. Even with the crowds of strangers sprinting in the opposite direction Kesi was able to dance around them, light on her feet just as she always was. She needed to get close enough just… not too close.
“‘Scuse me, pardon me, watch it,” Kesi said to the retreating people. Finally, she was close enough, with barely any bars holding the tiger back she quickly dipped the needle.
Shoulder or hip… shoulder or hip… This was not Kesi’s area of expertise. She only studied with the cat tamers when she was a child before she fell in with her snakes. She balanced the pole the best she could and sunk the needle into the cat’s shoulder. She quickly withdrew it, blood now dripping and the tiger becoming furious . One more for safety. She did it again, the needle going into the hip before she stepped back.
Well, no she didn’t step back. Kesi ran full force as fast as she could away from the tiger. The components should work, and the tiger should fall. But Kesi had learned from watching Hamidi do this time and time again… they don’t simply just go to sleep. They get angry and with that anger, an even worse danger was presented.
As if on queue the last of the bars toppled and the tiger was set free. Kesi sprinted as fast as she could, trying to put more distance between her and the creature who was several times faster than her. She tried not to stumble, though her feet were far heavier than she was used to with these dumb na’alayim. Kesi looked behind her as the teetering tiger lept into the air. She ducked, and its claws landed on some other poor, unfortunate soul.
Maybe if you didn’t believe in a false god, Kesi thought to herself as she continued to sprint, away from the cat, knocking people out of her way uncaring if they fall, or stumble, or slow. This event made her trip to Judea worth it. If she died, she died to chaos, and she died doing the very thing she always strove to do: Pleasing Amenemhat.
What I wouldn’t do for my brother.
Kesi hated Judea. It was so very boring. And the clothing that was worn was certainly not what she enjoyed. Kesi hated the shawl that was on her head and the na’alayim at her feet. She understood the need to be culturally respectful, especially when outside of Egypt, but she did not have to enjoy it. It was as unnatural as the god they worshiped. A single god. Even the Greeks with their false pantheon still didn’t believe in such nonsense that one god controlled all. Judea was absolutely and utterly ridiculous.
Kesi would have much preferred to stay with the circus. While she typically desired to be by her brother’s side, in Judea the opposite was true. She did not care to walk with him, where she would have to hide away like she was something shameful, clothing herself to be ‘modest.’ She knew Hebrew enough to get by conversationally, but it was not near as good as her Greek.
Yet despite her vehement distaste to Judean life and culture, Kesi did not complain when she left with Nem and Miri. For while she had zero desire to roam, she did have a desire to see what herbs, flowers, and toxins that may be for sale. She suspected Rekhmire would be wanting just the same, and while Kesi loathed him as well, she would make note of what he may need and purchase extra. It was, after all, for the circus.
Kesi was honestly not paying much attention to Miri and her brother. She did not care much to make small talk, nor Miri’s experience in Judea. She was instead concerned with her various venoms and mixtures. They should sell well, not all were poisons meant to kill. But Kesi cared less about direct money that could be made and more about what she could trade with them. Whatever Nem and Miri were talking about was mere buzzing in her ear as her eye bounced around.
These fools.
Kesi’s eyes snapped to attention. There she saw the source of her brother’s words. A tiger swiped at his bars, knocking two of them free. Now Kesi was excited. The thought of the beast tearing through the Grand Shuk, ripping someone’s limbs clear off, blood everywhere, and a symphony of screams filling the air… oh, it brought shivers down her spine.
Do you have anything we can use to help, Kesi?
How disappointing. She didn’t want to help the boring Judeans. She wanted to watch the carnage and the chaos. This is what she lived for. But her brother was right as he always was. To have the Judean people in their debt would benefit the circus greatly.
If only Hamidi were here. Had the man not have been tasked with something else today, he likely would have been. Hamidi would be on full alert, both to protect Nem and with a hungry desire to tame the beast. Instead, this was now Kesi’s job.
She looked at her wares. “Breadseed poppy juice and lettuce latex.” She murmured shifting her wares around. She had one of Rekhmire’s needles which would work. But she couldn’t just walk up to a tiger and stick it in him.
Why didn’t I bring my blow dart? She thought to herself, scanning the Grand Shuk for what she could use. To be fair, it’s not like Kesi expected to have to need it today. If she was going to kill someone, she had a dagger for that. And she had subtler ways to poison.
Anyway, that didn’t matter. With people running away it was fairly easy for Kesi to just lift a pole off of one stand and a rope from another. Even with the crowds of strangers sprinting in the opposite direction Kesi was able to dance around them, light on her feet just as she always was. She needed to get close enough just… not too close.
“‘Scuse me, pardon me, watch it,” Kesi said to the retreating people. Finally, she was close enough, with barely any bars holding the tiger back she quickly dipped the needle.
Shoulder or hip… shoulder or hip… This was not Kesi’s area of expertise. She only studied with the cat tamers when she was a child before she fell in with her snakes. She balanced the pole the best she could and sunk the needle into the cat’s shoulder. She quickly withdrew it, blood now dripping and the tiger becoming furious . One more for safety. She did it again, the needle going into the hip before she stepped back.
Well, no she didn’t step back. Kesi ran full force as fast as she could away from the tiger. The components should work, and the tiger should fall. But Kesi had learned from watching Hamidi do this time and time again… they don’t simply just go to sleep. They get angry and with that anger, an even worse danger was presented.
As if on queue the last of the bars toppled and the tiger was set free. Kesi sprinted as fast as she could, trying to put more distance between her and the creature who was several times faster than her. She tried not to stumble, though her feet were far heavier than she was used to with these dumb na’alayim. Kesi looked behind her as the teetering tiger lept into the air. She ducked, and its claws landed on some other poor, unfortunate soul.
Maybe if you didn’t believe in a false god, Kesi thought to herself as she continued to sprint, away from the cat, knocking people out of her way uncaring if they fall, or stumble, or slow. This event made her trip to Judea worth it. If she died, she died to chaos, and she died doing the very thing she always strove to do: Pleasing Amenemhat.
What I wouldn’t do for my brother.
Hannah was not a woman of great arrogance or ego. She felt little desire to be the best in things and none at all to be proven right. She had the flourish of excitement and self-satisfaction if something she had foretold or placed effort in came to fruition; for she was only human. But she did not base her status of life, her feeling of authority and value upon the needs to be correct. Nor did she seek the vindication and recognition in others of that fact. She spoke what she thought and what the world decided to become around her, she was content to accept.
So, whilst there were some beings in the world who, despite their immediate cause for concern, would be prideful in their accurate predictions of the large cat's behaviour, Hannah was not one of them. In fact, as the creature continued to bash against the bars and the handlers of the living attraction began to look to one another for signs of comfort and security, Hannah would have very much wished to have been wrong. For any inaccuracies or embarrassments would have been better than the fear that fired through her heart and chest when that first bar gave way.
When the second followed suit, it was Callidora that had the sense of mind and the calm resolve to know what to do. She reached out and wrapped fingers around Hannah's wrist. She pulled the little group of three together and away from the cage, the crate of Hannah's master's goods remaining on the floor lost and forgotten. Hannah tripped over her own feet, her terror of the animal far greater than any a scolding or lash could conjure within her. She spun, turned and ran with her new Grecian ally as they pushed and shifted through the crowd. Some of the first to notice that they needed to escape, they started moving against the current of people, passing through open gaps that widened and shrank as spectators moved closer to the powerful animal. Then, when the realisation of danger came to others, they were caught with the wind behind them, their sails of momentum suddenly full and their speed too much for their feet.
Nearly falling, at one point, Hannah looked back over her shoulder to spy a woman of dark hair and red lips hurry towards the cage - one of the few figures that still moved against the current. She had an expression devoid of fear and sported only confidence in every line of body. Hannah's eyes widened in fear for the lady and her lips let out a cry; one of no words and only the emotion of shock, as she witnessed the woman reach between the bars.
Whatever she had done, it appeared to only make the situation worse. Hannah kept glancing back, trying to run through a crowd that had now slowed to a crawl with the number of bodies pushing and struggling around them. And in her peripheral, her fleeting glances and her sheer terror-drenched stares beyond her shoulder, she witnessed the striped cat grow more wrathful, soak up the strength that came with avid ire, and break straight through the bars to land with a heavy thump upon the paving stones of the shuk's main square...
"God, be with us." She murmured under her breath.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hannah was not a woman of great arrogance or ego. She felt little desire to be the best in things and none at all to be proven right. She had the flourish of excitement and self-satisfaction if something she had foretold or placed effort in came to fruition; for she was only human. But she did not base her status of life, her feeling of authority and value upon the needs to be correct. Nor did she seek the vindication and recognition in others of that fact. She spoke what she thought and what the world decided to become around her, she was content to accept.
So, whilst there were some beings in the world who, despite their immediate cause for concern, would be prideful in their accurate predictions of the large cat's behaviour, Hannah was not one of them. In fact, as the creature continued to bash against the bars and the handlers of the living attraction began to look to one another for signs of comfort and security, Hannah would have very much wished to have been wrong. For any inaccuracies or embarrassments would have been better than the fear that fired through her heart and chest when that first bar gave way.
When the second followed suit, it was Callidora that had the sense of mind and the calm resolve to know what to do. She reached out and wrapped fingers around Hannah's wrist. She pulled the little group of three together and away from the cage, the crate of Hannah's master's goods remaining on the floor lost and forgotten. Hannah tripped over her own feet, her terror of the animal far greater than any a scolding or lash could conjure within her. She spun, turned and ran with her new Grecian ally as they pushed and shifted through the crowd. Some of the first to notice that they needed to escape, they started moving against the current of people, passing through open gaps that widened and shrank as spectators moved closer to the powerful animal. Then, when the realisation of danger came to others, they were caught with the wind behind them, their sails of momentum suddenly full and their speed too much for their feet.
Nearly falling, at one point, Hannah looked back over her shoulder to spy a woman of dark hair and red lips hurry towards the cage - one of the few figures that still moved against the current. She had an expression devoid of fear and sported only confidence in every line of body. Hannah's eyes widened in fear for the lady and her lips let out a cry; one of no words and only the emotion of shock, as she witnessed the woman reach between the bars.
Whatever she had done, it appeared to only make the situation worse. Hannah kept glancing back, trying to run through a crowd that had now slowed to a crawl with the number of bodies pushing and struggling around them. And in her peripheral, her fleeting glances and her sheer terror-drenched stares beyond her shoulder, she witnessed the striped cat grow more wrathful, soak up the strength that came with avid ire, and break straight through the bars to land with a heavy thump upon the paving stones of the shuk's main square...
"God, be with us." She murmured under her breath.
Hannah was not a woman of great arrogance or ego. She felt little desire to be the best in things and none at all to be proven right. She had the flourish of excitement and self-satisfaction if something she had foretold or placed effort in came to fruition; for she was only human. But she did not base her status of life, her feeling of authority and value upon the needs to be correct. Nor did she seek the vindication and recognition in others of that fact. She spoke what she thought and what the world decided to become around her, she was content to accept.
So, whilst there were some beings in the world who, despite their immediate cause for concern, would be prideful in their accurate predictions of the large cat's behaviour, Hannah was not one of them. In fact, as the creature continued to bash against the bars and the handlers of the living attraction began to look to one another for signs of comfort and security, Hannah would have very much wished to have been wrong. For any inaccuracies or embarrassments would have been better than the fear that fired through her heart and chest when that first bar gave way.
When the second followed suit, it was Callidora that had the sense of mind and the calm resolve to know what to do. She reached out and wrapped fingers around Hannah's wrist. She pulled the little group of three together and away from the cage, the crate of Hannah's master's goods remaining on the floor lost and forgotten. Hannah tripped over her own feet, her terror of the animal far greater than any a scolding or lash could conjure within her. She spun, turned and ran with her new Grecian ally as they pushed and shifted through the crowd. Some of the first to notice that they needed to escape, they started moving against the current of people, passing through open gaps that widened and shrank as spectators moved closer to the powerful animal. Then, when the realisation of danger came to others, they were caught with the wind behind them, their sails of momentum suddenly full and their speed too much for their feet.
Nearly falling, at one point, Hannah looked back over her shoulder to spy a woman of dark hair and red lips hurry towards the cage - one of the few figures that still moved against the current. She had an expression devoid of fear and sported only confidence in every line of body. Hannah's eyes widened in fear for the lady and her lips let out a cry; one of no words and only the emotion of shock, as she witnessed the woman reach between the bars.
Whatever she had done, it appeared to only make the situation worse. Hannah kept glancing back, trying to run through a crowd that had now slowed to a crawl with the number of bodies pushing and struggling around them. And in her peripheral, her fleeting glances and her sheer terror-drenched stares beyond her shoulder, she witnessed the striped cat grow more wrathful, soak up the strength that came with avid ire, and break straight through the bars to land with a heavy thump upon the paving stones of the shuk's main square...