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With the men in the north fighting the approaching Greeks, the women of the higher circles of Egyptian society continue to culminate in the finest of homes and the grandest of venues. This particular meet is held within a drinking house of the richest area in Cairo - the Ghani District - where the ladies luxuriate on the roof-top garden of the establishment, privately rented by the Hei of Naddar. The wine flows, the fine foods are shared and the women of the land take to gossiping over the future of the kingdom should victory or defeat be in their future.
JD
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JD
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With the men in the north fighting the approaching Greeks, the women of the higher circles of Egyptian society continue to culminate in the finest of homes and the grandest of venues. This particular meet is held within a drinking house of the richest area in Cairo - the Ghani District - where the ladies luxuriate on the roof-top garden of the establishment, privately rented by the Hei of Naddar. The wine flows, the fine foods are shared and the women of the land take to gossiping over the future of the kingdom should victory or defeat be in their future.
Feminine Wiles Event - Egypt
With the men in the north fighting the approaching Greeks, the women of the higher circles of Egyptian society continue to culminate in the finest of homes and the grandest of venues. This particular meet is held within a drinking house of the richest area in Cairo - the Ghani District - where the ladies luxuriate on the roof-top garden of the establishment, privately rented by the Hei of Naddar. The wine flows, the fine foods are shared and the women of the land take to gossiping over the future of the kingdom should victory or defeat be in their future.
You could estimate the wealth and value of the occupants of Cairo on a graduated scale, measured by the rooftops overshadowing each street. The buildings of the capitol comprised of sand stone and bricks of mud and straw that stood hard against the sandstorms of the east and the heat of the south. Each blocky residence was considered of greater significance based on the number of storeys they possessed; how long a shadow it cast. The Evening Star palace - a place that Rubiah had yet to sidle her way into - boasted three stories of ornate, golden structure. The dining tavern that she stood before now had managed to secure two.
The lower of her lips pulled in behind her teeth on one side as Rubiah's sharp gaze appraised the view, from where she stood on the street. Her hip was jutting at a sharp angle, a hand upon her waist and elbow a harsh point. Her left foot extended out in a base of ultimate discontent for anything that might wish to pass by her lithe frame. Looking up, she could see where the ground floor of the inn - a common room for common folk - was divided from the private rooms above. This was no stay well or homestead for the travelled; such single rooms were used for entertaining and dining only. No beds; only tables. That was where the building ended but not the limit of its business. On the roof of the square-topped edifice, throngs of greenery tipped the walled edges of its final offering. An exposed garden, with a view of the city and an open exalting of the sun.
With little more than a curl at the corner of her full mouth, Rubiah felt the golden decal in her nose brush against the upper side of her top lip as she pursed in consideration. Her eyes burnt a wicked flame. The entrance to the tavern was simple enough - a single step, a double door, flanked by pseudo-militants paid to keep out the riff raff. The owner had to maintain an heir of privilege if he was going to charge as much as he did for the same slop and juice that opposition down the street sold at half the price. Such things were easily circumnavigated.
With sandals of gold snagged from Ressiah's chambers and silks and netting of gold, Rubiah was dressed to convince any of her status of connection to nobility - however tenuous. But even without, the men would have let her pass. The male of the species were simple creatures and tended to loll and gag at the open confidence of bare breasts and an arrogant step.
With a sinful sway to her hips, and a determined step forwards, Rubiah reached up with confident hand to push back the ebony braids that hung about her collarbone. They caught in her fingers, shifted to fall down her back and clicked in delicate knocks of silver cuff upon golden bead, exposing the nudity of her chest.
The custom was one only usually employed by ladies of leisure - to fasten the finest of gowns and skirts beneath the bust to leave the globes of feminine shape for all to see. Whilst others often rested large mantels of gold and flat jewel work around their neck, Rubiah detested anything that felt like a collar and kept hers bare. If the sunlight was to reflect on anything it would be her fingers, decked in layered rings of different metals.
She didn't smile but her eyes made promises as her arrogant stride permitted her inside, the men not wishing to disturb a supposed lady of singular purpose. Her sandals carried her through the darken room, the tips of her braids brushing against the small of her back and her eyes bright in the darkness. Her focus was specific. The stairs that would lead upstairs and then external stone steps that went from the second storey balcony to the rooftop.
It had been easy enough to establish the location of the latest Courtly adjourn given that Ressiah had been stupid enough to leave the clay invitation upon the side in her rooms. It had taken a mere second to lift it. A moment more to decide to attend.
It was this little square of clay, marked with the royal seal of Naddar to clarify it as an official court session, that permitted Rubiah access to the open gathering amidst palms and flowers. Not even her breasts - regardless of the compliments she had received upon them - would have brokered her entry to such a meet. Instead, it had taken a little piece of rock that someone decided was special because of the fat cat that stuck their ring in it.
Such clay was probably the only dirt such hands ever saw.
The meeting ground itself had been chosen with privacy in mind strictly based on the height of the structure. The more provincial homes lay on almost all sides, rendering most views of the open space obsolete. To the few in rich enough estates some blocks away, there was little hope of seeing detail and even less of hearing conversation.
Yet privacy was not its sole purpose. Luxury was its other. Decked out in the finest of silken sheets, cushions, chaises, short tables of fine wood and potted plants that balanced the smell of frankincense and jasmine with the almost acrid freshness of green.
Wrinkling her nose, Rubiah took the opportunity of being the first person to arrive and settled herself front and centre in one of the small chaise chairs. It wasn't the largest designed for only two, but she claimed it for her own. Her arms across its back, elbows dipped over its peaked ridges of polished wood and her hair cascading over her shoulders, Rubiah crossed one leg over the other. The shift split her skirts from ankle to hip, revealing the bare curve of her rear and the inked markings she possessed over her outer thigh. Her arms sported the same and even a few scrawls could be seen beneath the curve of one breast. One of her hands curled back upon its wrists and she worked the rings of her fingers around and around with the pad of her thumb, waiting for her audience...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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You could estimate the wealth and value of the occupants of Cairo on a graduated scale, measured by the rooftops overshadowing each street. The buildings of the capitol comprised of sand stone and bricks of mud and straw that stood hard against the sandstorms of the east and the heat of the south. Each blocky residence was considered of greater significance based on the number of storeys they possessed; how long a shadow it cast. The Evening Star palace - a place that Rubiah had yet to sidle her way into - boasted three stories of ornate, golden structure. The dining tavern that she stood before now had managed to secure two.
The lower of her lips pulled in behind her teeth on one side as Rubiah's sharp gaze appraised the view, from where she stood on the street. Her hip was jutting at a sharp angle, a hand upon her waist and elbow a harsh point. Her left foot extended out in a base of ultimate discontent for anything that might wish to pass by her lithe frame. Looking up, she could see where the ground floor of the inn - a common room for common folk - was divided from the private rooms above. This was no stay well or homestead for the travelled; such single rooms were used for entertaining and dining only. No beds; only tables. That was where the building ended but not the limit of its business. On the roof of the square-topped edifice, throngs of greenery tipped the walled edges of its final offering. An exposed garden, with a view of the city and an open exalting of the sun.
With little more than a curl at the corner of her full mouth, Rubiah felt the golden decal in her nose brush against the upper side of her top lip as she pursed in consideration. Her eyes burnt a wicked flame. The entrance to the tavern was simple enough - a single step, a double door, flanked by pseudo-militants paid to keep out the riff raff. The owner had to maintain an heir of privilege if he was going to charge as much as he did for the same slop and juice that opposition down the street sold at half the price. Such things were easily circumnavigated.
With sandals of gold snagged from Ressiah's chambers and silks and netting of gold, Rubiah was dressed to convince any of her status of connection to nobility - however tenuous. But even without, the men would have let her pass. The male of the species were simple creatures and tended to loll and gag at the open confidence of bare breasts and an arrogant step.
With a sinful sway to her hips, and a determined step forwards, Rubiah reached up with confident hand to push back the ebony braids that hung about her collarbone. They caught in her fingers, shifted to fall down her back and clicked in delicate knocks of silver cuff upon golden bead, exposing the nudity of her chest.
The custom was one only usually employed by ladies of leisure - to fasten the finest of gowns and skirts beneath the bust to leave the globes of feminine shape for all to see. Whilst others often rested large mantels of gold and flat jewel work around their neck, Rubiah detested anything that felt like a collar and kept hers bare. If the sunlight was to reflect on anything it would be her fingers, decked in layered rings of different metals.
She didn't smile but her eyes made promises as her arrogant stride permitted her inside, the men not wishing to disturb a supposed lady of singular purpose. Her sandals carried her through the darken room, the tips of her braids brushing against the small of her back and her eyes bright in the darkness. Her focus was specific. The stairs that would lead upstairs and then external stone steps that went from the second storey balcony to the rooftop.
It had been easy enough to establish the location of the latest Courtly adjourn given that Ressiah had been stupid enough to leave the clay invitation upon the side in her rooms. It had taken a mere second to lift it. A moment more to decide to attend.
It was this little square of clay, marked with the royal seal of Naddar to clarify it as an official court session, that permitted Rubiah access to the open gathering amidst palms and flowers. Not even her breasts - regardless of the compliments she had received upon them - would have brokered her entry to such a meet. Instead, it had taken a little piece of rock that someone decided was special because of the fat cat that stuck their ring in it.
Such clay was probably the only dirt such hands ever saw.
The meeting ground itself had been chosen with privacy in mind strictly based on the height of the structure. The more provincial homes lay on almost all sides, rendering most views of the open space obsolete. To the few in rich enough estates some blocks away, there was little hope of seeing detail and even less of hearing conversation.
Yet privacy was not its sole purpose. Luxury was its other. Decked out in the finest of silken sheets, cushions, chaises, short tables of fine wood and potted plants that balanced the smell of frankincense and jasmine with the almost acrid freshness of green.
Wrinkling her nose, Rubiah took the opportunity of being the first person to arrive and settled herself front and centre in one of the small chaise chairs. It wasn't the largest designed for only two, but she claimed it for her own. Her arms across its back, elbows dipped over its peaked ridges of polished wood and her hair cascading over her shoulders, Rubiah crossed one leg over the other. The shift split her skirts from ankle to hip, revealing the bare curve of her rear and the inked markings she possessed over her outer thigh. Her arms sported the same and even a few scrawls could be seen beneath the curve of one breast. One of her hands curled back upon its wrists and she worked the rings of her fingers around and around with the pad of her thumb, waiting for her audience...
You could estimate the wealth and value of the occupants of Cairo on a graduated scale, measured by the rooftops overshadowing each street. The buildings of the capitol comprised of sand stone and bricks of mud and straw that stood hard against the sandstorms of the east and the heat of the south. Each blocky residence was considered of greater significance based on the number of storeys they possessed; how long a shadow it cast. The Evening Star palace - a place that Rubiah had yet to sidle her way into - boasted three stories of ornate, golden structure. The dining tavern that she stood before now had managed to secure two.
The lower of her lips pulled in behind her teeth on one side as Rubiah's sharp gaze appraised the view, from where she stood on the street. Her hip was jutting at a sharp angle, a hand upon her waist and elbow a harsh point. Her left foot extended out in a base of ultimate discontent for anything that might wish to pass by her lithe frame. Looking up, she could see where the ground floor of the inn - a common room for common folk - was divided from the private rooms above. This was no stay well or homestead for the travelled; such single rooms were used for entertaining and dining only. No beds; only tables. That was where the building ended but not the limit of its business. On the roof of the square-topped edifice, throngs of greenery tipped the walled edges of its final offering. An exposed garden, with a view of the city and an open exalting of the sun.
With little more than a curl at the corner of her full mouth, Rubiah felt the golden decal in her nose brush against the upper side of her top lip as she pursed in consideration. Her eyes burnt a wicked flame. The entrance to the tavern was simple enough - a single step, a double door, flanked by pseudo-militants paid to keep out the riff raff. The owner had to maintain an heir of privilege if he was going to charge as much as he did for the same slop and juice that opposition down the street sold at half the price. Such things were easily circumnavigated.
With sandals of gold snagged from Ressiah's chambers and silks and netting of gold, Rubiah was dressed to convince any of her status of connection to nobility - however tenuous. But even without, the men would have let her pass. The male of the species were simple creatures and tended to loll and gag at the open confidence of bare breasts and an arrogant step.
With a sinful sway to her hips, and a determined step forwards, Rubiah reached up with confident hand to push back the ebony braids that hung about her collarbone. They caught in her fingers, shifted to fall down her back and clicked in delicate knocks of silver cuff upon golden bead, exposing the nudity of her chest.
The custom was one only usually employed by ladies of leisure - to fasten the finest of gowns and skirts beneath the bust to leave the globes of feminine shape for all to see. Whilst others often rested large mantels of gold and flat jewel work around their neck, Rubiah detested anything that felt like a collar and kept hers bare. If the sunlight was to reflect on anything it would be her fingers, decked in layered rings of different metals.
She didn't smile but her eyes made promises as her arrogant stride permitted her inside, the men not wishing to disturb a supposed lady of singular purpose. Her sandals carried her through the darken room, the tips of her braids brushing against the small of her back and her eyes bright in the darkness. Her focus was specific. The stairs that would lead upstairs and then external stone steps that went from the second storey balcony to the rooftop.
It had been easy enough to establish the location of the latest Courtly adjourn given that Ressiah had been stupid enough to leave the clay invitation upon the side in her rooms. It had taken a mere second to lift it. A moment more to decide to attend.
It was this little square of clay, marked with the royal seal of Naddar to clarify it as an official court session, that permitted Rubiah access to the open gathering amidst palms and flowers. Not even her breasts - regardless of the compliments she had received upon them - would have brokered her entry to such a meet. Instead, it had taken a little piece of rock that someone decided was special because of the fat cat that stuck their ring in it.
Such clay was probably the only dirt such hands ever saw.
The meeting ground itself had been chosen with privacy in mind strictly based on the height of the structure. The more provincial homes lay on almost all sides, rendering most views of the open space obsolete. To the few in rich enough estates some blocks away, there was little hope of seeing detail and even less of hearing conversation.
Yet privacy was not its sole purpose. Luxury was its other. Decked out in the finest of silken sheets, cushions, chaises, short tables of fine wood and potted plants that balanced the smell of frankincense and jasmine with the almost acrid freshness of green.
Wrinkling her nose, Rubiah took the opportunity of being the first person to arrive and settled herself front and centre in one of the small chaise chairs. It wasn't the largest designed for only two, but she claimed it for her own. Her arms across its back, elbows dipped over its peaked ridges of polished wood and her hair cascading over her shoulders, Rubiah crossed one leg over the other. The shift split her skirts from ankle to hip, revealing the bare curve of her rear and the inked markings she possessed over her outer thigh. Her arms sported the same and even a few scrawls could be seen beneath the curve of one breast. One of her hands curled back upon its wrists and she worked the rings of her fingers around and around with the pad of her thumb, waiting for her audience...
If not for her family haranguing her out of the house, Nenet would have gone to nothing to do with court sessions. They were not fun, they were not luxurious; they were a waste of time. Time she could have spent reading and dreaming of other more interesting places where she could pretend that speaking to people wasn’t a torment. If left to her own devices, Nenet would have put on the most simple of her kalasiris - one of muted pink with a white linen shift beneath guarding her slim body from outward eyes. Today, she’d been bullied by family and servant alike to wear sheer cloth of shimmering spun gold. It was light and she was afraid of tripping in her fine beaded sandals and ripping it. Like Rubiah, her chest was bare, but she’d contrived to put on so many long necklaces that it was difficult to tell. Unlike Rubiah, her breasts were smaller and, she hoped, less noticeable.
Walking along behind her mother and sisters, she kept wanting to rub her ears and the gold dripping from them, long enough to brush her shoulders. Distracting in the extreme, the golden chains that simulated waterfalls kept clinking together whenever she moved her head and she wondered how long she would have to endure this ‘luxuriating’. She had a book to finish. As much as she would have loved to remind her family of that fact, she didn’t bother. It would take too long to stutter out the words and it was easier to sulk behind them, thin arms crossed over her chest, and flick her dark eyes up at the building as they approached. A small smile touched her lips as she noted the gardens. Good. Probably there would be a huge clay pot she could manage to sit behind until it was time to leave.
With their credentials presented and their entrance into the building gained, Nenet followed her family up the stairs. This place did not awe or overwhelm her sensibilities. Too used to her own house and the opulence therein, she was immune to the pretentious grandeur this place aspired to. Nor did she pause in the doorway when she saw Rubiah lounged out across the chaise as though waiting for a man to snap her up. Such a thing would not happen today as Nenet had been promised only women would be here. Following her family, Nenet sat down, though somehow was closer to Rubiah than the rest of the family. She was nearly positive Nefertaari had shunted her out of the way to sit between her and their mother, which left Nenet on the very edge of this chaise and within speaking distance to Rubiah.
She side eyed the other woman, eyes dropping to chest, then back up to face, then to exposed thigh, and back up to face. Did...was she aware she looked like a harlot? Or, what Nenet thought of as a harlot. She’d never seen one, obviously, but she fancied that Rubiah would make a wonderful one. Aside from a quick flash of what was meant to be a ‘hello’ smile that was just as quickly dropped to discourage actual conversation, Nenet looked down into her own lap and fiddled with the sheer fabric of her kalasiris, wondering when they could leave.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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If not for her family haranguing her out of the house, Nenet would have gone to nothing to do with court sessions. They were not fun, they were not luxurious; they were a waste of time. Time she could have spent reading and dreaming of other more interesting places where she could pretend that speaking to people wasn’t a torment. If left to her own devices, Nenet would have put on the most simple of her kalasiris - one of muted pink with a white linen shift beneath guarding her slim body from outward eyes. Today, she’d been bullied by family and servant alike to wear sheer cloth of shimmering spun gold. It was light and she was afraid of tripping in her fine beaded sandals and ripping it. Like Rubiah, her chest was bare, but she’d contrived to put on so many long necklaces that it was difficult to tell. Unlike Rubiah, her breasts were smaller and, she hoped, less noticeable.
Walking along behind her mother and sisters, she kept wanting to rub her ears and the gold dripping from them, long enough to brush her shoulders. Distracting in the extreme, the golden chains that simulated waterfalls kept clinking together whenever she moved her head and she wondered how long she would have to endure this ‘luxuriating’. She had a book to finish. As much as she would have loved to remind her family of that fact, she didn’t bother. It would take too long to stutter out the words and it was easier to sulk behind them, thin arms crossed over her chest, and flick her dark eyes up at the building as they approached. A small smile touched her lips as she noted the gardens. Good. Probably there would be a huge clay pot she could manage to sit behind until it was time to leave.
With their credentials presented and their entrance into the building gained, Nenet followed her family up the stairs. This place did not awe or overwhelm her sensibilities. Too used to her own house and the opulence therein, she was immune to the pretentious grandeur this place aspired to. Nor did she pause in the doorway when she saw Rubiah lounged out across the chaise as though waiting for a man to snap her up. Such a thing would not happen today as Nenet had been promised only women would be here. Following her family, Nenet sat down, though somehow was closer to Rubiah than the rest of the family. She was nearly positive Nefertaari had shunted her out of the way to sit between her and their mother, which left Nenet on the very edge of this chaise and within speaking distance to Rubiah.
She side eyed the other woman, eyes dropping to chest, then back up to face, then to exposed thigh, and back up to face. Did...was she aware she looked like a harlot? Or, what Nenet thought of as a harlot. She’d never seen one, obviously, but she fancied that Rubiah would make a wonderful one. Aside from a quick flash of what was meant to be a ‘hello’ smile that was just as quickly dropped to discourage actual conversation, Nenet looked down into her own lap and fiddled with the sheer fabric of her kalasiris, wondering when they could leave.
If not for her family haranguing her out of the house, Nenet would have gone to nothing to do with court sessions. They were not fun, they were not luxurious; they were a waste of time. Time she could have spent reading and dreaming of other more interesting places where she could pretend that speaking to people wasn’t a torment. If left to her own devices, Nenet would have put on the most simple of her kalasiris - one of muted pink with a white linen shift beneath guarding her slim body from outward eyes. Today, she’d been bullied by family and servant alike to wear sheer cloth of shimmering spun gold. It was light and she was afraid of tripping in her fine beaded sandals and ripping it. Like Rubiah, her chest was bare, but she’d contrived to put on so many long necklaces that it was difficult to tell. Unlike Rubiah, her breasts were smaller and, she hoped, less noticeable.
Walking along behind her mother and sisters, she kept wanting to rub her ears and the gold dripping from them, long enough to brush her shoulders. Distracting in the extreme, the golden chains that simulated waterfalls kept clinking together whenever she moved her head and she wondered how long she would have to endure this ‘luxuriating’. She had a book to finish. As much as she would have loved to remind her family of that fact, she didn’t bother. It would take too long to stutter out the words and it was easier to sulk behind them, thin arms crossed over her chest, and flick her dark eyes up at the building as they approached. A small smile touched her lips as she noted the gardens. Good. Probably there would be a huge clay pot she could manage to sit behind until it was time to leave.
With their credentials presented and their entrance into the building gained, Nenet followed her family up the stairs. This place did not awe or overwhelm her sensibilities. Too used to her own house and the opulence therein, she was immune to the pretentious grandeur this place aspired to. Nor did she pause in the doorway when she saw Rubiah lounged out across the chaise as though waiting for a man to snap her up. Such a thing would not happen today as Nenet had been promised only women would be here. Following her family, Nenet sat down, though somehow was closer to Rubiah than the rest of the family. She was nearly positive Nefertaari had shunted her out of the way to sit between her and their mother, which left Nenet on the very edge of this chaise and within speaking distance to Rubiah.
She side eyed the other woman, eyes dropping to chest, then back up to face, then to exposed thigh, and back up to face. Did...was she aware she looked like a harlot? Or, what Nenet thought of as a harlot. She’d never seen one, obviously, but she fancied that Rubiah would make a wonderful one. Aside from a quick flash of what was meant to be a ‘hello’ smile that was just as quickly dropped to discourage actual conversation, Nenet looked down into her own lap and fiddled with the sheer fabric of her kalasiris, wondering when they could leave.
Rubiah watched the arrival of the Hei of Sheifa with interest. A family of trade and wealthy merchants they were just the kind of people that she would take on her side any day of the week. A little extra coin here and there could never hurt. She assessed each of the women as they entered onto the rooftop garden and chose carefully out of the group...
The mother was known as the chaste little darling of the kingdom and yet it had been recently revealed that she was all slut. Her eldest son was not born of her husband and Rubiah could appreciate the stones it would have taken to admit to that. Yet, the woman was likely trying to maintain some kind of decorum over her reputation regardless so she would hardly make nice with one such as she - an interloper in the world of the rich and famous. The eldest daughter was Nefertaari. Rubiah had done her homework on the woman given their closeness in age but, even if she hadn't, she would have been able to tell from the way her nose caught the air that there was no likelihood of friendship there. The stuck-up bitch looked like she had camel dung up her nose at the very sight of a lady who did not belong.
The next daughter down was one of those sorts that knew she was gorgeous and not afraid to show it. Just Rubiah's type and an easy one that she might be able to fall into cahoots with, depending on her already established fealties. But one who used their appearance to win over others was used to manipulations and would see through half the cons Rubiah might try to throw her way for her own means.
Which left little Baby Sheifa.
Rubiah had spoken to her a little at the Temple of Osiris in recent times but relationships were built through repeated exposure, not a singular happenstance. She watched how the little girl moved with absolutely zero confidence and a posture that screamed - get me out of here now - despite the scant and luxurious choice of dress. Rubiah suspected the girl had had no choice in her attire that day.
When luck had it that the little bub came to sit near her, Rubiah turned the welcome smile and licked her tongue up over her front teeth. The tip brushed at her upper lip and she grinned over the silly expression, her brows rising in a tempting little hop.
"Hey." She said simply, her tone one of open optimism and genuine affection. She then glanced over her shoulder as a servant of the place appeared behind her chaise, looking to the party for instruction regarding refreshment. Rubiah raised her hand from the back of her chaise in a simple instruction.
"Drinks for me and my friend here." She insisted, flicking a few fingers in the direction of Nenet. "White grape wine..." She placed her thumb and forefinger a few inches away from one another like she was measuring liquid in a vertical chalice. She moved them slightly closer together. "Orange juice." And slightly closer still. "Pineapple juice." She pulled a face at Nenet and wiggled her brows. The fact that they barely knew each other didn't show in her behaviour. "You'll love it. It's delicious."
When the young man in servants livery didn’t immediately jump to attention, Rubiah glanced over her shoulder with a sharp look – “Now.” – and sent him scarpering back downstairs with a half complete order for the group.
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Check out their information page here.
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Rubiah watched the arrival of the Hei of Sheifa with interest. A family of trade and wealthy merchants they were just the kind of people that she would take on her side any day of the week. A little extra coin here and there could never hurt. She assessed each of the women as they entered onto the rooftop garden and chose carefully out of the group...
The mother was known as the chaste little darling of the kingdom and yet it had been recently revealed that she was all slut. Her eldest son was not born of her husband and Rubiah could appreciate the stones it would have taken to admit to that. Yet, the woman was likely trying to maintain some kind of decorum over her reputation regardless so she would hardly make nice with one such as she - an interloper in the world of the rich and famous. The eldest daughter was Nefertaari. Rubiah had done her homework on the woman given their closeness in age but, even if she hadn't, she would have been able to tell from the way her nose caught the air that there was no likelihood of friendship there. The stuck-up bitch looked like she had camel dung up her nose at the very sight of a lady who did not belong.
The next daughter down was one of those sorts that knew she was gorgeous and not afraid to show it. Just Rubiah's type and an easy one that she might be able to fall into cahoots with, depending on her already established fealties. But one who used their appearance to win over others was used to manipulations and would see through half the cons Rubiah might try to throw her way for her own means.
Which left little Baby Sheifa.
Rubiah had spoken to her a little at the Temple of Osiris in recent times but relationships were built through repeated exposure, not a singular happenstance. She watched how the little girl moved with absolutely zero confidence and a posture that screamed - get me out of here now - despite the scant and luxurious choice of dress. Rubiah suspected the girl had had no choice in her attire that day.
When luck had it that the little bub came to sit near her, Rubiah turned the welcome smile and licked her tongue up over her front teeth. The tip brushed at her upper lip and she grinned over the silly expression, her brows rising in a tempting little hop.
"Hey." She said simply, her tone one of open optimism and genuine affection. She then glanced over her shoulder as a servant of the place appeared behind her chaise, looking to the party for instruction regarding refreshment. Rubiah raised her hand from the back of her chaise in a simple instruction.
"Drinks for me and my friend here." She insisted, flicking a few fingers in the direction of Nenet. "White grape wine..." She placed her thumb and forefinger a few inches away from one another like she was measuring liquid in a vertical chalice. She moved them slightly closer together. "Orange juice." And slightly closer still. "Pineapple juice." She pulled a face at Nenet and wiggled her brows. The fact that they barely knew each other didn't show in her behaviour. "You'll love it. It's delicious."
When the young man in servants livery didn’t immediately jump to attention, Rubiah glanced over her shoulder with a sharp look – “Now.” – and sent him scarpering back downstairs with a half complete order for the group.
Rubiah watched the arrival of the Hei of Sheifa with interest. A family of trade and wealthy merchants they were just the kind of people that she would take on her side any day of the week. A little extra coin here and there could never hurt. She assessed each of the women as they entered onto the rooftop garden and chose carefully out of the group...
The mother was known as the chaste little darling of the kingdom and yet it had been recently revealed that she was all slut. Her eldest son was not born of her husband and Rubiah could appreciate the stones it would have taken to admit to that. Yet, the woman was likely trying to maintain some kind of decorum over her reputation regardless so she would hardly make nice with one such as she - an interloper in the world of the rich and famous. The eldest daughter was Nefertaari. Rubiah had done her homework on the woman given their closeness in age but, even if she hadn't, she would have been able to tell from the way her nose caught the air that there was no likelihood of friendship there. The stuck-up bitch looked like she had camel dung up her nose at the very sight of a lady who did not belong.
The next daughter down was one of those sorts that knew she was gorgeous and not afraid to show it. Just Rubiah's type and an easy one that she might be able to fall into cahoots with, depending on her already established fealties. But one who used their appearance to win over others was used to manipulations and would see through half the cons Rubiah might try to throw her way for her own means.
Which left little Baby Sheifa.
Rubiah had spoken to her a little at the Temple of Osiris in recent times but relationships were built through repeated exposure, not a singular happenstance. She watched how the little girl moved with absolutely zero confidence and a posture that screamed - get me out of here now - despite the scant and luxurious choice of dress. Rubiah suspected the girl had had no choice in her attire that day.
When luck had it that the little bub came to sit near her, Rubiah turned the welcome smile and licked her tongue up over her front teeth. The tip brushed at her upper lip and she grinned over the silly expression, her brows rising in a tempting little hop.
"Hey." She said simply, her tone one of open optimism and genuine affection. She then glanced over her shoulder as a servant of the place appeared behind her chaise, looking to the party for instruction regarding refreshment. Rubiah raised her hand from the back of her chaise in a simple instruction.
"Drinks for me and my friend here." She insisted, flicking a few fingers in the direction of Nenet. "White grape wine..." She placed her thumb and forefinger a few inches away from one another like she was measuring liquid in a vertical chalice. She moved them slightly closer together. "Orange juice." And slightly closer still. "Pineapple juice." She pulled a face at Nenet and wiggled her brows. The fact that they barely knew each other didn't show in her behaviour. "You'll love it. It's delicious."
When the young man in servants livery didn’t immediately jump to attention, Rubiah glanced over her shoulder with a sharp look – “Now.” – and sent him scarpering back downstairs with a half complete order for the group.
For once, she and Nenet were in agreement, and that it itself seemed a historical moment. Nia hated Court with a fiery passion, and even if this event was being held somewhere besides the Palace, that didn’t mean she wanted to go. A bunch of simpering ladies bemoaning their pitiful woes as they luxuriated on silken cushions and sipped on the finest wines held little interest for her. It was a pathetic display of ‘solidarity,’ and she wanted nothing to do with it.
However, as usual, she wasn’t given a choice. It seemed all the ladies of Hei Sheifa were to be dragged along, and her mother and despised elder sister were the only ones happy about it. Rolling her eyes as the slave came to assist her in her dress, Nia stood with a clenched jaw while the network gown was artfully draped over a deliciously curved figure. With the Pharaoh off to war and out of her hair, the young woman felt free to don such flimsy ‘clothing’ again; for the first time in weeks, there were no bruises to hide. At least, there was a small victory in that.
Fiercely denying the wig the slave tried to offer her, Nia shook her head. Even this late in the year, it was blisteringly hot, and she hated wigs on a cool day. The ladies of the Court would simply have to deal with her natural hair, braided and coifed to keep it off her neck. Draped with enough golden chains, bangles, and rings to make her sparkle like an idol, the young noblewoman sighed with impatience while the slave carefully drew lines of kohl across her eyes. Gods, with all this finery—what were they trying to prove? The Court knew who they were and what sort of wealth they possessed. Did they really need to drip with it?
The primping ordeal finally finished, Nia joined her mother and sisters in the waiting carriage outside and did her best not to look like she was sulking on the ride over.
Once they arrived at the pre-ordained location for this meeting, Hei Sheifa’s middle daughter followed behind Iaheru and Nefertaari with a false smile pasted on her lips and resentment in her gaze. Why did she even need to be here? With the men off to war and her marriage negotiations with Narmer having fallen through, as it was, what were they showing off for? Who was there to impress? As they walked past the doors into a cloud of perfume and smug arrogance, Nia wished more strongly than ever that she was back home with her brother and oblivious to whatever was going to happen here.
Settling herself on the opposite side of Iaheru (as she’d be damned before she ever chose to sit next to Nefertaari), she released an exaggerated sigh as she searched the room for signs of any of the noblewomen she could actually tolerate. Safiya perhaps, or Chione… but no, of course it was just her luck that they were among the first to arrive. Her gaze settling for a moment on the woman who spoke to Nenet, her brow furrowed for a moment at the sight of someone so unfamiliar. As much as she hated the Court, she still knew most of those who attended it, and this woman she did not recognize.
Shrugging it off, she sat back and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back against the wall. Maybe if she just fell asleep, this would be over that much sooner…
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For once, she and Nenet were in agreement, and that it itself seemed a historical moment. Nia hated Court with a fiery passion, and even if this event was being held somewhere besides the Palace, that didn’t mean she wanted to go. A bunch of simpering ladies bemoaning their pitiful woes as they luxuriated on silken cushions and sipped on the finest wines held little interest for her. It was a pathetic display of ‘solidarity,’ and she wanted nothing to do with it.
However, as usual, she wasn’t given a choice. It seemed all the ladies of Hei Sheifa were to be dragged along, and her mother and despised elder sister were the only ones happy about it. Rolling her eyes as the slave came to assist her in her dress, Nia stood with a clenched jaw while the network gown was artfully draped over a deliciously curved figure. With the Pharaoh off to war and out of her hair, the young woman felt free to don such flimsy ‘clothing’ again; for the first time in weeks, there were no bruises to hide. At least, there was a small victory in that.
Fiercely denying the wig the slave tried to offer her, Nia shook her head. Even this late in the year, it was blisteringly hot, and she hated wigs on a cool day. The ladies of the Court would simply have to deal with her natural hair, braided and coifed to keep it off her neck. Draped with enough golden chains, bangles, and rings to make her sparkle like an idol, the young noblewoman sighed with impatience while the slave carefully drew lines of kohl across her eyes. Gods, with all this finery—what were they trying to prove? The Court knew who they were and what sort of wealth they possessed. Did they really need to drip with it?
The primping ordeal finally finished, Nia joined her mother and sisters in the waiting carriage outside and did her best not to look like she was sulking on the ride over.
Once they arrived at the pre-ordained location for this meeting, Hei Sheifa’s middle daughter followed behind Iaheru and Nefertaari with a false smile pasted on her lips and resentment in her gaze. Why did she even need to be here? With the men off to war and her marriage negotiations with Narmer having fallen through, as it was, what were they showing off for? Who was there to impress? As they walked past the doors into a cloud of perfume and smug arrogance, Nia wished more strongly than ever that she was back home with her brother and oblivious to whatever was going to happen here.
Settling herself on the opposite side of Iaheru (as she’d be damned before she ever chose to sit next to Nefertaari), she released an exaggerated sigh as she searched the room for signs of any of the noblewomen she could actually tolerate. Safiya perhaps, or Chione… but no, of course it was just her luck that they were among the first to arrive. Her gaze settling for a moment on the woman who spoke to Nenet, her brow furrowed for a moment at the sight of someone so unfamiliar. As much as she hated the Court, she still knew most of those who attended it, and this woman she did not recognize.
Shrugging it off, she sat back and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back against the wall. Maybe if she just fell asleep, this would be over that much sooner…
For once, she and Nenet were in agreement, and that it itself seemed a historical moment. Nia hated Court with a fiery passion, and even if this event was being held somewhere besides the Palace, that didn’t mean she wanted to go. A bunch of simpering ladies bemoaning their pitiful woes as they luxuriated on silken cushions and sipped on the finest wines held little interest for her. It was a pathetic display of ‘solidarity,’ and she wanted nothing to do with it.
However, as usual, she wasn’t given a choice. It seemed all the ladies of Hei Sheifa were to be dragged along, and her mother and despised elder sister were the only ones happy about it. Rolling her eyes as the slave came to assist her in her dress, Nia stood with a clenched jaw while the network gown was artfully draped over a deliciously curved figure. With the Pharaoh off to war and out of her hair, the young woman felt free to don such flimsy ‘clothing’ again; for the first time in weeks, there were no bruises to hide. At least, there was a small victory in that.
Fiercely denying the wig the slave tried to offer her, Nia shook her head. Even this late in the year, it was blisteringly hot, and she hated wigs on a cool day. The ladies of the Court would simply have to deal with her natural hair, braided and coifed to keep it off her neck. Draped with enough golden chains, bangles, and rings to make her sparkle like an idol, the young noblewoman sighed with impatience while the slave carefully drew lines of kohl across her eyes. Gods, with all this finery—what were they trying to prove? The Court knew who they were and what sort of wealth they possessed. Did they really need to drip with it?
The primping ordeal finally finished, Nia joined her mother and sisters in the waiting carriage outside and did her best not to look like she was sulking on the ride over.
Once they arrived at the pre-ordained location for this meeting, Hei Sheifa’s middle daughter followed behind Iaheru and Nefertaari with a false smile pasted on her lips and resentment in her gaze. Why did she even need to be here? With the men off to war and her marriage negotiations with Narmer having fallen through, as it was, what were they showing off for? Who was there to impress? As they walked past the doors into a cloud of perfume and smug arrogance, Nia wished more strongly than ever that she was back home with her brother and oblivious to whatever was going to happen here.
Settling herself on the opposite side of Iaheru (as she’d be damned before she ever chose to sit next to Nefertaari), she released an exaggerated sigh as she searched the room for signs of any of the noblewomen she could actually tolerate. Safiya perhaps, or Chione… but no, of course it was just her luck that they were among the first to arrive. Her gaze settling for a moment on the woman who spoke to Nenet, her brow furrowed for a moment at the sight of someone so unfamiliar. As much as she hated the Court, she still knew most of those who attended it, and this woman she did not recognize.
Shrugging it off, she sat back and crossed her legs, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back against the wall. Maybe if she just fell asleep, this would be over that much sooner…
Osiria personally did not care for meetings of vapid gossip and flaunting, but it was one of the duties of her new station. Normally, she would allow Ressiah to go and establish their position as she chose. She was far more social than Osiria. However, Ressiah's invitation had gone mysteriously missing. This had left her to go alone, without even the comfort of having her sister-in-law with her to help field the wiles of the other women, for which Osiria had little patience. She had what she perceived as better things to do while her brother was away, fighting. However, she was aware that this was expected. She was now H'Abaddi.
With some discomfort, she'd donned a breathable cream kalasiri. The collar to which the fabric affixed was of hammered gold decorated with semi-precious stones. The dark belt tied around her waist had been sewn with beads, adding a bit of color to the otherwise plain fabric. She allowed one of the servants to arrange her dark hair and weave it with strings of gold beads; rather than wear one of the ridiculous wigs the noble ladies so often did, she preferred to decorate her natural hair when necessary. It was what the gods had given her, after all, and she saw no reason to cover it. Khol lined her eyes, but no other makeup had been applied. It was simply too hot and she didn't see the point in caking her face or lips with color it it would simply wear off in the heat. A few dabs of perfume was all she permitted, not wishing to waste the expensive concoction in excess. Her apparel was, much like her home, a balance of frugality and opulence.
She looked the part, but there was nothing in the way she carried herself that suggested that she had been born a noble lady. She walked with the quick stride of someone used to efficiency, not to graceful or sultry sauntering. Her hands were visibly roughened from the work of the past. She did not move with any semblance of sensuality. There had never been a need to. She was aware of all these differences, but that did not stop her from facing this meeting head-on as another task to be completed.
Carrying her own invitation,she marched her way between the guards with barely a spared glance, having become used to the presence of men like them at various locations of importance. With a whisper of beaded sandals, she entered the room in which she could already hear the murmur of voices.
It took an effort not to pause in the doorway and betray just how out-of-place she felt. Perfume swirled in the air and, around her, the women of the court shone with gold and other decor. She was dressed nowhere near as well as most, but that didn't deter her. Head held high in the same confidence that had carried her through most uncomfortable situations in her life, she walked further into the room, seeking an open seat. Her eyes skimmed over women of importance, and she took mental note of who seemed to be representing the noble houses. The seat near a woman who appeared to be on the edge of sleep was open, and so Osiria decided to sit there. At least it might save her from any tedious chit-chatting. She honestly had little idea of what these meetings of court entailed, but she would soon find out.
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Osiria personally did not care for meetings of vapid gossip and flaunting, but it was one of the duties of her new station. Normally, she would allow Ressiah to go and establish their position as she chose. She was far more social than Osiria. However, Ressiah's invitation had gone mysteriously missing. This had left her to go alone, without even the comfort of having her sister-in-law with her to help field the wiles of the other women, for which Osiria had little patience. She had what she perceived as better things to do while her brother was away, fighting. However, she was aware that this was expected. She was now H'Abaddi.
With some discomfort, she'd donned a breathable cream kalasiri. The collar to which the fabric affixed was of hammered gold decorated with semi-precious stones. The dark belt tied around her waist had been sewn with beads, adding a bit of color to the otherwise plain fabric. She allowed one of the servants to arrange her dark hair and weave it with strings of gold beads; rather than wear one of the ridiculous wigs the noble ladies so often did, she preferred to decorate her natural hair when necessary. It was what the gods had given her, after all, and she saw no reason to cover it. Khol lined her eyes, but no other makeup had been applied. It was simply too hot and she didn't see the point in caking her face or lips with color it it would simply wear off in the heat. A few dabs of perfume was all she permitted, not wishing to waste the expensive concoction in excess. Her apparel was, much like her home, a balance of frugality and opulence.
She looked the part, but there was nothing in the way she carried herself that suggested that she had been born a noble lady. She walked with the quick stride of someone used to efficiency, not to graceful or sultry sauntering. Her hands were visibly roughened from the work of the past. She did not move with any semblance of sensuality. There had never been a need to. She was aware of all these differences, but that did not stop her from facing this meeting head-on as another task to be completed.
Carrying her own invitation,she marched her way between the guards with barely a spared glance, having become used to the presence of men like them at various locations of importance. With a whisper of beaded sandals, she entered the room in which she could already hear the murmur of voices.
It took an effort not to pause in the doorway and betray just how out-of-place she felt. Perfume swirled in the air and, around her, the women of the court shone with gold and other decor. She was dressed nowhere near as well as most, but that didn't deter her. Head held high in the same confidence that had carried her through most uncomfortable situations in her life, she walked further into the room, seeking an open seat. Her eyes skimmed over women of importance, and she took mental note of who seemed to be representing the noble houses. The seat near a woman who appeared to be on the edge of sleep was open, and so Osiria decided to sit there. At least it might save her from any tedious chit-chatting. She honestly had little idea of what these meetings of court entailed, but she would soon find out.
Osiria personally did not care for meetings of vapid gossip and flaunting, but it was one of the duties of her new station. Normally, she would allow Ressiah to go and establish their position as she chose. She was far more social than Osiria. However, Ressiah's invitation had gone mysteriously missing. This had left her to go alone, without even the comfort of having her sister-in-law with her to help field the wiles of the other women, for which Osiria had little patience. She had what she perceived as better things to do while her brother was away, fighting. However, she was aware that this was expected. She was now H'Abaddi.
With some discomfort, she'd donned a breathable cream kalasiri. The collar to which the fabric affixed was of hammered gold decorated with semi-precious stones. The dark belt tied around her waist had been sewn with beads, adding a bit of color to the otherwise plain fabric. She allowed one of the servants to arrange her dark hair and weave it with strings of gold beads; rather than wear one of the ridiculous wigs the noble ladies so often did, she preferred to decorate her natural hair when necessary. It was what the gods had given her, after all, and she saw no reason to cover it. Khol lined her eyes, but no other makeup had been applied. It was simply too hot and she didn't see the point in caking her face or lips with color it it would simply wear off in the heat. A few dabs of perfume was all she permitted, not wishing to waste the expensive concoction in excess. Her apparel was, much like her home, a balance of frugality and opulence.
She looked the part, but there was nothing in the way she carried herself that suggested that she had been born a noble lady. She walked with the quick stride of someone used to efficiency, not to graceful or sultry sauntering. Her hands were visibly roughened from the work of the past. She did not move with any semblance of sensuality. There had never been a need to. She was aware of all these differences, but that did not stop her from facing this meeting head-on as another task to be completed.
Carrying her own invitation,she marched her way between the guards with barely a spared glance, having become used to the presence of men like them at various locations of importance. With a whisper of beaded sandals, she entered the room in which she could already hear the murmur of voices.
It took an effort not to pause in the doorway and betray just how out-of-place she felt. Perfume swirled in the air and, around her, the women of the court shone with gold and other decor. She was dressed nowhere near as well as most, but that didn't deter her. Head held high in the same confidence that had carried her through most uncomfortable situations in her life, she walked further into the room, seeking an open seat. Her eyes skimmed over women of importance, and she took mental note of who seemed to be representing the noble houses. The seat near a woman who appeared to be on the edge of sleep was open, and so Osiria decided to sit there. At least it might save her from any tedious chit-chatting. She honestly had little idea of what these meetings of court entailed, but she would soon find out.
Naturally, the idea of a party appealed to Safiya and it was the kind of thing that she was glad was happening. Especially as she didn't want to end up moping around and being worried about her uncle and brother and the fact they were currently off to war. Not to mention the others.
Safiya had taken the view that she needed to be thinking about the others as well. Even when she really didn't particularly know anyone else or even think that she was all that good at thinking about those faceless strangers. She was trying and some would argue that it was in more than one way. It was actually the reason that she had spent more time with her mother, she needed the reassurance of her presence, of course, her duties at the palace and to the Queen remained but in these trying times, she had really been feeling like she should be spending more time with her family.
That obviously included her sister and it was why she was looking for right now, they often ended up becoming separated but Safiya was sure she would find her again.
For the moment, she was a lot more focused on securing a drink. It would be a great way to set off her whole outfit and add that extra layer of refinement that she had been looking for when it had been picked out. Safiya was still not used the elegance that she was supposed to possess now, but with a stylish new look and the jewellery to match, she could be sure that she did more than just blended in. Of course, she also accepted that much of the ability to stand out and be noticed was due to the exotic quality of her looks, inherited from her mother.
That and she was a twin and they were both starting to earn their own notoriety and reputation, most of it good. At least she hoped it was, securing her own cup of wine, she sipped from it, those smokey eyes enhanced with makeup taking in the room and those within it, while some faces she recognised, for the moment she chose to hold back and not allow herself to be distracted. It was hard though she really just wanted to embrace the good times as much as possible.
But this was the sort of thing that her mother had suggested; restraint. Safiya really just wished that it was a lot easier to do.
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Naturally, the idea of a party appealed to Safiya and it was the kind of thing that she was glad was happening. Especially as she didn't want to end up moping around and being worried about her uncle and brother and the fact they were currently off to war. Not to mention the others.
Safiya had taken the view that she needed to be thinking about the others as well. Even when she really didn't particularly know anyone else or even think that she was all that good at thinking about those faceless strangers. She was trying and some would argue that it was in more than one way. It was actually the reason that she had spent more time with her mother, she needed the reassurance of her presence, of course, her duties at the palace and to the Queen remained but in these trying times, she had really been feeling like she should be spending more time with her family.
That obviously included her sister and it was why she was looking for right now, they often ended up becoming separated but Safiya was sure she would find her again.
For the moment, she was a lot more focused on securing a drink. It would be a great way to set off her whole outfit and add that extra layer of refinement that she had been looking for when it had been picked out. Safiya was still not used the elegance that she was supposed to possess now, but with a stylish new look and the jewellery to match, she could be sure that she did more than just blended in. Of course, she also accepted that much of the ability to stand out and be noticed was due to the exotic quality of her looks, inherited from her mother.
That and she was a twin and they were both starting to earn their own notoriety and reputation, most of it good. At least she hoped it was, securing her own cup of wine, she sipped from it, those smokey eyes enhanced with makeup taking in the room and those within it, while some faces she recognised, for the moment she chose to hold back and not allow herself to be distracted. It was hard though she really just wanted to embrace the good times as much as possible.
But this was the sort of thing that her mother had suggested; restraint. Safiya really just wished that it was a lot easier to do.
Naturally, the idea of a party appealed to Safiya and it was the kind of thing that she was glad was happening. Especially as she didn't want to end up moping around and being worried about her uncle and brother and the fact they were currently off to war. Not to mention the others.
Safiya had taken the view that she needed to be thinking about the others as well. Even when she really didn't particularly know anyone else or even think that she was all that good at thinking about those faceless strangers. She was trying and some would argue that it was in more than one way. It was actually the reason that she had spent more time with her mother, she needed the reassurance of her presence, of course, her duties at the palace and to the Queen remained but in these trying times, she had really been feeling like she should be spending more time with her family.
That obviously included her sister and it was why she was looking for right now, they often ended up becoming separated but Safiya was sure she would find her again.
For the moment, she was a lot more focused on securing a drink. It would be a great way to set off her whole outfit and add that extra layer of refinement that she had been looking for when it had been picked out. Safiya was still not used the elegance that she was supposed to possess now, but with a stylish new look and the jewellery to match, she could be sure that she did more than just blended in. Of course, she also accepted that much of the ability to stand out and be noticed was due to the exotic quality of her looks, inherited from her mother.
That and she was a twin and they were both starting to earn their own notoriety and reputation, most of it good. At least she hoped it was, securing her own cup of wine, she sipped from it, those smokey eyes enhanced with makeup taking in the room and those within it, while some faces she recognised, for the moment she chose to hold back and not allow herself to be distracted. It was hard though she really just wanted to embrace the good times as much as possible.
But this was the sort of thing that her mother had suggested; restraint. Safiya really just wished that it was a lot easier to do.
Hatshepsut sat on a luxuriously upholstered stool with elaborately carved legs as the handmaiden who did her makeup worked her magic on her mistress’s pretty young face. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her eyelids painted in a pattern of purple and gold. Red ochre stained her cheeks and lips. Powdered gold was dusted over it all and when the Queen looked into her mirror, she was amazed at the transformation. She looked like a goddess come to earth.
She sighed softly as a braided wig was placed upon her head. Each tiny braid was woven with purple ribbon and tipped with a golden bead. It was long, reaching halfway down her back, and quite heavy ... nearly as heavy as the responsibility that rested on her shoulders now that she was governing Egypt in Iahotep’s absence. Though she still relied on the wisdom of her mother and her former tutor, she made many decisions on her own, determined to prove to her husband that she was capable of ruling beside him when he returned.
It was hard work, but so far, she had done quite well, putting down small uprisings and making certain that her people had everything they needed. She had made a speech shortly after the men left, promising to keep her subjects informed as to how the war was progressing. Many of them had fathers, sons, brothers, and cousins who had joined the fighting and they were understandably worried. So far, she had heard nothing at all from the front. It was possible that the Egyptians and the Greeks had not yet engaged in battle.
Hatshepsut was terrified for both Osorsen and Sutekh and she went to the Grand Temple to pray for them every morning. She had to believe that the gods would watch over them and protect them or she felt that she would go insane from fear. Nobody was more important to her than they were and she could not imagine living without either one of them.
Oso was the love of her life, the air that she breathed and every beat of her heart. If he did not return, she felt certain that the best part of her would die with him, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell. Her half-brother was precious to her, and she feared that Iahotep would purposefully put him into danger as he considered Sutekh a threat to his throne. Both her lover and her brother were intelligent, clever, and experienced in battle. But until both of them returned to her, she would not stop worrying for them.
Oh how she wished this war was over already!
The extra weight of her golden vulture crown brought her out of her morose thoughts. Hatshspsut was not looking forward to today’s gathering, even though it had been her idea. The noblewomen needed to stick together during these uncertain times, a tradition the young Queen had begun last month with the informal soiree in the palace gardens. It was imperative that she attend despite the stress of running a kingdom and the fatigue of pregnancy.
Ready to go, she left the palace and settled into her sedan chair for the ride to the tavern, which thankfully, wasn’t very long. The linked gold settings around the amethysts that formed the skirt of her ensemble clinked as she walked in, surrounded by her guards. The patrons of the establishment bowed low when they recognized their Queen, and she felt their eyes upon her as she walked up the stairs. How must she look to them, she wondered, draped in a gown made entirely of jewels, the roundness of the baby growing in her womb carried proudly in front of her? At four months along, her belly was quite large already. There was absolutely no hiding the fact that she was with child.
The fresh air was welcoming as she strolled onto the roof garden. She was not the first arrival, as she had hoped to be, and she noticed that at least two of the women were also wearing gowns that left their breasts bare. Hatsheput was quite proud of hers now that they had swollen with her pregnancy and saw no reason to hide them. Straps made of gold-rimmed amethysts framed them on either side, with two of them in the middle. They had been covered by a golden shawl during the trip to the tavern, but now she pulled it off. Her collar, armbands, earrings and ankle bands were formed of etched gold which matched her crown.
Her guards took up positions by the door while she moved to the chaise in the front of the room that had been reserved for her. Arranging herself comfortably upon it, she smiled shyly at the early arrivals. One of the servants handed her a golden goblet of wine while another prepared a plate of food for her.
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Hatshepsut sat on a luxuriously upholstered stool with elaborately carved legs as the handmaiden who did her makeup worked her magic on her mistress’s pretty young face. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her eyelids painted in a pattern of purple and gold. Red ochre stained her cheeks and lips. Powdered gold was dusted over it all and when the Queen looked into her mirror, she was amazed at the transformation. She looked like a goddess come to earth.
She sighed softly as a braided wig was placed upon her head. Each tiny braid was woven with purple ribbon and tipped with a golden bead. It was long, reaching halfway down her back, and quite heavy ... nearly as heavy as the responsibility that rested on her shoulders now that she was governing Egypt in Iahotep’s absence. Though she still relied on the wisdom of her mother and her former tutor, she made many decisions on her own, determined to prove to her husband that she was capable of ruling beside him when he returned.
It was hard work, but so far, she had done quite well, putting down small uprisings and making certain that her people had everything they needed. She had made a speech shortly after the men left, promising to keep her subjects informed as to how the war was progressing. Many of them had fathers, sons, brothers, and cousins who had joined the fighting and they were understandably worried. So far, she had heard nothing at all from the front. It was possible that the Egyptians and the Greeks had not yet engaged in battle.
Hatshepsut was terrified for both Osorsen and Sutekh and she went to the Grand Temple to pray for them every morning. She had to believe that the gods would watch over them and protect them or she felt that she would go insane from fear. Nobody was more important to her than they were and she could not imagine living without either one of them.
Oso was the love of her life, the air that she breathed and every beat of her heart. If he did not return, she felt certain that the best part of her would die with him, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell. Her half-brother was precious to her, and she feared that Iahotep would purposefully put him into danger as he considered Sutekh a threat to his throne. Both her lover and her brother were intelligent, clever, and experienced in battle. But until both of them returned to her, she would not stop worrying for them.
Oh how she wished this war was over already!
The extra weight of her golden vulture crown brought her out of her morose thoughts. Hatshspsut was not looking forward to today’s gathering, even though it had been her idea. The noblewomen needed to stick together during these uncertain times, a tradition the young Queen had begun last month with the informal soiree in the palace gardens. It was imperative that she attend despite the stress of running a kingdom and the fatigue of pregnancy.
Ready to go, she left the palace and settled into her sedan chair for the ride to the tavern, which thankfully, wasn’t very long. The linked gold settings around the amethysts that formed the skirt of her ensemble clinked as she walked in, surrounded by her guards. The patrons of the establishment bowed low when they recognized their Queen, and she felt their eyes upon her as she walked up the stairs. How must she look to them, she wondered, draped in a gown made entirely of jewels, the roundness of the baby growing in her womb carried proudly in front of her? At four months along, her belly was quite large already. There was absolutely no hiding the fact that she was with child.
The fresh air was welcoming as she strolled onto the roof garden. She was not the first arrival, as she had hoped to be, and she noticed that at least two of the women were also wearing gowns that left their breasts bare. Hatsheput was quite proud of hers now that they had swollen with her pregnancy and saw no reason to hide them. Straps made of gold-rimmed amethysts framed them on either side, with two of them in the middle. They had been covered by a golden shawl during the trip to the tavern, but now she pulled it off. Her collar, armbands, earrings and ankle bands were formed of etched gold which matched her crown.
Her guards took up positions by the door while she moved to the chaise in the front of the room that had been reserved for her. Arranging herself comfortably upon it, she smiled shyly at the early arrivals. One of the servants handed her a golden goblet of wine while another prepared a plate of food for her.
Hatshepsut sat on a luxuriously upholstered stool with elaborately carved legs as the handmaiden who did her makeup worked her magic on her mistress’s pretty young face. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her eyelids painted in a pattern of purple and gold. Red ochre stained her cheeks and lips. Powdered gold was dusted over it all and when the Queen looked into her mirror, she was amazed at the transformation. She looked like a goddess come to earth.
She sighed softly as a braided wig was placed upon her head. Each tiny braid was woven with purple ribbon and tipped with a golden bead. It was long, reaching halfway down her back, and quite heavy ... nearly as heavy as the responsibility that rested on her shoulders now that she was governing Egypt in Iahotep’s absence. Though she still relied on the wisdom of her mother and her former tutor, she made many decisions on her own, determined to prove to her husband that she was capable of ruling beside him when he returned.
It was hard work, but so far, she had done quite well, putting down small uprisings and making certain that her people had everything they needed. She had made a speech shortly after the men left, promising to keep her subjects informed as to how the war was progressing. Many of them had fathers, sons, brothers, and cousins who had joined the fighting and they were understandably worried. So far, she had heard nothing at all from the front. It was possible that the Egyptians and the Greeks had not yet engaged in battle.
Hatshepsut was terrified for both Osorsen and Sutekh and she went to the Grand Temple to pray for them every morning. She had to believe that the gods would watch over them and protect them or she felt that she would go insane from fear. Nobody was more important to her than they were and she could not imagine living without either one of them.
Oso was the love of her life, the air that she breathed and every beat of her heart. If he did not return, she felt certain that the best part of her would die with him, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell. Her half-brother was precious to her, and she feared that Iahotep would purposefully put him into danger as he considered Sutekh a threat to his throne. Both her lover and her brother were intelligent, clever, and experienced in battle. But until both of them returned to her, she would not stop worrying for them.
Oh how she wished this war was over already!
The extra weight of her golden vulture crown brought her out of her morose thoughts. Hatshspsut was not looking forward to today’s gathering, even though it had been her idea. The noblewomen needed to stick together during these uncertain times, a tradition the young Queen had begun last month with the informal soiree in the palace gardens. It was imperative that she attend despite the stress of running a kingdom and the fatigue of pregnancy.
Ready to go, she left the palace and settled into her sedan chair for the ride to the tavern, which thankfully, wasn’t very long. The linked gold settings around the amethysts that formed the skirt of her ensemble clinked as she walked in, surrounded by her guards. The patrons of the establishment bowed low when they recognized their Queen, and she felt their eyes upon her as she walked up the stairs. How must she look to them, she wondered, draped in a gown made entirely of jewels, the roundness of the baby growing in her womb carried proudly in front of her? At four months along, her belly was quite large already. There was absolutely no hiding the fact that she was with child.
The fresh air was welcoming as she strolled onto the roof garden. She was not the first arrival, as she had hoped to be, and she noticed that at least two of the women were also wearing gowns that left their breasts bare. Hatsheput was quite proud of hers now that they had swollen with her pregnancy and saw no reason to hide them. Straps made of gold-rimmed amethysts framed them on either side, with two of them in the middle. They had been covered by a golden shawl during the trip to the tavern, but now she pulled it off. Her collar, armbands, earrings and ankle bands were formed of etched gold which matched her crown.
Her guards took up positions by the door while she moved to the chaise in the front of the room that had been reserved for her. Arranging herself comfortably upon it, she smiled shyly at the early arrivals. One of the servants handed her a golden goblet of wine while another prepared a plate of food for her.
Nia was almost successful in her attempt to just sleep the dreadful meeting away, right on the verge of dreaming when someone sat down next to her. The subtle movement was just enough to startle her fully awake, sitting up and blinking several times in a disoriented fashion. Glancing over to see who it was that sat down, she offered a brief smile. There was a vague recognition there, a woman she’d seen maybe once or twice at some event or another. If she guessed correctly, she was part of Hei Abaddi, one of the newer noble families of Cairo.
“You look about as thrilled to be here as I am,” she murmured in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “Hate to tell you, but unless a servant fucks up and spills something on the Queen again like last time, this is probably about as exciting as it’s going to get.”
The young noblewoman usually did all she could to avoid the Court, but every now and then, her mother put her foot down and insisted she attend. Without any convenient excuse to get out of it this time, here she was, but if there was someone else to share her misery, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I’m Nia, by the way,” she introduced herself with another smile, this one a little more genuine than the one before it. “Neithotep H’Sheifa, if you want to be all fancy about it, but I’m not really that fancy of a person.” In spite of her appearance that day indicating much to the contrary, typically, that was true. Nia was a far cry from the average noble. “You should try some of the food, at least. That’s usually the best part of these Court sessions.”
Eyeing a tray that a servant carried past her and Osiria, she stopped the man to see what it contained. Honey cakes and stuffed figs had her mouth watering, Nia selecting one of each. Taking a bite of the honey cake, her eyes closed for a brief moment to savor the taste. “I can confidently say this time is no different.”
Looking up when a far more familiar figure entered the room, Nia grinned and jumped to her feet. “Safiya!” she cried out in delight, briefly excusing herself from Osiria to greet her friend. Wrapping the younger woman in a hug, her grin widened even further. “I was worried you wouldn’t be here! It’s so good to see you!” Tugging at Safiya’s arm, Nia urged her back over to where she was sitting. “Come, sit with me!”
Gesturing to her friend, she introduced her to the woman she had been speaking with before, “This is Safiya H’Haikkadad, if you haven’t met her before. She’s one of the Queen’s retainers, and was nearly my niece!” If her marriage to Narmer hadn’t fallen through, that was the one thing Nia was looking forward to—sharing a home and family with her friend. Luckily for everyone, that hadn’t panned out, but she was still happy to see Safiya, nonetheless.
The next woman to arrive was the Queen herself, Nia standing up to bow to the young monarch. “Your Evening Radiance,” she greeted her with a soft smile, her mind briefly returning to the last time they spoke. She would never forget Hatshepsut’s kindness and her offers of help and protection. She imagined the Queen was even happier than she was to have Iahotep gone. At least Nia didn’t have to live with him all the time.
“You’re looking marvelous today, as always. How fare you and our little prince or princess?” She smiled down at the woman’s gently rounded stomach with just an ounce of gratitude that this was one similarity they did not share. To be pregnant with Iahotep’s child… gods, she nearly shuddered at the notion.
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Check out their information page here.
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Nia was almost successful in her attempt to just sleep the dreadful meeting away, right on the verge of dreaming when someone sat down next to her. The subtle movement was just enough to startle her fully awake, sitting up and blinking several times in a disoriented fashion. Glancing over to see who it was that sat down, she offered a brief smile. There was a vague recognition there, a woman she’d seen maybe once or twice at some event or another. If she guessed correctly, she was part of Hei Abaddi, one of the newer noble families of Cairo.
“You look about as thrilled to be here as I am,” she murmured in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “Hate to tell you, but unless a servant fucks up and spills something on the Queen again like last time, this is probably about as exciting as it’s going to get.”
The young noblewoman usually did all she could to avoid the Court, but every now and then, her mother put her foot down and insisted she attend. Without any convenient excuse to get out of it this time, here she was, but if there was someone else to share her misery, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I’m Nia, by the way,” she introduced herself with another smile, this one a little more genuine than the one before it. “Neithotep H’Sheifa, if you want to be all fancy about it, but I’m not really that fancy of a person.” In spite of her appearance that day indicating much to the contrary, typically, that was true. Nia was a far cry from the average noble. “You should try some of the food, at least. That’s usually the best part of these Court sessions.”
Eyeing a tray that a servant carried past her and Osiria, she stopped the man to see what it contained. Honey cakes and stuffed figs had her mouth watering, Nia selecting one of each. Taking a bite of the honey cake, her eyes closed for a brief moment to savor the taste. “I can confidently say this time is no different.”
Looking up when a far more familiar figure entered the room, Nia grinned and jumped to her feet. “Safiya!” she cried out in delight, briefly excusing herself from Osiria to greet her friend. Wrapping the younger woman in a hug, her grin widened even further. “I was worried you wouldn’t be here! It’s so good to see you!” Tugging at Safiya’s arm, Nia urged her back over to where she was sitting. “Come, sit with me!”
Gesturing to her friend, she introduced her to the woman she had been speaking with before, “This is Safiya H’Haikkadad, if you haven’t met her before. She’s one of the Queen’s retainers, and was nearly my niece!” If her marriage to Narmer hadn’t fallen through, that was the one thing Nia was looking forward to—sharing a home and family with her friend. Luckily for everyone, that hadn’t panned out, but she was still happy to see Safiya, nonetheless.
The next woman to arrive was the Queen herself, Nia standing up to bow to the young monarch. “Your Evening Radiance,” she greeted her with a soft smile, her mind briefly returning to the last time they spoke. She would never forget Hatshepsut’s kindness and her offers of help and protection. She imagined the Queen was even happier than she was to have Iahotep gone. At least Nia didn’t have to live with him all the time.
“You’re looking marvelous today, as always. How fare you and our little prince or princess?” She smiled down at the woman’s gently rounded stomach with just an ounce of gratitude that this was one similarity they did not share. To be pregnant with Iahotep’s child… gods, she nearly shuddered at the notion.
Nia was almost successful in her attempt to just sleep the dreadful meeting away, right on the verge of dreaming when someone sat down next to her. The subtle movement was just enough to startle her fully awake, sitting up and blinking several times in a disoriented fashion. Glancing over to see who it was that sat down, she offered a brief smile. There was a vague recognition there, a woman she’d seen maybe once or twice at some event or another. If she guessed correctly, she was part of Hei Abaddi, one of the newer noble families of Cairo.
“You look about as thrilled to be here as I am,” she murmured in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “Hate to tell you, but unless a servant fucks up and spills something on the Queen again like last time, this is probably about as exciting as it’s going to get.”
The young noblewoman usually did all she could to avoid the Court, but every now and then, her mother put her foot down and insisted she attend. Without any convenient excuse to get out of it this time, here she was, but if there was someone else to share her misery, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I’m Nia, by the way,” she introduced herself with another smile, this one a little more genuine than the one before it. “Neithotep H’Sheifa, if you want to be all fancy about it, but I’m not really that fancy of a person.” In spite of her appearance that day indicating much to the contrary, typically, that was true. Nia was a far cry from the average noble. “You should try some of the food, at least. That’s usually the best part of these Court sessions.”
Eyeing a tray that a servant carried past her and Osiria, she stopped the man to see what it contained. Honey cakes and stuffed figs had her mouth watering, Nia selecting one of each. Taking a bite of the honey cake, her eyes closed for a brief moment to savor the taste. “I can confidently say this time is no different.”
Looking up when a far more familiar figure entered the room, Nia grinned and jumped to her feet. “Safiya!” she cried out in delight, briefly excusing herself from Osiria to greet her friend. Wrapping the younger woman in a hug, her grin widened even further. “I was worried you wouldn’t be here! It’s so good to see you!” Tugging at Safiya’s arm, Nia urged her back over to where she was sitting. “Come, sit with me!”
Gesturing to her friend, she introduced her to the woman she had been speaking with before, “This is Safiya H’Haikkadad, if you haven’t met her before. She’s one of the Queen’s retainers, and was nearly my niece!” If her marriage to Narmer hadn’t fallen through, that was the one thing Nia was looking forward to—sharing a home and family with her friend. Luckily for everyone, that hadn’t panned out, but she was still happy to see Safiya, nonetheless.
The next woman to arrive was the Queen herself, Nia standing up to bow to the young monarch. “Your Evening Radiance,” she greeted her with a soft smile, her mind briefly returning to the last time they spoke. She would never forget Hatshepsut’s kindness and her offers of help and protection. She imagined the Queen was even happier than she was to have Iahotep gone. At least Nia didn’t have to live with him all the time.
“You’re looking marvelous today, as always. How fare you and our little prince or princess?” She smiled down at the woman’s gently rounded stomach with just an ounce of gratitude that this was one similarity they did not share. To be pregnant with Iahotep’s child… gods, she nearly shuddered at the notion.
“Hey.”
Such an innocuous word that should not have sent such a thrill of dread through her stomach and coiling up her spine until she could taste the anxiety on her tongue like copper. Nenet’s eyes flitted to Rubiah, then back to some distant spot on the wall near the door before sliding back again as Rubiah turned and ordered them drinks. But Nenet’s eyes had widened by then. Friend? They were friends now? She wanted to wilt onto the couch. She mulled over the copper taste, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t require a stumble but motion from beside her drew her notice again and she frowned, confused, as Rubiah held up her thumb like she was measuring a painting. Nenet’s squinted eyes darted to the waiter and back again, lips parted in a silent question.
“Orange juice.” Rubiah stated, which earned a further narrowing confusion and then came back with, “Pineapple juice.” in such a decisive way that Nenet realized Rubiah wasn’t ordering the juice for herself. Rubiah was ordering it for her. The assurance that she’d love pineapple juice was met with quirked brows and mouth inching ever more open. Did Rubiah assume she’d never had pineapple juice? That last snap and ”Now!” to the servant made Nenet blink and she finally looked towards Nia and her mother with a sort of help? expression. It wasn’t Rubiah’s status that disturbed her but the familiarity - something sure to make Nenet run in the polar opposite direction if decorum and breeding wasn’t anchored her to the chaise. Nia looked momentarily concerned and then shrugged and looked elsewhere. Nenet’s anxiety flattened into a single, unimpressed line with her sister. Typical.
At that moment, her attention was drawn towards the doorway where more women filtered in. She vaguely recognized Osiria H’Abaddi, but had never spoken to her. Most of the women here Nenet knew by face but not necessarily by actual conversation. The waiter returned just then with her pineapple juice, handing her the cup. The scent of mint and pineapple wove together as she looked down at mint leaves that had been cut into the shape of the Horus Eye. She didn’t know quite what to make of that except that mint and pineapple were cooling against her parched throat and she was bold enough to glance back at Rubiah as she drank. It was safe to do so, with the lip of the glass against her mouth, preventing talking, and lifted her eyebrow to indicate that this was good.
It was at that precise moment that Nenet heard the words ‘fuck up’ from the other end of the chaise and her eyes widened in both alarm and actual embarrassment for her uncouth sister as she stared hard at Nia. Nia, in conversation with Osiria. Nenet sighed, thinking this obviously could not get any worse but Nia proved her wrong. With a shriek of glee, Nia greeted Safiya, getting up and wrapping Safiya in a hug that momentarily made Nenet jealous. Her sister never hugged her like that. And was Safiya more Nia’s friend? Or hers? She felt the oddest impulse to stand up and take Safiya’s wrist and say something like “No, no, Safiya, sit with me.” But she didn’t. She remained right where she was, kohl lined eyes now narrowed black slits as she watched Nia glitter and giggle and steal both attention and affection. And then, oh and then, Nia announced, for everyone to hear, that her engagement to Narmer fell through. Nenet wanted to sink into the couch and never come out.
“S-s-so,” she immediately turned to Rubiah, thinking that if Nia was doing that fantastic of a job embarrassing them all, then she, Nenet, couldn’t be that bad. It gave her momentary courage, at least. Her gaze swept over Rubiah again, still trying to figure her out and unsuccessful in the attempt. “H-h-ow iiiissss,” she practically bit down on the word ‘is’ to try and force it to come out correctly, but wobbled indelicately hard her last word, blushing hard through the entire ordeal. “W-w-w-w-w-wine?” She exhaled hard, eyes flicking up to Rubiah’s to check how much Rubiah would want to run away now that she knew full well she was speaking to someone who was not equal to the task.
But, again, Nenet’s attention jerked away because the queen entered the room. She stood and dipped into the curtsey she was supposed to do, and sank back onto the chaise, actually hiding her face in one hand as Nia pranced over, shoehorning herself to speak to the queen in such familiar terms. Should Nenet jump off the roof? Yes. She’d jump off the roof. What a mortifying spectacle this was turning out to be.
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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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“Hey.”
Such an innocuous word that should not have sent such a thrill of dread through her stomach and coiling up her spine until she could taste the anxiety on her tongue like copper. Nenet’s eyes flitted to Rubiah, then back to some distant spot on the wall near the door before sliding back again as Rubiah turned and ordered them drinks. But Nenet’s eyes had widened by then. Friend? They were friends now? She wanted to wilt onto the couch. She mulled over the copper taste, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t require a stumble but motion from beside her drew her notice again and she frowned, confused, as Rubiah held up her thumb like she was measuring a painting. Nenet’s squinted eyes darted to the waiter and back again, lips parted in a silent question.
“Orange juice.” Rubiah stated, which earned a further narrowing confusion and then came back with, “Pineapple juice.” in such a decisive way that Nenet realized Rubiah wasn’t ordering the juice for herself. Rubiah was ordering it for her. The assurance that she’d love pineapple juice was met with quirked brows and mouth inching ever more open. Did Rubiah assume she’d never had pineapple juice? That last snap and ”Now!” to the servant made Nenet blink and she finally looked towards Nia and her mother with a sort of help? expression. It wasn’t Rubiah’s status that disturbed her but the familiarity - something sure to make Nenet run in the polar opposite direction if decorum and breeding wasn’t anchored her to the chaise. Nia looked momentarily concerned and then shrugged and looked elsewhere. Nenet’s anxiety flattened into a single, unimpressed line with her sister. Typical.
At that moment, her attention was drawn towards the doorway where more women filtered in. She vaguely recognized Osiria H’Abaddi, but had never spoken to her. Most of the women here Nenet knew by face but not necessarily by actual conversation. The waiter returned just then with her pineapple juice, handing her the cup. The scent of mint and pineapple wove together as she looked down at mint leaves that had been cut into the shape of the Horus Eye. She didn’t know quite what to make of that except that mint and pineapple were cooling against her parched throat and she was bold enough to glance back at Rubiah as she drank. It was safe to do so, with the lip of the glass against her mouth, preventing talking, and lifted her eyebrow to indicate that this was good.
It was at that precise moment that Nenet heard the words ‘fuck up’ from the other end of the chaise and her eyes widened in both alarm and actual embarrassment for her uncouth sister as she stared hard at Nia. Nia, in conversation with Osiria. Nenet sighed, thinking this obviously could not get any worse but Nia proved her wrong. With a shriek of glee, Nia greeted Safiya, getting up and wrapping Safiya in a hug that momentarily made Nenet jealous. Her sister never hugged her like that. And was Safiya more Nia’s friend? Or hers? She felt the oddest impulse to stand up and take Safiya’s wrist and say something like “No, no, Safiya, sit with me.” But she didn’t. She remained right where she was, kohl lined eyes now narrowed black slits as she watched Nia glitter and giggle and steal both attention and affection. And then, oh and then, Nia announced, for everyone to hear, that her engagement to Narmer fell through. Nenet wanted to sink into the couch and never come out.
“S-s-so,” she immediately turned to Rubiah, thinking that if Nia was doing that fantastic of a job embarrassing them all, then she, Nenet, couldn’t be that bad. It gave her momentary courage, at least. Her gaze swept over Rubiah again, still trying to figure her out and unsuccessful in the attempt. “H-h-ow iiiissss,” she practically bit down on the word ‘is’ to try and force it to come out correctly, but wobbled indelicately hard her last word, blushing hard through the entire ordeal. “W-w-w-w-w-wine?” She exhaled hard, eyes flicking up to Rubiah’s to check how much Rubiah would want to run away now that she knew full well she was speaking to someone who was not equal to the task.
But, again, Nenet’s attention jerked away because the queen entered the room. She stood and dipped into the curtsey she was supposed to do, and sank back onto the chaise, actually hiding her face in one hand as Nia pranced over, shoehorning herself to speak to the queen in such familiar terms. Should Nenet jump off the roof? Yes. She’d jump off the roof. What a mortifying spectacle this was turning out to be.
“Hey.”
Such an innocuous word that should not have sent such a thrill of dread through her stomach and coiling up her spine until she could taste the anxiety on her tongue like copper. Nenet’s eyes flitted to Rubiah, then back to some distant spot on the wall near the door before sliding back again as Rubiah turned and ordered them drinks. But Nenet’s eyes had widened by then. Friend? They were friends now? She wanted to wilt onto the couch. She mulled over the copper taste, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t require a stumble but motion from beside her drew her notice again and she frowned, confused, as Rubiah held up her thumb like she was measuring a painting. Nenet’s squinted eyes darted to the waiter and back again, lips parted in a silent question.
“Orange juice.” Rubiah stated, which earned a further narrowing confusion and then came back with, “Pineapple juice.” in such a decisive way that Nenet realized Rubiah wasn’t ordering the juice for herself. Rubiah was ordering it for her. The assurance that she’d love pineapple juice was met with quirked brows and mouth inching ever more open. Did Rubiah assume she’d never had pineapple juice? That last snap and ”Now!” to the servant made Nenet blink and she finally looked towards Nia and her mother with a sort of help? expression. It wasn’t Rubiah’s status that disturbed her but the familiarity - something sure to make Nenet run in the polar opposite direction if decorum and breeding wasn’t anchored her to the chaise. Nia looked momentarily concerned and then shrugged and looked elsewhere. Nenet’s anxiety flattened into a single, unimpressed line with her sister. Typical.
At that moment, her attention was drawn towards the doorway where more women filtered in. She vaguely recognized Osiria H’Abaddi, but had never spoken to her. Most of the women here Nenet knew by face but not necessarily by actual conversation. The waiter returned just then with her pineapple juice, handing her the cup. The scent of mint and pineapple wove together as she looked down at mint leaves that had been cut into the shape of the Horus Eye. She didn’t know quite what to make of that except that mint and pineapple were cooling against her parched throat and she was bold enough to glance back at Rubiah as she drank. It was safe to do so, with the lip of the glass against her mouth, preventing talking, and lifted her eyebrow to indicate that this was good.
It was at that precise moment that Nenet heard the words ‘fuck up’ from the other end of the chaise and her eyes widened in both alarm and actual embarrassment for her uncouth sister as she stared hard at Nia. Nia, in conversation with Osiria. Nenet sighed, thinking this obviously could not get any worse but Nia proved her wrong. With a shriek of glee, Nia greeted Safiya, getting up and wrapping Safiya in a hug that momentarily made Nenet jealous. Her sister never hugged her like that. And was Safiya more Nia’s friend? Or hers? She felt the oddest impulse to stand up and take Safiya’s wrist and say something like “No, no, Safiya, sit with me.” But she didn’t. She remained right where she was, kohl lined eyes now narrowed black slits as she watched Nia glitter and giggle and steal both attention and affection. And then, oh and then, Nia announced, for everyone to hear, that her engagement to Narmer fell through. Nenet wanted to sink into the couch and never come out.
“S-s-so,” she immediately turned to Rubiah, thinking that if Nia was doing that fantastic of a job embarrassing them all, then she, Nenet, couldn’t be that bad. It gave her momentary courage, at least. Her gaze swept over Rubiah again, still trying to figure her out and unsuccessful in the attempt. “H-h-ow iiiissss,” she practically bit down on the word ‘is’ to try and force it to come out correctly, but wobbled indelicately hard her last word, blushing hard through the entire ordeal. “W-w-w-w-w-wine?” She exhaled hard, eyes flicking up to Rubiah’s to check how much Rubiah would want to run away now that she knew full well she was speaking to someone who was not equal to the task.
But, again, Nenet’s attention jerked away because the queen entered the room. She stood and dipped into the curtsey she was supposed to do, and sank back onto the chaise, actually hiding her face in one hand as Nia pranced over, shoehorning herself to speak to the queen in such familiar terms. Should Nenet jump off the roof? Yes. She’d jump off the roof. What a mortifying spectacle this was turning out to be.
Though they had arrived together, Sameera now found herself separated from her twin. For this, Sameera had decided to look nice, allowing a dash of makeup to compliment her exotic look, the one she had inherited from her mother and shared with her sister, who was, at the moment, missing from the area that Sameera’s burnt amber eyes could see. Unfortunate, yes, as Safiya had always been the one to be more bold, and brave. She considered the women around her to be intriguing, yes, but she always thought that they considered her a nonentity when compared with her sister.
Quiet, so very quiet, Sameera considered the wine before her as she allowed the words of the other women to flow into her ears. She was the wallflower, aware of her Hei’s position. She did not wish to make it worse by offending any of the others, and kept herself quiet, lest in her haste to add her own words to the story she spoke discordant tones and found herself even more out of luck.
Her eyes went to the Queen, a flash of envy trailing through them. Sure, Sameera had dipped herself in curtsy upon realizing she was here, but so, she believed, had the rest of the women. If they had any sense, she thought. Sameera recognized the feeling of her heart aching as she glanced at the Queen. Was it the Queen’s rounded belly, signifying the arrival of a new member of her family? Was it the knowledge that the Queen would always hold some form of wealth, looking almost like something from a story in a dress made entirely of jewels or that the Queen did not have to consider such things as Sameera herself did? Or was it instead the ability to reach into the mind of the Pharaoh or the other members of the Royal family who lived with her? What Sameera wouldn’t do to find out more about the lives of others, the lives that had always seemed so...so interesting compared with her own.
Sameera realized now, as she enjoyed a light snack, that she had faded into the background. Acceptable for now, yes, but doing so always made her feel a tad philosophical. Who was she, that faded easily into the background, much scrubbed fingers still with traces of the ink that still adored clutched to the stem of a glass of fine wine in an attempt to feel as wealthy as the woman surrounding her, with lives as interesting as they? The closest Sameera could get to that luxury would be to marry one of their brothers, perhaps, or become a retainer as Safiya did, though Sameera would be loath to spend any more of her time away from her stories.
Perhaps she should become a scholar of some type. Would that bring more gold and riches to the Haikaddad family’s vaults, that so regularly was spent on a variety of things Sameera was only beginning to understand? She wished for a way, desperately, to aid her family, and for now, remaining in the good graces of their at-times competitors and at-times close allies seemed to be the way to go.
Sameera looked down at herself, comparing once more, her mind spouting flowery terms at her as she noted ambivalently the way other women were dressed compared to herself. Would they think of her as bland? Her hair was plain, not shaved for a wig. She found them detestable, due to a rather unpleasant experience she had as a child wearing one, and had resolved to grow out her hair. Though when writing and the long locks fell down in the way of her hands, she at times wished she had kept the shaved head that came with wearing wigs commonly. Another problem she had was that the hair on the wigs never even seemed to appear as if it was hers, likely due to the expensive nature of such a wig or perhaps due to her somewhat unique tone. Even if such a wig existed, she would have given it to Safiya in a heartbeat had her sister asked.
Upon her neck, she wore a necklace, decorated with some soft-toned jewels. Anything that brought attention to it would have made Sameera feel guilty, as if she were not supposed to be wearing it while her uncle considered debts. On the other hand, if she had worn a nicer necklace, perhaps a wealthy young man would have considered her, offered to pay off all of Hei Haikaddad’s debts in exchange for only a kiss.
But this was a mere fantasy. No man would be that selfless, and likely no man would be as rich. Besides, all the men of honor, age, and ability would likely be off attempting to fight the war. Or perhaps not. Perhaps this war would be a way to bring more wealth to their house if Kissan managed a feat worthy enough to convince the Pharaoh to grant them land.
Another foolish wish. The more likely occurrence was yet another death in Hei Haikaddad, and one that would hit especially hard. Kissan was the only male heir, unless Narmer got married. Sameera knew of her own sister’s own feelings towards that situation, and considering it made her nervous. Wasn’t that the woman Narmer had considered a marriage with for some time, speaking with Safiya and the Queen?
Sameera wished more conversation would drift towards her ears. How was she ever supposed to learn what was going on if people did not speak loud enough to hear? She supposed that one more loud-spoken than she would drag her into things soon, perhaps talk of her own opinions. She did enjoy the amount of gossip, even knowing that it could quite possibly all be false, but that was the good fun in it all.
Sameera stood, feeling the body-warm metal of the bronze-disc covering the front parts of her breasts. This was her best dress, as it was the most intricate. Unfortunately, for Sameera, that was, it was also rather bare, as her lower half was almost completely uncovered in the back with the exception of the slight networking. She despised the bare feeling of sitting on things, and yet she did not wish to stand for such long periods of time. If there had been a goddess of clothing (and Sameera was certain that it would be a goddess), she would have prayed for that feeling of her buttocks on things to cease. As it was, Sameera could only hope no one noticed the networking sticking in a rather undesirable place as she stood with her back to the wall. Oh, to be as Nephthys was, clad in robes of darkness.
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Though they had arrived together, Sameera now found herself separated from her twin. For this, Sameera had decided to look nice, allowing a dash of makeup to compliment her exotic look, the one she had inherited from her mother and shared with her sister, who was, at the moment, missing from the area that Sameera’s burnt amber eyes could see. Unfortunate, yes, as Safiya had always been the one to be more bold, and brave. She considered the women around her to be intriguing, yes, but she always thought that they considered her a nonentity when compared with her sister.
Quiet, so very quiet, Sameera considered the wine before her as she allowed the words of the other women to flow into her ears. She was the wallflower, aware of her Hei’s position. She did not wish to make it worse by offending any of the others, and kept herself quiet, lest in her haste to add her own words to the story she spoke discordant tones and found herself even more out of luck.
Her eyes went to the Queen, a flash of envy trailing through them. Sure, Sameera had dipped herself in curtsy upon realizing she was here, but so, she believed, had the rest of the women. If they had any sense, she thought. Sameera recognized the feeling of her heart aching as she glanced at the Queen. Was it the Queen’s rounded belly, signifying the arrival of a new member of her family? Was it the knowledge that the Queen would always hold some form of wealth, looking almost like something from a story in a dress made entirely of jewels or that the Queen did not have to consider such things as Sameera herself did? Or was it instead the ability to reach into the mind of the Pharaoh or the other members of the Royal family who lived with her? What Sameera wouldn’t do to find out more about the lives of others, the lives that had always seemed so...so interesting compared with her own.
Sameera realized now, as she enjoyed a light snack, that she had faded into the background. Acceptable for now, yes, but doing so always made her feel a tad philosophical. Who was she, that faded easily into the background, much scrubbed fingers still with traces of the ink that still adored clutched to the stem of a glass of fine wine in an attempt to feel as wealthy as the woman surrounding her, with lives as interesting as they? The closest Sameera could get to that luxury would be to marry one of their brothers, perhaps, or become a retainer as Safiya did, though Sameera would be loath to spend any more of her time away from her stories.
Perhaps she should become a scholar of some type. Would that bring more gold and riches to the Haikaddad family’s vaults, that so regularly was spent on a variety of things Sameera was only beginning to understand? She wished for a way, desperately, to aid her family, and for now, remaining in the good graces of their at-times competitors and at-times close allies seemed to be the way to go.
Sameera looked down at herself, comparing once more, her mind spouting flowery terms at her as she noted ambivalently the way other women were dressed compared to herself. Would they think of her as bland? Her hair was plain, not shaved for a wig. She found them detestable, due to a rather unpleasant experience she had as a child wearing one, and had resolved to grow out her hair. Though when writing and the long locks fell down in the way of her hands, she at times wished she had kept the shaved head that came with wearing wigs commonly. Another problem she had was that the hair on the wigs never even seemed to appear as if it was hers, likely due to the expensive nature of such a wig or perhaps due to her somewhat unique tone. Even if such a wig existed, she would have given it to Safiya in a heartbeat had her sister asked.
Upon her neck, she wore a necklace, decorated with some soft-toned jewels. Anything that brought attention to it would have made Sameera feel guilty, as if she were not supposed to be wearing it while her uncle considered debts. On the other hand, if she had worn a nicer necklace, perhaps a wealthy young man would have considered her, offered to pay off all of Hei Haikaddad’s debts in exchange for only a kiss.
But this was a mere fantasy. No man would be that selfless, and likely no man would be as rich. Besides, all the men of honor, age, and ability would likely be off attempting to fight the war. Or perhaps not. Perhaps this war would be a way to bring more wealth to their house if Kissan managed a feat worthy enough to convince the Pharaoh to grant them land.
Another foolish wish. The more likely occurrence was yet another death in Hei Haikaddad, and one that would hit especially hard. Kissan was the only male heir, unless Narmer got married. Sameera knew of her own sister’s own feelings towards that situation, and considering it made her nervous. Wasn’t that the woman Narmer had considered a marriage with for some time, speaking with Safiya and the Queen?
Sameera wished more conversation would drift towards her ears. How was she ever supposed to learn what was going on if people did not speak loud enough to hear? She supposed that one more loud-spoken than she would drag her into things soon, perhaps talk of her own opinions. She did enjoy the amount of gossip, even knowing that it could quite possibly all be false, but that was the good fun in it all.
Sameera stood, feeling the body-warm metal of the bronze-disc covering the front parts of her breasts. This was her best dress, as it was the most intricate. Unfortunately, for Sameera, that was, it was also rather bare, as her lower half was almost completely uncovered in the back with the exception of the slight networking. She despised the bare feeling of sitting on things, and yet she did not wish to stand for such long periods of time. If there had been a goddess of clothing (and Sameera was certain that it would be a goddess), she would have prayed for that feeling of her buttocks on things to cease. As it was, Sameera could only hope no one noticed the networking sticking in a rather undesirable place as she stood with her back to the wall. Oh, to be as Nephthys was, clad in robes of darkness.
Though they had arrived together, Sameera now found herself separated from her twin. For this, Sameera had decided to look nice, allowing a dash of makeup to compliment her exotic look, the one she had inherited from her mother and shared with her sister, who was, at the moment, missing from the area that Sameera’s burnt amber eyes could see. Unfortunate, yes, as Safiya had always been the one to be more bold, and brave. She considered the women around her to be intriguing, yes, but she always thought that they considered her a nonentity when compared with her sister.
Quiet, so very quiet, Sameera considered the wine before her as she allowed the words of the other women to flow into her ears. She was the wallflower, aware of her Hei’s position. She did not wish to make it worse by offending any of the others, and kept herself quiet, lest in her haste to add her own words to the story she spoke discordant tones and found herself even more out of luck.
Her eyes went to the Queen, a flash of envy trailing through them. Sure, Sameera had dipped herself in curtsy upon realizing she was here, but so, she believed, had the rest of the women. If they had any sense, she thought. Sameera recognized the feeling of her heart aching as she glanced at the Queen. Was it the Queen’s rounded belly, signifying the arrival of a new member of her family? Was it the knowledge that the Queen would always hold some form of wealth, looking almost like something from a story in a dress made entirely of jewels or that the Queen did not have to consider such things as Sameera herself did? Or was it instead the ability to reach into the mind of the Pharaoh or the other members of the Royal family who lived with her? What Sameera wouldn’t do to find out more about the lives of others, the lives that had always seemed so...so interesting compared with her own.
Sameera realized now, as she enjoyed a light snack, that she had faded into the background. Acceptable for now, yes, but doing so always made her feel a tad philosophical. Who was she, that faded easily into the background, much scrubbed fingers still with traces of the ink that still adored clutched to the stem of a glass of fine wine in an attempt to feel as wealthy as the woman surrounding her, with lives as interesting as they? The closest Sameera could get to that luxury would be to marry one of their brothers, perhaps, or become a retainer as Safiya did, though Sameera would be loath to spend any more of her time away from her stories.
Perhaps she should become a scholar of some type. Would that bring more gold and riches to the Haikaddad family’s vaults, that so regularly was spent on a variety of things Sameera was only beginning to understand? She wished for a way, desperately, to aid her family, and for now, remaining in the good graces of their at-times competitors and at-times close allies seemed to be the way to go.
Sameera looked down at herself, comparing once more, her mind spouting flowery terms at her as she noted ambivalently the way other women were dressed compared to herself. Would they think of her as bland? Her hair was plain, not shaved for a wig. She found them detestable, due to a rather unpleasant experience she had as a child wearing one, and had resolved to grow out her hair. Though when writing and the long locks fell down in the way of her hands, she at times wished she had kept the shaved head that came with wearing wigs commonly. Another problem she had was that the hair on the wigs never even seemed to appear as if it was hers, likely due to the expensive nature of such a wig or perhaps due to her somewhat unique tone. Even if such a wig existed, she would have given it to Safiya in a heartbeat had her sister asked.
Upon her neck, she wore a necklace, decorated with some soft-toned jewels. Anything that brought attention to it would have made Sameera feel guilty, as if she were not supposed to be wearing it while her uncle considered debts. On the other hand, if she had worn a nicer necklace, perhaps a wealthy young man would have considered her, offered to pay off all of Hei Haikaddad’s debts in exchange for only a kiss.
But this was a mere fantasy. No man would be that selfless, and likely no man would be as rich. Besides, all the men of honor, age, and ability would likely be off attempting to fight the war. Or perhaps not. Perhaps this war would be a way to bring more wealth to their house if Kissan managed a feat worthy enough to convince the Pharaoh to grant them land.
Another foolish wish. The more likely occurrence was yet another death in Hei Haikaddad, and one that would hit especially hard. Kissan was the only male heir, unless Narmer got married. Sameera knew of her own sister’s own feelings towards that situation, and considering it made her nervous. Wasn’t that the woman Narmer had considered a marriage with for some time, speaking with Safiya and the Queen?
Sameera wished more conversation would drift towards her ears. How was she ever supposed to learn what was going on if people did not speak loud enough to hear? She supposed that one more loud-spoken than she would drag her into things soon, perhaps talk of her own opinions. She did enjoy the amount of gossip, even knowing that it could quite possibly all be false, but that was the good fun in it all.
Sameera stood, feeling the body-warm metal of the bronze-disc covering the front parts of her breasts. This was her best dress, as it was the most intricate. Unfortunately, for Sameera, that was, it was also rather bare, as her lower half was almost completely uncovered in the back with the exception of the slight networking. She despised the bare feeling of sitting on things, and yet she did not wish to stand for such long periods of time. If there had been a goddess of clothing (and Sameera was certain that it would be a goddess), she would have prayed for that feeling of her buttocks on things to cease. As it was, Sameera could only hope no one noticed the networking sticking in a rather undesirable place as she stood with her back to the wall. Oh, to be as Nephthys was, clad in robes of darkness.
Rubiah was settled on the little bub that she had declared her friend but it didn't stop her reacting to the presence of others. She raised a friendly hand and a sweet smile in the direction of the middle Sheifa daughter, having caught her watching Rubiah with a moment of curiosity. She also spared a glance at the woman that was, in some ways, her sister by marriage and nodded politely in her direction with the elegant confidence of one who belonged. Perhaps she would be able to con efficiently enough that the woman thought her in receipt of her own invitation and right to be there.
When the servant returned with their drinks and the young Sheifa drank from hers thirstily, Rubiah realised the misjudgement the little one had made. She thought that Rubiah had ordered wine for herself and juice for the girl. Not a mixure of all into the same goblet for the both of them. She smiled, not willing to burst her little bubble of innocence over the spiked fruit juice and, instead, watched how the girl's expression changed when her sister leaped up to envelop one of two identical twins that arrived at the little banquet. So... baby Sheifa didn't get the attentions she was hoping for from her older sisters...
Rubiah filed 'sister issues' away in her head for future use.
When the girl turned to her and asked how the wine was, Rubiah was quick with the response, admitting the truth.
"You tell me." She told her, pointing at the chalice that she held. Her finger tapped as she relayed each of the ingredients again. "White grape wine, orange juice and pineapple juice. Tastes good together right?" Rubiah asked, sipping from her own cup. She grinned at the girl but was thankful that any true scandalisation at her spiked drink was covered by the arrival of the Queen.
Rubiah made sure to dip her head nice and low - the equivalent of a sitting curtsy in honourable respect to the woman. She then looked towards the second of the twins that had yet to be properly involved in the group. She reached out a hand to the girl, her fingers gesturing for her to come closer and instead select the seat that was just across from the two of them.
"Come, my Lady." She offered her with a sweetness of disposition. "Please come sit with us, I am sure we can find something fun to talk about." She glanced towards Nenet. "We've just been enjoying a mixed drink I discovered when I was in Alexandria." She offered up the little titbit, wondering if the twin was the adventurous or dreaming sort and might be hooked by the idea of tales from far off provinces…
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Rubiah was settled on the little bub that she had declared her friend but it didn't stop her reacting to the presence of others. She raised a friendly hand and a sweet smile in the direction of the middle Sheifa daughter, having caught her watching Rubiah with a moment of curiosity. She also spared a glance at the woman that was, in some ways, her sister by marriage and nodded politely in her direction with the elegant confidence of one who belonged. Perhaps she would be able to con efficiently enough that the woman thought her in receipt of her own invitation and right to be there.
When the servant returned with their drinks and the young Sheifa drank from hers thirstily, Rubiah realised the misjudgement the little one had made. She thought that Rubiah had ordered wine for herself and juice for the girl. Not a mixure of all into the same goblet for the both of them. She smiled, not willing to burst her little bubble of innocence over the spiked fruit juice and, instead, watched how the girl's expression changed when her sister leaped up to envelop one of two identical twins that arrived at the little banquet. So... baby Sheifa didn't get the attentions she was hoping for from her older sisters...
Rubiah filed 'sister issues' away in her head for future use.
When the girl turned to her and asked how the wine was, Rubiah was quick with the response, admitting the truth.
"You tell me." She told her, pointing at the chalice that she held. Her finger tapped as she relayed each of the ingredients again. "White grape wine, orange juice and pineapple juice. Tastes good together right?" Rubiah asked, sipping from her own cup. She grinned at the girl but was thankful that any true scandalisation at her spiked drink was covered by the arrival of the Queen.
Rubiah made sure to dip her head nice and low - the equivalent of a sitting curtsy in honourable respect to the woman. She then looked towards the second of the twins that had yet to be properly involved in the group. She reached out a hand to the girl, her fingers gesturing for her to come closer and instead select the seat that was just across from the two of them.
"Come, my Lady." She offered her with a sweetness of disposition. "Please come sit with us, I am sure we can find something fun to talk about." She glanced towards Nenet. "We've just been enjoying a mixed drink I discovered when I was in Alexandria." She offered up the little titbit, wondering if the twin was the adventurous or dreaming sort and might be hooked by the idea of tales from far off provinces…
Rubiah was settled on the little bub that she had declared her friend but it didn't stop her reacting to the presence of others. She raised a friendly hand and a sweet smile in the direction of the middle Sheifa daughter, having caught her watching Rubiah with a moment of curiosity. She also spared a glance at the woman that was, in some ways, her sister by marriage and nodded politely in her direction with the elegant confidence of one who belonged. Perhaps she would be able to con efficiently enough that the woman thought her in receipt of her own invitation and right to be there.
When the servant returned with their drinks and the young Sheifa drank from hers thirstily, Rubiah realised the misjudgement the little one had made. She thought that Rubiah had ordered wine for herself and juice for the girl. Not a mixure of all into the same goblet for the both of them. She smiled, not willing to burst her little bubble of innocence over the spiked fruit juice and, instead, watched how the girl's expression changed when her sister leaped up to envelop one of two identical twins that arrived at the little banquet. So... baby Sheifa didn't get the attentions she was hoping for from her older sisters...
Rubiah filed 'sister issues' away in her head for future use.
When the girl turned to her and asked how the wine was, Rubiah was quick with the response, admitting the truth.
"You tell me." She told her, pointing at the chalice that she held. Her finger tapped as she relayed each of the ingredients again. "White grape wine, orange juice and pineapple juice. Tastes good together right?" Rubiah asked, sipping from her own cup. She grinned at the girl but was thankful that any true scandalisation at her spiked drink was covered by the arrival of the Queen.
Rubiah made sure to dip her head nice and low - the equivalent of a sitting curtsy in honourable respect to the woman. She then looked towards the second of the twins that had yet to be properly involved in the group. She reached out a hand to the girl, her fingers gesturing for her to come closer and instead select the seat that was just across from the two of them.
"Come, my Lady." She offered her with a sweetness of disposition. "Please come sit with us, I am sure we can find something fun to talk about." She glanced towards Nenet. "We've just been enjoying a mixed drink I discovered when I was in Alexandria." She offered up the little titbit, wondering if the twin was the adventurous or dreaming sort and might be hooked by the idea of tales from far off provinces…
Sameera tried not to look nervous as she realized that the woman calling her over was the one she had previously noted as dressed similar to a, well, lady of leisure would be putting it kindly, she supposed. Maybe harlot was another word. My, wouldn't it be easier if some more of her stories including drawings of others, descriptions of their clothing. Gods, if only she had the proper idea of what to say, what to do. The rather nice networking was still stuck in a way that was somewhat uncomfortable, but she imagined that wouldn't matter if she turned up her nose like some snob when she really had no business doing so, especially here.
Everyone here was, Sameera imagined, more wealthy than she. With the exception of her sister, and of course the servants. Maybe it would be more fitting if she started serving juices to her companions. The state of her Hei was only fuzzy to her, as she did not want to be the one worrying over finances nor did she know if she should be, as a young woman. Then again, thinking about finances, wealth and nice things made her think more of her uncle and brother, and the war, which was what this whole thing was about, in a way. Either way, Sameera thought it would be better, socially at least, for her to join the H'Sheifa girl and the oddly dressed woman.
Doing so, she hoped that they did not notice the current discomfort brought to her by her clothing. It would hardly be polite of her to pick at it now, would it? At times she cursed her more soft-spoken nature, the times she had spent with her fingers dabbling in ink rather than the soft touches given to friends by other friends.
Still, the idea of some knowledge from Alexandria that she may not have experienced before drew her in. She did enjoy some varied knowledge of most of the provinces due to her tendencies to read and ask questions of others who had been there, but it was never quite the same for everyone. Sameera wanted the knowledge that hearing multiple accounts would bring her, so she sat with them, smiling kindly the whole time.
"Alexandria, you say?" Sameera asked, pleased that she knew a little about the location already. She did wonder about Greece, but it hardly seemed appropriate to speak about, especially now with the war coming up. "Is the drink any good?" she posed the question to the H'Sheifa sitting next to the bare-breasted woman, thinking that perhaps they knew each other better. It would be easier for Sameera to just sit and listen than it would be if she was speaking to just the woman who had invited her alone. She knew that Nenet was a few years older than she was, and was, truth be told, a little envious of her as well, though she considered her to be a friend if she considered anyone a friend. Not as close as she was to Safiya, obviously, but still one of the people Sameera would rather talk to.
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Sameera tried not to look nervous as she realized that the woman calling her over was the one she had previously noted as dressed similar to a, well, lady of leisure would be putting it kindly, she supposed. Maybe harlot was another word. My, wouldn't it be easier if some more of her stories including drawings of others, descriptions of their clothing. Gods, if only she had the proper idea of what to say, what to do. The rather nice networking was still stuck in a way that was somewhat uncomfortable, but she imagined that wouldn't matter if she turned up her nose like some snob when she really had no business doing so, especially here.
Everyone here was, Sameera imagined, more wealthy than she. With the exception of her sister, and of course the servants. Maybe it would be more fitting if she started serving juices to her companions. The state of her Hei was only fuzzy to her, as she did not want to be the one worrying over finances nor did she know if she should be, as a young woman. Then again, thinking about finances, wealth and nice things made her think more of her uncle and brother, and the war, which was what this whole thing was about, in a way. Either way, Sameera thought it would be better, socially at least, for her to join the H'Sheifa girl and the oddly dressed woman.
Doing so, she hoped that they did not notice the current discomfort brought to her by her clothing. It would hardly be polite of her to pick at it now, would it? At times she cursed her more soft-spoken nature, the times she had spent with her fingers dabbling in ink rather than the soft touches given to friends by other friends.
Still, the idea of some knowledge from Alexandria that she may not have experienced before drew her in. She did enjoy some varied knowledge of most of the provinces due to her tendencies to read and ask questions of others who had been there, but it was never quite the same for everyone. Sameera wanted the knowledge that hearing multiple accounts would bring her, so she sat with them, smiling kindly the whole time.
"Alexandria, you say?" Sameera asked, pleased that she knew a little about the location already. She did wonder about Greece, but it hardly seemed appropriate to speak about, especially now with the war coming up. "Is the drink any good?" she posed the question to the H'Sheifa sitting next to the bare-breasted woman, thinking that perhaps they knew each other better. It would be easier for Sameera to just sit and listen than it would be if she was speaking to just the woman who had invited her alone. She knew that Nenet was a few years older than she was, and was, truth be told, a little envious of her as well, though she considered her to be a friend if she considered anyone a friend. Not as close as she was to Safiya, obviously, but still one of the people Sameera would rather talk to.
Sameera tried not to look nervous as she realized that the woman calling her over was the one she had previously noted as dressed similar to a, well, lady of leisure would be putting it kindly, she supposed. Maybe harlot was another word. My, wouldn't it be easier if some more of her stories including drawings of others, descriptions of their clothing. Gods, if only she had the proper idea of what to say, what to do. The rather nice networking was still stuck in a way that was somewhat uncomfortable, but she imagined that wouldn't matter if she turned up her nose like some snob when she really had no business doing so, especially here.
Everyone here was, Sameera imagined, more wealthy than she. With the exception of her sister, and of course the servants. Maybe it would be more fitting if she started serving juices to her companions. The state of her Hei was only fuzzy to her, as she did not want to be the one worrying over finances nor did she know if she should be, as a young woman. Then again, thinking about finances, wealth and nice things made her think more of her uncle and brother, and the war, which was what this whole thing was about, in a way. Either way, Sameera thought it would be better, socially at least, for her to join the H'Sheifa girl and the oddly dressed woman.
Doing so, she hoped that they did not notice the current discomfort brought to her by her clothing. It would hardly be polite of her to pick at it now, would it? At times she cursed her more soft-spoken nature, the times she had spent with her fingers dabbling in ink rather than the soft touches given to friends by other friends.
Still, the idea of some knowledge from Alexandria that she may not have experienced before drew her in. She did enjoy some varied knowledge of most of the provinces due to her tendencies to read and ask questions of others who had been there, but it was never quite the same for everyone. Sameera wanted the knowledge that hearing multiple accounts would bring her, so she sat with them, smiling kindly the whole time.
"Alexandria, you say?" Sameera asked, pleased that she knew a little about the location already. She did wonder about Greece, but it hardly seemed appropriate to speak about, especially now with the war coming up. "Is the drink any good?" she posed the question to the H'Sheifa sitting next to the bare-breasted woman, thinking that perhaps they knew each other better. It would be easier for Sameera to just sit and listen than it would be if she was speaking to just the woman who had invited her alone. She knew that Nenet was a few years older than she was, and was, truth be told, a little envious of her as well, though she considered her to be a friend if she considered anyone a friend. Not as close as she was to Safiya, obviously, but still one of the people Sameera would rather talk to.
Court was a complicated thing for Chione. She didn’t loathe it - after all, it was an opportunity to dress up and flaunt herself and her family’s wealth - but her motivation to attend was often rather lacking. Knowing that there would be no men in attendance was terribly discouraging. What was even the point without anyone worth impressing? In fact, she had had no intention of going at all.
It seemed her sister had left her little choice in the matter.
She’d been all but threatened to make a showing at the least, for the good of the family. Reluctant as she was to ever do anything Berenike suggested, she ran the household and could easily make Chione suffer if she chose to. And Berenike was terribly petty that way. What was the point of a life of luxury if one wasn’t even permitted to enjoy it?
So she had forced herself to prepare, though she hadn’t rushed about it at all. She had prepared herself with a perfumed bath, moving at what could most generously be called a leisurely pace. A special oil was rubbed over her body and the flakes of gold mixed within it created a gilded sheen over her already tanned skin that reflected in the light. Kohl lined her eyes, enhancing their blue depths and the dark lashes that framed them. Carmine colored her lips a deep shade of red, drawing the eye to their plump shade, while red ochre added color to her cheeks.
Her hair was styled in a complex set of intricate braids. Three braids began at her crown to the back of her head, golden chains woven into them and heavy jewel encrusted beads weighted them. The rest of her hair was left loose with a handful of tiny braids intermixed, smaller beads adorning their lengths. The look was completed by a golden circlet whose jeweled emblem that sat in the center of her forehead and fastened beneath her braids. Her circlet featured a flower made of garnet sat suspended in the center of the chain, with pieces of carnelian accenting it. The rest of her jewelry was made of the same gold, garnet and carnelian, glittering against her skin.
There wouldn’t be an eye that wasn’t drawn to her - and that was precisely how Chione preferred it.
She arrived with her head held high, hips swaying seductively. It didn’t matter that there were no men to appreciate it - the sexuality she oozed was as much a part of her as her leg or her name. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing that people were still arriving, and already the women had split into groups. She spotted Nia, and usually she wouldn’t think twice before approaching her best friend. But things had been... odd between them. Enough so to make her hesitate. Then her eyes caught sight of another familiar face.
“As I live and breathe. How dare you return to Cairo without even telling me!” she exclaimed as she approached the bare-breasted woman surrounded by the meeker ladies of the court. Rubiah was a woman who understood Chione’s priorities in life. She loved Nia like the sister she wished she had, but she wanted love. That was something Chione just couldn’t fathom. Rubiah felt that same restlessness that drove the middle H’Isazari sister.
“Fortunately for you, I’ll entertain forgiving you if you make this dull event pass faster,” she continued as she took a seat next to the H’Haikaddad twin. She glanced over to the younger H’Shiefa girl, giving her a polite nod. Her eyes noticed she was dressed in a similar fashion to Rubiah herself, though it was clear someone else had forced the selection for her. Be it mother or eldest sister mattered little. The network dress worn by the twin - who she suspected was Sameera given the other was lingering by Nia’s side.
“Impressive attire today ladies,” she remarked, not unkindly. She leaned towards Sameera, nudging her with her shoulder. “You in particular have excellent taste,” she teased, given that it was of a similar nature to her own attire.
“Now, someone tell me, what have I missed?”
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Court was a complicated thing for Chione. She didn’t loathe it - after all, it was an opportunity to dress up and flaunt herself and her family’s wealth - but her motivation to attend was often rather lacking. Knowing that there would be no men in attendance was terribly discouraging. What was even the point without anyone worth impressing? In fact, she had had no intention of going at all.
It seemed her sister had left her little choice in the matter.
She’d been all but threatened to make a showing at the least, for the good of the family. Reluctant as she was to ever do anything Berenike suggested, she ran the household and could easily make Chione suffer if she chose to. And Berenike was terribly petty that way. What was the point of a life of luxury if one wasn’t even permitted to enjoy it?
So she had forced herself to prepare, though she hadn’t rushed about it at all. She had prepared herself with a perfumed bath, moving at what could most generously be called a leisurely pace. A special oil was rubbed over her body and the flakes of gold mixed within it created a gilded sheen over her already tanned skin that reflected in the light. Kohl lined her eyes, enhancing their blue depths and the dark lashes that framed them. Carmine colored her lips a deep shade of red, drawing the eye to their plump shade, while red ochre added color to her cheeks.
Her hair was styled in a complex set of intricate braids. Three braids began at her crown to the back of her head, golden chains woven into them and heavy jewel encrusted beads weighted them. The rest of her hair was left loose with a handful of tiny braids intermixed, smaller beads adorning their lengths. The look was completed by a golden circlet whose jeweled emblem that sat in the center of her forehead and fastened beneath her braids. Her circlet featured a flower made of garnet sat suspended in the center of the chain, with pieces of carnelian accenting it. The rest of her jewelry was made of the same gold, garnet and carnelian, glittering against her skin.
There wouldn’t be an eye that wasn’t drawn to her - and that was precisely how Chione preferred it.
She arrived with her head held high, hips swaying seductively. It didn’t matter that there were no men to appreciate it - the sexuality she oozed was as much a part of her as her leg or her name. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing that people were still arriving, and already the women had split into groups. She spotted Nia, and usually she wouldn’t think twice before approaching her best friend. But things had been... odd between them. Enough so to make her hesitate. Then her eyes caught sight of another familiar face.
“As I live and breathe. How dare you return to Cairo without even telling me!” she exclaimed as she approached the bare-breasted woman surrounded by the meeker ladies of the court. Rubiah was a woman who understood Chione’s priorities in life. She loved Nia like the sister she wished she had, but she wanted love. That was something Chione just couldn’t fathom. Rubiah felt that same restlessness that drove the middle H’Isazari sister.
“Fortunately for you, I’ll entertain forgiving you if you make this dull event pass faster,” she continued as she took a seat next to the H’Haikaddad twin. She glanced over to the younger H’Shiefa girl, giving her a polite nod. Her eyes noticed she was dressed in a similar fashion to Rubiah herself, though it was clear someone else had forced the selection for her. Be it mother or eldest sister mattered little. The network dress worn by the twin - who she suspected was Sameera given the other was lingering by Nia’s side.
“Impressive attire today ladies,” she remarked, not unkindly. She leaned towards Sameera, nudging her with her shoulder. “You in particular have excellent taste,” she teased, given that it was of a similar nature to her own attire.
“Now, someone tell me, what have I missed?”
Court was a complicated thing for Chione. She didn’t loathe it - after all, it was an opportunity to dress up and flaunt herself and her family’s wealth - but her motivation to attend was often rather lacking. Knowing that there would be no men in attendance was terribly discouraging. What was even the point without anyone worth impressing? In fact, she had had no intention of going at all.
It seemed her sister had left her little choice in the matter.
She’d been all but threatened to make a showing at the least, for the good of the family. Reluctant as she was to ever do anything Berenike suggested, she ran the household and could easily make Chione suffer if she chose to. And Berenike was terribly petty that way. What was the point of a life of luxury if one wasn’t even permitted to enjoy it?
So she had forced herself to prepare, though she hadn’t rushed about it at all. She had prepared herself with a perfumed bath, moving at what could most generously be called a leisurely pace. A special oil was rubbed over her body and the flakes of gold mixed within it created a gilded sheen over her already tanned skin that reflected in the light. Kohl lined her eyes, enhancing their blue depths and the dark lashes that framed them. Carmine colored her lips a deep shade of red, drawing the eye to their plump shade, while red ochre added color to her cheeks.
Her hair was styled in a complex set of intricate braids. Three braids began at her crown to the back of her head, golden chains woven into them and heavy jewel encrusted beads weighted them. The rest of her hair was left loose with a handful of tiny braids intermixed, smaller beads adorning their lengths. The look was completed by a golden circlet whose jeweled emblem that sat in the center of her forehead and fastened beneath her braids. Her circlet featured a flower made of garnet sat suspended in the center of the chain, with pieces of carnelian accenting it. The rest of her jewelry was made of the same gold, garnet and carnelian, glittering against her skin.
There wouldn’t be an eye that wasn’t drawn to her - and that was precisely how Chione preferred it.
She arrived with her head held high, hips swaying seductively. It didn’t matter that there were no men to appreciate it - the sexuality she oozed was as much a part of her as her leg or her name. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing that people were still arriving, and already the women had split into groups. She spotted Nia, and usually she wouldn’t think twice before approaching her best friend. But things had been... odd between them. Enough so to make her hesitate. Then her eyes caught sight of another familiar face.
“As I live and breathe. How dare you return to Cairo without even telling me!” she exclaimed as she approached the bare-breasted woman surrounded by the meeker ladies of the court. Rubiah was a woman who understood Chione’s priorities in life. She loved Nia like the sister she wished she had, but she wanted love. That was something Chione just couldn’t fathom. Rubiah felt that same restlessness that drove the middle H’Isazari sister.
“Fortunately for you, I’ll entertain forgiving you if you make this dull event pass faster,” she continued as she took a seat next to the H’Haikaddad twin. She glanced over to the younger H’Shiefa girl, giving her a polite nod. Her eyes noticed she was dressed in a similar fashion to Rubiah herself, though it was clear someone else had forced the selection for her. Be it mother or eldest sister mattered little. The network dress worn by the twin - who she suspected was Sameera given the other was lingering by Nia’s side.
“Impressive attire today ladies,” she remarked, not unkindly. She leaned towards Sameera, nudging her with her shoulder. “You in particular have excellent taste,” she teased, given that it was of a similar nature to her own attire.
“Now, someone tell me, what have I missed?”
Fortunately, Hatshepsut’s presence had not caused a stir. After acknowledging her royal presence, the nobles went back to their conversations, leaving her to covertly watch them as she sipped her wine and ate the delicacies placed in front of her. She recognized each lady by name and face, a task she had set herself after not being able to tell which H’Sheifa daughter was which at a previous gathering. It was more important than ever that she knew the identities of all the women in the Heis. They would be meting together more often while the men were at war.
Rubiah of Qalha was dressed more scandalously than the others. The young Queen knew little about her other than that she was the sister of the Sirdsett of Hei Abaddi, the newest noble house in Egypt. Iahotep had not discussed raising them in status with her, but she had no objections. She had looked into their history and they had committed no crimes or done anything heinous. The Sirdar’s military victories were quite impressive. They deserved the lofty reward they had been given.
Rubiah was drinking with Nenet H’Sheifa. A strange pairing, the Queen thought, one so bold and the other so meek. Opposites attracted sometimes and Nenet was a woman grown and able to make her own decisions as to who she wished to share her company with. Hatsehpsut reminded herself to speak to the youngest H’Sheifa daughter sometime during the evening. It was possible she knew a way to help her stop stuttering.
The H’Haikaddad twins were not together. The petite Queen had told Safiya that the night was hers to enjoy, and that her servants could take care of her needs. Sameera joined Rubiah and Nenet, as did Chione H’Isazari. She wondered what their drinks tasted like. They looked nothing like the ones the servants carried around. Maybe they would offer her a glass.
She spotted Osira H’Abaddi, not dressed quite as elaborately as the other women and looking a bit out of place. The family needed time to build up their wealth and prestige. She made a note to speak with her as well. Hopefully, her brother had not discovered he had a distant cousin who was at court or he didn’t care. Explaining why a whore was masquerading as a member of the Hei would be tricky without simply stating: ‘I’m the Queen and I can do what I want.’ That was not her way.
Neithotep H’Sheifa was speaking with Osira and Safiya. Hatshepsut was pleased that she didn’t seem as haunted as she’d been at their meeting in the gardens. Like herself, she must be ecstatic that Iahotep had gone to war and hoped that he wouldn’t return. She actually l smiled as she approached Hatshepsut. “The baby and I are doing quite well. I’m so busy seeing to the kingdom's needs that this is the first chance I’ve had to breathe.”
She gave Neithotep a pointed look and a genuine smile. “And how are you doing? You look lovely.” And happier than I’ve ever seen you, she added to herself. Iahotep’s absence was good for them both. Maybe he would lose interest in the noblewoman if he did survive the Greeks.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Fortunately, Hatshepsut’s presence had not caused a stir. After acknowledging her royal presence, the nobles went back to their conversations, leaving her to covertly watch them as she sipped her wine and ate the delicacies placed in front of her. She recognized each lady by name and face, a task she had set herself after not being able to tell which H’Sheifa daughter was which at a previous gathering. It was more important than ever that she knew the identities of all the women in the Heis. They would be meting together more often while the men were at war.
Rubiah of Qalha was dressed more scandalously than the others. The young Queen knew little about her other than that she was the sister of the Sirdsett of Hei Abaddi, the newest noble house in Egypt. Iahotep had not discussed raising them in status with her, but she had no objections. She had looked into their history and they had committed no crimes or done anything heinous. The Sirdar’s military victories were quite impressive. They deserved the lofty reward they had been given.
Rubiah was drinking with Nenet H’Sheifa. A strange pairing, the Queen thought, one so bold and the other so meek. Opposites attracted sometimes and Nenet was a woman grown and able to make her own decisions as to who she wished to share her company with. Hatsehpsut reminded herself to speak to the youngest H’Sheifa daughter sometime during the evening. It was possible she knew a way to help her stop stuttering.
The H’Haikaddad twins were not together. The petite Queen had told Safiya that the night was hers to enjoy, and that her servants could take care of her needs. Sameera joined Rubiah and Nenet, as did Chione H’Isazari. She wondered what their drinks tasted like. They looked nothing like the ones the servants carried around. Maybe they would offer her a glass.
She spotted Osira H’Abaddi, not dressed quite as elaborately as the other women and looking a bit out of place. The family needed time to build up their wealth and prestige. She made a note to speak with her as well. Hopefully, her brother had not discovered he had a distant cousin who was at court or he didn’t care. Explaining why a whore was masquerading as a member of the Hei would be tricky without simply stating: ‘I’m the Queen and I can do what I want.’ That was not her way.
Neithotep H’Sheifa was speaking with Osira and Safiya. Hatshepsut was pleased that she didn’t seem as haunted as she’d been at their meeting in the gardens. Like herself, she must be ecstatic that Iahotep had gone to war and hoped that he wouldn’t return. She actually l smiled as she approached Hatshepsut. “The baby and I are doing quite well. I’m so busy seeing to the kingdom's needs that this is the first chance I’ve had to breathe.”
She gave Neithotep a pointed look and a genuine smile. “And how are you doing? You look lovely.” And happier than I’ve ever seen you, she added to herself. Iahotep’s absence was good for them both. Maybe he would lose interest in the noblewoman if he did survive the Greeks.
Fortunately, Hatshepsut’s presence had not caused a stir. After acknowledging her royal presence, the nobles went back to their conversations, leaving her to covertly watch them as she sipped her wine and ate the delicacies placed in front of her. She recognized each lady by name and face, a task she had set herself after not being able to tell which H’Sheifa daughter was which at a previous gathering. It was more important than ever that she knew the identities of all the women in the Heis. They would be meting together more often while the men were at war.
Rubiah of Qalha was dressed more scandalously than the others. The young Queen knew little about her other than that she was the sister of the Sirdsett of Hei Abaddi, the newest noble house in Egypt. Iahotep had not discussed raising them in status with her, but she had no objections. She had looked into their history and they had committed no crimes or done anything heinous. The Sirdar’s military victories were quite impressive. They deserved the lofty reward they had been given.
Rubiah was drinking with Nenet H’Sheifa. A strange pairing, the Queen thought, one so bold and the other so meek. Opposites attracted sometimes and Nenet was a woman grown and able to make her own decisions as to who she wished to share her company with. Hatsehpsut reminded herself to speak to the youngest H’Sheifa daughter sometime during the evening. It was possible she knew a way to help her stop stuttering.
The H’Haikaddad twins were not together. The petite Queen had told Safiya that the night was hers to enjoy, and that her servants could take care of her needs. Sameera joined Rubiah and Nenet, as did Chione H’Isazari. She wondered what their drinks tasted like. They looked nothing like the ones the servants carried around. Maybe they would offer her a glass.
She spotted Osira H’Abaddi, not dressed quite as elaborately as the other women and looking a bit out of place. The family needed time to build up their wealth and prestige. She made a note to speak with her as well. Hopefully, her brother had not discovered he had a distant cousin who was at court or he didn’t care. Explaining why a whore was masquerading as a member of the Hei would be tricky without simply stating: ‘I’m the Queen and I can do what I want.’ That was not her way.
Neithotep H’Sheifa was speaking with Osira and Safiya. Hatshepsut was pleased that she didn’t seem as haunted as she’d been at their meeting in the gardens. Like herself, she must be ecstatic that Iahotep had gone to war and hoped that he wouldn’t return. She actually l smiled as she approached Hatshepsut. “The baby and I are doing quite well. I’m so busy seeing to the kingdom's needs that this is the first chance I’ve had to breathe.”
She gave Neithotep a pointed look and a genuine smile. “And how are you doing? You look lovely.” And happier than I’ve ever seen you, she added to herself. Iahotep’s absence was good for them both. Maybe he would lose interest in the noblewoman if he did survive the Greeks.
