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Narmer was crossed between wanting to go and fight, and wanting to strangle his niece. What was she doing here? In hindsight when the man looked back, he would see that there was actually no wrong with Safiya being there, considering it was the Grand Souk and she was likely out and about like him, just to purchase items. But in the heat of he moment, Narmer couldn't help but wish she had just stayed home on this inopportune afternoon.
His eyes widened as she fell backwards and down, before Narmer darted towards the younger female, cursing as the bandits spotted him and yelled, waving their swords around wildly.
"Safiya, you have the worst timing possible." Narmer hissed in response to his niece's somewhat dazed call of him. While he usually was gentler, being surrounded by bandits, screams and chaos wasn't exactly conducive to be the nice uncle. As such, Narmer instead grabbed the younger female's upper arm, hauling her to an upright position so she was no longer a sitting duck, before turning his back on her to hold out his dagger defensively.
"Empty the stalls, but do not touch lives. I'm pretty sure you are stealers, but not killers, is it not?" he scowled as a bandit approached them. Far from his usual political smile and veneer, this was who Narmer had trained to be before the untimely demise of his brother, which forced him to step into political shoes he never wanted. He had spent years under military training, and it showed in the way he wielded his dagger, to the way he kept his form hovering just enough to hide Safiya from view. As the bandit made movements to want the gold that Narmer wore, he growled, but yanked off the earring he had been wearing, and tossed it at the bandit.
But when he motioned at the gold pieces woven into the leather armbands he wore, the man tensed. He wouldn't give them up. The armbands had been a gift from his parents to him, the scarab pendant a memory of Narutt he wouldn't give. "Take what I can offer, these are not up for grabs." he tried to reason, yet bandits were not known for their sense of logic.
So left with little choice, Narmer scowled, as he backed up against Safiya. "Safiya, how fast can you run?" he started to ask, only for his words to be punctuated when the bandit swiped at them. Narmer narrowly ducked, but the action left him little choice, nor time to wait for his nieces answer. "I hope you can run fast then." That was Safiya's only warning, before the man grabbed her wrist and yanked her along as he took off, leading them to weave amongst the stalls and people in disarray. He had no wish to outrun them on horses, but Narmer only wished they were distracted by greater treasures that they would ignore his miniscule gold pieces, which were more valuable to him as memories then anything else.
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Narmer was crossed between wanting to go and fight, and wanting to strangle his niece. What was she doing here? In hindsight when the man looked back, he would see that there was actually no wrong with Safiya being there, considering it was the Grand Souk and she was likely out and about like him, just to purchase items. But in the heat of he moment, Narmer couldn't help but wish she had just stayed home on this inopportune afternoon.
His eyes widened as she fell backwards and down, before Narmer darted towards the younger female, cursing as the bandits spotted him and yelled, waving their swords around wildly.
"Safiya, you have the worst timing possible." Narmer hissed in response to his niece's somewhat dazed call of him. While he usually was gentler, being surrounded by bandits, screams and chaos wasn't exactly conducive to be the nice uncle. As such, Narmer instead grabbed the younger female's upper arm, hauling her to an upright position so she was no longer a sitting duck, before turning his back on her to hold out his dagger defensively.
"Empty the stalls, but do not touch lives. I'm pretty sure you are stealers, but not killers, is it not?" he scowled as a bandit approached them. Far from his usual political smile and veneer, this was who Narmer had trained to be before the untimely demise of his brother, which forced him to step into political shoes he never wanted. He had spent years under military training, and it showed in the way he wielded his dagger, to the way he kept his form hovering just enough to hide Safiya from view. As the bandit made movements to want the gold that Narmer wore, he growled, but yanked off the earring he had been wearing, and tossed it at the bandit.
But when he motioned at the gold pieces woven into the leather armbands he wore, the man tensed. He wouldn't give them up. The armbands had been a gift from his parents to him, the scarab pendant a memory of Narutt he wouldn't give. "Take what I can offer, these are not up for grabs." he tried to reason, yet bandits were not known for their sense of logic.
So left with little choice, Narmer scowled, as he backed up against Safiya. "Safiya, how fast can you run?" he started to ask, only for his words to be punctuated when the bandit swiped at them. Narmer narrowly ducked, but the action left him little choice, nor time to wait for his nieces answer. "I hope you can run fast then." That was Safiya's only warning, before the man grabbed her wrist and yanked her along as he took off, leading them to weave amongst the stalls and people in disarray. He had no wish to outrun them on horses, but Narmer only wished they were distracted by greater treasures that they would ignore his miniscule gold pieces, which were more valuable to him as memories then anything else.
Narmer was crossed between wanting to go and fight, and wanting to strangle his niece. What was she doing here? In hindsight when the man looked back, he would see that there was actually no wrong with Safiya being there, considering it was the Grand Souk and she was likely out and about like him, just to purchase items. But in the heat of he moment, Narmer couldn't help but wish she had just stayed home on this inopportune afternoon.
His eyes widened as she fell backwards and down, before Narmer darted towards the younger female, cursing as the bandits spotted him and yelled, waving their swords around wildly.
"Safiya, you have the worst timing possible." Narmer hissed in response to his niece's somewhat dazed call of him. While he usually was gentler, being surrounded by bandits, screams and chaos wasn't exactly conducive to be the nice uncle. As such, Narmer instead grabbed the younger female's upper arm, hauling her to an upright position so she was no longer a sitting duck, before turning his back on her to hold out his dagger defensively.
"Empty the stalls, but do not touch lives. I'm pretty sure you are stealers, but not killers, is it not?" he scowled as a bandit approached them. Far from his usual political smile and veneer, this was who Narmer had trained to be before the untimely demise of his brother, which forced him to step into political shoes he never wanted. He had spent years under military training, and it showed in the way he wielded his dagger, to the way he kept his form hovering just enough to hide Safiya from view. As the bandit made movements to want the gold that Narmer wore, he growled, but yanked off the earring he had been wearing, and tossed it at the bandit.
But when he motioned at the gold pieces woven into the leather armbands he wore, the man tensed. He wouldn't give them up. The armbands had been a gift from his parents to him, the scarab pendant a memory of Narutt he wouldn't give. "Take what I can offer, these are not up for grabs." he tried to reason, yet bandits were not known for their sense of logic.
So left with little choice, Narmer scowled, as he backed up against Safiya. "Safiya, how fast can you run?" he started to ask, only for his words to be punctuated when the bandit swiped at them. Narmer narrowly ducked, but the action left him little choice, nor time to wait for his nieces answer. "I hope you can run fast then." That was Safiya's only warning, before the man grabbed her wrist and yanked her along as he took off, leading them to weave amongst the stalls and people in disarray. He had no wish to outrun them on horses, but Narmer only wished they were distracted by greater treasures that they would ignore his miniscule gold pieces, which were more valuable to him as memories then anything else.
Safiya had not expected that she was really seeing her uncle, the current situation was literally out of the very worst of her nightmares; well perhaps not the worst, she was usually naked in the really bad ones. Still, this was pretty bad and right then she started to laugh, not a proper one but the kind of hysterical giggling that was more about fear and far less about joy being involved with the experience. Safiya didn't even know how it had started but now it had, managing to figure out how to make it stop was as equally beyond her right now.
It was why her uncle had plenty of time to speak to the bandits, including threats that had her breathing suddenly shift as she started to hiccup slightly. What was he thinking? Surely he knew how dangerous they were. Safiya didn't want him to be hurt.
But now she had her feet once more under her, even though it was currently relying on a nearly stall to assist in keeping her upright, she blinked at him rapidly, trying to calm her own breathing enough to answer "Have you lost your sense? What do you mean run?" she'd not done anything like that since she had been a very young girl and that had been before puberty and struck and provided her with some proper womanly curves. But there was no time for her to argue or debate but instead she was pulled along with him and given how option.
While fear might have lent her some wings it was not going to be enough to outrun a horse, a fact only made more complicated when one of her sandals fell away and was lost. But Safiya barely faltered, whatever else could be said she was not going to give up "Where are we going? Narmer...uncle, please I cannot run like...like this for much... longer" thr words were broken and separated between her need for oxygen as they continued to move. She had felt her heart sinking to her stomach, felt it clench there and rise back up as he had faced the bandits. Pride, warm desire but also fear had come over her all at once. Had he ever felt like that when it came to her, did Narmer feel anything about her?
This was definitely not the time but perhaps the awareness of the closeness of death was making her feel more desperate and also a little bit needy on top of the rest.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Safiya had not expected that she was really seeing her uncle, the current situation was literally out of the very worst of her nightmares; well perhaps not the worst, she was usually naked in the really bad ones. Still, this was pretty bad and right then she started to laugh, not a proper one but the kind of hysterical giggling that was more about fear and far less about joy being involved with the experience. Safiya didn't even know how it had started but now it had, managing to figure out how to make it stop was as equally beyond her right now.
It was why her uncle had plenty of time to speak to the bandits, including threats that had her breathing suddenly shift as she started to hiccup slightly. What was he thinking? Surely he knew how dangerous they were. Safiya didn't want him to be hurt.
But now she had her feet once more under her, even though it was currently relying on a nearly stall to assist in keeping her upright, she blinked at him rapidly, trying to calm her own breathing enough to answer "Have you lost your sense? What do you mean run?" she'd not done anything like that since she had been a very young girl and that had been before puberty and struck and provided her with some proper womanly curves. But there was no time for her to argue or debate but instead she was pulled along with him and given how option.
While fear might have lent her some wings it was not going to be enough to outrun a horse, a fact only made more complicated when one of her sandals fell away and was lost. But Safiya barely faltered, whatever else could be said she was not going to give up "Where are we going? Narmer...uncle, please I cannot run like...like this for much... longer" thr words were broken and separated between her need for oxygen as they continued to move. She had felt her heart sinking to her stomach, felt it clench there and rise back up as he had faced the bandits. Pride, warm desire but also fear had come over her all at once. Had he ever felt like that when it came to her, did Narmer feel anything about her?
This was definitely not the time but perhaps the awareness of the closeness of death was making her feel more desperate and also a little bit needy on top of the rest.
Safiya had not expected that she was really seeing her uncle, the current situation was literally out of the very worst of her nightmares; well perhaps not the worst, she was usually naked in the really bad ones. Still, this was pretty bad and right then she started to laugh, not a proper one but the kind of hysterical giggling that was more about fear and far less about joy being involved with the experience. Safiya didn't even know how it had started but now it had, managing to figure out how to make it stop was as equally beyond her right now.
It was why her uncle had plenty of time to speak to the bandits, including threats that had her breathing suddenly shift as she started to hiccup slightly. What was he thinking? Surely he knew how dangerous they were. Safiya didn't want him to be hurt.
But now she had her feet once more under her, even though it was currently relying on a nearly stall to assist in keeping her upright, she blinked at him rapidly, trying to calm her own breathing enough to answer "Have you lost your sense? What do you mean run?" she'd not done anything like that since she had been a very young girl and that had been before puberty and struck and provided her with some proper womanly curves. But there was no time for her to argue or debate but instead she was pulled along with him and given how option.
While fear might have lent her some wings it was not going to be enough to outrun a horse, a fact only made more complicated when one of her sandals fell away and was lost. But Safiya barely faltered, whatever else could be said she was not going to give up "Where are we going? Narmer...uncle, please I cannot run like...like this for much... longer" thr words were broken and separated between her need for oxygen as they continued to move. She had felt her heart sinking to her stomach, felt it clench there and rise back up as he had faced the bandits. Pride, warm desire but also fear had come over her all at once. Had he ever felt like that when it came to her, did Narmer feel anything about her?
This was definitely not the time but perhaps the awareness of the closeness of death was making her feel more desperate and also a little bit needy on top of the rest.
Running was not a foreign activity to Narmer. As part of his military training as a child, he's had to run for everything from stamina training, to morning exercise, to punishments if he made a mistake. Stamina was no foreign matter to him, and so when he ran, his legs pumped automatically. His niece's words flew past his head as he grabbed her and dragged her along despite any protests she may have had.
While the bandits may have wanted to give chase, the amount of gold they had was a miniscule amount as compared to the loot they would find in the market, and as such, it was merely a question of running until they were deemed as too much effort, and that was exactly what he was going for. Narmer may be excellent at swordsmanship and combat, but he was no match for a whole bunch of bandits with weapons, when he was clearly unarmed.
Ignoring her protests, he had dragged her, dodging this way and that until finally, the thundering of hooves had died away. Only then, once Narmer threw one last look over his shoulders to ascertain that they were no longer being gained on, did he drop his niece's wrist, and then fall over to lean against a nearby wall, breathe heavy as he tried to catch the oxygen that had been depleted in the desperate dash for safety.
"When faced with a dangerous situation, Safiya... one would run. So I would question if you were out of your mind for even thinking to remain there when the bandits wielded weapons, and I had none." he finally bit out, turning to look at his niece from a corner of his eye. If anything had been harmed upon her head, not only would he have to deal with the guilt he experience from disappointing his brother's memory, he would have to likely deal with an upset sister in law too, and he simply wasn't in the frame of mind for that.
Eventually, his breathe evened out, and only then, did he dust off his outfit, before standing up to look around, getting his bearings and turning to his niece to motion at her. "But we should be returning. It's going to be a long walk though. Your sandal's... or lack of them." he paused, and then gave Safiya a look of lackadaisical amusement. "You think you can handle a barefooted walk back home? Its almost sunset, so it shouldn't be as hot to walk."
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Running was not a foreign activity to Narmer. As part of his military training as a child, he's had to run for everything from stamina training, to morning exercise, to punishments if he made a mistake. Stamina was no foreign matter to him, and so when he ran, his legs pumped automatically. His niece's words flew past his head as he grabbed her and dragged her along despite any protests she may have had.
While the bandits may have wanted to give chase, the amount of gold they had was a miniscule amount as compared to the loot they would find in the market, and as such, it was merely a question of running until they were deemed as too much effort, and that was exactly what he was going for. Narmer may be excellent at swordsmanship and combat, but he was no match for a whole bunch of bandits with weapons, when he was clearly unarmed.
Ignoring her protests, he had dragged her, dodging this way and that until finally, the thundering of hooves had died away. Only then, once Narmer threw one last look over his shoulders to ascertain that they were no longer being gained on, did he drop his niece's wrist, and then fall over to lean against a nearby wall, breathe heavy as he tried to catch the oxygen that had been depleted in the desperate dash for safety.
"When faced with a dangerous situation, Safiya... one would run. So I would question if you were out of your mind for even thinking to remain there when the bandits wielded weapons, and I had none." he finally bit out, turning to look at his niece from a corner of his eye. If anything had been harmed upon her head, not only would he have to deal with the guilt he experience from disappointing his brother's memory, he would have to likely deal with an upset sister in law too, and he simply wasn't in the frame of mind for that.
Eventually, his breathe evened out, and only then, did he dust off his outfit, before standing up to look around, getting his bearings and turning to his niece to motion at her. "But we should be returning. It's going to be a long walk though. Your sandal's... or lack of them." he paused, and then gave Safiya a look of lackadaisical amusement. "You think you can handle a barefooted walk back home? Its almost sunset, so it shouldn't be as hot to walk."
Running was not a foreign activity to Narmer. As part of his military training as a child, he's had to run for everything from stamina training, to morning exercise, to punishments if he made a mistake. Stamina was no foreign matter to him, and so when he ran, his legs pumped automatically. His niece's words flew past his head as he grabbed her and dragged her along despite any protests she may have had.
While the bandits may have wanted to give chase, the amount of gold they had was a miniscule amount as compared to the loot they would find in the market, and as such, it was merely a question of running until they were deemed as too much effort, and that was exactly what he was going for. Narmer may be excellent at swordsmanship and combat, but he was no match for a whole bunch of bandits with weapons, when he was clearly unarmed.
Ignoring her protests, he had dragged her, dodging this way and that until finally, the thundering of hooves had died away. Only then, once Narmer threw one last look over his shoulders to ascertain that they were no longer being gained on, did he drop his niece's wrist, and then fall over to lean against a nearby wall, breathe heavy as he tried to catch the oxygen that had been depleted in the desperate dash for safety.
"When faced with a dangerous situation, Safiya... one would run. So I would question if you were out of your mind for even thinking to remain there when the bandits wielded weapons, and I had none." he finally bit out, turning to look at his niece from a corner of his eye. If anything had been harmed upon her head, not only would he have to deal with the guilt he experience from disappointing his brother's memory, he would have to likely deal with an upset sister in law too, and he simply wasn't in the frame of mind for that.
Eventually, his breathe evened out, and only then, did he dust off his outfit, before standing up to look around, getting his bearings and turning to his niece to motion at her. "But we should be returning. It's going to be a long walk though. Your sandal's... or lack of them." he paused, and then gave Safiya a look of lackadaisical amusement. "You think you can handle a barefooted walk back home? Its almost sunset, so it shouldn't be as hot to walk."
Another time and place, Safiya would have felt that she had the right and ability to say something that would end up being more than a little bit sassy and a whole lot sarcastic.
Safiya took a moment to just take that in and then breathed out everything in a rush "And if I had a moment to catch my breath..." she began, not quite panting as she spoke but it was getting close to the mark. Safiya had not realized that she was anything other than fit and healthy but clearly that had been a mistake "...and not end up being dragged off like some piece of - I don't even know! I am completely, well...no, it's . Sorry, I am grateful. I really am" even though she was a little bit angry, she wasn't a fool. At least she didn't feel like she was complete one. But that might just be her being naive and a little bit stupid in respect of how much time had been spent on her struggle to control her emotions and feelings with her respect to her uncle.
"And yes, I can. Even if I am likely to end up with bloody feet. How... will it be very far?" she didn't want to sound pathetic but clearly that was an impossibility right now. Safiya wished that she had better quips but between the shock, the outright terror and then the adrenaline rushing through her as a result of running away was affecting more than just her heartbeat but also the speed at which she could speak and react to how he was talking to her right now.
Safiya could only spend time in thanks to whichever god had chosen to watch over her right in this moment, perhaps even in respect of her uncle as well. It was something that she had never thought about, faith and the workings of the divine but in light of the most recent event in her life, she needed to reflect on all of that and take a moment to reconsider a lot of things. Was it some sign? After all, what had been the odds of her uncle being there at just the exact moment she needed him.
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Another time and place, Safiya would have felt that she had the right and ability to say something that would end up being more than a little bit sassy and a whole lot sarcastic.
Safiya took a moment to just take that in and then breathed out everything in a rush "And if I had a moment to catch my breath..." she began, not quite panting as she spoke but it was getting close to the mark. Safiya had not realized that she was anything other than fit and healthy but clearly that had been a mistake "...and not end up being dragged off like some piece of - I don't even know! I am completely, well...no, it's . Sorry, I am grateful. I really am" even though she was a little bit angry, she wasn't a fool. At least she didn't feel like she was complete one. But that might just be her being naive and a little bit stupid in respect of how much time had been spent on her struggle to control her emotions and feelings with her respect to her uncle.
"And yes, I can. Even if I am likely to end up with bloody feet. How... will it be very far?" she didn't want to sound pathetic but clearly that was an impossibility right now. Safiya wished that she had better quips but between the shock, the outright terror and then the adrenaline rushing through her as a result of running away was affecting more than just her heartbeat but also the speed at which she could speak and react to how he was talking to her right now.
Safiya could only spend time in thanks to whichever god had chosen to watch over her right in this moment, perhaps even in respect of her uncle as well. It was something that she had never thought about, faith and the workings of the divine but in light of the most recent event in her life, she needed to reflect on all of that and take a moment to reconsider a lot of things. Was it some sign? After all, what had been the odds of her uncle being there at just the exact moment she needed him.
Another time and place, Safiya would have felt that she had the right and ability to say something that would end up being more than a little bit sassy and a whole lot sarcastic.
Safiya took a moment to just take that in and then breathed out everything in a rush "And if I had a moment to catch my breath..." she began, not quite panting as she spoke but it was getting close to the mark. Safiya had not realized that she was anything other than fit and healthy but clearly that had been a mistake "...and not end up being dragged off like some piece of - I don't even know! I am completely, well...no, it's . Sorry, I am grateful. I really am" even though she was a little bit angry, she wasn't a fool. At least she didn't feel like she was complete one. But that might just be her being naive and a little bit stupid in respect of how much time had been spent on her struggle to control her emotions and feelings with her respect to her uncle.
"And yes, I can. Even if I am likely to end up with bloody feet. How... will it be very far?" she didn't want to sound pathetic but clearly that was an impossibility right now. Safiya wished that she had better quips but between the shock, the outright terror and then the adrenaline rushing through her as a result of running away was affecting more than just her heartbeat but also the speed at which she could speak and react to how he was talking to her right now.
Safiya could only spend time in thanks to whichever god had chosen to watch over her right in this moment, perhaps even in respect of her uncle as well. It was something that she had never thought about, faith and the workings of the divine but in light of the most recent event in her life, she needed to reflect on all of that and take a moment to reconsider a lot of things. Was it some sign? After all, what had been the odds of her uncle being there at just the exact moment she needed him.
"Any moment would've costed you your life, niece." he replied. While Narmer wasn't usually so short with his brother's children, the momentary burst of adrenaline through his system meant that he was now on edge for every little thing,, and it did not help with Safiya's outburst. Had he not dragged her, she would have likely ended up traded on a slave market, for her complexion, possibly only on a nobly raised young lady of Egyptian hierarchy, would fetch a pretty price, and there have been many from Egypt sold to nearby lands as slaves.
His brother would definitely not want that.
Dusting off his pants and smoothening out the short cropped hair that had somehow gotten mussed in the run, even as Safiya spoke. He raised a brow - bloodied feet? Just how dramatic had they become in the years he had spent away? Then again, as close as he had been to his young nieces when they were younger, the years Narmer had spent around Egypt and Judea had changed him, and he was quite sure the years had changed them as well.
Ever since returning, even if it has been two years, Narmer still could not say with confidence that he knew the twins as they were today, in their early years of adulthood. Kissan, he could still handle. The boy was on the cusp of growing up just yet, and he still looked to is uncle for guidance, the kind of guidance Narmer desperately wanted to give, but wasn't sure if he was capable of doing so. But the girls were of a different ilk. Unlike Narutt, Narmer was in no way ready to father three teenages needing to learn their way in the world.
"It will not be far, so you do not have to worry about bloodied feet, Safiya. Whatever happens, we will deal with when we get home and hopefully your mother doesn't flay me alive." he replied with a dry tone, before setting off and expecting Safiya to do the same. The walk home would be in quiet, something Narmer was wont to do. The man was not one for words, and would likely only respond if his niece spoke to him, but otherwise there were many things lingering on his mind for him to start up conversations on weather or someone's wellbeing.
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"Any moment would've costed you your life, niece." he replied. While Narmer wasn't usually so short with his brother's children, the momentary burst of adrenaline through his system meant that he was now on edge for every little thing,, and it did not help with Safiya's outburst. Had he not dragged her, she would have likely ended up traded on a slave market, for her complexion, possibly only on a nobly raised young lady of Egyptian hierarchy, would fetch a pretty price, and there have been many from Egypt sold to nearby lands as slaves.
His brother would definitely not want that.
Dusting off his pants and smoothening out the short cropped hair that had somehow gotten mussed in the run, even as Safiya spoke. He raised a brow - bloodied feet? Just how dramatic had they become in the years he had spent away? Then again, as close as he had been to his young nieces when they were younger, the years Narmer had spent around Egypt and Judea had changed him, and he was quite sure the years had changed them as well.
Ever since returning, even if it has been two years, Narmer still could not say with confidence that he knew the twins as they were today, in their early years of adulthood. Kissan, he could still handle. The boy was on the cusp of growing up just yet, and he still looked to is uncle for guidance, the kind of guidance Narmer desperately wanted to give, but wasn't sure if he was capable of doing so. But the girls were of a different ilk. Unlike Narutt, Narmer was in no way ready to father three teenages needing to learn their way in the world.
"It will not be far, so you do not have to worry about bloodied feet, Safiya. Whatever happens, we will deal with when we get home and hopefully your mother doesn't flay me alive." he replied with a dry tone, before setting off and expecting Safiya to do the same. The walk home would be in quiet, something Narmer was wont to do. The man was not one for words, and would likely only respond if his niece spoke to him, but otherwise there were many things lingering on his mind for him to start up conversations on weather or someone's wellbeing.
"Any moment would've costed you your life, niece." he replied. While Narmer wasn't usually so short with his brother's children, the momentary burst of adrenaline through his system meant that he was now on edge for every little thing,, and it did not help with Safiya's outburst. Had he not dragged her, she would have likely ended up traded on a slave market, for her complexion, possibly only on a nobly raised young lady of Egyptian hierarchy, would fetch a pretty price, and there have been many from Egypt sold to nearby lands as slaves.
His brother would definitely not want that.
Dusting off his pants and smoothening out the short cropped hair that had somehow gotten mussed in the run, even as Safiya spoke. He raised a brow - bloodied feet? Just how dramatic had they become in the years he had spent away? Then again, as close as he had been to his young nieces when they were younger, the years Narmer had spent around Egypt and Judea had changed him, and he was quite sure the years had changed them as well.
Ever since returning, even if it has been two years, Narmer still could not say with confidence that he knew the twins as they were today, in their early years of adulthood. Kissan, he could still handle. The boy was on the cusp of growing up just yet, and he still looked to is uncle for guidance, the kind of guidance Narmer desperately wanted to give, but wasn't sure if he was capable of doing so. But the girls were of a different ilk. Unlike Narutt, Narmer was in no way ready to father three teenages needing to learn their way in the world.
"It will not be far, so you do not have to worry about bloodied feet, Safiya. Whatever happens, we will deal with when we get home and hopefully your mother doesn't flay me alive." he replied with a dry tone, before setting off and expecting Safiya to do the same. The walk home would be in quiet, something Narmer was wont to do. The man was not one for words, and would likely only respond if his niece spoke to him, but otherwise there were many things lingering on his mind for him to start up conversations on weather or someone's wellbeing.
Much like the narrow streets, the Sheifa residence in Cairo had the tendency to constrict the throat. Existing was difficult to cope with between the suffocation of her exile and the sweltering mosaic walls. The Sheifa residence in Cairo was old, but incredibly well maintained at Onuphrious’ insistence. A trader was nothing but his reputation, and surely the dirtless columns, swept and polished marble foyer, and the exotic gardens frequented by long neon lizards was a testament to the man’s accomplishments. If one were to walk into the grand marble foyer, their eyes would fall on frescoes of the river traders. Their boats, bundles of papyrus and coarse linen sails commandeering the sparse winds on the Nile basin, truly spinning gold from sweat. Such was the history of her husband, and, by extension, herself now.
From the roof of the manor, Iaheru witnessed the banks of the Nile expand. Encroaching on the houses at the banks, she’s reminded of her own history, unpainted but still tangibly influential. Her parents artisans, her childhood speckled with mosquito bitten ankles and the catch and release of frogs leaping between breaks in the papyrus. Iaheru would follow their citrine eyes, count their toes, and make note of each frog she caught on a torn papyrus scroll, releasing them with a smile of equal parts encouragement and wonder. She’d come home, covered in red welts and papyrus cuts to her mother’s horror, “What if you cut your face, Iaheru? What if you fell in the river?”
“I’d be dead,” Iaheru learned to respond flippantly. It wasn’t until she became a mother that she despised the dismissive antics of children.
It was here that she came into the service of Hei Fakhouri. It was here that she raised her children. It was here that she remained so she could stare beyond the opposite bank of the Nile and wonder what Sutekh’s life was like now that it wasn’t here. The heat of the afternoon usually didn’t suit her, especially so now that the swelled banks of the river thickened the air with sticky moisture, but she fastens a headwrap and ventures into the streets anyways. The bright sun is wicked away from her eyes by thick lines of kohl. Sandals squish into the softened Earth. Perhaps daily walks would do her well.
The late afternoon brought with it the rustle of the market closing and the inns opening. Few people lined the streets as the evening meal and the last thralls of afternoon work demanding full attention. Nostrils fill with alliums rendered down in large pots and the distinct tang of yeast rising bread for the next day. Iaheru pridefully walks, perhaps she would take to a lounge for the evening, perhaps she would fetch some chicken for Tau. What she did not expect was the distinct tear of fabric and yank of her hair combs.
“Ahh!” she yelps, pivoting to accost a man tugging at threads of gold leaf. “Let me go!” Her hands grab at the unraveling fabric. A thick golden hoop tugs along with the fringe tassels, threatening to tear through her ear entirely. A muddy sandal aims for a groin and misses, causing Iaheru to lose her footing, knocking into the assailant with a sharp elbow. “Let me go now!” She shrieks as her hair pins tear, her talons sinking into a masked face only distinguished by dark black eyes. Iaheru manages to plant a kick, her scarf unfastening entirely, crumpling into trembling hands as she begins to run down the street towards the Souk.
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Much like the narrow streets, the Sheifa residence in Cairo had the tendency to constrict the throat. Existing was difficult to cope with between the suffocation of her exile and the sweltering mosaic walls. The Sheifa residence in Cairo was old, but incredibly well maintained at Onuphrious’ insistence. A trader was nothing but his reputation, and surely the dirtless columns, swept and polished marble foyer, and the exotic gardens frequented by long neon lizards was a testament to the man’s accomplishments. If one were to walk into the grand marble foyer, their eyes would fall on frescoes of the river traders. Their boats, bundles of papyrus and coarse linen sails commandeering the sparse winds on the Nile basin, truly spinning gold from sweat. Such was the history of her husband, and, by extension, herself now.
From the roof of the manor, Iaheru witnessed the banks of the Nile expand. Encroaching on the houses at the banks, she’s reminded of her own history, unpainted but still tangibly influential. Her parents artisans, her childhood speckled with mosquito bitten ankles and the catch and release of frogs leaping between breaks in the papyrus. Iaheru would follow their citrine eyes, count their toes, and make note of each frog she caught on a torn papyrus scroll, releasing them with a smile of equal parts encouragement and wonder. She’d come home, covered in red welts and papyrus cuts to her mother’s horror, “What if you cut your face, Iaheru? What if you fell in the river?”
“I’d be dead,” Iaheru learned to respond flippantly. It wasn’t until she became a mother that she despised the dismissive antics of children.
It was here that she came into the service of Hei Fakhouri. It was here that she raised her children. It was here that she remained so she could stare beyond the opposite bank of the Nile and wonder what Sutekh’s life was like now that it wasn’t here. The heat of the afternoon usually didn’t suit her, especially so now that the swelled banks of the river thickened the air with sticky moisture, but she fastens a headwrap and ventures into the streets anyways. The bright sun is wicked away from her eyes by thick lines of kohl. Sandals squish into the softened Earth. Perhaps daily walks would do her well.
The late afternoon brought with it the rustle of the market closing and the inns opening. Few people lined the streets as the evening meal and the last thralls of afternoon work demanding full attention. Nostrils fill with alliums rendered down in large pots and the distinct tang of yeast rising bread for the next day. Iaheru pridefully walks, perhaps she would take to a lounge for the evening, perhaps she would fetch some chicken for Tau. What she did not expect was the distinct tear of fabric and yank of her hair combs.
“Ahh!” she yelps, pivoting to accost a man tugging at threads of gold leaf. “Let me go!” Her hands grab at the unraveling fabric. A thick golden hoop tugs along with the fringe tassels, threatening to tear through her ear entirely. A muddy sandal aims for a groin and misses, causing Iaheru to lose her footing, knocking into the assailant with a sharp elbow. “Let me go now!” She shrieks as her hair pins tear, her talons sinking into a masked face only distinguished by dark black eyes. Iaheru manages to plant a kick, her scarf unfastening entirely, crumpling into trembling hands as she begins to run down the street towards the Souk.
Much like the narrow streets, the Sheifa residence in Cairo had the tendency to constrict the throat. Existing was difficult to cope with between the suffocation of her exile and the sweltering mosaic walls. The Sheifa residence in Cairo was old, but incredibly well maintained at Onuphrious’ insistence. A trader was nothing but his reputation, and surely the dirtless columns, swept and polished marble foyer, and the exotic gardens frequented by long neon lizards was a testament to the man’s accomplishments. If one were to walk into the grand marble foyer, their eyes would fall on frescoes of the river traders. Their boats, bundles of papyrus and coarse linen sails commandeering the sparse winds on the Nile basin, truly spinning gold from sweat. Such was the history of her husband, and, by extension, herself now.
From the roof of the manor, Iaheru witnessed the banks of the Nile expand. Encroaching on the houses at the banks, she’s reminded of her own history, unpainted but still tangibly influential. Her parents artisans, her childhood speckled with mosquito bitten ankles and the catch and release of frogs leaping between breaks in the papyrus. Iaheru would follow their citrine eyes, count their toes, and make note of each frog she caught on a torn papyrus scroll, releasing them with a smile of equal parts encouragement and wonder. She’d come home, covered in red welts and papyrus cuts to her mother’s horror, “What if you cut your face, Iaheru? What if you fell in the river?”
“I’d be dead,” Iaheru learned to respond flippantly. It wasn’t until she became a mother that she despised the dismissive antics of children.
It was here that she came into the service of Hei Fakhouri. It was here that she raised her children. It was here that she remained so she could stare beyond the opposite bank of the Nile and wonder what Sutekh’s life was like now that it wasn’t here. The heat of the afternoon usually didn’t suit her, especially so now that the swelled banks of the river thickened the air with sticky moisture, but she fastens a headwrap and ventures into the streets anyways. The bright sun is wicked away from her eyes by thick lines of kohl. Sandals squish into the softened Earth. Perhaps daily walks would do her well.
The late afternoon brought with it the rustle of the market closing and the inns opening. Few people lined the streets as the evening meal and the last thralls of afternoon work demanding full attention. Nostrils fill with alliums rendered down in large pots and the distinct tang of yeast rising bread for the next day. Iaheru pridefully walks, perhaps she would take to a lounge for the evening, perhaps she would fetch some chicken for Tau. What she did not expect was the distinct tear of fabric and yank of her hair combs.
“Ahh!” she yelps, pivoting to accost a man tugging at threads of gold leaf. “Let me go!” Her hands grab at the unraveling fabric. A thick golden hoop tugs along with the fringe tassels, threatening to tear through her ear entirely. A muddy sandal aims for a groin and misses, causing Iaheru to lose her footing, knocking into the assailant with a sharp elbow. “Let me go now!” She shrieks as her hair pins tear, her talons sinking into a masked face only distinguished by dark black eyes. Iaheru manages to plant a kick, her scarf unfastening entirely, crumpling into trembling hands as she begins to run down the street towards the Souk.
Curveball Take What You Can
Once the tribe of horseback riding thieves steal and snatch from all they can reach, the men return to their animals and storm through the aisles of stalls, caring nothing for any innocents they might catch beneath their hooves. One man steps forward - a simple commoner merchant intent on doing good but ignorant as to the smartest way of how - he steps forward in an attempt to bar the path of one of the thieves' steeds only to be met with the curved blade of their swinging saracen sword. A laceration is sliced across his torso, from right hip to opposing shoulder as he is sent spinning like a top in a stream of crimson and falls face down into the sand, still alive but bleeding and stunned. The leader of the tribe calls out to his fellows, blowing a high pitched horn that has them collection and riding off across the sands, their crimes committed and their bounty claimed...
JD
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JD
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Once the tribe of horseback riding thieves steal and snatch from all they can reach, the men return to their animals and storm through the aisles of stalls, caring nothing for any innocents they might catch beneath their hooves. One man steps forward - a simple commoner merchant intent on doing good but ignorant as to the smartest way of how - he steps forward in an attempt to bar the path of one of the thieves' steeds only to be met with the curved blade of their swinging saracen sword. A laceration is sliced across his torso, from right hip to opposing shoulder as he is sent spinning like a top in a stream of crimson and falls face down into the sand, still alive but bleeding and stunned. The leader of the tribe calls out to his fellows, blowing a high pitched horn that has them collection and riding off across the sands, their crimes committed and their bounty claimed...
Curveball Take What You Can
Once the tribe of horseback riding thieves steal and snatch from all they can reach, the men return to their animals and storm through the aisles of stalls, caring nothing for any innocents they might catch beneath their hooves. One man steps forward - a simple commoner merchant intent on doing good but ignorant as to the smartest way of how - he steps forward in an attempt to bar the path of one of the thieves' steeds only to be met with the curved blade of their swinging saracen sword. A laceration is sliced across his torso, from right hip to opposing shoulder as he is sent spinning like a top in a stream of crimson and falls face down into the sand, still alive but bleeding and stunned. The leader of the tribe calls out to his fellows, blowing a high pitched horn that has them collection and riding off across the sands, their crimes committed and their bounty claimed...