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Thras nodded a little, well she said she couldn’t carry much, but at least she had some sort of medical knowledge. That would be helpful at least, he could do the carrying he supposed.
“Unfortunately I don’t think we have wine or honey right now, nor do we have time to send for some.” he stated, he had another idea, he just needed to find what he was looking for.
Finally he spotted what he needed, a fire burning away nearby, carefully set up so it could not be knocked over or spread. When he was sure that the woman had hold of the cloth tight against the man’s skin so he would not bleed more than necessary while he was gone, Thrasius stood back up. As quick as he could, he made his way to the fire, grabbing one of the fallen soldier’s swords along the way. He put the blade in the fire, looking back nervously at the man and the woman he had left him with as he waited for the blade to heat. He knew he had to leave it long enough, or else they would cause the dying man more pain but not close the wound with the heat.
But he was feeling impatient, wanting to get back over there as quick as possible and stop the bleeding before it was too late to do so. He had to be patient at a time when patience could be potentially fatal for the poor souls that moaned and screamed in pain around him.
He waited as long as he could, then hurried the hot sword back over to the man, moving quickly so as not to lose the heat of the blade.
“Move.” He said, not meaning to come off as rude to the woman, but he had very little time to do this right.
When she moved out of the way, he pressed the hot blade against the man’s skin, causing him to scream out in pain, but the sizzling flesh was enough for Thrasius to know that it would seal the wound as he had planned.
He pulled the blade away after it had been pressed long enough, and was satisfied to see that it was as closed as it could get with the heat.
Though he had no idea if this man would still live. He may yet succumb to this wound, or others that perhaps they could not see. Sometimes injuries could be worse than previously thought.
“We’ve done all we can for him, we will leave him to be tended with water and pray that the Gods do not take him from the living just yet.” He said, looking at the woman, he gave her a smile, a little bit of friendliness among chaos.
“I’m going to see who else I can assist. You may join me, or if you have other things to attend to, please do such.” He said, then without another word he turned and headed off, to find the next person that he might be able to help save.
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Thras nodded a little, well she said she couldn’t carry much, but at least she had some sort of medical knowledge. That would be helpful at least, he could do the carrying he supposed.
“Unfortunately I don’t think we have wine or honey right now, nor do we have time to send for some.” he stated, he had another idea, he just needed to find what he was looking for.
Finally he spotted what he needed, a fire burning away nearby, carefully set up so it could not be knocked over or spread. When he was sure that the woman had hold of the cloth tight against the man’s skin so he would not bleed more than necessary while he was gone, Thrasius stood back up. As quick as he could, he made his way to the fire, grabbing one of the fallen soldier’s swords along the way. He put the blade in the fire, looking back nervously at the man and the woman he had left him with as he waited for the blade to heat. He knew he had to leave it long enough, or else they would cause the dying man more pain but not close the wound with the heat.
But he was feeling impatient, wanting to get back over there as quick as possible and stop the bleeding before it was too late to do so. He had to be patient at a time when patience could be potentially fatal for the poor souls that moaned and screamed in pain around him.
He waited as long as he could, then hurried the hot sword back over to the man, moving quickly so as not to lose the heat of the blade.
“Move.” He said, not meaning to come off as rude to the woman, but he had very little time to do this right.
When she moved out of the way, he pressed the hot blade against the man’s skin, causing him to scream out in pain, but the sizzling flesh was enough for Thrasius to know that it would seal the wound as he had planned.
He pulled the blade away after it had been pressed long enough, and was satisfied to see that it was as closed as it could get with the heat.
Though he had no idea if this man would still live. He may yet succumb to this wound, or others that perhaps they could not see. Sometimes injuries could be worse than previously thought.
“We’ve done all we can for him, we will leave him to be tended with water and pray that the Gods do not take him from the living just yet.” He said, looking at the woman, he gave her a smile, a little bit of friendliness among chaos.
“I’m going to see who else I can assist. You may join me, or if you have other things to attend to, please do such.” He said, then without another word he turned and headed off, to find the next person that he might be able to help save.
Thras nodded a little, well she said she couldn’t carry much, but at least she had some sort of medical knowledge. That would be helpful at least, he could do the carrying he supposed.
“Unfortunately I don’t think we have wine or honey right now, nor do we have time to send for some.” he stated, he had another idea, he just needed to find what he was looking for.
Finally he spotted what he needed, a fire burning away nearby, carefully set up so it could not be knocked over or spread. When he was sure that the woman had hold of the cloth tight against the man’s skin so he would not bleed more than necessary while he was gone, Thrasius stood back up. As quick as he could, he made his way to the fire, grabbing one of the fallen soldier’s swords along the way. He put the blade in the fire, looking back nervously at the man and the woman he had left him with as he waited for the blade to heat. He knew he had to leave it long enough, or else they would cause the dying man more pain but not close the wound with the heat.
But he was feeling impatient, wanting to get back over there as quick as possible and stop the bleeding before it was too late to do so. He had to be patient at a time when patience could be potentially fatal for the poor souls that moaned and screamed in pain around him.
He waited as long as he could, then hurried the hot sword back over to the man, moving quickly so as not to lose the heat of the blade.
“Move.” He said, not meaning to come off as rude to the woman, but he had very little time to do this right.
When she moved out of the way, he pressed the hot blade against the man’s skin, causing him to scream out in pain, but the sizzling flesh was enough for Thrasius to know that it would seal the wound as he had planned.
He pulled the blade away after it had been pressed long enough, and was satisfied to see that it was as closed as it could get with the heat.
Though he had no idea if this man would still live. He may yet succumb to this wound, or others that perhaps they could not see. Sometimes injuries could be worse than previously thought.
“We’ve done all we can for him, we will leave him to be tended with water and pray that the Gods do not take him from the living just yet.” He said, looking at the woman, he gave her a smile, a little bit of friendliness among chaos.
“I’m going to see who else I can assist. You may join me, or if you have other things to attend to, please do such.” He said, then without another word he turned and headed off, to find the next person that he might be able to help save.
Celine nodded, a little disappointed. She had heard honey and wine was a decent way to prevent infection. She did not need to be told twice to move out of the way when she saw the man going towards the fire with a sword. Celine winced as the dying man screamed, remembering Rhais' screams when she had been injured, and the horror Celine herself had felt when she realized the only way to seal the wounds made by a piece of wood falling due to the fire was...more fire.
Somehow, Celine could not leave the man, though she had turned very pale. She was grateful for Thrasius' smile, and smiled back in response. "One of my sisters had wounds that needed to be closed similarly once." she explained to justify her pallor. Her voice was strong despite her fear, but though she stayed a little longer to help where she could, the fact that fire in any form still frightened her meant that she felt nervous even though she was confident enough in her medical knowledge to help.
She needed to get out of here.
And out of Taengea.
Though she knew that she was being ridiculous- she could run into situations involving fire in Egypt as well- perhaps the reminder of her past heightened her need to be near her friends and most of her family. As if it wasn't hard enough being here for the first time since the fire! She said a special prayer for the man, her voice hopefully soothing him, before moving on.
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Celine nodded, a little disappointed. She had heard honey and wine was a decent way to prevent infection. She did not need to be told twice to move out of the way when she saw the man going towards the fire with a sword. Celine winced as the dying man screamed, remembering Rhais' screams when she had been injured, and the horror Celine herself had felt when she realized the only way to seal the wounds made by a piece of wood falling due to the fire was...more fire.
Somehow, Celine could not leave the man, though she had turned very pale. She was grateful for Thrasius' smile, and smiled back in response. "One of my sisters had wounds that needed to be closed similarly once." she explained to justify her pallor. Her voice was strong despite her fear, but though she stayed a little longer to help where she could, the fact that fire in any form still frightened her meant that she felt nervous even though she was confident enough in her medical knowledge to help.
She needed to get out of here.
And out of Taengea.
Though she knew that she was being ridiculous- she could run into situations involving fire in Egypt as well- perhaps the reminder of her past heightened her need to be near her friends and most of her family. As if it wasn't hard enough being here for the first time since the fire! She said a special prayer for the man, her voice hopefully soothing him, before moving on.
Celine nodded, a little disappointed. She had heard honey and wine was a decent way to prevent infection. She did not need to be told twice to move out of the way when she saw the man going towards the fire with a sword. Celine winced as the dying man screamed, remembering Rhais' screams when she had been injured, and the horror Celine herself had felt when she realized the only way to seal the wounds made by a piece of wood falling due to the fire was...more fire.
Somehow, Celine could not leave the man, though she had turned very pale. She was grateful for Thrasius' smile, and smiled back in response. "One of my sisters had wounds that needed to be closed similarly once." she explained to justify her pallor. Her voice was strong despite her fear, but though she stayed a little longer to help where she could, the fact that fire in any form still frightened her meant that she felt nervous even though she was confident enough in her medical knowledge to help.
She needed to get out of here.
And out of Taengea.
Though she knew that she was being ridiculous- she could run into situations involving fire in Egypt as well- perhaps the reminder of her past heightened her need to be near her friends and most of her family. As if it wasn't hard enough being here for the first time since the fire! She said a special prayer for the man, her voice hopefully soothing him, before moving on.
The mood in the city was one that Alastair knew intimately. When he was in the military, this feeling was so common that it felt more normal than his life that was now based on comfort and peace. He didn’t mind the tension that ran through most of the people. He enjoyed the continued preparations, and enjoyed the guarded way people acted. He often found himself slightly out of place with most of the people in the Capitol. As a Colchian, he didn’t trust people. He preferred to be left alone, hated making conversation for the sake of conversation.
People often asked about his leg, about why he limped. These people were noisy, which was a total turn off for him. If he could avoid the city, he would. For him, there was little reason for him to really stay around and let those conversations happen. When he was with Olympia, he was able to avoid small talk. He could stand back, glare at those who tried to speak with him for the sake of work. But if he was ever alone, it seemed like he was bothered by everyone around him.
People wanted to know what happened, if he was married, what a Colchian was doing on the island. And Alastair hated talking to people. But, he had promised Olympia that he would make a trip into the city to pick up a few items. And so that meant that he heard the commotion as he made his way from the docks into the city. Macendia was in the other direction, so it only meant that something had happened in the waters elsewhere. As he made his way towards the crowd did he start to hear the whispers of those on the outskirts.
Ah, so there were soldiers on the shore. Couldn’t be good if so much yelling could be heard.
As he got closer, he started to feel like this was a piece of the world that he knew. He remembered this kind of chaos, this kind of madness. It had been something he’d missed from his times of the field. It felt odd, the ache in his leg was stronger as he walked. Flashbacks into his own past, of the screams that happened on the night of his own injury. There was a need to be helpful, and yet with his own limited ability now.
Alastair took in the scene, trying to figure out how best to be helpful.
From all the chaos around, there were several people being sent off to accomplish different tasks. He watched a smaller girl teary-eyed moving back towards the city, stepping out of the way to allow her to pass. It seemed as if it was just a steady stream of people who needed assistance. So he may not have been able to help, but he could help in the smaller tasks that others weren’t doing.
His eyes drifted across the scape, eyes falling onto two women off to the side. His time in the Leventi house made it impossible for him not to recognize the form of the current queen, and her distress was hard to miss. He could tell that she was trying to put on a brave face, but this was a new experience. This kind of death and brutality would be new to her. He took an offered bladder from someone in passing, making his way down to the two women in question.
With a bow, he spoke gently, “Queen Theodora, Princess Xene-- here.” He handed her the bladder, able to see the need to rinse her mouth out. “Take a breath. Take a moment,” He said w calmly and evenly, “And then just be there for them. You do not need to say or do anything-- just seeing you will be enough for them.” He’d overheard her convincing herself that she could do this on the way over.
“That will be useful enough for them. Most are bound for Hades as it is.”
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The mood in the city was one that Alastair knew intimately. When he was in the military, this feeling was so common that it felt more normal than his life that was now based on comfort and peace. He didn’t mind the tension that ran through most of the people. He enjoyed the continued preparations, and enjoyed the guarded way people acted. He often found himself slightly out of place with most of the people in the Capitol. As a Colchian, he didn’t trust people. He preferred to be left alone, hated making conversation for the sake of conversation.
People often asked about his leg, about why he limped. These people were noisy, which was a total turn off for him. If he could avoid the city, he would. For him, there was little reason for him to really stay around and let those conversations happen. When he was with Olympia, he was able to avoid small talk. He could stand back, glare at those who tried to speak with him for the sake of work. But if he was ever alone, it seemed like he was bothered by everyone around him.
People wanted to know what happened, if he was married, what a Colchian was doing on the island. And Alastair hated talking to people. But, he had promised Olympia that he would make a trip into the city to pick up a few items. And so that meant that he heard the commotion as he made his way from the docks into the city. Macendia was in the other direction, so it only meant that something had happened in the waters elsewhere. As he made his way towards the crowd did he start to hear the whispers of those on the outskirts.
Ah, so there were soldiers on the shore. Couldn’t be good if so much yelling could be heard.
As he got closer, he started to feel like this was a piece of the world that he knew. He remembered this kind of chaos, this kind of madness. It had been something he’d missed from his times of the field. It felt odd, the ache in his leg was stronger as he walked. Flashbacks into his own past, of the screams that happened on the night of his own injury. There was a need to be helpful, and yet with his own limited ability now.
Alastair took in the scene, trying to figure out how best to be helpful.
From all the chaos around, there were several people being sent off to accomplish different tasks. He watched a smaller girl teary-eyed moving back towards the city, stepping out of the way to allow her to pass. It seemed as if it was just a steady stream of people who needed assistance. So he may not have been able to help, but he could help in the smaller tasks that others weren’t doing.
His eyes drifted across the scape, eyes falling onto two women off to the side. His time in the Leventi house made it impossible for him not to recognize the form of the current queen, and her distress was hard to miss. He could tell that she was trying to put on a brave face, but this was a new experience. This kind of death and brutality would be new to her. He took an offered bladder from someone in passing, making his way down to the two women in question.
With a bow, he spoke gently, “Queen Theodora, Princess Xene-- here.” He handed her the bladder, able to see the need to rinse her mouth out. “Take a breath. Take a moment,” He said w calmly and evenly, “And then just be there for them. You do not need to say or do anything-- just seeing you will be enough for them.” He’d overheard her convincing herself that she could do this on the way over.
“That will be useful enough for them. Most are bound for Hades as it is.”
The mood in the city was one that Alastair knew intimately. When he was in the military, this feeling was so common that it felt more normal than his life that was now based on comfort and peace. He didn’t mind the tension that ran through most of the people. He enjoyed the continued preparations, and enjoyed the guarded way people acted. He often found himself slightly out of place with most of the people in the Capitol. As a Colchian, he didn’t trust people. He preferred to be left alone, hated making conversation for the sake of conversation.
People often asked about his leg, about why he limped. These people were noisy, which was a total turn off for him. If he could avoid the city, he would. For him, there was little reason for him to really stay around and let those conversations happen. When he was with Olympia, he was able to avoid small talk. He could stand back, glare at those who tried to speak with him for the sake of work. But if he was ever alone, it seemed like he was bothered by everyone around him.
People wanted to know what happened, if he was married, what a Colchian was doing on the island. And Alastair hated talking to people. But, he had promised Olympia that he would make a trip into the city to pick up a few items. And so that meant that he heard the commotion as he made his way from the docks into the city. Macendia was in the other direction, so it only meant that something had happened in the waters elsewhere. As he made his way towards the crowd did he start to hear the whispers of those on the outskirts.
Ah, so there were soldiers on the shore. Couldn’t be good if so much yelling could be heard.
As he got closer, he started to feel like this was a piece of the world that he knew. He remembered this kind of chaos, this kind of madness. It had been something he’d missed from his times of the field. It felt odd, the ache in his leg was stronger as he walked. Flashbacks into his own past, of the screams that happened on the night of his own injury. There was a need to be helpful, and yet with his own limited ability now.
Alastair took in the scene, trying to figure out how best to be helpful.
From all the chaos around, there were several people being sent off to accomplish different tasks. He watched a smaller girl teary-eyed moving back towards the city, stepping out of the way to allow her to pass. It seemed as if it was just a steady stream of people who needed assistance. So he may not have been able to help, but he could help in the smaller tasks that others weren’t doing.
His eyes drifted across the scape, eyes falling onto two women off to the side. His time in the Leventi house made it impossible for him not to recognize the form of the current queen, and her distress was hard to miss. He could tell that she was trying to put on a brave face, but this was a new experience. This kind of death and brutality would be new to her. He took an offered bladder from someone in passing, making his way down to the two women in question.
With a bow, he spoke gently, “Queen Theodora, Princess Xene-- here.” He handed her the bladder, able to see the need to rinse her mouth out. “Take a breath. Take a moment,” He said w calmly and evenly, “And then just be there for them. You do not need to say or do anything-- just seeing you will be enough for them.” He’d overheard her convincing herself that she could do this on the way over.
“That will be useful enough for them. Most are bound for Hades as it is.”
When a man joined her and Xene in their little hideaway behind the rocks, Theodora felt her skin redden and wished to the gods above that they would simply take her and be done with it. She couldn’t bear anyone seeing her this way, so… vulnerable. She was the Queen; she was supposed to be strong. If Achilleas was here, he would be strong. She couldn’t let it be said that his wife was weak.
However, when she dared to look up, to see who it was that was speaking to her, she softened slightly—gratitude once more shining in her gaze rather than shame. She recognized the man as Olympia’s guard, a quiet sort who rarely spoke to anyone outside of Olympia herself. Alastair, she thought his name was, but she didn’t say it, just in case she was wrong.
Accepting the bladder of water that he offered, she inclined her head with a murmured, “Thank you.” Taking a sip, she swished it around her mouth first, surreptitiously spitting it off to the side. The next swallow she took in earnest, eyes closing in relief. A couple more followed it before she handed it back; with the wounded and dying scattered around them, she thought there were others more in need of the water than she was.
Inhaling a deep breath as the guard suggested, Theodora nodded, trying to bolster herself with his words. She could do that. She could be there for them. It wasn’t that big of a thing to expect from her, to simply be seen, to stroke the faces of the dying and whisper prayers for their safe passage. She had been overwhelmed when she stepped on the beach and saw what was happening, but she had been sheltered in her life, reared so gently; never having to face such a macabre scene before, it had taken her by surprise. It was one thing to hear descriptions of such things and quite another to face them in reality.
Reaching out, she took the man’s hand and lightly squeezed it—her gaze poignant as it met his. Such kindness, however simple, would not soon be forgotten. “Thank you,” she said again. “You’re right.”
Pulling herself to her feet, Theodora took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Shaking the sand from her chiton, she smoothed the wrinkles from the fabric before running a quick hand over her disheveled hair. No matter what she felt in that moment, she had to be more than herself for a while, to do what duty and honor expected of her. She was the Queen, no matter her own doubts in her ability, and she needed to act the part. To give confidence to those around her, she needed to project it herself.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
However, she did not have to do it alone. Achilleas himself had suggested she ask for Xene’s help when she needed it, and she felt she needed it now more than she ever had. Gently taking the princess’s arm, she lightly squeezed the inside of her elbow. “Will you walk with me? Help me comfort them?”
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When a man joined her and Xene in their little hideaway behind the rocks, Theodora felt her skin redden and wished to the gods above that they would simply take her and be done with it. She couldn’t bear anyone seeing her this way, so… vulnerable. She was the Queen; she was supposed to be strong. If Achilleas was here, he would be strong. She couldn’t let it be said that his wife was weak.
However, when she dared to look up, to see who it was that was speaking to her, she softened slightly—gratitude once more shining in her gaze rather than shame. She recognized the man as Olympia’s guard, a quiet sort who rarely spoke to anyone outside of Olympia herself. Alastair, she thought his name was, but she didn’t say it, just in case she was wrong.
Accepting the bladder of water that he offered, she inclined her head with a murmured, “Thank you.” Taking a sip, she swished it around her mouth first, surreptitiously spitting it off to the side. The next swallow she took in earnest, eyes closing in relief. A couple more followed it before she handed it back; with the wounded and dying scattered around them, she thought there were others more in need of the water than she was.
Inhaling a deep breath as the guard suggested, Theodora nodded, trying to bolster herself with his words. She could do that. She could be there for them. It wasn’t that big of a thing to expect from her, to simply be seen, to stroke the faces of the dying and whisper prayers for their safe passage. She had been overwhelmed when she stepped on the beach and saw what was happening, but she had been sheltered in her life, reared so gently; never having to face such a macabre scene before, it had taken her by surprise. It was one thing to hear descriptions of such things and quite another to face them in reality.
Reaching out, she took the man’s hand and lightly squeezed it—her gaze poignant as it met his. Such kindness, however simple, would not soon be forgotten. “Thank you,” she said again. “You’re right.”
Pulling herself to her feet, Theodora took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Shaking the sand from her chiton, she smoothed the wrinkles from the fabric before running a quick hand over her disheveled hair. No matter what she felt in that moment, she had to be more than herself for a while, to do what duty and honor expected of her. She was the Queen, no matter her own doubts in her ability, and she needed to act the part. To give confidence to those around her, she needed to project it herself.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
However, she did not have to do it alone. Achilleas himself had suggested she ask for Xene’s help when she needed it, and she felt she needed it now more than she ever had. Gently taking the princess’s arm, she lightly squeezed the inside of her elbow. “Will you walk with me? Help me comfort them?”
When a man joined her and Xene in their little hideaway behind the rocks, Theodora felt her skin redden and wished to the gods above that they would simply take her and be done with it. She couldn’t bear anyone seeing her this way, so… vulnerable. She was the Queen; she was supposed to be strong. If Achilleas was here, he would be strong. She couldn’t let it be said that his wife was weak.
However, when she dared to look up, to see who it was that was speaking to her, she softened slightly—gratitude once more shining in her gaze rather than shame. She recognized the man as Olympia’s guard, a quiet sort who rarely spoke to anyone outside of Olympia herself. Alastair, she thought his name was, but she didn’t say it, just in case she was wrong.
Accepting the bladder of water that he offered, she inclined her head with a murmured, “Thank you.” Taking a sip, she swished it around her mouth first, surreptitiously spitting it off to the side. The next swallow she took in earnest, eyes closing in relief. A couple more followed it before she handed it back; with the wounded and dying scattered around them, she thought there were others more in need of the water than she was.
Inhaling a deep breath as the guard suggested, Theodora nodded, trying to bolster herself with his words. She could do that. She could be there for them. It wasn’t that big of a thing to expect from her, to simply be seen, to stroke the faces of the dying and whisper prayers for their safe passage. She had been overwhelmed when she stepped on the beach and saw what was happening, but she had been sheltered in her life, reared so gently; never having to face such a macabre scene before, it had taken her by surprise. It was one thing to hear descriptions of such things and quite another to face them in reality.
Reaching out, she took the man’s hand and lightly squeezed it—her gaze poignant as it met his. Such kindness, however simple, would not soon be forgotten. “Thank you,” she said again. “You’re right.”
Pulling herself to her feet, Theodora took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Shaking the sand from her chiton, she smoothed the wrinkles from the fabric before running a quick hand over her disheveled hair. No matter what she felt in that moment, she had to be more than herself for a while, to do what duty and honor expected of her. She was the Queen, no matter her own doubts in her ability, and she needed to act the part. To give confidence to those around her, she needed to project it herself.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
However, she did not have to do it alone. Achilleas himself had suggested she ask for Xene’s help when she needed it, and she felt she needed it now more than she ever had. Gently taking the princess’s arm, she lightly squeezed the inside of her elbow. “Will you walk with me? Help me comfort them?”
The princess had kept her back to her cousin, trying to keep an eye out for anyone heading in their direction. The queen had asked to be hidden, to ensure that someone didn't see her losing her morning repast out across the sands. Xene had never once been squeamish in her life, so even vomit didn't bother her. The blood on her own chiton did not bother her, even though she could smell the metallic tang of iron. This gown could not be saved, but she would not change her actions of this day. No matter how much Lord Leventi frowned upon them.
He was not her father. He was not her uncle. He was not her brother. He was her lover, her friend, and she could choose not to agree with him if she did not wish to. And this was one of those rare moments that she was decidedly stubborn and vastly irritated with Lord Fotios. She thought about giving his bottom lip a good nip in retaliation the next time they came together if only to show how frustrated he had made her in the moment. The course of war changed behaviors. Different things were expected of those in charge, and Xene was quite sure that if she had simply stood on the sands and watched these men die, then she would have been talked about all the same. Whether good or bad, it did not matter. If you took action, there was talk. If you took none, there would still be talk. So she had taken action.
The approach of Alastair had Xene straightening up and trying to put her hands up in order to shoo him. The man, of course, didn't listen and carried a skin of water with him. The princess's first thought was that he could help the queen if he were to offer her that water, so she stepped the slightest bit aside so that he could come closer. She hadn't even had a chance to take to Theodora's request to find water. It had already been brought to them.
All the better, Alastair seemed to be able to talk the queen up and give her more confidence in her task. Something that Xene had wholly failed to do the first time around. She herself had jumped to the idea that maybe Theodora wasn't prepared for a moment such as this. Seeing men die was hard, she had only ever witnessed the death of her uncle, but she felt she was stronger for it. She hadn't been able to help him then, either, despite Captain Krysto's instructions.
Reaching for the Queen, Xene gave Theodora a tender smile and nodded, looping her arm with the other woman's. "Of course, my queen. I will walk beside you for as long as you need and then longer still," she said softly, a quiet vow to help her here and elsewhere, for whatever she needed as she was learning to rule, mostly on her own, and only with the help of a few people.
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The princess had kept her back to her cousin, trying to keep an eye out for anyone heading in their direction. The queen had asked to be hidden, to ensure that someone didn't see her losing her morning repast out across the sands. Xene had never once been squeamish in her life, so even vomit didn't bother her. The blood on her own chiton did not bother her, even though she could smell the metallic tang of iron. This gown could not be saved, but she would not change her actions of this day. No matter how much Lord Leventi frowned upon them.
He was not her father. He was not her uncle. He was not her brother. He was her lover, her friend, and she could choose not to agree with him if she did not wish to. And this was one of those rare moments that she was decidedly stubborn and vastly irritated with Lord Fotios. She thought about giving his bottom lip a good nip in retaliation the next time they came together if only to show how frustrated he had made her in the moment. The course of war changed behaviors. Different things were expected of those in charge, and Xene was quite sure that if she had simply stood on the sands and watched these men die, then she would have been talked about all the same. Whether good or bad, it did not matter. If you took action, there was talk. If you took none, there would still be talk. So she had taken action.
The approach of Alastair had Xene straightening up and trying to put her hands up in order to shoo him. The man, of course, didn't listen and carried a skin of water with him. The princess's first thought was that he could help the queen if he were to offer her that water, so she stepped the slightest bit aside so that he could come closer. She hadn't even had a chance to take to Theodora's request to find water. It had already been brought to them.
All the better, Alastair seemed to be able to talk the queen up and give her more confidence in her task. Something that Xene had wholly failed to do the first time around. She herself had jumped to the idea that maybe Theodora wasn't prepared for a moment such as this. Seeing men die was hard, she had only ever witnessed the death of her uncle, but she felt she was stronger for it. She hadn't been able to help him then, either, despite Captain Krysto's instructions.
Reaching for the Queen, Xene gave Theodora a tender smile and nodded, looping her arm with the other woman's. "Of course, my queen. I will walk beside you for as long as you need and then longer still," she said softly, a quiet vow to help her here and elsewhere, for whatever she needed as she was learning to rule, mostly on her own, and only with the help of a few people.
The princess had kept her back to her cousin, trying to keep an eye out for anyone heading in their direction. The queen had asked to be hidden, to ensure that someone didn't see her losing her morning repast out across the sands. Xene had never once been squeamish in her life, so even vomit didn't bother her. The blood on her own chiton did not bother her, even though she could smell the metallic tang of iron. This gown could not be saved, but she would not change her actions of this day. No matter how much Lord Leventi frowned upon them.
He was not her father. He was not her uncle. He was not her brother. He was her lover, her friend, and she could choose not to agree with him if she did not wish to. And this was one of those rare moments that she was decidedly stubborn and vastly irritated with Lord Fotios. She thought about giving his bottom lip a good nip in retaliation the next time they came together if only to show how frustrated he had made her in the moment. The course of war changed behaviors. Different things were expected of those in charge, and Xene was quite sure that if she had simply stood on the sands and watched these men die, then she would have been talked about all the same. Whether good or bad, it did not matter. If you took action, there was talk. If you took none, there would still be talk. So she had taken action.
The approach of Alastair had Xene straightening up and trying to put her hands up in order to shoo him. The man, of course, didn't listen and carried a skin of water with him. The princess's first thought was that he could help the queen if he were to offer her that water, so she stepped the slightest bit aside so that he could come closer. She hadn't even had a chance to take to Theodora's request to find water. It had already been brought to them.
All the better, Alastair seemed to be able to talk the queen up and give her more confidence in her task. Something that Xene had wholly failed to do the first time around. She herself had jumped to the idea that maybe Theodora wasn't prepared for a moment such as this. Seeing men die was hard, she had only ever witnessed the death of her uncle, but she felt she was stronger for it. She hadn't been able to help him then, either, despite Captain Krysto's instructions.
Reaching for the Queen, Xene gave Theodora a tender smile and nodded, looping her arm with the other woman's. "Of course, my queen. I will walk beside you for as long as you need and then longer still," she said softly, a quiet vow to help her here and elsewhere, for whatever she needed as she was learning to rule, mostly on her own, and only with the help of a few people.
Xene was quick to respond to her request for help, taking her arm and assuring her that she would be there as long as she needed. Theodora couldn’t have been more grateful to her in that moment, looking over at her new cousin with that gratitude shining on her face. “Thank you, truly,” she murmured, her free hand briefly coming to join its mate on Xene’s arm. “For everything.” Her smile was tremulous as she turned it on the princess, gently squeezing her arm before letting the one hand drop. Her statement of thanks encompassed so much more than the day on the beach, just as Xene’s did, and she was sure the woman would take her meaning. Theodora truly would have been lost without her.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straighter and released, glancing back toward Alastair before they walked away. All she offered was a smile, a smile that wordlessly thanked him again. Nodding, she turned to face forward again and swallowed hard. She could do this. It was just some blood. Death was a part of life, and her people needed her to be strong. She had to do this.
Doing her best not to grip Xene’s arm too tightly, she started walking down the beach, carefully breathing through her mouth so the smell would not overwhelm her again. She could not shut out the screams so easily, however, and she visibly cringed as the sound raised up again.
Steady, Theo. You are a lioness now. Behave like one.
Skirting the group putting the screaming man back together, the Queen knelt down next to another, the man’s lips dry and white as he attempted to speak. “It’s all right,” she soothed, forcing down nausea that threatened to rear forth again. “You don’t need to say anything.” There was another girl there, a blonde holding a ladle of water that looked up at her approach. She thought she recognized the girl as a servant in her uncle’s household, though without Melina at her side, she wasn’t quite sure. What was she doing here alone, anyway? Had she come with Fotios?
Nodding in encouragement to the servant as she bowed her head in acknowledgement and continued her task, Theodora took the man’s hand and held it gently between both of hers. ‘They overwhelmed us,’ the man managed to mutter after Xanthippe pulled the ladle away. ‘Never saw them coming, bloody Egyptians…’ Coughing, blood spattered his own lips as he spoke, Theo frowning and doing her best to ignore the flecks of red now staining her gown. “How long ago was it?” she prompted, though the man shook his head and coughed again, a racking croup that soon had his face turning blue. His hand convulsively gripped at hers, and Theodora debated if she ought to pull away or not, only barely managing to conceal the fear on her face. She did not have to debate for long, however, his grip soon going slack and his face relaxing as his coughs fell silent.
Swallowing hard once more, she took a trembling breath and turned to Xene, rising to her feet. “Tend to this man, will you?” she asked the servant who still knelt next to him, unable to look at the grisly sight. “Or find someone who will. Thank you.”
Without waiting to hear if she answered, Theodora moved on to the next, taking his hand and whispering prayers to the gods above that would see him safely along to the afterlife. Intermingled with these prayers were others murmured under her breath, pleas that their other soldiers still abroad would not face the same fate as those who washed up on the shore.
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Xene was quick to respond to her request for help, taking her arm and assuring her that she would be there as long as she needed. Theodora couldn’t have been more grateful to her in that moment, looking over at her new cousin with that gratitude shining on her face. “Thank you, truly,” she murmured, her free hand briefly coming to join its mate on Xene’s arm. “For everything.” Her smile was tremulous as she turned it on the princess, gently squeezing her arm before letting the one hand drop. Her statement of thanks encompassed so much more than the day on the beach, just as Xene’s did, and she was sure the woman would take her meaning. Theodora truly would have been lost without her.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straighter and released, glancing back toward Alastair before they walked away. All she offered was a smile, a smile that wordlessly thanked him again. Nodding, she turned to face forward again and swallowed hard. She could do this. It was just some blood. Death was a part of life, and her people needed her to be strong. She had to do this.
Doing her best not to grip Xene’s arm too tightly, she started walking down the beach, carefully breathing through her mouth so the smell would not overwhelm her again. She could not shut out the screams so easily, however, and she visibly cringed as the sound raised up again.
Steady, Theo. You are a lioness now. Behave like one.
Skirting the group putting the screaming man back together, the Queen knelt down next to another, the man’s lips dry and white as he attempted to speak. “It’s all right,” she soothed, forcing down nausea that threatened to rear forth again. “You don’t need to say anything.” There was another girl there, a blonde holding a ladle of water that looked up at her approach. She thought she recognized the girl as a servant in her uncle’s household, though without Melina at her side, she wasn’t quite sure. What was she doing here alone, anyway? Had she come with Fotios?
Nodding in encouragement to the servant as she bowed her head in acknowledgement and continued her task, Theodora took the man’s hand and held it gently between both of hers. ‘They overwhelmed us,’ the man managed to mutter after Xanthippe pulled the ladle away. ‘Never saw them coming, bloody Egyptians…’ Coughing, blood spattered his own lips as he spoke, Theo frowning and doing her best to ignore the flecks of red now staining her gown. “How long ago was it?” she prompted, though the man shook his head and coughed again, a racking croup that soon had his face turning blue. His hand convulsively gripped at hers, and Theodora debated if she ought to pull away or not, only barely managing to conceal the fear on her face. She did not have to debate for long, however, his grip soon going slack and his face relaxing as his coughs fell silent.
Swallowing hard once more, she took a trembling breath and turned to Xene, rising to her feet. “Tend to this man, will you?” she asked the servant who still knelt next to him, unable to look at the grisly sight. “Or find someone who will. Thank you.”
Without waiting to hear if she answered, Theodora moved on to the next, taking his hand and whispering prayers to the gods above that would see him safely along to the afterlife. Intermingled with these prayers were others murmured under her breath, pleas that their other soldiers still abroad would not face the same fate as those who washed up on the shore.
Xene was quick to respond to her request for help, taking her arm and assuring her that she would be there as long as she needed. Theodora couldn’t have been more grateful to her in that moment, looking over at her new cousin with that gratitude shining on her face. “Thank you, truly,” she murmured, her free hand briefly coming to join its mate on Xene’s arm. “For everything.” Her smile was tremulous as she turned it on the princess, gently squeezing her arm before letting the one hand drop. Her statement of thanks encompassed so much more than the day on the beach, just as Xene’s did, and she was sure the woman would take her meaning. Theodora truly would have been lost without her.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up straighter and released, glancing back toward Alastair before they walked away. All she offered was a smile, a smile that wordlessly thanked him again. Nodding, she turned to face forward again and swallowed hard. She could do this. It was just some blood. Death was a part of life, and her people needed her to be strong. She had to do this.
Doing her best not to grip Xene’s arm too tightly, she started walking down the beach, carefully breathing through her mouth so the smell would not overwhelm her again. She could not shut out the screams so easily, however, and she visibly cringed as the sound raised up again.
Steady, Theo. You are a lioness now. Behave like one.
Skirting the group putting the screaming man back together, the Queen knelt down next to another, the man’s lips dry and white as he attempted to speak. “It’s all right,” she soothed, forcing down nausea that threatened to rear forth again. “You don’t need to say anything.” There was another girl there, a blonde holding a ladle of water that looked up at her approach. She thought she recognized the girl as a servant in her uncle’s household, though without Melina at her side, she wasn’t quite sure. What was she doing here alone, anyway? Had she come with Fotios?
Nodding in encouragement to the servant as she bowed her head in acknowledgement and continued her task, Theodora took the man’s hand and held it gently between both of hers. ‘They overwhelmed us,’ the man managed to mutter after Xanthippe pulled the ladle away. ‘Never saw them coming, bloody Egyptians…’ Coughing, blood spattered his own lips as he spoke, Theo frowning and doing her best to ignore the flecks of red now staining her gown. “How long ago was it?” she prompted, though the man shook his head and coughed again, a racking croup that soon had his face turning blue. His hand convulsively gripped at hers, and Theodora debated if she ought to pull away or not, only barely managing to conceal the fear on her face. She did not have to debate for long, however, his grip soon going slack and his face relaxing as his coughs fell silent.
Swallowing hard once more, she took a trembling breath and turned to Xene, rising to her feet. “Tend to this man, will you?” she asked the servant who still knelt next to him, unable to look at the grisly sight. “Or find someone who will. Thank you.”
Without waiting to hear if she answered, Theodora moved on to the next, taking his hand and whispering prayers to the gods above that would see him safely along to the afterlife. Intermingled with these prayers were others murmured under her breath, pleas that their other soldiers still abroad would not face the same fate as those who washed up on the shore.
In contrast to the Queen, Xanthippe was calm and focused, her face neutral as she stared down at the dying man. Death did not disturb her, nor blood, nor pain. These were all a simple part of existence, and they came for everyone in the end. One day, it would be her, gasping as she died, and she doubted there would anyone there to hold her hand as she did it.
It was only her own self control that kept her from her rolling her eyes at Xene and Theodora’s approach, nodding respectfully to the royal women as she continued to ladle water into her charge’s mouth. He gripped the Queen’s hand and spoke, and then Xanthippe did look interested; after all, that’s what she was here for. To garner information. Not to molly coddle dead men.
However, what little he offered was next to nothing, nothing that they couldn’t have ascertained on their own. Pesky thing, dying; this man knew things that she now never would, his secrets taken with him to the Underworld and out of her reach forever. If only Hades would send some of those secrets her way; she talked to him enough that she thought he owed her that much.
Some things are not for mortals to bear.
Then you cannot be angry when I am not as helpful as I could have been.
I don’t make the rules.
I should think you do.
And then he was gone, his face relaxing and his head falling back into the sand. Well, then. A lot of good that had done. The Queen stood and gave her orders, Xanthippe nodding in assent. What did the Queen think she could do about this? She wasn’t the one with any authority here. She supposed that was the way of royals, washing their hands free of the things they couldn’t be bothered to deal with themselves.
Glancing down the beach, she took in the sight of those helping the screaming man, pushing one of his organs back into his body as others held him down. There was mild interest there, her gaze settled on the bright red of the sand around him, but she knew he wouldn’t be of any use, either. Pain could draw answers from some, but there was a line. She doubted he even knew where he was at the moment, much less how he got there. Anything he said would be pointless. She found it interesting that the dark-skinned woman she met at the Thesmophoria festival was present, along with her Lord Fotios. If there was anything to be garnered there, surely he could be the one to learn it.
This whole venture had been useless, as far as she was concerned. No one was talking about anything but the dying men, which… of course, that made sense, but it wasn’t what she was here for. She needed information, not sympathetic murmurings, or all this had been a waste. Grabbing a length of linen from the makeshift physician’s hub, she covered the man she had been tending and sighed. She wasn’t sure what more the Queen meant for her to do, so she simply let him lay there. Whoever was gathering up the dead would find him eventually.
Wandering back down among the throng of sick and dying men, Xanthippe once more lapsed into silence, a watchful shadow on the edge of the chaos praying this had not all been in vain.
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In contrast to the Queen, Xanthippe was calm and focused, her face neutral as she stared down at the dying man. Death did not disturb her, nor blood, nor pain. These were all a simple part of existence, and they came for everyone in the end. One day, it would be her, gasping as she died, and she doubted there would anyone there to hold her hand as she did it.
It was only her own self control that kept her from her rolling her eyes at Xene and Theodora’s approach, nodding respectfully to the royal women as she continued to ladle water into her charge’s mouth. He gripped the Queen’s hand and spoke, and then Xanthippe did look interested; after all, that’s what she was here for. To garner information. Not to molly coddle dead men.
However, what little he offered was next to nothing, nothing that they couldn’t have ascertained on their own. Pesky thing, dying; this man knew things that she now never would, his secrets taken with him to the Underworld and out of her reach forever. If only Hades would send some of those secrets her way; she talked to him enough that she thought he owed her that much.
Some things are not for mortals to bear.
Then you cannot be angry when I am not as helpful as I could have been.
I don’t make the rules.
I should think you do.
And then he was gone, his face relaxing and his head falling back into the sand. Well, then. A lot of good that had done. The Queen stood and gave her orders, Xanthippe nodding in assent. What did the Queen think she could do about this? She wasn’t the one with any authority here. She supposed that was the way of royals, washing their hands free of the things they couldn’t be bothered to deal with themselves.
Glancing down the beach, she took in the sight of those helping the screaming man, pushing one of his organs back into his body as others held him down. There was mild interest there, her gaze settled on the bright red of the sand around him, but she knew he wouldn’t be of any use, either. Pain could draw answers from some, but there was a line. She doubted he even knew where he was at the moment, much less how he got there. Anything he said would be pointless. She found it interesting that the dark-skinned woman she met at the Thesmophoria festival was present, along with her Lord Fotios. If there was anything to be garnered there, surely he could be the one to learn it.
This whole venture had been useless, as far as she was concerned. No one was talking about anything but the dying men, which… of course, that made sense, but it wasn’t what she was here for. She needed information, not sympathetic murmurings, or all this had been a waste. Grabbing a length of linen from the makeshift physician’s hub, she covered the man she had been tending and sighed. She wasn’t sure what more the Queen meant for her to do, so she simply let him lay there. Whoever was gathering up the dead would find him eventually.
Wandering back down among the throng of sick and dying men, Xanthippe once more lapsed into silence, a watchful shadow on the edge of the chaos praying this had not all been in vain.
In contrast to the Queen, Xanthippe was calm and focused, her face neutral as she stared down at the dying man. Death did not disturb her, nor blood, nor pain. These were all a simple part of existence, and they came for everyone in the end. One day, it would be her, gasping as she died, and she doubted there would anyone there to hold her hand as she did it.
It was only her own self control that kept her from her rolling her eyes at Xene and Theodora’s approach, nodding respectfully to the royal women as she continued to ladle water into her charge’s mouth. He gripped the Queen’s hand and spoke, and then Xanthippe did look interested; after all, that’s what she was here for. To garner information. Not to molly coddle dead men.
However, what little he offered was next to nothing, nothing that they couldn’t have ascertained on their own. Pesky thing, dying; this man knew things that she now never would, his secrets taken with him to the Underworld and out of her reach forever. If only Hades would send some of those secrets her way; she talked to him enough that she thought he owed her that much.
Some things are not for mortals to bear.
Then you cannot be angry when I am not as helpful as I could have been.
I don’t make the rules.
I should think you do.
And then he was gone, his face relaxing and his head falling back into the sand. Well, then. A lot of good that had done. The Queen stood and gave her orders, Xanthippe nodding in assent. What did the Queen think she could do about this? She wasn’t the one with any authority here. She supposed that was the way of royals, washing their hands free of the things they couldn’t be bothered to deal with themselves.
Glancing down the beach, she took in the sight of those helping the screaming man, pushing one of his organs back into his body as others held him down. There was mild interest there, her gaze settled on the bright red of the sand around him, but she knew he wouldn’t be of any use, either. Pain could draw answers from some, but there was a line. She doubted he even knew where he was at the moment, much less how he got there. Anything he said would be pointless. She found it interesting that the dark-skinned woman she met at the Thesmophoria festival was present, along with her Lord Fotios. If there was anything to be garnered there, surely he could be the one to learn it.
This whole venture had been useless, as far as she was concerned. No one was talking about anything but the dying men, which… of course, that made sense, but it wasn’t what she was here for. She needed information, not sympathetic murmurings, or all this had been a waste. Grabbing a length of linen from the makeshift physician’s hub, she covered the man she had been tending and sighed. She wasn’t sure what more the Queen meant for her to do, so she simply let him lay there. Whoever was gathering up the dead would find him eventually.
Wandering back down among the throng of sick and dying men, Xanthippe once more lapsed into silence, a watchful shadow on the edge of the chaos praying this had not all been in vain.
Xene felt a rush of affection for the woman on her arm, and in the moment, she wasn't going to let the queen go for anything. Theodora had a way of making people feel entirely comfortable, and the princess had never once felt uncomfortable in her presence. As far as she could remember, all of their interactions had been just like this. Very raw, very human, and full of gratitude. Admittedly, Xene hoped that these feelings never changed. If there was anyone that the princess felt entirely comfortable around, it was the queen. Both of them. Olympia and Theodora. There was something about the Leventi family that made her feel more at home and welcome than she had ever in her entire life.
They had charisma that rivaled even Xene's own, and sometimes she felt like she had lost her edge. With the overwhelming feelings of grief constantly on her shoulders, it was that much harder to remember that she was also a figurehead of Taengea. Not only did the people looked to their King and Queen, but also those that held the highest titles and honors.
With the two of them walking together back in the direction of the chaotic beach, Xene steeled herself once more. She would need to keep her entire composure if the two of them were to get through this horrible encounter. These men were their own, and many of them lay dying with no true way of helping them do anything but pass on. After getting a few breaths of fresh air, Xene realized, as they moved closer, that many of the wounds were festering. She could smell it, and the circling of carrion birds overhead told her that they could too. The princess' gaze drifted toward the sky, her blue gaze troubled as Theodora spoke to the dying man at their feet.
She couldn't look at Basilides, knowing that he was likely uncomfortable holding the man in his own arms. Then she caught her courage and dropped her gaze to his face, her expression pleading him to do his very best to care for the man, even if he didn't live. Having any sort of comfort at the end of one's life was not something that everyone got to experience. Especially soldiers. "I'll catch up with you later," the princess said, hoping that her companion would hear her words. She spoke them to Basilides. Not Fotios. Just her other confidant. A man too important to her to lose now.
The Queen turned back to Xene and the princess offered the woman both of her hands to bring her back into a standing position. She held onto both of Theodora's hands, nodding to her very slowly. "We can do this," she asserted her monarch gently. "I'm not going anywhere. I will walk with you now, for as long as you wish," she repeated for the second time. And then they were moving again, arm in arm, stopping at every man who needed comfort or a blessing.
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Xene felt a rush of affection for the woman on her arm, and in the moment, she wasn't going to let the queen go for anything. Theodora had a way of making people feel entirely comfortable, and the princess had never once felt uncomfortable in her presence. As far as she could remember, all of their interactions had been just like this. Very raw, very human, and full of gratitude. Admittedly, Xene hoped that these feelings never changed. If there was anyone that the princess felt entirely comfortable around, it was the queen. Both of them. Olympia and Theodora. There was something about the Leventi family that made her feel more at home and welcome than she had ever in her entire life.
They had charisma that rivaled even Xene's own, and sometimes she felt like she had lost her edge. With the overwhelming feelings of grief constantly on her shoulders, it was that much harder to remember that she was also a figurehead of Taengea. Not only did the people looked to their King and Queen, but also those that held the highest titles and honors.
With the two of them walking together back in the direction of the chaotic beach, Xene steeled herself once more. She would need to keep her entire composure if the two of them were to get through this horrible encounter. These men were their own, and many of them lay dying with no true way of helping them do anything but pass on. After getting a few breaths of fresh air, Xene realized, as they moved closer, that many of the wounds were festering. She could smell it, and the circling of carrion birds overhead told her that they could too. The princess' gaze drifted toward the sky, her blue gaze troubled as Theodora spoke to the dying man at their feet.
She couldn't look at Basilides, knowing that he was likely uncomfortable holding the man in his own arms. Then she caught her courage and dropped her gaze to his face, her expression pleading him to do his very best to care for the man, even if he didn't live. Having any sort of comfort at the end of one's life was not something that everyone got to experience. Especially soldiers. "I'll catch up with you later," the princess said, hoping that her companion would hear her words. She spoke them to Basilides. Not Fotios. Just her other confidant. A man too important to her to lose now.
The Queen turned back to Xene and the princess offered the woman both of her hands to bring her back into a standing position. She held onto both of Theodora's hands, nodding to her very slowly. "We can do this," she asserted her monarch gently. "I'm not going anywhere. I will walk with you now, for as long as you wish," she repeated for the second time. And then they were moving again, arm in arm, stopping at every man who needed comfort or a blessing.
Xene felt a rush of affection for the woman on her arm, and in the moment, she wasn't going to let the queen go for anything. Theodora had a way of making people feel entirely comfortable, and the princess had never once felt uncomfortable in her presence. As far as she could remember, all of their interactions had been just like this. Very raw, very human, and full of gratitude. Admittedly, Xene hoped that these feelings never changed. If there was anyone that the princess felt entirely comfortable around, it was the queen. Both of them. Olympia and Theodora. There was something about the Leventi family that made her feel more at home and welcome than she had ever in her entire life.
They had charisma that rivaled even Xene's own, and sometimes she felt like she had lost her edge. With the overwhelming feelings of grief constantly on her shoulders, it was that much harder to remember that she was also a figurehead of Taengea. Not only did the people looked to their King and Queen, but also those that held the highest titles and honors.
With the two of them walking together back in the direction of the chaotic beach, Xene steeled herself once more. She would need to keep her entire composure if the two of them were to get through this horrible encounter. These men were their own, and many of them lay dying with no true way of helping them do anything but pass on. After getting a few breaths of fresh air, Xene realized, as they moved closer, that many of the wounds were festering. She could smell it, and the circling of carrion birds overhead told her that they could too. The princess' gaze drifted toward the sky, her blue gaze troubled as Theodora spoke to the dying man at their feet.
She couldn't look at Basilides, knowing that he was likely uncomfortable holding the man in his own arms. Then she caught her courage and dropped her gaze to his face, her expression pleading him to do his very best to care for the man, even if he didn't live. Having any sort of comfort at the end of one's life was not something that everyone got to experience. Especially soldiers. "I'll catch up with you later," the princess said, hoping that her companion would hear her words. She spoke them to Basilides. Not Fotios. Just her other confidant. A man too important to her to lose now.
The Queen turned back to Xene and the princess offered the woman both of her hands to bring her back into a standing position. She held onto both of Theodora's hands, nodding to her very slowly. "We can do this," she asserted her monarch gently. "I'm not going anywhere. I will walk with you now, for as long as you wish," she repeated for the second time. And then they were moving again, arm in arm, stopping at every man who needed comfort or a blessing.
Curveball Prepare for the Worst
With his liver firmly back in place and the screaming subsiding to pained moans and gasps, the injured man being tended to by @neena, @basilides, and Fotios of Leventi found a bit of clarity. Through the shock of his treatment, he is able to answer…
“W-we burned the ships- their ships - but...but...”
Those listening fall silent and eyes turn toward the shaken, dying man as he continued, his voice hushing as he relived the terrifying account, “First….Scylla...an attack, a sign...then... then a storm...w-we were set back on Egyptian shores...then...they came.....they overwhelmed us…”
His eyes widened as horrors swept over his face, as he gasped out, in one final breath, “The King...they took the King....”
The look of horror did not leave his face as his eyes gazed sightless to the sky, dead.
Whispers grew to murmurs and a few frantic cries across the beach and into the city, where it began to spread like wildfire.
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With his liver firmly back in place and the screaming subsiding to pained moans and gasps, the injured man being tended to by @neena, @basilides, and Fotios of Leventi found a bit of clarity. Through the shock of his treatment, he is able to answer…
“W-we burned the ships- their ships - but...but...”
Those listening fall silent and eyes turn toward the shaken, dying man as he continued, his voice hushing as he relived the terrifying account, “First….Scylla...an attack, a sign...then... then a storm...w-we were set back on Egyptian shores...then...they came.....they overwhelmed us…”
His eyes widened as horrors swept over his face, as he gasped out, in one final breath, “The King...they took the King....”
The look of horror did not leave his face as his eyes gazed sightless to the sky, dead.
Whispers grew to murmurs and a few frantic cries across the beach and into the city, where it began to spread like wildfire.
Curveball Prepare for the Worst
With his liver firmly back in place and the screaming subsiding to pained moans and gasps, the injured man being tended to by @neena, @basilides, and Fotios of Leventi found a bit of clarity. Through the shock of his treatment, he is able to answer…
“W-we burned the ships- their ships - but...but...”
Those listening fall silent and eyes turn toward the shaken, dying man as he continued, his voice hushing as he relived the terrifying account, “First….Scylla...an attack, a sign...then... then a storm...w-we were set back on Egyptian shores...then...they came.....they overwhelmed us…”
His eyes widened as horrors swept over his face, as he gasped out, in one final breath, “The King...they took the King....”
The look of horror did not leave his face as his eyes gazed sightless to the sky, dead.
Whispers grew to murmurs and a few frantic cries across the beach and into the city, where it began to spread like wildfire.
Theodora was just near enough to hear the man’s screams quiet, words forced out between pained lips. Releasing the hand of the man she held, she offered a gentle smile before she trailed closer to the group tending to the one who spoke, and she kept her eyes carefully averted from the bloody mess of his torso. After what had just happened, she was amazed he could speak at all, and the queen held her breath as she listened for what he had to say.
And gods, what he had to say…
Her stomach dropped and her face paled, recounting the words in her head as she struggled for clarity. The King… they took the King… No, she must had heard that wrong. Or he meant the Colchian King… but no, surely that couldn’t be it? Tython could not have arrived yet, so that only meant…
She didn’t even recognize her own voice with the wail that left her, rushing to the man’s side too late as his jaw slackened and lifeless eyes stared at the infuriatingly blue sky above. “What did he say?” she asked, frantic, of the ones surrounding him, her gaze going between her uncle, Xene, Basilides, and a foreign woman she didn’t recognize. When none of them immediately answered, her voice was more urgent, repeating through clenched teeth, “What. Did. He. Say?!”
Perhaps they were quiet out of sympathy, or shock, or fear, or all or none of the above. Perhaps they had answered her, and she just hadn’t heard them. Stumbling back from the little group, her ears were full of a loud whooshing, likes waves breaking over and over in her head. Achilleas was missing. The Egyptians took him. What did that mean? Was he a prisoner? Was he…?
No, she couldn’t think he was dead. A prisoner, perhaps, because surely the Egyptians would not harm one so valuable. They would use him to negotiate, or to make demands, or…
Now, others were looking at her, as if to follow her lead, and Theodora had never felt less of a leader in her life. What could she do? What did they want of her? She was being presented with the news of her husband’s disappearance, and… what? She was Queen; did that mean she was to rule in his absence, until they found out more? Or would it fall to Emilios now?
Her heart was a hummingbird in her chest, beating at an unnatural pace she thought might see her collapse to the ground. She had already been sick once since her arrival; she did not think she could bear such indignity again. But what could she do? Would bursting into tears serve her any better? Would screams or rage?
Unsteadily, she reached for Xene’s arm, thankful for the woman’s watchful presence at her side. Her stance wavered, knees weak beneath her as she took a deep and shaky breath. What was she to do? Perhaps they ought to keep it quiet, so as not to arouse more fear, but the chances of that were slim. Already, she could hear voices taking up the call along the beach, the other dying men nearly forgotten as the Taengeans worried for the fate of their king.
She was woefully out of her depth, and her eyes shone with tears, in spite of her fruitless efforts to remain calm. How could she? All wistful dreaming of their time together ‘after the war’ seemed like a curse now, as if they had doomed it from the start. So new a bride, was she already to be made a widow? What if he didn’t return? What if…?
No, he was all right. He had to be all right.
Turning, she buried her face in the princess’s shoulder to hide the horrified tears that slid from dark eyes, wetting the royal’s gown. “Emilios, we need to tell Emilios,” she mumbled into her cousin’s shoulder through a hiccupping breath, her voice wavering as much as her step. “Is he here?”
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Theodora was just near enough to hear the man’s screams quiet, words forced out between pained lips. Releasing the hand of the man she held, she offered a gentle smile before she trailed closer to the group tending to the one who spoke, and she kept her eyes carefully averted from the bloody mess of his torso. After what had just happened, she was amazed he could speak at all, and the queen held her breath as she listened for what he had to say.
And gods, what he had to say…
Her stomach dropped and her face paled, recounting the words in her head as she struggled for clarity. The King… they took the King… No, she must had heard that wrong. Or he meant the Colchian King… but no, surely that couldn’t be it? Tython could not have arrived yet, so that only meant…
She didn’t even recognize her own voice with the wail that left her, rushing to the man’s side too late as his jaw slackened and lifeless eyes stared at the infuriatingly blue sky above. “What did he say?” she asked, frantic, of the ones surrounding him, her gaze going between her uncle, Xene, Basilides, and a foreign woman she didn’t recognize. When none of them immediately answered, her voice was more urgent, repeating through clenched teeth, “What. Did. He. Say?!”
Perhaps they were quiet out of sympathy, or shock, or fear, or all or none of the above. Perhaps they had answered her, and she just hadn’t heard them. Stumbling back from the little group, her ears were full of a loud whooshing, likes waves breaking over and over in her head. Achilleas was missing. The Egyptians took him. What did that mean? Was he a prisoner? Was he…?
No, she couldn’t think he was dead. A prisoner, perhaps, because surely the Egyptians would not harm one so valuable. They would use him to negotiate, or to make demands, or…
Now, others were looking at her, as if to follow her lead, and Theodora had never felt less of a leader in her life. What could she do? What did they want of her? She was being presented with the news of her husband’s disappearance, and… what? She was Queen; did that mean she was to rule in his absence, until they found out more? Or would it fall to Emilios now?
Her heart was a hummingbird in her chest, beating at an unnatural pace she thought might see her collapse to the ground. She had already been sick once since her arrival; she did not think she could bear such indignity again. But what could she do? Would bursting into tears serve her any better? Would screams or rage?
Unsteadily, she reached for Xene’s arm, thankful for the woman’s watchful presence at her side. Her stance wavered, knees weak beneath her as she took a deep and shaky breath. What was she to do? Perhaps they ought to keep it quiet, so as not to arouse more fear, but the chances of that were slim. Already, she could hear voices taking up the call along the beach, the other dying men nearly forgotten as the Taengeans worried for the fate of their king.
She was woefully out of her depth, and her eyes shone with tears, in spite of her fruitless efforts to remain calm. How could she? All wistful dreaming of their time together ‘after the war’ seemed like a curse now, as if they had doomed it from the start. So new a bride, was she already to be made a widow? What if he didn’t return? What if…?
No, he was all right. He had to be all right.
Turning, she buried her face in the princess’s shoulder to hide the horrified tears that slid from dark eyes, wetting the royal’s gown. “Emilios, we need to tell Emilios,” she mumbled into her cousin’s shoulder through a hiccupping breath, her voice wavering as much as her step. “Is he here?”
Theodora was just near enough to hear the man’s screams quiet, words forced out between pained lips. Releasing the hand of the man she held, she offered a gentle smile before she trailed closer to the group tending to the one who spoke, and she kept her eyes carefully averted from the bloody mess of his torso. After what had just happened, she was amazed he could speak at all, and the queen held her breath as she listened for what he had to say.
And gods, what he had to say…
Her stomach dropped and her face paled, recounting the words in her head as she struggled for clarity. The King… they took the King… No, she must had heard that wrong. Or he meant the Colchian King… but no, surely that couldn’t be it? Tython could not have arrived yet, so that only meant…
She didn’t even recognize her own voice with the wail that left her, rushing to the man’s side too late as his jaw slackened and lifeless eyes stared at the infuriatingly blue sky above. “What did he say?” she asked, frantic, of the ones surrounding him, her gaze going between her uncle, Xene, Basilides, and a foreign woman she didn’t recognize. When none of them immediately answered, her voice was more urgent, repeating through clenched teeth, “What. Did. He. Say?!”
Perhaps they were quiet out of sympathy, or shock, or fear, or all or none of the above. Perhaps they had answered her, and she just hadn’t heard them. Stumbling back from the little group, her ears were full of a loud whooshing, likes waves breaking over and over in her head. Achilleas was missing. The Egyptians took him. What did that mean? Was he a prisoner? Was he…?
No, she couldn’t think he was dead. A prisoner, perhaps, because surely the Egyptians would not harm one so valuable. They would use him to negotiate, or to make demands, or…
Now, others were looking at her, as if to follow her lead, and Theodora had never felt less of a leader in her life. What could she do? What did they want of her? She was being presented with the news of her husband’s disappearance, and… what? She was Queen; did that mean she was to rule in his absence, until they found out more? Or would it fall to Emilios now?
Her heart was a hummingbird in her chest, beating at an unnatural pace she thought might see her collapse to the ground. She had already been sick once since her arrival; she did not think she could bear such indignity again. But what could she do? Would bursting into tears serve her any better? Would screams or rage?
Unsteadily, she reached for Xene’s arm, thankful for the woman’s watchful presence at her side. Her stance wavered, knees weak beneath her as she took a deep and shaky breath. What was she to do? Perhaps they ought to keep it quiet, so as not to arouse more fear, but the chances of that were slim. Already, she could hear voices taking up the call along the beach, the other dying men nearly forgotten as the Taengeans worried for the fate of their king.
She was woefully out of her depth, and her eyes shone with tears, in spite of her fruitless efforts to remain calm. How could she? All wistful dreaming of their time together ‘after the war’ seemed like a curse now, as if they had doomed it from the start. So new a bride, was she already to be made a widow? What if he didn’t return? What if…?
No, he was all right. He had to be all right.
Turning, she buried her face in the princess’s shoulder to hide the horrified tears that slid from dark eyes, wetting the royal’s gown. “Emilios, we need to tell Emilios,” she mumbled into her cousin’s shoulder through a hiccupping breath, her voice wavering as much as her step. “Is he here?”
When the screaming man began to speak instead, Xanthippe looked up in surprise at the sudden quiet. It was shocking the man was able to say anything at all after the ordeal he had just been through, and when he spoke, she at last felt vindicated for being here. Finally, something useful, and by the gods, what a statement he made…
We told you today would be important.
Perhaps you might have emphasized how important.
Now, where’s the fun in that? Be thankful for the gift we have given you.
Xanthippe was positively gleeful at the news, though she took careful pains to ensure her delight was hidden. After all, they had just been presented with the news of their monarch’s disappearance; she ought not to look so thrilled about it. Instead, she pasted a look of concern over seemingly innocuous features, gasping in feigned horror at the appropriate intervals.
“Gods keep him safe,” she muttered deferentially, in case anyone might be listening.
Too late for that.
But truly, could the news be better? The demise of any Mikaelidas was a cause for a celebration, even if they didn’t know yet that he was dead. Missing was fine, too. The fewer lions to contend with, the better.
For a moment, her eyes flicked to Lord Fotios, wondering how he would take this news. Perhaps he already knew and had not spoken. He often seemed to have a mysterious way of knowing things, a way that eluded even her. Whatever he thought, she could not tell by looking at him, and she looked away before her gaze became too obvious. There would be time enough to speak of this later. For now, she would rest content in the knowledge that the upper echelons of Taengea were soon to become more vulnerable than they already were.
Excellent. It was starting to get a little dull around here.
A secretive smirk hidden by the curtain of her hair, she tamped down her laugh at the queen’s hysterics, curtsying politely as she stood and paused in front of both her and the princess. “My condolences, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she murmured reverentially before continuing to walk, making her way up the beach as quiet as a shadow.
How would the others present react? Overall, horror seemed the theme of the day, but perhaps there would be those not quite so horrified. The opportunists—that’s who she needed to know. Those whose ears she could drop a word in, those who might be twisted for other ends. Melting back amongst the throng of people, she kept her eyes and ears alike open, silently reveling in the chaos that was sure to ensue.
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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When the screaming man began to speak instead, Xanthippe looked up in surprise at the sudden quiet. It was shocking the man was able to say anything at all after the ordeal he had just been through, and when he spoke, she at last felt vindicated for being here. Finally, something useful, and by the gods, what a statement he made…
We told you today would be important.
Perhaps you might have emphasized how important.
Now, where’s the fun in that? Be thankful for the gift we have given you.
Xanthippe was positively gleeful at the news, though she took careful pains to ensure her delight was hidden. After all, they had just been presented with the news of their monarch’s disappearance; she ought not to look so thrilled about it. Instead, she pasted a look of concern over seemingly innocuous features, gasping in feigned horror at the appropriate intervals.
“Gods keep him safe,” she muttered deferentially, in case anyone might be listening.
Too late for that.
But truly, could the news be better? The demise of any Mikaelidas was a cause for a celebration, even if they didn’t know yet that he was dead. Missing was fine, too. The fewer lions to contend with, the better.
For a moment, her eyes flicked to Lord Fotios, wondering how he would take this news. Perhaps he already knew and had not spoken. He often seemed to have a mysterious way of knowing things, a way that eluded even her. Whatever he thought, she could not tell by looking at him, and she looked away before her gaze became too obvious. There would be time enough to speak of this later. For now, she would rest content in the knowledge that the upper echelons of Taengea were soon to become more vulnerable than they already were.
Excellent. It was starting to get a little dull around here.
A secretive smirk hidden by the curtain of her hair, she tamped down her laugh at the queen’s hysterics, curtsying politely as she stood and paused in front of both her and the princess. “My condolences, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she murmured reverentially before continuing to walk, making her way up the beach as quiet as a shadow.
How would the others present react? Overall, horror seemed the theme of the day, but perhaps there would be those not quite so horrified. The opportunists—that’s who she needed to know. Those whose ears she could drop a word in, those who might be twisted for other ends. Melting back amongst the throng of people, she kept her eyes and ears alike open, silently reveling in the chaos that was sure to ensue.
When the screaming man began to speak instead, Xanthippe looked up in surprise at the sudden quiet. It was shocking the man was able to say anything at all after the ordeal he had just been through, and when he spoke, she at last felt vindicated for being here. Finally, something useful, and by the gods, what a statement he made…
We told you today would be important.
Perhaps you might have emphasized how important.
Now, where’s the fun in that? Be thankful for the gift we have given you.
Xanthippe was positively gleeful at the news, though she took careful pains to ensure her delight was hidden. After all, they had just been presented with the news of their monarch’s disappearance; she ought not to look so thrilled about it. Instead, she pasted a look of concern over seemingly innocuous features, gasping in feigned horror at the appropriate intervals.
“Gods keep him safe,” she muttered deferentially, in case anyone might be listening.
Too late for that.
But truly, could the news be better? The demise of any Mikaelidas was a cause for a celebration, even if they didn’t know yet that he was dead. Missing was fine, too. The fewer lions to contend with, the better.
For a moment, her eyes flicked to Lord Fotios, wondering how he would take this news. Perhaps he already knew and had not spoken. He often seemed to have a mysterious way of knowing things, a way that eluded even her. Whatever he thought, she could not tell by looking at him, and she looked away before her gaze became too obvious. There would be time enough to speak of this later. For now, she would rest content in the knowledge that the upper echelons of Taengea were soon to become more vulnerable than they already were.
Excellent. It was starting to get a little dull around here.
A secretive smirk hidden by the curtain of her hair, she tamped down her laugh at the queen’s hysterics, curtsying politely as she stood and paused in front of both her and the princess. “My condolences, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she murmured reverentially before continuing to walk, making her way up the beach as quiet as a shadow.
How would the others present react? Overall, horror seemed the theme of the day, but perhaps there would be those not quite so horrified. The opportunists—that’s who she needed to know. Those whose ears she could drop a word in, those who might be twisted for other ends. Melting back amongst the throng of people, she kept her eyes and ears alike open, silently reveling in the chaos that was sure to ensue.