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Celine was still embarrassed, but tried to smile, and whispered a thank you and a goodbye when the girl left. Then she set about finding material for splints and bandages, though she was a bit startled to think that she had not recognized Princess Xene until she had heard her speak. Then again, it had been years since Celine was last in Taengea, but did that truly excuse her inattention?
Nikolias nodded at hearing Basilides' suggestion.
"Indeed, I authorize the use of my own merchant ships as well. The more quickly all of this is done, the better." He could not help thinking that it would likely take days if not weeks to find all the wounded regardless, though he wished it were not so. His old wound ached again at the thought of someone lying wounded for weeks and maybe left for dead. He ground his teeth against the old memories. Gods forbid anymore of his countrymen experience such horrors- but that was not how life was, and he knew the men they were currently trying to help would not be the last to risk their lives. If there were any comfort to be had- and it seemed right now there was but little- it might be that the Egyptians were suffering the same amount or worse. Hopefully worse!
And yet, if this many were this badly injured already, he still couldn't help but pray they wouldn't lose every single able-bodied man in Greece.
"I wonder how many have died already, and how long it took those still living to be able to make it here," he observed.More than that, at what pace would one have to travel in order to be able to save as many of the wounded as possible? "On what day did the fighting on Egyptian soil officially begin?"
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Celine was still embarrassed, but tried to smile, and whispered a thank you and a goodbye when the girl left. Then she set about finding material for splints and bandages, though she was a bit startled to think that she had not recognized Princess Xene until she had heard her speak. Then again, it had been years since Celine was last in Taengea, but did that truly excuse her inattention?
Nikolias nodded at hearing Basilides' suggestion.
"Indeed, I authorize the use of my own merchant ships as well. The more quickly all of this is done, the better." He could not help thinking that it would likely take days if not weeks to find all the wounded regardless, though he wished it were not so. His old wound ached again at the thought of someone lying wounded for weeks and maybe left for dead. He ground his teeth against the old memories. Gods forbid anymore of his countrymen experience such horrors- but that was not how life was, and he knew the men they were currently trying to help would not be the last to risk their lives. If there were any comfort to be had- and it seemed right now there was but little- it might be that the Egyptians were suffering the same amount or worse. Hopefully worse!
And yet, if this many were this badly injured already, he still couldn't help but pray they wouldn't lose every single able-bodied man in Greece.
"I wonder how many have died already, and how long it took those still living to be able to make it here," he observed.More than that, at what pace would one have to travel in order to be able to save as many of the wounded as possible? "On what day did the fighting on Egyptian soil officially begin?"
Celine was still embarrassed, but tried to smile, and whispered a thank you and a goodbye when the girl left. Then she set about finding material for splints and bandages, though she was a bit startled to think that she had not recognized Princess Xene until she had heard her speak. Then again, it had been years since Celine was last in Taengea, but did that truly excuse her inattention?
Nikolias nodded at hearing Basilides' suggestion.
"Indeed, I authorize the use of my own merchant ships as well. The more quickly all of this is done, the better." He could not help thinking that it would likely take days if not weeks to find all the wounded regardless, though he wished it were not so. His old wound ached again at the thought of someone lying wounded for weeks and maybe left for dead. He ground his teeth against the old memories. Gods forbid anymore of his countrymen experience such horrors- but that was not how life was, and he knew the men they were currently trying to help would not be the last to risk their lives. If there were any comfort to be had- and it seemed right now there was but little- it might be that the Egyptians were suffering the same amount or worse. Hopefully worse!
And yet, if this many were this badly injured already, he still couldn't help but pray they wouldn't lose every single able-bodied man in Greece.
"I wonder how many have died already, and how long it took those still living to be able to make it here," he observed.More than that, at what pace would one have to travel in order to be able to save as many of the wounded as possible? "On what day did the fighting on Egyptian soil officially begin?"
“Splints, that I can help with.” He assured the woman who spoke to him about gathering the wood. That was easy enough. He wasn’t sure how many splits they would really need, for the most part the injuries consisted little of broken bones or anything of the sort, but he supposed it was better to have the medical supplies and not need them than it was to not have them when they needed it. And it would at least be something that he could do to help out.
Repairing the ship was well beyond his skill set, and while he was sure he could make use of himself some how with the manual labour part, there ought to be enough other men who were willing to help, and perhaps some that knew a lot more about repairing a ship than he did. He had never really been around ships much, aside from the short sails necessary to get from one place to another in the Grecian lands.
The other woman suddenly needed to go, and so Thras turned to the woman who was left standing there with him. Celine was her name, or at least that was what he had caught in the quick introduction she had given.
“There’s no time to waste, come on.” He said, motioning for her to follow to where he thought that they could find some wood that would be used as splints. There weren’t exactly trees around, but there were a few older wagons that stood empty, and while under normal circumstances he assumed this would be considered stealing, at the moment trying to save as many of these injured and dying men as possible was a higher priority than who ever owned this broken down cart. He was sure that many would agree.
He grabbed a piece of the old wood that made up the carriage and he pulled on it as hard as he could. With a bit of a struggle he managed to pull the board off, though he nearly lost his balance in the process. He managed to stop himself before he fell over. He handed the wood to the woman.
“How much do you think you can carry at once?” He asked, already pulling off the next piece of board so that they did not waste time. He would fill her arms with as much of the wood as she could carry, and then do the same to his own, that ought to be more than enough wood for the splints.
And he did exactly that, stacking enough wood for them to carry before he picked up his large bundle and headed back over to the injured men. He dropped the wood and motioned one of the commoners who was giving medical attention.
“See that these are used as splints.” He said, and the woman nodded and thanked him, shouting out the presence of the splints to those who were helping.
His eyes turned to an injured man on a bed who had not yet been tended to, still losing blood in a slow but worrying trickle. He looked rather pale.
“How much medical knowledge do you have?” He asked Celine, then moved over to crouch down beside the man, grabbing a clean piece of cloth, he did his best to get the bleeding to stop.
“Hold this tight against his skin.” He stated, looking around quickly for a source of fire as he waited for her to take over holding the cloth.
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“Splints, that I can help with.” He assured the woman who spoke to him about gathering the wood. That was easy enough. He wasn’t sure how many splits they would really need, for the most part the injuries consisted little of broken bones or anything of the sort, but he supposed it was better to have the medical supplies and not need them than it was to not have them when they needed it. And it would at least be something that he could do to help out.
Repairing the ship was well beyond his skill set, and while he was sure he could make use of himself some how with the manual labour part, there ought to be enough other men who were willing to help, and perhaps some that knew a lot more about repairing a ship than he did. He had never really been around ships much, aside from the short sails necessary to get from one place to another in the Grecian lands.
The other woman suddenly needed to go, and so Thras turned to the woman who was left standing there with him. Celine was her name, or at least that was what he had caught in the quick introduction she had given.
“There’s no time to waste, come on.” He said, motioning for her to follow to where he thought that they could find some wood that would be used as splints. There weren’t exactly trees around, but there were a few older wagons that stood empty, and while under normal circumstances he assumed this would be considered stealing, at the moment trying to save as many of these injured and dying men as possible was a higher priority than who ever owned this broken down cart. He was sure that many would agree.
He grabbed a piece of the old wood that made up the carriage and he pulled on it as hard as he could. With a bit of a struggle he managed to pull the board off, though he nearly lost his balance in the process. He managed to stop himself before he fell over. He handed the wood to the woman.
“How much do you think you can carry at once?” He asked, already pulling off the next piece of board so that they did not waste time. He would fill her arms with as much of the wood as she could carry, and then do the same to his own, that ought to be more than enough wood for the splints.
And he did exactly that, stacking enough wood for them to carry before he picked up his large bundle and headed back over to the injured men. He dropped the wood and motioned one of the commoners who was giving medical attention.
“See that these are used as splints.” He said, and the woman nodded and thanked him, shouting out the presence of the splints to those who were helping.
His eyes turned to an injured man on a bed who had not yet been tended to, still losing blood in a slow but worrying trickle. He looked rather pale.
“How much medical knowledge do you have?” He asked Celine, then moved over to crouch down beside the man, grabbing a clean piece of cloth, he did his best to get the bleeding to stop.
“Hold this tight against his skin.” He stated, looking around quickly for a source of fire as he waited for her to take over holding the cloth.
“Splints, that I can help with.” He assured the woman who spoke to him about gathering the wood. That was easy enough. He wasn’t sure how many splits they would really need, for the most part the injuries consisted little of broken bones or anything of the sort, but he supposed it was better to have the medical supplies and not need them than it was to not have them when they needed it. And it would at least be something that he could do to help out.
Repairing the ship was well beyond his skill set, and while he was sure he could make use of himself some how with the manual labour part, there ought to be enough other men who were willing to help, and perhaps some that knew a lot more about repairing a ship than he did. He had never really been around ships much, aside from the short sails necessary to get from one place to another in the Grecian lands.
The other woman suddenly needed to go, and so Thras turned to the woman who was left standing there with him. Celine was her name, or at least that was what he had caught in the quick introduction she had given.
“There’s no time to waste, come on.” He said, motioning for her to follow to where he thought that they could find some wood that would be used as splints. There weren’t exactly trees around, but there were a few older wagons that stood empty, and while under normal circumstances he assumed this would be considered stealing, at the moment trying to save as many of these injured and dying men as possible was a higher priority than who ever owned this broken down cart. He was sure that many would agree.
He grabbed a piece of the old wood that made up the carriage and he pulled on it as hard as he could. With a bit of a struggle he managed to pull the board off, though he nearly lost his balance in the process. He managed to stop himself before he fell over. He handed the wood to the woman.
“How much do you think you can carry at once?” He asked, already pulling off the next piece of board so that they did not waste time. He would fill her arms with as much of the wood as she could carry, and then do the same to his own, that ought to be more than enough wood for the splints.
And he did exactly that, stacking enough wood for them to carry before he picked up his large bundle and headed back over to the injured men. He dropped the wood and motioned one of the commoners who was giving medical attention.
“See that these are used as splints.” He said, and the woman nodded and thanked him, shouting out the presence of the splints to those who were helping.
His eyes turned to an injured man on a bed who had not yet been tended to, still losing blood in a slow but worrying trickle. He looked rather pale.
“How much medical knowledge do you have?” He asked Celine, then moved over to crouch down beside the man, grabbing a clean piece of cloth, he did his best to get the bleeding to stop.
“Hold this tight against his skin.” He stated, looking around quickly for a source of fire as he waited for her to take over holding the cloth.
Sara was one of the last to hear of the ship. Whether by design or because she lacked importance, she did not know -- but the whispers were rising amongst the people already. She had been visiting Artemis’, presenting yet another offering in a request for favor -- the open space becoming a place that she had found some solace in as she wrestled with her morality and what she wanted. She had to make a decision about what she was going to do, how she was going to do it. There’s still time.
Upon hearing the whispers, she had departed immediately and headed for the beaches -- her pace quick, without care for properness. What she had heard sounded...bad. When she arrived, things were already a flurry of activity -- and Sara found herself shocked to stillness. The injured and the dead, it caused her throat to tighten. She had not been exposed to such things in her short, sheltered life.
In a daze, the youngest daughter of the late Irakles found herself moving forward again. She had to know if her brother was among the dead. Her face, usually so expressive and full of light, was clouded and emotionless. She’d never looked more like her father in her entire life. Citizens moved around her, and she found that most had been cared for already. There did not seem to be many of them, but things looked as dire as she had heard.
A snap of fingers drew her attention, drawing her away from the fear in her gut. I need bandages. Now. Came the feminine voice, and Sara looked over to find the princess, helping one of the injured. ”Xene…” The name fell off her lips softly, and she hesitated only a moment. ”I’ll get them.” She said, sounding more resolved, shaken from the horrible daze because she’d been given a purpose.
She took off at a quick walk down the beach, finding the medical supplies being delivered in small batches as requests for such began to be filled. She took up several rolls, turning on a heel to rush back to her cousin and drop down beside her. The brunette made quick work of unrolling the first length, putting it to her teeth when she was too impatient to use what she had brought to cut the material. ”Here.” She handed it off quickly, meeting the eyes of the man who was with Xene briefly. She did not know this man, nor the one lying in pain.
”I’m Sara.” She said, inclining her head respectfully to the man. Once her brief usefulness has faded, Sara pulled back and swallowed hard as the reality of what was going on began to wash over her again. ”Princess Xene..” She said slowly, unsure she wanted the answer to her question. ”Is...is my brother among these?” She asked, the blue depths of her eyes shining with unshed tears. She was holding them back by sheer will alone, her jaw taut with the effort. ”Please tell me that he’s not here.”
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Sara was one of the last to hear of the ship. Whether by design or because she lacked importance, she did not know -- but the whispers were rising amongst the people already. She had been visiting Artemis’, presenting yet another offering in a request for favor -- the open space becoming a place that she had found some solace in as she wrestled with her morality and what she wanted. She had to make a decision about what she was going to do, how she was going to do it. There’s still time.
Upon hearing the whispers, she had departed immediately and headed for the beaches -- her pace quick, without care for properness. What she had heard sounded...bad. When she arrived, things were already a flurry of activity -- and Sara found herself shocked to stillness. The injured and the dead, it caused her throat to tighten. She had not been exposed to such things in her short, sheltered life.
In a daze, the youngest daughter of the late Irakles found herself moving forward again. She had to know if her brother was among the dead. Her face, usually so expressive and full of light, was clouded and emotionless. She’d never looked more like her father in her entire life. Citizens moved around her, and she found that most had been cared for already. There did not seem to be many of them, but things looked as dire as she had heard.
A snap of fingers drew her attention, drawing her away from the fear in her gut. I need bandages. Now. Came the feminine voice, and Sara looked over to find the princess, helping one of the injured. ”Xene…” The name fell off her lips softly, and she hesitated only a moment. ”I’ll get them.” She said, sounding more resolved, shaken from the horrible daze because she’d been given a purpose.
She took off at a quick walk down the beach, finding the medical supplies being delivered in small batches as requests for such began to be filled. She took up several rolls, turning on a heel to rush back to her cousin and drop down beside her. The brunette made quick work of unrolling the first length, putting it to her teeth when she was too impatient to use what she had brought to cut the material. ”Here.” She handed it off quickly, meeting the eyes of the man who was with Xene briefly. She did not know this man, nor the one lying in pain.
”I’m Sara.” She said, inclining her head respectfully to the man. Once her brief usefulness has faded, Sara pulled back and swallowed hard as the reality of what was going on began to wash over her again. ”Princess Xene..” She said slowly, unsure she wanted the answer to her question. ”Is...is my brother among these?” She asked, the blue depths of her eyes shining with unshed tears. She was holding them back by sheer will alone, her jaw taut with the effort. ”Please tell me that he’s not here.”
Sara was one of the last to hear of the ship. Whether by design or because she lacked importance, she did not know -- but the whispers were rising amongst the people already. She had been visiting Artemis’, presenting yet another offering in a request for favor -- the open space becoming a place that she had found some solace in as she wrestled with her morality and what she wanted. She had to make a decision about what she was going to do, how she was going to do it. There’s still time.
Upon hearing the whispers, she had departed immediately and headed for the beaches -- her pace quick, without care for properness. What she had heard sounded...bad. When she arrived, things were already a flurry of activity -- and Sara found herself shocked to stillness. The injured and the dead, it caused her throat to tighten. She had not been exposed to such things in her short, sheltered life.
In a daze, the youngest daughter of the late Irakles found herself moving forward again. She had to know if her brother was among the dead. Her face, usually so expressive and full of light, was clouded and emotionless. She’d never looked more like her father in her entire life. Citizens moved around her, and she found that most had been cared for already. There did not seem to be many of them, but things looked as dire as she had heard.
A snap of fingers drew her attention, drawing her away from the fear in her gut. I need bandages. Now. Came the feminine voice, and Sara looked over to find the princess, helping one of the injured. ”Xene…” The name fell off her lips softly, and she hesitated only a moment. ”I’ll get them.” She said, sounding more resolved, shaken from the horrible daze because she’d been given a purpose.
She took off at a quick walk down the beach, finding the medical supplies being delivered in small batches as requests for such began to be filled. She took up several rolls, turning on a heel to rush back to her cousin and drop down beside her. The brunette made quick work of unrolling the first length, putting it to her teeth when she was too impatient to use what she had brought to cut the material. ”Here.” She handed it off quickly, meeting the eyes of the man who was with Xene briefly. She did not know this man, nor the one lying in pain.
”I’m Sara.” She said, inclining her head respectfully to the man. Once her brief usefulness has faded, Sara pulled back and swallowed hard as the reality of what was going on began to wash over her again. ”Princess Xene..” She said slowly, unsure she wanted the answer to her question. ”Is...is my brother among these?” She asked, the blue depths of her eyes shining with unshed tears. She was holding them back by sheer will alone, her jaw taut with the effort. ”Please tell me that he’s not here.”
Xene had never been so relieved to see Sara of Vasiliadon. Never. But in the wake of her father's death, and even before, the princess had never had it in her heart to be rude or cruel toward the girl. After all, who truly asked to be the illegitimate daughter of a King who had no true love for his wife. Sara hadn't, so Xene did not find it right, nor proper to treat her as anything less than family. But Sara was not the first lady she would have thought about in this moment, when she had needed bandages for the man that Basilides now held in his arms.
The soft voice had the princess looking up quickly, but only seeing the back of the girl as she walked quickly down the beach in search of the material that Xene had requested. And she was quick about it, too, coming back with a few rolls and even helping to pull some of the bandages off of the dowel they were wrapped about. Xene gave her a weak smile, her brows knitting sharply and a quiet "thank you" escaping her lips as she went back to tending to her wounded soldier.
The princess started by pressing a bandage to the largest of the man's wounds, motioning young Sara closer and reaching for her hands. "Sara," she said lightly, "Put pressure on the wound, do not move," she said lightly, "Just hold the bandage here so I can look at his other wounds," Xene instructed, then let her blue gaze flick up to Sara's face. "I will buy you a new dress to replace the one you are about to ruin," she said with a gentle smile.
But it was the question that Sara asked of Xene that had the princess' mind reeling. Suddenly, she looked up and down the beach, considering the girl's words and refusing to actually consider the chance that Achilleas had been lost to the sea or any wounds at all. To her, Achilleas was untouchable. At least, he should have been. "I don't know," Xene finally admitted to the girl, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, "I have seen neither Achilleas nor Krysto on this beach," she said quietly, "So my hope is that they are safe and still in Egypt," she added, her golden brows knit together as she once more focused on helping the man before her. "For now, we help who we can and we worry for the King when things are quiet. Now is not the time to panic or to draw panic to the commoners," she said lightly, giving a very slight nod to Sara.
"Do you understand me, Sara?" Xene finally asked of the girl, nodding with her head to the wound that Sara was supposed to be tending to. "You and I can speak more on the subject tonight."
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Xene had never been so relieved to see Sara of Vasiliadon. Never. But in the wake of her father's death, and even before, the princess had never had it in her heart to be rude or cruel toward the girl. After all, who truly asked to be the illegitimate daughter of a King who had no true love for his wife. Sara hadn't, so Xene did not find it right, nor proper to treat her as anything less than family. But Sara was not the first lady she would have thought about in this moment, when she had needed bandages for the man that Basilides now held in his arms.
The soft voice had the princess looking up quickly, but only seeing the back of the girl as she walked quickly down the beach in search of the material that Xene had requested. And she was quick about it, too, coming back with a few rolls and even helping to pull some of the bandages off of the dowel they were wrapped about. Xene gave her a weak smile, her brows knitting sharply and a quiet "thank you" escaping her lips as she went back to tending to her wounded soldier.
The princess started by pressing a bandage to the largest of the man's wounds, motioning young Sara closer and reaching for her hands. "Sara," she said lightly, "Put pressure on the wound, do not move," she said lightly, "Just hold the bandage here so I can look at his other wounds," Xene instructed, then let her blue gaze flick up to Sara's face. "I will buy you a new dress to replace the one you are about to ruin," she said with a gentle smile.
But it was the question that Sara asked of Xene that had the princess' mind reeling. Suddenly, she looked up and down the beach, considering the girl's words and refusing to actually consider the chance that Achilleas had been lost to the sea or any wounds at all. To her, Achilleas was untouchable. At least, he should have been. "I don't know," Xene finally admitted to the girl, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, "I have seen neither Achilleas nor Krysto on this beach," she said quietly, "So my hope is that they are safe and still in Egypt," she added, her golden brows knit together as she once more focused on helping the man before her. "For now, we help who we can and we worry for the King when things are quiet. Now is not the time to panic or to draw panic to the commoners," she said lightly, giving a very slight nod to Sara.
"Do you understand me, Sara?" Xene finally asked of the girl, nodding with her head to the wound that Sara was supposed to be tending to. "You and I can speak more on the subject tonight."
Xene had never been so relieved to see Sara of Vasiliadon. Never. But in the wake of her father's death, and even before, the princess had never had it in her heart to be rude or cruel toward the girl. After all, who truly asked to be the illegitimate daughter of a King who had no true love for his wife. Sara hadn't, so Xene did not find it right, nor proper to treat her as anything less than family. But Sara was not the first lady she would have thought about in this moment, when she had needed bandages for the man that Basilides now held in his arms.
The soft voice had the princess looking up quickly, but only seeing the back of the girl as she walked quickly down the beach in search of the material that Xene had requested. And she was quick about it, too, coming back with a few rolls and even helping to pull some of the bandages off of the dowel they were wrapped about. Xene gave her a weak smile, her brows knitting sharply and a quiet "thank you" escaping her lips as she went back to tending to her wounded soldier.
The princess started by pressing a bandage to the largest of the man's wounds, motioning young Sara closer and reaching for her hands. "Sara," she said lightly, "Put pressure on the wound, do not move," she said lightly, "Just hold the bandage here so I can look at his other wounds," Xene instructed, then let her blue gaze flick up to Sara's face. "I will buy you a new dress to replace the one you are about to ruin," she said with a gentle smile.
But it was the question that Sara asked of Xene that had the princess' mind reeling. Suddenly, she looked up and down the beach, considering the girl's words and refusing to actually consider the chance that Achilleas had been lost to the sea or any wounds at all. To her, Achilleas was untouchable. At least, he should have been. "I don't know," Xene finally admitted to the girl, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, "I have seen neither Achilleas nor Krysto on this beach," she said quietly, "So my hope is that they are safe and still in Egypt," she added, her golden brows knit together as she once more focused on helping the man before her. "For now, we help who we can and we worry for the King when things are quiet. Now is not the time to panic or to draw panic to the commoners," she said lightly, giving a very slight nod to Sara.
"Do you understand me, Sara?" Xene finally asked of the girl, nodding with her head to the wound that Sara was supposed to be tending to. "You and I can speak more on the subject tonight."
As soon as Theodora heard of the ship on the beach, the Queen was scrambling to leave.
Not bothering to change out of the regal golden chiton she wore that day, the Queen cared little if her expensive raiment was ruined by salt or sea. When word came of Taengean soldiers washing back up on the shore, priorities were certainly shifted. If her gown was lost to the elements, she could always have another made. The same could not be said of her husband.
Was Achilleas on that ship? The flustered servant who brought the message didn’t seem to know, and neither did anyone else. All they could tell her was there were injured soldiers aboard, many they doubted would make it through the night. While she wanted to shake them for their lack of specifics, she knew it wasn’t their fault. She simply had to get there and see with her own eyes.
Practically running for the stables, she ordered her horse saddled and an escort of armed guards to escort her to the Isle of Sirenn. It wasn’t a far ride from the capital, and if she set off now, hopefully she could get there in time to find out more. As soon as her horse was ready, she climbed on Calista’s back and kicked her into an immediate gallop. There was no time to waste, and every moment on a day like this was precious. She only prayed she wasn’t too late.
As soon as she arrived, she practically threw herself from the back of her mare, grabbing the chiton of the first person she saw. “Is the King on that ship?” The unfortunate soul stammered and shrugged, Theo letting go of him in frustration.
Everywhere, there was chaos, bodies milling to and for as the wounded and dying were laid out and tended to right on the beach. She could see soldiers, slaves, and even a few faces she recognized—Princess Xene, Sara, and her uncle among them. As Fotios seemed to be the only one not actively engaged in tending to the wounded, she approached him first. Even if he wasn’t down among those present, she had no doubt the Head Lord of Leventi knew every movement the people around him made. He had eyes and ears everywhere, and she knew today would be no different.
“Uncle,” she greeted Fotios where he sat his horse, the look on her face bordering on desperation. She didn’t bother with any further Courtly politeness, inquiries as to his well-being, or any other typical niceties. It was times like these that such gestures could fall by the wayside without much thought. “Is my husband on that ship? Has there been any word? Please, no one can seem to tell me anything, and with all this chaos…” Even if their marriage had a rather… awkward… beginning, and her heart yet lingered elsewhere, the concern on Theo’s face and in her voice was genuine. She cared for Achilleas, and she had no desire to find herself a widow so very soon after her wedding.
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As soon as Theodora heard of the ship on the beach, the Queen was scrambling to leave.
Not bothering to change out of the regal golden chiton she wore that day, the Queen cared little if her expensive raiment was ruined by salt or sea. When word came of Taengean soldiers washing back up on the shore, priorities were certainly shifted. If her gown was lost to the elements, she could always have another made. The same could not be said of her husband.
Was Achilleas on that ship? The flustered servant who brought the message didn’t seem to know, and neither did anyone else. All they could tell her was there were injured soldiers aboard, many they doubted would make it through the night. While she wanted to shake them for their lack of specifics, she knew it wasn’t their fault. She simply had to get there and see with her own eyes.
Practically running for the stables, she ordered her horse saddled and an escort of armed guards to escort her to the Isle of Sirenn. It wasn’t a far ride from the capital, and if she set off now, hopefully she could get there in time to find out more. As soon as her horse was ready, she climbed on Calista’s back and kicked her into an immediate gallop. There was no time to waste, and every moment on a day like this was precious. She only prayed she wasn’t too late.
As soon as she arrived, she practically threw herself from the back of her mare, grabbing the chiton of the first person she saw. “Is the King on that ship?” The unfortunate soul stammered and shrugged, Theo letting go of him in frustration.
Everywhere, there was chaos, bodies milling to and for as the wounded and dying were laid out and tended to right on the beach. She could see soldiers, slaves, and even a few faces she recognized—Princess Xene, Sara, and her uncle among them. As Fotios seemed to be the only one not actively engaged in tending to the wounded, she approached him first. Even if he wasn’t down among those present, she had no doubt the Head Lord of Leventi knew every movement the people around him made. He had eyes and ears everywhere, and she knew today would be no different.
“Uncle,” she greeted Fotios where he sat his horse, the look on her face bordering on desperation. She didn’t bother with any further Courtly politeness, inquiries as to his well-being, or any other typical niceties. It was times like these that such gestures could fall by the wayside without much thought. “Is my husband on that ship? Has there been any word? Please, no one can seem to tell me anything, and with all this chaos…” Even if their marriage had a rather… awkward… beginning, and her heart yet lingered elsewhere, the concern on Theo’s face and in her voice was genuine. She cared for Achilleas, and she had no desire to find herself a widow so very soon after her wedding.
As soon as Theodora heard of the ship on the beach, the Queen was scrambling to leave.
Not bothering to change out of the regal golden chiton she wore that day, the Queen cared little if her expensive raiment was ruined by salt or sea. When word came of Taengean soldiers washing back up on the shore, priorities were certainly shifted. If her gown was lost to the elements, she could always have another made. The same could not be said of her husband.
Was Achilleas on that ship? The flustered servant who brought the message didn’t seem to know, and neither did anyone else. All they could tell her was there were injured soldiers aboard, many they doubted would make it through the night. While she wanted to shake them for their lack of specifics, she knew it wasn’t their fault. She simply had to get there and see with her own eyes.
Practically running for the stables, she ordered her horse saddled and an escort of armed guards to escort her to the Isle of Sirenn. It wasn’t a far ride from the capital, and if she set off now, hopefully she could get there in time to find out more. As soon as her horse was ready, she climbed on Calista’s back and kicked her into an immediate gallop. There was no time to waste, and every moment on a day like this was precious. She only prayed she wasn’t too late.
As soon as she arrived, she practically threw herself from the back of her mare, grabbing the chiton of the first person she saw. “Is the King on that ship?” The unfortunate soul stammered and shrugged, Theo letting go of him in frustration.
Everywhere, there was chaos, bodies milling to and for as the wounded and dying were laid out and tended to right on the beach. She could see soldiers, slaves, and even a few faces she recognized—Princess Xene, Sara, and her uncle among them. As Fotios seemed to be the only one not actively engaged in tending to the wounded, she approached him first. Even if he wasn’t down among those present, she had no doubt the Head Lord of Leventi knew every movement the people around him made. He had eyes and ears everywhere, and she knew today would be no different.
“Uncle,” she greeted Fotios where he sat his horse, the look on her face bordering on desperation. She didn’t bother with any further Courtly politeness, inquiries as to his well-being, or any other typical niceties. It was times like these that such gestures could fall by the wayside without much thought. “Is my husband on that ship? Has there been any word? Please, no one can seem to tell me anything, and with all this chaos…” Even if their marriage had a rather… awkward… beginning, and her heart yet lingered elsewhere, the concern on Theo’s face and in her voice was genuine. She cared for Achilleas, and she had no desire to find herself a widow so very soon after her wedding.
Neena had been wandering the city that day thoroughly bored. Lukos had turned out to be a frustratingly quick healer which, given the rough life he had lived so far was not particularly surprising. But it meant that her project of sorts - her 'thing' that kept her engaged and interested had steadily become monotonous. Which meant that she had gone elsewhere looking for new entertainment. She still camped out in Kreios' little home at the end of each day and she still saw to Lukos in whatever he needed prior to him going back on his ship and sailing about the place. What she didn't do anymore was linger by his bedside playing nursemaid.
Instead, she had explored Vasiliadon. She had been the circus, which was already repaired after a monstrous fire that had left dark marks on a large portion of the city still. She had wandered the market where she had been to festivities before and now could see it in the daylight under its guise of normalcy. She had walked the entire length of the city wall. Not allowed on the top of the barracks, she had simply followed the wall all the way around, her own feet on the ground and her neck at a tilt to look up towards the soldiers that protected the city. Clearly the population here were worried about an attack.
With this thought in mind, it was natural that Neena would be drawn to the activity when men and women started running towards the main gates of the capitol. The large, arched, wooden double doors opened almost directly onto the sands of the coastline. There were no docklands on this side of the city - the wood had been taken down and burnt, so that enemies could not dock. But that meant trickier landings for merchant vessels. Neena wondered where Kreios' ship was. Or Lukos' for that matter.
She was distracted, however, when the people she had followed were moving down across the sands, between little turrets of long, coarse grass and over towards where a little boat had come in against the shore. The people inside didn't look so good as they were being carried out by the ablest bodies of the common folk. At a little distance, others in fancier dress were standing and talking, watching.
Which made sense. Neena had long ago found out that someone of poor physician knowledge could do more harm than good. She had been in just such a situation many years ago. And she hardly expected those of privileged birth to know how to burn a wound shut.
With a natural desire to help, Neena hurried down the beach, kicking off her little sandals along the way. She would find them again later and she could run on sand better without them. Gaining speed, she came down towards where the men had been laid out for medical attention and saw several people attempting to help with splints and bandages. Several of the men had deep lacerations as well as broken bones and the splints would only serve to fix one. The bandages would not help the others.
"Those wounds will need to be burnt." Neena said aloud to no-one in particular. She then glanced about. "Someone make a fire and get a knife we can heat." She would be able to cauterise the bleeding flesh if she had the right tools.
When she looked back towards the body, she witnessed a young girl being told to hold pressure upon a bandage, Neena dived forwards. She didn't much care who the girl was or who the princess was, but she was quick to say something all the same.
"Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that." Neena said, with a bright and friendly smile. She took the bandage from the older girl instead, just sweeping in before the little brunette had the chance. She lifted the bandage that was placed upon the man's torso, just beneath his lungs. There was a bulbous lump that looked like muscle poking through the skin. She could understand the desire to treat it like any other bleeding wound. "That's his liver." Neena stated simply. "You put pressure on that and pop it and a whole ton of crap is gonna flood his system and he'll die." Having once had the opportunity to study the organs in Egypt when a body was being mummified Neena had been shocked at the smell of the toxins that came out of that little baby.
"Here, let me." Neena offered, before reaching forwards to dig her hands down and around the organ, intending to settle it back into its proper place so that she could then seal the wound. The man, half unconscious, was suddenly very awake and in a lot of flailing pain.
"This isn't as easy as it looks when they flail. Can someone hold him down?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Neena had been wandering the city that day thoroughly bored. Lukos had turned out to be a frustratingly quick healer which, given the rough life he had lived so far was not particularly surprising. But it meant that her project of sorts - her 'thing' that kept her engaged and interested had steadily become monotonous. Which meant that she had gone elsewhere looking for new entertainment. She still camped out in Kreios' little home at the end of each day and she still saw to Lukos in whatever he needed prior to him going back on his ship and sailing about the place. What she didn't do anymore was linger by his bedside playing nursemaid.
Instead, she had explored Vasiliadon. She had been the circus, which was already repaired after a monstrous fire that had left dark marks on a large portion of the city still. She had wandered the market where she had been to festivities before and now could see it in the daylight under its guise of normalcy. She had walked the entire length of the city wall. Not allowed on the top of the barracks, she had simply followed the wall all the way around, her own feet on the ground and her neck at a tilt to look up towards the soldiers that protected the city. Clearly the population here were worried about an attack.
With this thought in mind, it was natural that Neena would be drawn to the activity when men and women started running towards the main gates of the capitol. The large, arched, wooden double doors opened almost directly onto the sands of the coastline. There were no docklands on this side of the city - the wood had been taken down and burnt, so that enemies could not dock. But that meant trickier landings for merchant vessels. Neena wondered where Kreios' ship was. Or Lukos' for that matter.
She was distracted, however, when the people she had followed were moving down across the sands, between little turrets of long, coarse grass and over towards where a little boat had come in against the shore. The people inside didn't look so good as they were being carried out by the ablest bodies of the common folk. At a little distance, others in fancier dress were standing and talking, watching.
Which made sense. Neena had long ago found out that someone of poor physician knowledge could do more harm than good. She had been in just such a situation many years ago. And she hardly expected those of privileged birth to know how to burn a wound shut.
With a natural desire to help, Neena hurried down the beach, kicking off her little sandals along the way. She would find them again later and she could run on sand better without them. Gaining speed, she came down towards where the men had been laid out for medical attention and saw several people attempting to help with splints and bandages. Several of the men had deep lacerations as well as broken bones and the splints would only serve to fix one. The bandages would not help the others.
"Those wounds will need to be burnt." Neena said aloud to no-one in particular. She then glanced about. "Someone make a fire and get a knife we can heat." She would be able to cauterise the bleeding flesh if she had the right tools.
When she looked back towards the body, she witnessed a young girl being told to hold pressure upon a bandage, Neena dived forwards. She didn't much care who the girl was or who the princess was, but she was quick to say something all the same.
"Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that." Neena said, with a bright and friendly smile. She took the bandage from the older girl instead, just sweeping in before the little brunette had the chance. She lifted the bandage that was placed upon the man's torso, just beneath his lungs. There was a bulbous lump that looked like muscle poking through the skin. She could understand the desire to treat it like any other bleeding wound. "That's his liver." Neena stated simply. "You put pressure on that and pop it and a whole ton of crap is gonna flood his system and he'll die." Having once had the opportunity to study the organs in Egypt when a body was being mummified Neena had been shocked at the smell of the toxins that came out of that little baby.
"Here, let me." Neena offered, before reaching forwards to dig her hands down and around the organ, intending to settle it back into its proper place so that she could then seal the wound. The man, half unconscious, was suddenly very awake and in a lot of flailing pain.
"This isn't as easy as it looks when they flail. Can someone hold him down?"
Neena had been wandering the city that day thoroughly bored. Lukos had turned out to be a frustratingly quick healer which, given the rough life he had lived so far was not particularly surprising. But it meant that her project of sorts - her 'thing' that kept her engaged and interested had steadily become monotonous. Which meant that she had gone elsewhere looking for new entertainment. She still camped out in Kreios' little home at the end of each day and she still saw to Lukos in whatever he needed prior to him going back on his ship and sailing about the place. What she didn't do anymore was linger by his bedside playing nursemaid.
Instead, she had explored Vasiliadon. She had been the circus, which was already repaired after a monstrous fire that had left dark marks on a large portion of the city still. She had wandered the market where she had been to festivities before and now could see it in the daylight under its guise of normalcy. She had walked the entire length of the city wall. Not allowed on the top of the barracks, she had simply followed the wall all the way around, her own feet on the ground and her neck at a tilt to look up towards the soldiers that protected the city. Clearly the population here were worried about an attack.
With this thought in mind, it was natural that Neena would be drawn to the activity when men and women started running towards the main gates of the capitol. The large, arched, wooden double doors opened almost directly onto the sands of the coastline. There were no docklands on this side of the city - the wood had been taken down and burnt, so that enemies could not dock. But that meant trickier landings for merchant vessels. Neena wondered where Kreios' ship was. Or Lukos' for that matter.
She was distracted, however, when the people she had followed were moving down across the sands, between little turrets of long, coarse grass and over towards where a little boat had come in against the shore. The people inside didn't look so good as they were being carried out by the ablest bodies of the common folk. At a little distance, others in fancier dress were standing and talking, watching.
Which made sense. Neena had long ago found out that someone of poor physician knowledge could do more harm than good. She had been in just such a situation many years ago. And she hardly expected those of privileged birth to know how to burn a wound shut.
With a natural desire to help, Neena hurried down the beach, kicking off her little sandals along the way. She would find them again later and she could run on sand better without them. Gaining speed, she came down towards where the men had been laid out for medical attention and saw several people attempting to help with splints and bandages. Several of the men had deep lacerations as well as broken bones and the splints would only serve to fix one. The bandages would not help the others.
"Those wounds will need to be burnt." Neena said aloud to no-one in particular. She then glanced about. "Someone make a fire and get a knife we can heat." She would be able to cauterise the bleeding flesh if she had the right tools.
When she looked back towards the body, she witnessed a young girl being told to hold pressure upon a bandage, Neena dived forwards. She didn't much care who the girl was or who the princess was, but she was quick to say something all the same.
"Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that." Neena said, with a bright and friendly smile. She took the bandage from the older girl instead, just sweeping in before the little brunette had the chance. She lifted the bandage that was placed upon the man's torso, just beneath his lungs. There was a bulbous lump that looked like muscle poking through the skin. She could understand the desire to treat it like any other bleeding wound. "That's his liver." Neena stated simply. "You put pressure on that and pop it and a whole ton of crap is gonna flood his system and he'll die." Having once had the opportunity to study the organs in Egypt when a body was being mummified Neena had been shocked at the smell of the toxins that came out of that little baby.
"Here, let me." Neena offered, before reaching forwards to dig her hands down and around the organ, intending to settle it back into its proper place so that she could then seal the wound. The man, half unconscious, was suddenly very awake and in a lot of flailing pain.
"This isn't as easy as it looks when they flail. Can someone hold him down?"
Fotios listened to the hubbub as it drew itself down towards the beach. It was as if the world had decided to hoard upon a particular centre of gravity - the little row boat that had come to the sands with wounded men floating in its belly. The nobles of the city rushed to try and see if loved ones were amongst the wounded, the commons drew in to see what the nobles were all doing. It was one big spectacle that would have messages going about the city on the tongues of gossipers before nightfall. And in the panic of what it might mean to have the King lost at sea, Fotios witnessed as so many made emotion decisions that were not perhaps the most rational.
Perhaps it was his genuine dislike for most of the people on the beach. Perhaps it was his calculating mind that saw everything he came across in pros and cons that allowed him to be objective about all this; to see where emotion could shroud and where reason needed to be brought to life.
Normally, Fotios would have stayed back. He would have allowed those of higher position than he that he knew to be just as practical and appropriate take the helm. But then those that he would hardly call respectable had taken to talking of sending out boats and such nonsense. And now the Queen herself was approaching him with a look of complete panic on her face and her eyes so large they seemed to envelope her face.
When the princess had been at his side issuing instructions to him, Fotios had had little time but to nod before she was off into the middle of things. She had a habit of doing that which was decided improper for her upbringing and if she wasn't careful it was going to get her or someone else intro trouble. Unable to leap down from his horse fast enough and with a distinct personality that shifted away from the limelight of such things, Fotios was still mounted when the queen was by his side, beseeching him for news of her husband.
Fotios took a long and steadying inhale. It looked as if he was going to have to do some work here, after all.
Swinging a leg over his mount's head and sliding quickly to the ground, Fotios cared little for where the horse wandered as it would not go far along the beach. Instead, he reached out and took Theodora's shoulders in his hands, the gesture fatherly and soft. Now that her own parents had retired to Macendia for a term, she would be needing a father figure to turn to and whilst Fotios had found the girl highly irritating with all her melodramatics at the start of her engagement, her marriage was now finalised and he could bore her much easier when she wasn't at risk of messing up all his plans for his family lineage.
As such, it was easy for him to adjust his voice to be calming and compassionate but also firm.
"The King was not on that ship." Fotios said, emphasising the most important point. "He is far too skilled, blessed by Ares himself in combat. He would never be wounded such as they nor abandon his own soldiers to flee home. If this is all the injured parties we hold from the war in Egypt, Theodora, your husband will be victorious and returning home soon." His fingers squeezed her shoulders. "Now, stop with the emotion and start thinking with your head. More importantly, the crown that sits on it."
He looked towards the little area where injured parties were being treated. "We need information from the men over there and they may die before they are well enough to give it. You must have hands clean from dirty decisions but I also need your authority. So, let us work together to find out what has happened to the King..."
And with that, Fotios moved towards where the Princess Xene, young Sara and several others were trying to save the lives of the men. As he passed by Nikolias of Condos, he commented quiet casually -
"Your ships will not be necessary, Lord Nikolias, but if you have that many men to spare, I would be happy to take them off your hands."
He didn't wait for an answer, but moved to stand beside the first-born princess, noting the new appearance of a black girl working on the victims. When his theoretical medicinal knowledge measured up to her practice, he did little to dissuade her. Instead, he moved to take hold of Xene's elbow, drawing her hands back.
"My Princess, your compassion does you credit but there are others here now of more skill than yourself. Let them see to the men, before your abilities cannot match your empathy."
He spoke it low and quietly at her ear so that only she (and perhaps Theo) would notice. He was not trying to advertise her ignorance to those present. He was trying to stop her from advertising her own.
When the black girl decided to rudely awaken the soldier, Fotios took his opportunity. He didn't both to be sympathetic to the man's pain - it would be there, whether he felt on his behalf or not. Instead, he was interested in the fact that he was now conscious and able to answer questions.
"When did the fighting start soldier?" He asked the man, not waiting for the girl to finish what she was doing. He just lent around her and tried to get the man to speak through his pain. He looked at the black girl with her hands in the man’s torso. "Keep doing that – we need him awake." He turned back to call to the man again. "We need to know how many sun ups and sun downs you were at sea for. It's important. Try to think." He had to yell over the screams...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Fotios listened to the hubbub as it drew itself down towards the beach. It was as if the world had decided to hoard upon a particular centre of gravity - the little row boat that had come to the sands with wounded men floating in its belly. The nobles of the city rushed to try and see if loved ones were amongst the wounded, the commons drew in to see what the nobles were all doing. It was one big spectacle that would have messages going about the city on the tongues of gossipers before nightfall. And in the panic of what it might mean to have the King lost at sea, Fotios witnessed as so many made emotion decisions that were not perhaps the most rational.
Perhaps it was his genuine dislike for most of the people on the beach. Perhaps it was his calculating mind that saw everything he came across in pros and cons that allowed him to be objective about all this; to see where emotion could shroud and where reason needed to be brought to life.
Normally, Fotios would have stayed back. He would have allowed those of higher position than he that he knew to be just as practical and appropriate take the helm. But then those that he would hardly call respectable had taken to talking of sending out boats and such nonsense. And now the Queen herself was approaching him with a look of complete panic on her face and her eyes so large they seemed to envelope her face.
When the princess had been at his side issuing instructions to him, Fotios had had little time but to nod before she was off into the middle of things. She had a habit of doing that which was decided improper for her upbringing and if she wasn't careful it was going to get her or someone else intro trouble. Unable to leap down from his horse fast enough and with a distinct personality that shifted away from the limelight of such things, Fotios was still mounted when the queen was by his side, beseeching him for news of her husband.
Fotios took a long and steadying inhale. It looked as if he was going to have to do some work here, after all.
Swinging a leg over his mount's head and sliding quickly to the ground, Fotios cared little for where the horse wandered as it would not go far along the beach. Instead, he reached out and took Theodora's shoulders in his hands, the gesture fatherly and soft. Now that her own parents had retired to Macendia for a term, she would be needing a father figure to turn to and whilst Fotios had found the girl highly irritating with all her melodramatics at the start of her engagement, her marriage was now finalised and he could bore her much easier when she wasn't at risk of messing up all his plans for his family lineage.
As such, it was easy for him to adjust his voice to be calming and compassionate but also firm.
"The King was not on that ship." Fotios said, emphasising the most important point. "He is far too skilled, blessed by Ares himself in combat. He would never be wounded such as they nor abandon his own soldiers to flee home. If this is all the injured parties we hold from the war in Egypt, Theodora, your husband will be victorious and returning home soon." His fingers squeezed her shoulders. "Now, stop with the emotion and start thinking with your head. More importantly, the crown that sits on it."
He looked towards the little area where injured parties were being treated. "We need information from the men over there and they may die before they are well enough to give it. You must have hands clean from dirty decisions but I also need your authority. So, let us work together to find out what has happened to the King..."
And with that, Fotios moved towards where the Princess Xene, young Sara and several others were trying to save the lives of the men. As he passed by Nikolias of Condos, he commented quiet casually -
"Your ships will not be necessary, Lord Nikolias, but if you have that many men to spare, I would be happy to take them off your hands."
He didn't wait for an answer, but moved to stand beside the first-born princess, noting the new appearance of a black girl working on the victims. When his theoretical medicinal knowledge measured up to her practice, he did little to dissuade her. Instead, he moved to take hold of Xene's elbow, drawing her hands back.
"My Princess, your compassion does you credit but there are others here now of more skill than yourself. Let them see to the men, before your abilities cannot match your empathy."
He spoke it low and quietly at her ear so that only she (and perhaps Theo) would notice. He was not trying to advertise her ignorance to those present. He was trying to stop her from advertising her own.
When the black girl decided to rudely awaken the soldier, Fotios took his opportunity. He didn't both to be sympathetic to the man's pain - it would be there, whether he felt on his behalf or not. Instead, he was interested in the fact that he was now conscious and able to answer questions.
"When did the fighting start soldier?" He asked the man, not waiting for the girl to finish what she was doing. He just lent around her and tried to get the man to speak through his pain. He looked at the black girl with her hands in the man’s torso. "Keep doing that – we need him awake." He turned back to call to the man again. "We need to know how many sun ups and sun downs you were at sea for. It's important. Try to think." He had to yell over the screams...
Fotios listened to the hubbub as it drew itself down towards the beach. It was as if the world had decided to hoard upon a particular centre of gravity - the little row boat that had come to the sands with wounded men floating in its belly. The nobles of the city rushed to try and see if loved ones were amongst the wounded, the commons drew in to see what the nobles were all doing. It was one big spectacle that would have messages going about the city on the tongues of gossipers before nightfall. And in the panic of what it might mean to have the King lost at sea, Fotios witnessed as so many made emotion decisions that were not perhaps the most rational.
Perhaps it was his genuine dislike for most of the people on the beach. Perhaps it was his calculating mind that saw everything he came across in pros and cons that allowed him to be objective about all this; to see where emotion could shroud and where reason needed to be brought to life.
Normally, Fotios would have stayed back. He would have allowed those of higher position than he that he knew to be just as practical and appropriate take the helm. But then those that he would hardly call respectable had taken to talking of sending out boats and such nonsense. And now the Queen herself was approaching him with a look of complete panic on her face and her eyes so large they seemed to envelope her face.
When the princess had been at his side issuing instructions to him, Fotios had had little time but to nod before she was off into the middle of things. She had a habit of doing that which was decided improper for her upbringing and if she wasn't careful it was going to get her or someone else intro trouble. Unable to leap down from his horse fast enough and with a distinct personality that shifted away from the limelight of such things, Fotios was still mounted when the queen was by his side, beseeching him for news of her husband.
Fotios took a long and steadying inhale. It looked as if he was going to have to do some work here, after all.
Swinging a leg over his mount's head and sliding quickly to the ground, Fotios cared little for where the horse wandered as it would not go far along the beach. Instead, he reached out and took Theodora's shoulders in his hands, the gesture fatherly and soft. Now that her own parents had retired to Macendia for a term, she would be needing a father figure to turn to and whilst Fotios had found the girl highly irritating with all her melodramatics at the start of her engagement, her marriage was now finalised and he could bore her much easier when she wasn't at risk of messing up all his plans for his family lineage.
As such, it was easy for him to adjust his voice to be calming and compassionate but also firm.
"The King was not on that ship." Fotios said, emphasising the most important point. "He is far too skilled, blessed by Ares himself in combat. He would never be wounded such as they nor abandon his own soldiers to flee home. If this is all the injured parties we hold from the war in Egypt, Theodora, your husband will be victorious and returning home soon." His fingers squeezed her shoulders. "Now, stop with the emotion and start thinking with your head. More importantly, the crown that sits on it."
He looked towards the little area where injured parties were being treated. "We need information from the men over there and they may die before they are well enough to give it. You must have hands clean from dirty decisions but I also need your authority. So, let us work together to find out what has happened to the King..."
And with that, Fotios moved towards where the Princess Xene, young Sara and several others were trying to save the lives of the men. As he passed by Nikolias of Condos, he commented quiet casually -
"Your ships will not be necessary, Lord Nikolias, but if you have that many men to spare, I would be happy to take them off your hands."
He didn't wait for an answer, but moved to stand beside the first-born princess, noting the new appearance of a black girl working on the victims. When his theoretical medicinal knowledge measured up to her practice, he did little to dissuade her. Instead, he moved to take hold of Xene's elbow, drawing her hands back.
"My Princess, your compassion does you credit but there are others here now of more skill than yourself. Let them see to the men, before your abilities cannot match your empathy."
He spoke it low and quietly at her ear so that only she (and perhaps Theo) would notice. He was not trying to advertise her ignorance to those present. He was trying to stop her from advertising her own.
When the black girl decided to rudely awaken the soldier, Fotios took his opportunity. He didn't both to be sympathetic to the man's pain - it would be there, whether he felt on his behalf or not. Instead, he was interested in the fact that he was now conscious and able to answer questions.
"When did the fighting start soldier?" He asked the man, not waiting for the girl to finish what she was doing. He just lent around her and tried to get the man to speak through his pain. He looked at the black girl with her hands in the man’s torso. "Keep doing that – we need him awake." He turned back to call to the man again. "We need to know how many sun ups and sun downs you were at sea for. It's important. Try to think." He had to yell over the screams...
Nikolias nodded to Fotios. "If the men are needed,you may use them, Lord Fotios."
Celine was already thinking that Max could be on the ship, and she sent up a fervent prayer not, knowing that even the most blessed by the gods were theoretically still at risk. She hadn't seen him, but more than ever, except when she'd cried in his arms, worried that someone who might have started the fire- or at least knew something about it- would find her, she had never felt a more pressing need to get out of Taengea and run for the hills. Or for Egypt. Most importantly, to be with him. Maybe they could even- She just barely held back a gasp of surprise as she realized there might be a way for them to be married after all, money or no money. She was unsure just yet if this could be an idea given by the gods or not, or if her sudden flash of what seemed to be wisdom really was. But even so, the idea comforted her enough to steady her nerves- regarding Max- a little more, calm as she usually was in emergencies, however temporarily. She wondered if she ought to send Max a letter, and that idea, too, gave her some comfort. Her words might reach him quicklym even if she couldn't.
"Um- being honest, I can't carry much. I never have been able to." She smiled softly at the helpful man in apology, handing some of the wood back to him. "However, I do have some medical knowledge, and have sewn wounds before. Nor do I have a fear of blood and dirt," she added quickly.
Except Max's. But that went without saying, perhaps.
"If we had some wine right now, it might be possible to disinfect this. Honey seems to help too, with keeping away infection," she suggested. She had read a little of that information in one of her scrolls at home.
She took the cloth, the soldier's blood already beginning to seep through it, a drop landing on her hand and quickly becoming a little sticky.
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Nikolias nodded to Fotios. "If the men are needed,you may use them, Lord Fotios."
Celine was already thinking that Max could be on the ship, and she sent up a fervent prayer not, knowing that even the most blessed by the gods were theoretically still at risk. She hadn't seen him, but more than ever, except when she'd cried in his arms, worried that someone who might have started the fire- or at least knew something about it- would find her, she had never felt a more pressing need to get out of Taengea and run for the hills. Or for Egypt. Most importantly, to be with him. Maybe they could even- She just barely held back a gasp of surprise as she realized there might be a way for them to be married after all, money or no money. She was unsure just yet if this could be an idea given by the gods or not, or if her sudden flash of what seemed to be wisdom really was. But even so, the idea comforted her enough to steady her nerves- regarding Max- a little more, calm as she usually was in emergencies, however temporarily. She wondered if she ought to send Max a letter, and that idea, too, gave her some comfort. Her words might reach him quicklym even if she couldn't.
"Um- being honest, I can't carry much. I never have been able to." She smiled softly at the helpful man in apology, handing some of the wood back to him. "However, I do have some medical knowledge, and have sewn wounds before. Nor do I have a fear of blood and dirt," she added quickly.
Except Max's. But that went without saying, perhaps.
"If we had some wine right now, it might be possible to disinfect this. Honey seems to help too, with keeping away infection," she suggested. She had read a little of that information in one of her scrolls at home.
She took the cloth, the soldier's blood already beginning to seep through it, a drop landing on her hand and quickly becoming a little sticky.
Nikolias nodded to Fotios. "If the men are needed,you may use them, Lord Fotios."
Celine was already thinking that Max could be on the ship, and she sent up a fervent prayer not, knowing that even the most blessed by the gods were theoretically still at risk. She hadn't seen him, but more than ever, except when she'd cried in his arms, worried that someone who might have started the fire- or at least knew something about it- would find her, she had never felt a more pressing need to get out of Taengea and run for the hills. Or for Egypt. Most importantly, to be with him. Maybe they could even- She just barely held back a gasp of surprise as she realized there might be a way for them to be married after all, money or no money. She was unsure just yet if this could be an idea given by the gods or not, or if her sudden flash of what seemed to be wisdom really was. But even so, the idea comforted her enough to steady her nerves- regarding Max- a little more, calm as she usually was in emergencies, however temporarily. She wondered if she ought to send Max a letter, and that idea, too, gave her some comfort. Her words might reach him quicklym even if she couldn't.
"Um- being honest, I can't carry much. I never have been able to." She smiled softly at the helpful man in apology, handing some of the wood back to him. "However, I do have some medical knowledge, and have sewn wounds before. Nor do I have a fear of blood and dirt," she added quickly.
Except Max's. But that went without saying, perhaps.
"If we had some wine right now, it might be possible to disinfect this. Honey seems to help too, with keeping away infection," she suggested. She had read a little of that information in one of her scrolls at home.
She took the cloth, the soldier's blood already beginning to seep through it, a drop landing on her hand and quickly becoming a little sticky.
Sara shifted closer at Xene’s invitation, letting the princess guide her in what to do. She had a limited knowledge of medicine, mostly good at concocting remedies and the like -- her experience with wounds and dressing them was much more limited, nonexistent really. So she took direction, grateful for not having to know exactly what to do.
She smiled weakly at Xene’s mention of buying her a new dress. ”I’ll make sure it’s a good one.” She teased, before turning back to the task at hand. Her jaw was still tight, the tears in her eyes held back by sheer will alone. She watched Xene look up and down the beach before quietly giving her assessment of the situation. She could deal with that answer for now. ”I understand.” She agreed, swallowing all of the fear and uncertainty that she was feeling. She hoped that she would get an audience with Xene later. The woman would be privy to far more information than Sara could hope to be.
Her small hands went to the bandages on the man’s chest, but just as she was about to set herself to the task at hand -- another had appeared, brushing her aside. “Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that.” She hadn’t a moment to respond before her horror was apparent as the newcomer pulled back the bandages and revealed a horrible truth, but it was her deft movements to dig her hands inside the body that had Sara recoil completely.
Her head was spinning, and she turned her head away from the mess to draw the cleaner sea air into her lungs, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She cringed as the man began to flail and thrash, and Sara turned away to cover her mouth with a hand. She was sensitive to the pain of others, and not quite as well equipped to handle the horrors of what she was witnessing.
”I can’t.” Sara said, closing her eyes. ”I’m sorry.” She jerked upright, taking a step back from the scene. In that moment, as much as she wanted to be an adult -- she felt just like a child.
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Sara shifted closer at Xene’s invitation, letting the princess guide her in what to do. She had a limited knowledge of medicine, mostly good at concocting remedies and the like -- her experience with wounds and dressing them was much more limited, nonexistent really. So she took direction, grateful for not having to know exactly what to do.
She smiled weakly at Xene’s mention of buying her a new dress. ”I’ll make sure it’s a good one.” She teased, before turning back to the task at hand. Her jaw was still tight, the tears in her eyes held back by sheer will alone. She watched Xene look up and down the beach before quietly giving her assessment of the situation. She could deal with that answer for now. ”I understand.” She agreed, swallowing all of the fear and uncertainty that she was feeling. She hoped that she would get an audience with Xene later. The woman would be privy to far more information than Sara could hope to be.
Her small hands went to the bandages on the man’s chest, but just as she was about to set herself to the task at hand -- another had appeared, brushing her aside. “Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that.” She hadn’t a moment to respond before her horror was apparent as the newcomer pulled back the bandages and revealed a horrible truth, but it was her deft movements to dig her hands inside the body that had Sara recoil completely.
Her head was spinning, and she turned her head away from the mess to draw the cleaner sea air into her lungs, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She cringed as the man began to flail and thrash, and Sara turned away to cover her mouth with a hand. She was sensitive to the pain of others, and not quite as well equipped to handle the horrors of what she was witnessing.
”I can’t.” Sara said, closing her eyes. ”I’m sorry.” She jerked upright, taking a step back from the scene. In that moment, as much as she wanted to be an adult -- she felt just like a child.
Sara shifted closer at Xene’s invitation, letting the princess guide her in what to do. She had a limited knowledge of medicine, mostly good at concocting remedies and the like -- her experience with wounds and dressing them was much more limited, nonexistent really. So she took direction, grateful for not having to know exactly what to do.
She smiled weakly at Xene’s mention of buying her a new dress. ”I’ll make sure it’s a good one.” She teased, before turning back to the task at hand. Her jaw was still tight, the tears in her eyes held back by sheer will alone. She watched Xene look up and down the beach before quietly giving her assessment of the situation. She could deal with that answer for now. ”I understand.” She agreed, swallowing all of the fear and uncertainty that she was feeling. She hoped that she would get an audience with Xene later. The woman would be privy to far more information than Sara could hope to be.
Her small hands went to the bandages on the man’s chest, but just as she was about to set herself to the task at hand -- another had appeared, brushing her aside. “Oh sweetie, you're a lovely pretty girl but please don't push on that.” She hadn’t a moment to respond before her horror was apparent as the newcomer pulled back the bandages and revealed a horrible truth, but it was her deft movements to dig her hands inside the body that had Sara recoil completely.
Her head was spinning, and she turned her head away from the mess to draw the cleaner sea air into her lungs, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She cringed as the man began to flail and thrash, and Sara turned away to cover her mouth with a hand. She was sensitive to the pain of others, and not quite as well equipped to handle the horrors of what she was witnessing.
”I can’t.” Sara said, closing her eyes. ”I’m sorry.” She jerked upright, taking a step back from the scene. In that moment, as much as she wanted to be an adult -- she felt just like a child.
Theodora shook in her uncle’s grasp, his words finally serving to calm and ground her. He was right, of course; histrionics would serve her no good here. It was a good thing for them all that Fotios was more logical-minded than she—as she was now the highest-ranking person present, she needed someone to temper the emotions that threatened to guide her hand. She let herself be bolstered by his wisdom, reassuring her that Achilleas was not present, and all would be well. Whether that was true or not, she did not know, but she had to believe it if she was going to be of any use here.
“Yes, my lord, you’re right,” she murmured as he released her, taking a deep breath and doing her best to tamp down her nerves. She was the Queen now. Others looked to her for guidance, and she needed to be able to provide it. No one would take her seriously if she simply sunk down in the sand and cried like part of her so desperately wanted to. She had to be strong. For herself. For her husband. For all of Taengea.
Gods, but she had never felt so desperately alone.
Squaring her shoulders and standing up a little straighter, Theodora followed Fotios down the beach, doing her best not to flinch at the sights and sounds that greeted her. Everywhere, the putrid scent of looming death surrounded them, blood staining the sands around their feet. It was one thing to hear of such injuries and quite another to see their effects in person. Sheltered most of her life, the woman rarely had to deal with anything more serious than a nick or bruise.
The agonized screams of the wounded nearly shattered her resolve, knees going weak beneath her at the sight of the man Sara, Xene, and a foreign woman she did not recognize surrounded. Part of his body that should most definitely be inside of it was… not, and as they worked on pushing it back in, the bile rose in her throat.
Oh, no. She was definitely going to be sick.
Fotios said he needed her authority and her position as Queen to learn what they needed to learn, but this… this was too much. Covering her mouth with one hand and clutching at her belly with the other, she ran across the beach behind an outcropping of rocks and fell to her knees. Doubled over with the force of the nausea that overtook her, it wasn’t long before the contents of her stomach were spilling from her mouth, heaving up what felt like every meal she’d eaten over the course of the past few days. All she could hope for was that no one would bear witness to their monarch losing her breakfast in the sand.
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Theodora shook in her uncle’s grasp, his words finally serving to calm and ground her. He was right, of course; histrionics would serve her no good here. It was a good thing for them all that Fotios was more logical-minded than she—as she was now the highest-ranking person present, she needed someone to temper the emotions that threatened to guide her hand. She let herself be bolstered by his wisdom, reassuring her that Achilleas was not present, and all would be well. Whether that was true or not, she did not know, but she had to believe it if she was going to be of any use here.
“Yes, my lord, you’re right,” she murmured as he released her, taking a deep breath and doing her best to tamp down her nerves. She was the Queen now. Others looked to her for guidance, and she needed to be able to provide it. No one would take her seriously if she simply sunk down in the sand and cried like part of her so desperately wanted to. She had to be strong. For herself. For her husband. For all of Taengea.
Gods, but she had never felt so desperately alone.
Squaring her shoulders and standing up a little straighter, Theodora followed Fotios down the beach, doing her best not to flinch at the sights and sounds that greeted her. Everywhere, the putrid scent of looming death surrounded them, blood staining the sands around their feet. It was one thing to hear of such injuries and quite another to see their effects in person. Sheltered most of her life, the woman rarely had to deal with anything more serious than a nick or bruise.
The agonized screams of the wounded nearly shattered her resolve, knees going weak beneath her at the sight of the man Sara, Xene, and a foreign woman she did not recognize surrounded. Part of his body that should most definitely be inside of it was… not, and as they worked on pushing it back in, the bile rose in her throat.
Oh, no. She was definitely going to be sick.
Fotios said he needed her authority and her position as Queen to learn what they needed to learn, but this… this was too much. Covering her mouth with one hand and clutching at her belly with the other, she ran across the beach behind an outcropping of rocks and fell to her knees. Doubled over with the force of the nausea that overtook her, it wasn’t long before the contents of her stomach were spilling from her mouth, heaving up what felt like every meal she’d eaten over the course of the past few days. All she could hope for was that no one would bear witness to their monarch losing her breakfast in the sand.
Theodora shook in her uncle’s grasp, his words finally serving to calm and ground her. He was right, of course; histrionics would serve her no good here. It was a good thing for them all that Fotios was more logical-minded than she—as she was now the highest-ranking person present, she needed someone to temper the emotions that threatened to guide her hand. She let herself be bolstered by his wisdom, reassuring her that Achilleas was not present, and all would be well. Whether that was true or not, she did not know, but she had to believe it if she was going to be of any use here.
“Yes, my lord, you’re right,” she murmured as he released her, taking a deep breath and doing her best to tamp down her nerves. She was the Queen now. Others looked to her for guidance, and she needed to be able to provide it. No one would take her seriously if she simply sunk down in the sand and cried like part of her so desperately wanted to. She had to be strong. For herself. For her husband. For all of Taengea.
Gods, but she had never felt so desperately alone.
Squaring her shoulders and standing up a little straighter, Theodora followed Fotios down the beach, doing her best not to flinch at the sights and sounds that greeted her. Everywhere, the putrid scent of looming death surrounded them, blood staining the sands around their feet. It was one thing to hear of such injuries and quite another to see their effects in person. Sheltered most of her life, the woman rarely had to deal with anything more serious than a nick or bruise.
The agonized screams of the wounded nearly shattered her resolve, knees going weak beneath her at the sight of the man Sara, Xene, and a foreign woman she did not recognize surrounded. Part of his body that should most definitely be inside of it was… not, and as they worked on pushing it back in, the bile rose in her throat.
Oh, no. She was definitely going to be sick.
Fotios said he needed her authority and her position as Queen to learn what they needed to learn, but this… this was too much. Covering her mouth with one hand and clutching at her belly with the other, she ran across the beach behind an outcropping of rocks and fell to her knees. Doubled over with the force of the nausea that overtook her, it wasn’t long before the contents of her stomach were spilling from her mouth, heaving up what felt like every meal she’d eaten over the course of the past few days. All she could hope for was that no one would bear witness to their monarch losing her breakfast in the sand.
He had hardly been sleeping as of late, unable to think of anything but the kiss he and Theo had shared. There had been no real motive behind his actions, nor had he been thinking of the threat from Fotios about the relationship between him and the Queen. The little lean to had become something he could do to clear his heart, to prove that while he hadn’t kept his promise to fight for her in the way she had wanted, he hadn’t forgotten the day they had sworn to make this place for themselves.
Come hell or high water.
He knew it had been wrong, knew that he was betraying his brother in the action. But how could he deny his heart, which she so firmly held in her hands. A wedding to another man hadn’t changed its possession, not had it lessened his own captivation in her. No, there was no lying to himself, nor trying to pretend that he didn’t break a little every moment he was without her. And so, he focused on the tasks he needed to do. The city was preparing for war, which meant that the fortifications had to be built, the structures reinforced. Trees had to be cut and transported, further trimmed into usable pieces and anchored in. It took coordination and manpower to get done, and he wasn’t against getting his hands dirty to assist in the efforts.
Hard labor kept his mind busy, which meant that he wasn’t thinking of Theo while he had an axe in hand. All he could focus on was his breathing, on directing each swing to the correct path of the tree. Men were around him using tools to strip the branches, smoothing out the trees to load onto carts. Then they would be taken to continue the existing wall, almost 2 hours from the heart of the city. He hadn’t been avoiding Theo, not when there was so much work to do. But he left as dawn approached, and had been back late the last few days.
“Your Highness!” Still not used to the term, it took him a moment to realize that he was the one being spoken to. He swung the axe hard, burying it deep into the stump of the last tree he had helped fall. Wiping off his hand on his chiton, he turned to face the soldier on horseback, out of breath from riding. The horse turned, allowing the ride to slip down onto his feet. “A ship has been spotted-- it’s ours, your highness, militant.”
He wiped his brow with the dark material of his chiton, processing the news. “We are certain? Any idea who is on board?” His thoughts automatically went to his brother, of the battle he was fighting across the sea. The soldier shook his head, ”No, I was sent to you as soon as it was spotted.” He was already moving with speed towards his own mount, not bothering to pull the himation over his shoulder. While the journey for the horses with the trees took 2 hours, a good rider could make it in close to a ¼ of that.
And he was more than just a good rider.
Kicking his stallion into a sprint, Emilios allowed himself for a moment to consider the possibility that something had happened to Achilleas. His brother had seemed invincible to him, rumored to be blessed-- he had never lost a fight and he couldn’t think he’d lost one now. No, the possibility of it being Achilleas on that vessel, with so little information on it, was ridiculous. There were ways to be informed of those things. If it had been anyone of true importance, there would have been a message sent ahead.
And even though he knew it wasn’t his brother, that didn’t lessen his breakneck pace towards where the boat would make land. While the rest of the people would be coming down from the city to the beaches, he made a direct line for the waterfront, allowing the horse to run the beaches until he came upon the scene almost 40 minutes after being told. Emilios slipped down from the beast, as far away from Theo as possible. This felt familiar to him, having spent years on the battlefield, dealing with injuries such as these. As much as it hurt him to see this, he turned his mind to stone.
He was directing the few people he came across to bring supplies, cutting a line through the people to see the conditions of the soldiers himself. He was glad to see the dead had been separated from the living, preventing any further illness from spreading to those who lived. Draping them with cloth was pointless, in his opinion, but the amount of onlookers made it a necessity. Emilios pushed through the crowd, still half dressed from his work in the forest. Spotting the familiar face of his sister, “Sara!” Hands flew to her shoulders as she backed away from one of the men, surrounded by people who were trying to save him.
She shouldn’t have been down here-- she didn’t need to see this. Turning her into him, he embraced her tightly to him before bending down to look her in the eyes. “Duckling, why don’t you go to the manor and see the gathering of supplies? Wine and linen, and the like.” He gently nudged her away from the bodies, away from the sadness she didn’t need to see. “I will take care of this.”
Turning and hoping that she was following her orders, he let Fotios focus on his man, moving instead to another wounded soldier who almost seemed farther gone. His arm was gone, festering from the injury and days at sea. He wished he knew more, could tell the information he needed simply by how bad his injuries were not. Instead, he was calmly pressing the man for details, eyes darting around the scene to try and get a better idea of what was going on.
And as he placed gentle pressure on the wound to wake the man more, he found himself wondering-- where was Theo?
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He had hardly been sleeping as of late, unable to think of anything but the kiss he and Theo had shared. There had been no real motive behind his actions, nor had he been thinking of the threat from Fotios about the relationship between him and the Queen. The little lean to had become something he could do to clear his heart, to prove that while he hadn’t kept his promise to fight for her in the way she had wanted, he hadn’t forgotten the day they had sworn to make this place for themselves.
Come hell or high water.
He knew it had been wrong, knew that he was betraying his brother in the action. But how could he deny his heart, which she so firmly held in her hands. A wedding to another man hadn’t changed its possession, not had it lessened his own captivation in her. No, there was no lying to himself, nor trying to pretend that he didn’t break a little every moment he was without her. And so, he focused on the tasks he needed to do. The city was preparing for war, which meant that the fortifications had to be built, the structures reinforced. Trees had to be cut and transported, further trimmed into usable pieces and anchored in. It took coordination and manpower to get done, and he wasn’t against getting his hands dirty to assist in the efforts.
Hard labor kept his mind busy, which meant that he wasn’t thinking of Theo while he had an axe in hand. All he could focus on was his breathing, on directing each swing to the correct path of the tree. Men were around him using tools to strip the branches, smoothing out the trees to load onto carts. Then they would be taken to continue the existing wall, almost 2 hours from the heart of the city. He hadn’t been avoiding Theo, not when there was so much work to do. But he left as dawn approached, and had been back late the last few days.
“Your Highness!” Still not used to the term, it took him a moment to realize that he was the one being spoken to. He swung the axe hard, burying it deep into the stump of the last tree he had helped fall. Wiping off his hand on his chiton, he turned to face the soldier on horseback, out of breath from riding. The horse turned, allowing the ride to slip down onto his feet. “A ship has been spotted-- it’s ours, your highness, militant.”
He wiped his brow with the dark material of his chiton, processing the news. “We are certain? Any idea who is on board?” His thoughts automatically went to his brother, of the battle he was fighting across the sea. The soldier shook his head, ”No, I was sent to you as soon as it was spotted.” He was already moving with speed towards his own mount, not bothering to pull the himation over his shoulder. While the journey for the horses with the trees took 2 hours, a good rider could make it in close to a ¼ of that.
And he was more than just a good rider.
Kicking his stallion into a sprint, Emilios allowed himself for a moment to consider the possibility that something had happened to Achilleas. His brother had seemed invincible to him, rumored to be blessed-- he had never lost a fight and he couldn’t think he’d lost one now. No, the possibility of it being Achilleas on that vessel, with so little information on it, was ridiculous. There were ways to be informed of those things. If it had been anyone of true importance, there would have been a message sent ahead.
And even though he knew it wasn’t his brother, that didn’t lessen his breakneck pace towards where the boat would make land. While the rest of the people would be coming down from the city to the beaches, he made a direct line for the waterfront, allowing the horse to run the beaches until he came upon the scene almost 40 minutes after being told. Emilios slipped down from the beast, as far away from Theo as possible. This felt familiar to him, having spent years on the battlefield, dealing with injuries such as these. As much as it hurt him to see this, he turned his mind to stone.
He was directing the few people he came across to bring supplies, cutting a line through the people to see the conditions of the soldiers himself. He was glad to see the dead had been separated from the living, preventing any further illness from spreading to those who lived. Draping them with cloth was pointless, in his opinion, but the amount of onlookers made it a necessity. Emilios pushed through the crowd, still half dressed from his work in the forest. Spotting the familiar face of his sister, “Sara!” Hands flew to her shoulders as she backed away from one of the men, surrounded by people who were trying to save him.
She shouldn’t have been down here-- she didn’t need to see this. Turning her into him, he embraced her tightly to him before bending down to look her in the eyes. “Duckling, why don’t you go to the manor and see the gathering of supplies? Wine and linen, and the like.” He gently nudged her away from the bodies, away from the sadness she didn’t need to see. “I will take care of this.”
Turning and hoping that she was following her orders, he let Fotios focus on his man, moving instead to another wounded soldier who almost seemed farther gone. His arm was gone, festering from the injury and days at sea. He wished he knew more, could tell the information he needed simply by how bad his injuries were not. Instead, he was calmly pressing the man for details, eyes darting around the scene to try and get a better idea of what was going on.
And as he placed gentle pressure on the wound to wake the man more, he found himself wondering-- where was Theo?
He had hardly been sleeping as of late, unable to think of anything but the kiss he and Theo had shared. There had been no real motive behind his actions, nor had he been thinking of the threat from Fotios about the relationship between him and the Queen. The little lean to had become something he could do to clear his heart, to prove that while he hadn’t kept his promise to fight for her in the way she had wanted, he hadn’t forgotten the day they had sworn to make this place for themselves.
Come hell or high water.
He knew it had been wrong, knew that he was betraying his brother in the action. But how could he deny his heart, which she so firmly held in her hands. A wedding to another man hadn’t changed its possession, not had it lessened his own captivation in her. No, there was no lying to himself, nor trying to pretend that he didn’t break a little every moment he was without her. And so, he focused on the tasks he needed to do. The city was preparing for war, which meant that the fortifications had to be built, the structures reinforced. Trees had to be cut and transported, further trimmed into usable pieces and anchored in. It took coordination and manpower to get done, and he wasn’t against getting his hands dirty to assist in the efforts.
Hard labor kept his mind busy, which meant that he wasn’t thinking of Theo while he had an axe in hand. All he could focus on was his breathing, on directing each swing to the correct path of the tree. Men were around him using tools to strip the branches, smoothing out the trees to load onto carts. Then they would be taken to continue the existing wall, almost 2 hours from the heart of the city. He hadn’t been avoiding Theo, not when there was so much work to do. But he left as dawn approached, and had been back late the last few days.
“Your Highness!” Still not used to the term, it took him a moment to realize that he was the one being spoken to. He swung the axe hard, burying it deep into the stump of the last tree he had helped fall. Wiping off his hand on his chiton, he turned to face the soldier on horseback, out of breath from riding. The horse turned, allowing the ride to slip down onto his feet. “A ship has been spotted-- it’s ours, your highness, militant.”
He wiped his brow with the dark material of his chiton, processing the news. “We are certain? Any idea who is on board?” His thoughts automatically went to his brother, of the battle he was fighting across the sea. The soldier shook his head, ”No, I was sent to you as soon as it was spotted.” He was already moving with speed towards his own mount, not bothering to pull the himation over his shoulder. While the journey for the horses with the trees took 2 hours, a good rider could make it in close to a ¼ of that.
And he was more than just a good rider.
Kicking his stallion into a sprint, Emilios allowed himself for a moment to consider the possibility that something had happened to Achilleas. His brother had seemed invincible to him, rumored to be blessed-- he had never lost a fight and he couldn’t think he’d lost one now. No, the possibility of it being Achilleas on that vessel, with so little information on it, was ridiculous. There were ways to be informed of those things. If it had been anyone of true importance, there would have been a message sent ahead.
And even though he knew it wasn’t his brother, that didn’t lessen his breakneck pace towards where the boat would make land. While the rest of the people would be coming down from the city to the beaches, he made a direct line for the waterfront, allowing the horse to run the beaches until he came upon the scene almost 40 minutes after being told. Emilios slipped down from the beast, as far away from Theo as possible. This felt familiar to him, having spent years on the battlefield, dealing with injuries such as these. As much as it hurt him to see this, he turned his mind to stone.
He was directing the few people he came across to bring supplies, cutting a line through the people to see the conditions of the soldiers himself. He was glad to see the dead had been separated from the living, preventing any further illness from spreading to those who lived. Draping them with cloth was pointless, in his opinion, but the amount of onlookers made it a necessity. Emilios pushed through the crowd, still half dressed from his work in the forest. Spotting the familiar face of his sister, “Sara!” Hands flew to her shoulders as she backed away from one of the men, surrounded by people who were trying to save him.
She shouldn’t have been down here-- she didn’t need to see this. Turning her into him, he embraced her tightly to him before bending down to look her in the eyes. “Duckling, why don’t you go to the manor and see the gathering of supplies? Wine and linen, and the like.” He gently nudged her away from the bodies, away from the sadness she didn’t need to see. “I will take care of this.”
Turning and hoping that she was following her orders, he let Fotios focus on his man, moving instead to another wounded soldier who almost seemed farther gone. His arm was gone, festering from the injury and days at sea. He wished he knew more, could tell the information he needed simply by how bad his injuries were not. Instead, he was calmly pressing the man for details, eyes darting around the scene to try and get a better idea of what was going on.
And as he placed gentle pressure on the wound to wake the man more, he found himself wondering-- where was Theo?
It was incredibly difficult for Xene to admit that she was in over her head, but she was. She was. She didn't truly know what to do to help ease the pain of the man that Basilides now held in his arms and she had the overwhelming urge to almost rest her forehead against his shoulder so that she could catch a breath that was wavering too sharply to give her any relief to the momentary panic she was feeling. But she didn't touch Basilides in that way, bracing herself in the sands and trying to look over his shoulder as another girl settled down with them to look at the man that Xene was trying to help. Admittedly, it was a good feeling to be able to step away now.
And she was thinking of doing just that when she noted that Sara couldn't take the sight of the dying soldier's entrails. Even Xene felt the slight roiling of her own stomach, but she was able to swallow it down, having seen wounds similar to this when the Taengean men had last returned from fighting Creeders. That had been a shock then, and this was less so of one now. It was Fotios' voice, however, that had her turning her head slightly to glance up at the lord speaking to her.
Something in her gaze hardened, and though she kept the graceful expression on her features, there was a glint of sourness in her gaze as she levelled Lord Fotios with a firm stare. Thent he man was screaming and Xene had to keep herself from scrambling back at the pained sounds driving from the man's mouth. She was not done with Fotios, and he likely knew it by the simmering irritation in her eyes and her body, though the tensing in her muscles could be seen as agitation over the situation around her.
Giving Basilides a single glance, Xene pulled away from the gathering group around the man, not wanting to listen to Lord Fotios question a man who was very clearly unable to form proper words with all of the screaming. Glancing toward Sara she gave the girl a really watery smile, pleased that Lord Emilios had shown up to direct her elsewhere. "I still owe you a gown," the princess said quietly, looking down at her bloodied hands and then closing her eyes firmly for a moment. It was okay. This would be okay.
When she opened her eyes once more, she spotted the queen barrelling down the length of the beach, her hand against her mouth. Frowning now, the princess followed her cousin, stopping only for a moment to try and rinse some of the blood from her hands as she got progressively closer to Theodora. Noting that the queen was ill, Xene was quick to place herself in a position that would guide her monarch from most views, standing behind her to give her privacy but also keeping watch on the world around them. "My queen," Xene said softly, "I think perhaps this may not be the best place for you. Lord Emilios has arrived, between the two of them, I am very sure that Lord Leventi and he can handle the rest of this," the princess tried to coax the queen back to her feet before she could be seen losing her breakfast.
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It was incredibly difficult for Xene to admit that she was in over her head, but she was. She was. She didn't truly know what to do to help ease the pain of the man that Basilides now held in his arms and she had the overwhelming urge to almost rest her forehead against his shoulder so that she could catch a breath that was wavering too sharply to give her any relief to the momentary panic she was feeling. But she didn't touch Basilides in that way, bracing herself in the sands and trying to look over his shoulder as another girl settled down with them to look at the man that Xene was trying to help. Admittedly, it was a good feeling to be able to step away now.
And she was thinking of doing just that when she noted that Sara couldn't take the sight of the dying soldier's entrails. Even Xene felt the slight roiling of her own stomach, but she was able to swallow it down, having seen wounds similar to this when the Taengean men had last returned from fighting Creeders. That had been a shock then, and this was less so of one now. It was Fotios' voice, however, that had her turning her head slightly to glance up at the lord speaking to her.
Something in her gaze hardened, and though she kept the graceful expression on her features, there was a glint of sourness in her gaze as she levelled Lord Fotios with a firm stare. Thent he man was screaming and Xene had to keep herself from scrambling back at the pained sounds driving from the man's mouth. She was not done with Fotios, and he likely knew it by the simmering irritation in her eyes and her body, though the tensing in her muscles could be seen as agitation over the situation around her.
Giving Basilides a single glance, Xene pulled away from the gathering group around the man, not wanting to listen to Lord Fotios question a man who was very clearly unable to form proper words with all of the screaming. Glancing toward Sara she gave the girl a really watery smile, pleased that Lord Emilios had shown up to direct her elsewhere. "I still owe you a gown," the princess said quietly, looking down at her bloodied hands and then closing her eyes firmly for a moment. It was okay. This would be okay.
When she opened her eyes once more, she spotted the queen barrelling down the length of the beach, her hand against her mouth. Frowning now, the princess followed her cousin, stopping only for a moment to try and rinse some of the blood from her hands as she got progressively closer to Theodora. Noting that the queen was ill, Xene was quick to place herself in a position that would guide her monarch from most views, standing behind her to give her privacy but also keeping watch on the world around them. "My queen," Xene said softly, "I think perhaps this may not be the best place for you. Lord Emilios has arrived, between the two of them, I am very sure that Lord Leventi and he can handle the rest of this," the princess tried to coax the queen back to her feet before she could be seen losing her breakfast.
It was incredibly difficult for Xene to admit that she was in over her head, but she was. She was. She didn't truly know what to do to help ease the pain of the man that Basilides now held in his arms and she had the overwhelming urge to almost rest her forehead against his shoulder so that she could catch a breath that was wavering too sharply to give her any relief to the momentary panic she was feeling. But she didn't touch Basilides in that way, bracing herself in the sands and trying to look over his shoulder as another girl settled down with them to look at the man that Xene was trying to help. Admittedly, it was a good feeling to be able to step away now.
And she was thinking of doing just that when she noted that Sara couldn't take the sight of the dying soldier's entrails. Even Xene felt the slight roiling of her own stomach, but she was able to swallow it down, having seen wounds similar to this when the Taengean men had last returned from fighting Creeders. That had been a shock then, and this was less so of one now. It was Fotios' voice, however, that had her turning her head slightly to glance up at the lord speaking to her.
Something in her gaze hardened, and though she kept the graceful expression on her features, there was a glint of sourness in her gaze as she levelled Lord Fotios with a firm stare. Thent he man was screaming and Xene had to keep herself from scrambling back at the pained sounds driving from the man's mouth. She was not done with Fotios, and he likely knew it by the simmering irritation in her eyes and her body, though the tensing in her muscles could be seen as agitation over the situation around her.
Giving Basilides a single glance, Xene pulled away from the gathering group around the man, not wanting to listen to Lord Fotios question a man who was very clearly unable to form proper words with all of the screaming. Glancing toward Sara she gave the girl a really watery smile, pleased that Lord Emilios had shown up to direct her elsewhere. "I still owe you a gown," the princess said quietly, looking down at her bloodied hands and then closing her eyes firmly for a moment. It was okay. This would be okay.
When she opened her eyes once more, she spotted the queen barrelling down the length of the beach, her hand against her mouth. Frowning now, the princess followed her cousin, stopping only for a moment to try and rinse some of the blood from her hands as she got progressively closer to Theodora. Noting that the queen was ill, Xene was quick to place herself in a position that would guide her monarch from most views, standing behind her to give her privacy but also keeping watch on the world around them. "My queen," Xene said softly, "I think perhaps this may not be the best place for you. Lord Emilios has arrived, between the two of them, I am very sure that Lord Leventi and he can handle the rest of this," the princess tried to coax the queen back to her feet before she could be seen losing her breakfast.
Her eyes were still closed when a familiar voice called her name, hands firmly coming down on her shoulders. She did not dare open her eyes, worried that her stomach which was becoming more disturbed by the minute would revolt if she saw the wrong them. She was wordless as she turned into her brother’s embrace, letting him muffle the sounds of the world with his arms around her. His tight hold was comforting and grounding, so when he pulled away she was able to look him in the eyes. Her young face was painted with pain, and the utterly crushing shame that she was not truly able to be of use here.
She flinched as the man had started to cry out, though surely the pain would cause him to pass out soon. She barely heard Emilios when he spoke, watching his lips move but it was as if the scream had been a deafening blast. She nodded, steadying herself against his arms before pushing away to go back to the palati as he had suggested. If she could not be useful on the beach, then she could help somewhere else -- and try not to think about how weak she was.
I still owe you a gown She glanced up at the words, meeting Princess Xene’s eyes. She gave the princess a watery smile, wishing that she hadn’t appeared so weak in front of the beautiful woman. She doubted very much that she would ever take her up on that new gown, but the sentiment was nice and would not be forgotten.
Her feet were heavy on the beach’s shore, but she found herself up and away before long. Departing the shores was a relief, because as far as she knew -- Achilleas had not been on that beach and that was all she had wanted to know. So now she would go back to the house and begin to organize the servants there to deliver more supplies and things that her brother had asked her to see to.
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Her eyes were still closed when a familiar voice called her name, hands firmly coming down on her shoulders. She did not dare open her eyes, worried that her stomach which was becoming more disturbed by the minute would revolt if she saw the wrong them. She was wordless as she turned into her brother’s embrace, letting him muffle the sounds of the world with his arms around her. His tight hold was comforting and grounding, so when he pulled away she was able to look him in the eyes. Her young face was painted with pain, and the utterly crushing shame that she was not truly able to be of use here.
She flinched as the man had started to cry out, though surely the pain would cause him to pass out soon. She barely heard Emilios when he spoke, watching his lips move but it was as if the scream had been a deafening blast. She nodded, steadying herself against his arms before pushing away to go back to the palati as he had suggested. If she could not be useful on the beach, then she could help somewhere else -- and try not to think about how weak she was.
I still owe you a gown She glanced up at the words, meeting Princess Xene’s eyes. She gave the princess a watery smile, wishing that she hadn’t appeared so weak in front of the beautiful woman. She doubted very much that she would ever take her up on that new gown, but the sentiment was nice and would not be forgotten.
Her feet were heavy on the beach’s shore, but she found herself up and away before long. Departing the shores was a relief, because as far as she knew -- Achilleas had not been on that beach and that was all she had wanted to know. So now she would go back to the house and begin to organize the servants there to deliver more supplies and things that her brother had asked her to see to.
Her eyes were still closed when a familiar voice called her name, hands firmly coming down on her shoulders. She did not dare open her eyes, worried that her stomach which was becoming more disturbed by the minute would revolt if she saw the wrong them. She was wordless as she turned into her brother’s embrace, letting him muffle the sounds of the world with his arms around her. His tight hold was comforting and grounding, so when he pulled away she was able to look him in the eyes. Her young face was painted with pain, and the utterly crushing shame that she was not truly able to be of use here.
She flinched as the man had started to cry out, though surely the pain would cause him to pass out soon. She barely heard Emilios when he spoke, watching his lips move but it was as if the scream had been a deafening blast. She nodded, steadying herself against his arms before pushing away to go back to the palati as he had suggested. If she could not be useful on the beach, then she could help somewhere else -- and try not to think about how weak she was.
I still owe you a gown She glanced up at the words, meeting Princess Xene’s eyes. She gave the princess a watery smile, wishing that she hadn’t appeared so weak in front of the beautiful woman. She doubted very much that she would ever take her up on that new gown, but the sentiment was nice and would not be forgotten.
Her feet were heavy on the beach’s shore, but she found herself up and away before long. Departing the shores was a relief, because as far as she knew -- Achilleas had not been on that beach and that was all she had wanted to know. So now she would go back to the house and begin to organize the servants there to deliver more supplies and things that her brother had asked her to see to.
Over the years with the theatre troupe, there had been many injuries and illnesses, so much so that towards the end Basilides had budgeted for a surgeon to be hired and paid to be a part of the troupe. With men and women flying through the air and performing feats meant to thrill and surprise, there was alway something that had gone home. With that, though, he only ever lingered briefly enough to see that what ever needed to be done got done and to ensure that whatever costs were required ended up properly recorded in the ledgers
As the dark-skinned woman approached, her words were spoken with the same authority as the troupe surgeon, and sent the merchant's eyes wide with surprise - "His what?" It was almost an entirely rhetorical question, not necessarily so much about what a liver was - he knew that - but more on the incredulity of it being outside of the man's body instead of within it.
Her rather colorful description of what would happen if it were pressed to hard had Bas' gut tightening and sent the threatening burn of bile at the base of his throat.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Princess Xene was pulled away from the man just as the dark woman began to cup the man's exposed liver and attempt to slide it back inside his torso. For a moment, Bas thought he saw the briefest flash of white - was that a rib? - when the man began to flail against him.
"Ho, whoa!" Bas started, grunting as the injured man's elbow made contact with the merchant's side with surprising force for a nearly dead man. The order to restrain him immediately went answered by Bas, his arms weaving awkwardly around the man's own arms and torso, gripping as if he were trying to hold a fish caught from one of the decorative fountains at the Palati. Grimacing from the efforts to hold the man and at the sharpness of the screams so close to his own ear, he put the entirety of his focus on keeping the man as still as possible.
The near-dead man's head tossed from side to side as if he were trying to wriggle away from woman's hand - understandably so. There was no way the man would have known who was talking to him at all, or the words asked. The information, though, was vital to the kingdom.
So, as rude as it would have been, Bas wormed his hand under the man's arm and to the back of his head, rather forcefully grabbing the man's hair in a fisted grip and holding it still, turning it to face Lord Fotios directly. The surprise of the sudden grip seemed to startle the man very briefly from the most significant pain - his eyes flinging open wildly as he could not move his head one way or another now, gasping and screaming.
"Breathe, man! Breathe a moment! And listen!" Bas snapped, frustrated with the sandy, bloody, sweaty position he was in. It was cruel, he imagined, to force a dying man through more suffering like this, but if they did not know what happened, then making it back to the shores of Taengea would have all been in vain.
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Over the years with the theatre troupe, there had been many injuries and illnesses, so much so that towards the end Basilides had budgeted for a surgeon to be hired and paid to be a part of the troupe. With men and women flying through the air and performing feats meant to thrill and surprise, there was alway something that had gone home. With that, though, he only ever lingered briefly enough to see that what ever needed to be done got done and to ensure that whatever costs were required ended up properly recorded in the ledgers
As the dark-skinned woman approached, her words were spoken with the same authority as the troupe surgeon, and sent the merchant's eyes wide with surprise - "His what?" It was almost an entirely rhetorical question, not necessarily so much about what a liver was - he knew that - but more on the incredulity of it being outside of the man's body instead of within it.
Her rather colorful description of what would happen if it were pressed to hard had Bas' gut tightening and sent the threatening burn of bile at the base of his throat.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Princess Xene was pulled away from the man just as the dark woman began to cup the man's exposed liver and attempt to slide it back inside his torso. For a moment, Bas thought he saw the briefest flash of white - was that a rib? - when the man began to flail against him.
"Ho, whoa!" Bas started, grunting as the injured man's elbow made contact with the merchant's side with surprising force for a nearly dead man. The order to restrain him immediately went answered by Bas, his arms weaving awkwardly around the man's own arms and torso, gripping as if he were trying to hold a fish caught from one of the decorative fountains at the Palati. Grimacing from the efforts to hold the man and at the sharpness of the screams so close to his own ear, he put the entirety of his focus on keeping the man as still as possible.
The near-dead man's head tossed from side to side as if he were trying to wriggle away from woman's hand - understandably so. There was no way the man would have known who was talking to him at all, or the words asked. The information, though, was vital to the kingdom.
So, as rude as it would have been, Bas wormed his hand under the man's arm and to the back of his head, rather forcefully grabbing the man's hair in a fisted grip and holding it still, turning it to face Lord Fotios directly. The surprise of the sudden grip seemed to startle the man very briefly from the most significant pain - his eyes flinging open wildly as he could not move his head one way or another now, gasping and screaming.
"Breathe, man! Breathe a moment! And listen!" Bas snapped, frustrated with the sandy, bloody, sweaty position he was in. It was cruel, he imagined, to force a dying man through more suffering like this, but if they did not know what happened, then making it back to the shores of Taengea would have all been in vain.
Over the years with the theatre troupe, there had been many injuries and illnesses, so much so that towards the end Basilides had budgeted for a surgeon to be hired and paid to be a part of the troupe. With men and women flying through the air and performing feats meant to thrill and surprise, there was alway something that had gone home. With that, though, he only ever lingered briefly enough to see that what ever needed to be done got done and to ensure that whatever costs were required ended up properly recorded in the ledgers
As the dark-skinned woman approached, her words were spoken with the same authority as the troupe surgeon, and sent the merchant's eyes wide with surprise - "His what?" It was almost an entirely rhetorical question, not necessarily so much about what a liver was - he knew that - but more on the incredulity of it being outside of the man's body instead of within it.
Her rather colorful description of what would happen if it were pressed to hard had Bas' gut tightening and sent the threatening burn of bile at the base of his throat.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Princess Xene was pulled away from the man just as the dark woman began to cup the man's exposed liver and attempt to slide it back inside his torso. For a moment, Bas thought he saw the briefest flash of white - was that a rib? - when the man began to flail against him.
"Ho, whoa!" Bas started, grunting as the injured man's elbow made contact with the merchant's side with surprising force for a nearly dead man. The order to restrain him immediately went answered by Bas, his arms weaving awkwardly around the man's own arms and torso, gripping as if he were trying to hold a fish caught from one of the decorative fountains at the Palati. Grimacing from the efforts to hold the man and at the sharpness of the screams so close to his own ear, he put the entirety of his focus on keeping the man as still as possible.
The near-dead man's head tossed from side to side as if he were trying to wriggle away from woman's hand - understandably so. There was no way the man would have known who was talking to him at all, or the words asked. The information, though, was vital to the kingdom.
So, as rude as it would have been, Bas wormed his hand under the man's arm and to the back of his head, rather forcefully grabbing the man's hair in a fisted grip and holding it still, turning it to face Lord Fotios directly. The surprise of the sudden grip seemed to startle the man very briefly from the most significant pain - his eyes flinging open wildly as he could not move his head one way or another now, gasping and screaming.
"Breathe, man! Breathe a moment! And listen!" Bas snapped, frustrated with the sandy, bloody, sweaty position he was in. It was cruel, he imagined, to force a dying man through more suffering like this, but if they did not know what happened, then making it back to the shores of Taengea would have all been in vain.
Theodora wanted to cry when she looked up to see another approaching, ducking behind the curtain of her disheveled hair to hide the shame she felt. Gods, but this was so humiliating; she was a Queen now, a woman in a powerful position of respect and authority, and she couldn’t even look at a few injuries without being sick. What sort of message did this send? Would those present think her weak? Ineffective? She had to be strong, especially now when everything was so uncertain. She couldn’t let them think she was as feeble as she felt.
When Princess Xene approached and stood in front of her in a way that would shield her from the eyes of most, she felt an immense gratitude toward her new cousin that she could scarce express. “Thank you,” she murmured, surreptitiously wiping at her mouth. “Please just… make sure they don’t see. No one should find me like this.”
At her mention of Emilios’s arrival, Theo’s heart sank. While there was nothing she wanted more than to seek him out, to hide behind his strength and let it outweigh her lack, she knew that was hardly a better option than obscuring herself behind these rocks. The kiss they shared in the woods only days ago still weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew the last thing she ought to do was go to him—but he knew her better than anyone present. He would know what to say to bolster her spirits, to give her the strength she needed to bear through this. Unfortunately, though, that was not really an option. She could hardly be seen hanging on her husband’s brother like he was her lifeline. Even if it felt like he was.
As Xene gently suggested that perhaps she ought to leave the rest of this to Emilios and Fotios, Theodora stubbornly shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, moving from her position on her knees to sit a little more comfortably in the unsullied sand. “Others have seen me arrive. How would it look if I just left now, before we’ve even learned anything?” Blinking away the tears that stung at her eyes, she set her jaw in a hard line. “I have to fight through this. I just… I need a moment.”
Swallowing hard, she nearly gagged again at the putrid taste in her mouth. “Princess, might I trouble you to find me some water?” she implored Xene, trying to keep the desperation from her gaze as she looked up at her. “I think I can manage after that.” I hope so, anyway.
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Theodora wanted to cry when she looked up to see another approaching, ducking behind the curtain of her disheveled hair to hide the shame she felt. Gods, but this was so humiliating; she was a Queen now, a woman in a powerful position of respect and authority, and she couldn’t even look at a few injuries without being sick. What sort of message did this send? Would those present think her weak? Ineffective? She had to be strong, especially now when everything was so uncertain. She couldn’t let them think she was as feeble as she felt.
When Princess Xene approached and stood in front of her in a way that would shield her from the eyes of most, she felt an immense gratitude toward her new cousin that she could scarce express. “Thank you,” she murmured, surreptitiously wiping at her mouth. “Please just… make sure they don’t see. No one should find me like this.”
At her mention of Emilios’s arrival, Theo’s heart sank. While there was nothing she wanted more than to seek him out, to hide behind his strength and let it outweigh her lack, she knew that was hardly a better option than obscuring herself behind these rocks. The kiss they shared in the woods only days ago still weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew the last thing she ought to do was go to him—but he knew her better than anyone present. He would know what to say to bolster her spirits, to give her the strength she needed to bear through this. Unfortunately, though, that was not really an option. She could hardly be seen hanging on her husband’s brother like he was her lifeline. Even if it felt like he was.
As Xene gently suggested that perhaps she ought to leave the rest of this to Emilios and Fotios, Theodora stubbornly shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, moving from her position on her knees to sit a little more comfortably in the unsullied sand. “Others have seen me arrive. How would it look if I just left now, before we’ve even learned anything?” Blinking away the tears that stung at her eyes, she set her jaw in a hard line. “I have to fight through this. I just… I need a moment.”
Swallowing hard, she nearly gagged again at the putrid taste in her mouth. “Princess, might I trouble you to find me some water?” she implored Xene, trying to keep the desperation from her gaze as she looked up at her. “I think I can manage after that.” I hope so, anyway.
Theodora wanted to cry when she looked up to see another approaching, ducking behind the curtain of her disheveled hair to hide the shame she felt. Gods, but this was so humiliating; she was a Queen now, a woman in a powerful position of respect and authority, and she couldn’t even look at a few injuries without being sick. What sort of message did this send? Would those present think her weak? Ineffective? She had to be strong, especially now when everything was so uncertain. She couldn’t let them think she was as feeble as she felt.
When Princess Xene approached and stood in front of her in a way that would shield her from the eyes of most, she felt an immense gratitude toward her new cousin that she could scarce express. “Thank you,” she murmured, surreptitiously wiping at her mouth. “Please just… make sure they don’t see. No one should find me like this.”
At her mention of Emilios’s arrival, Theo’s heart sank. While there was nothing she wanted more than to seek him out, to hide behind his strength and let it outweigh her lack, she knew that was hardly a better option than obscuring herself behind these rocks. The kiss they shared in the woods only days ago still weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew the last thing she ought to do was go to him—but he knew her better than anyone present. He would know what to say to bolster her spirits, to give her the strength she needed to bear through this. Unfortunately, though, that was not really an option. She could hardly be seen hanging on her husband’s brother like he was her lifeline. Even if it felt like he was.
As Xene gently suggested that perhaps she ought to leave the rest of this to Emilios and Fotios, Theodora stubbornly shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, moving from her position on her knees to sit a little more comfortably in the unsullied sand. “Others have seen me arrive. How would it look if I just left now, before we’ve even learned anything?” Blinking away the tears that stung at her eyes, she set her jaw in a hard line. “I have to fight through this. I just… I need a moment.”
Swallowing hard, she nearly gagged again at the putrid taste in her mouth. “Princess, might I trouble you to find me some water?” she implored Xene, trying to keep the desperation from her gaze as she looked up at her. “I think I can manage after that.” I hope so, anyway.