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The warning stares of the priestesses of Hathor made Lukos smirk in return. Their glares were not enough to send chills down his spine or pierce him with fear in the way they seemed to intend. He was too used to dealing with the very basest levels of humanity and too many rough and mouthy sailors to be afraid of beautiful, ethereal women in an overhot temple. Added to this, Lukos had no shame. Even if his intent was to gently take Nafretiri to her death somewhere in the desert, he’d still have smiled politely into the head priestess’s face and wished her a good morning, with nary a hint of what he was about to do. Luckily for the Nafretiri, Lukos rarely killed without a reason, however thin it might be, and she was quite safe for the moment.
They moved through the breezy corridors while she spoke, Lukos constantly fidgeting with the collar of his loose shirt, attempting to get air moving in it to keep the fabric from sticking to his body like a second skin. Greece was hot - thus his shirt was made of linen, like those that the Egyptians wore, but instead of his clothing being white, his was dyed a deep red. In this heat, it was turning black beneath his arms and giving him a black diamond down his chest. Gods it was hot. Greece’s heat was a different level from Egypt. Their sun god seemed to him to watch these people with an unmerciful eye.
He nodded at her ‘any help he was willing to give’ comment but made no commitment to it. She hadn’t exactly explained how this would benefit him personally. A hawk’s sharp cry echoed off the rocky desert ground and Lukos looked up, shading his eyes with his hand to see where the bird was. He found it wheeling above them in long, graceful circles. With his face scrunched up, he didn’t interrupt his momentary companion as she laid out her carefully thought out reasons for why he might be interested in helping her. At the hint of prostitutes, Lukos found himself smiling and dropped his hand, returning his dark eyes to her. Never mind that the priestesses of Hathor would do what he wanted with payment. He intended to do nothing at all to ensure that he didn’t have to pay. That sounded like a lot more effort than to place a coin in a woman’s palm for an hour or two, where she’d pretend to like it.
“I don’t need or want their respect,” he finally cut in and clasped his hands behind his back. They were now stopped well outside the temple, but still in view. Their steps had carried them a bit off the beaten path and they stood under the intermittent shade of a palm tree. Its fronds whispered high above them but Lukos didn’t look up this time. His attention was still fixed on Nafretiri.
“What exactly is it you’re wanting of me? Because I think you have some misguided notion that I’ll do something for the sake of a good deed. I work for coin and my own pleasure. That’s it.”
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The warning stares of the priestesses of Hathor made Lukos smirk in return. Their glares were not enough to send chills down his spine or pierce him with fear in the way they seemed to intend. He was too used to dealing with the very basest levels of humanity and too many rough and mouthy sailors to be afraid of beautiful, ethereal women in an overhot temple. Added to this, Lukos had no shame. Even if his intent was to gently take Nafretiri to her death somewhere in the desert, he’d still have smiled politely into the head priestess’s face and wished her a good morning, with nary a hint of what he was about to do. Luckily for the Nafretiri, Lukos rarely killed without a reason, however thin it might be, and she was quite safe for the moment.
They moved through the breezy corridors while she spoke, Lukos constantly fidgeting with the collar of his loose shirt, attempting to get air moving in it to keep the fabric from sticking to his body like a second skin. Greece was hot - thus his shirt was made of linen, like those that the Egyptians wore, but instead of his clothing being white, his was dyed a deep red. In this heat, it was turning black beneath his arms and giving him a black diamond down his chest. Gods it was hot. Greece’s heat was a different level from Egypt. Their sun god seemed to him to watch these people with an unmerciful eye.
He nodded at her ‘any help he was willing to give’ comment but made no commitment to it. She hadn’t exactly explained how this would benefit him personally. A hawk’s sharp cry echoed off the rocky desert ground and Lukos looked up, shading his eyes with his hand to see where the bird was. He found it wheeling above them in long, graceful circles. With his face scrunched up, he didn’t interrupt his momentary companion as she laid out her carefully thought out reasons for why he might be interested in helping her. At the hint of prostitutes, Lukos found himself smiling and dropped his hand, returning his dark eyes to her. Never mind that the priestesses of Hathor would do what he wanted with payment. He intended to do nothing at all to ensure that he didn’t have to pay. That sounded like a lot more effort than to place a coin in a woman’s palm for an hour or two, where she’d pretend to like it.
“I don’t need or want their respect,” he finally cut in and clasped his hands behind his back. They were now stopped well outside the temple, but still in view. Their steps had carried them a bit off the beaten path and they stood under the intermittent shade of a palm tree. Its fronds whispered high above them but Lukos didn’t look up this time. His attention was still fixed on Nafretiri.
“What exactly is it you’re wanting of me? Because I think you have some misguided notion that I’ll do something for the sake of a good deed. I work for coin and my own pleasure. That’s it.”
The warning stares of the priestesses of Hathor made Lukos smirk in return. Their glares were not enough to send chills down his spine or pierce him with fear in the way they seemed to intend. He was too used to dealing with the very basest levels of humanity and too many rough and mouthy sailors to be afraid of beautiful, ethereal women in an overhot temple. Added to this, Lukos had no shame. Even if his intent was to gently take Nafretiri to her death somewhere in the desert, he’d still have smiled politely into the head priestess’s face and wished her a good morning, with nary a hint of what he was about to do. Luckily for the Nafretiri, Lukos rarely killed without a reason, however thin it might be, and she was quite safe for the moment.
They moved through the breezy corridors while she spoke, Lukos constantly fidgeting with the collar of his loose shirt, attempting to get air moving in it to keep the fabric from sticking to his body like a second skin. Greece was hot - thus his shirt was made of linen, like those that the Egyptians wore, but instead of his clothing being white, his was dyed a deep red. In this heat, it was turning black beneath his arms and giving him a black diamond down his chest. Gods it was hot. Greece’s heat was a different level from Egypt. Their sun god seemed to him to watch these people with an unmerciful eye.
He nodded at her ‘any help he was willing to give’ comment but made no commitment to it. She hadn’t exactly explained how this would benefit him personally. A hawk’s sharp cry echoed off the rocky desert ground and Lukos looked up, shading his eyes with his hand to see where the bird was. He found it wheeling above them in long, graceful circles. With his face scrunched up, he didn’t interrupt his momentary companion as she laid out her carefully thought out reasons for why he might be interested in helping her. At the hint of prostitutes, Lukos found himself smiling and dropped his hand, returning his dark eyes to her. Never mind that the priestesses of Hathor would do what he wanted with payment. He intended to do nothing at all to ensure that he didn’t have to pay. That sounded like a lot more effort than to place a coin in a woman’s palm for an hour or two, where she’d pretend to like it.
“I don’t need or want their respect,” he finally cut in and clasped his hands behind his back. They were now stopped well outside the temple, but still in view. Their steps had carried them a bit off the beaten path and they stood under the intermittent shade of a palm tree. Its fronds whispered high above them but Lukos didn’t look up this time. His attention was still fixed on Nafretiri.
“What exactly is it you’re wanting of me? Because I think you have some misguided notion that I’ll do something for the sake of a good deed. I work for coin and my own pleasure. That’s it.”
Nafretiri had to be honest, both with him and with herself. no matter what it was going to cost her now. And from the look in his eyes at certain times, her honesty could cost her anything, even her life, and if not that, maybe an arm or a leg. But she had to trust in the gods now, didn't she? If she were really as devout as she was tryingto be, she'd just have to. She was trembling again, but this time the fear and anger which caused it were equal to each other. She looked him straight in the eye this time her anger and self-loathing probably equally evident, stomping her foot in anger.
"I don't know! Perhaps I just cracked. Being under this level of stress for a year now..." Actually it was more than a year, if one counted the months that remained of her pregnancy by the time she had actually arrived at the Hathor temple. She breathed in and out once through her teeth. "It's excruciating. Surely, all humans must have a limit to how long they can carry around a painful secret and a terrifying need to do something to escape the stress." She regarded him for a minute, her gaze calculating. "Except yourself, perhaps." She was willing to admit that he might possess a level of cunning that meant he could keep any secret possible until death and beyond.
"But you're right about everything. I have nothing to offer you that you would probably desire." And the one thing he might indeed desire had already been forcefully taken from her.... Her eyes turned wistful for a minute, as if, if the circumstances of her life had been different, she might like to be one of those prostitutes she talked about. Not that she would like it, but at least she wouldn't be so afraid That would have been something.
"And yes, I saw the look in your eyes- just for a second- the look that probably means it doesn't matter what a Hathor priestess thinks, and that you could do what you wanted if you chose. Who better than I- with what I have been through that you are now aware of- would know that a temple of women likely can't protect me if I should need it? But what exactly was I supposed to have done? Sometimes even the most loathsome predators respect the gods. Anywhere else, I would have absolutely nothing. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" Well, perhaps. Unless you were a foreigner among those women. But it was too late for her now.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
Nafretiri heard the wind whisper through the palm fronds, and suddenly she felt braver than before, though it was a courage born of self-hatred and not anything even remotely good or noble. For the space of about three breaths, she composed herself. Would he see that she was angry only because she had shattered? She had to trust someone at some point, she reasoned, or die bitter and alone. At least she'd tried to be brave. She looked up at the sun once, as if telling it goodbye.
"You may do as you will, though I notice I've offered you henbane, belladonna, and apricot seeds, and you haven't yet taken any of them. What did you want those potions and ingredients for anyway? You said you had different ideas for them than what I might suppose. I might as well know that before you potentially end my life. Or perhaps if you don't end my life, I may do so myself!"
Having said this, she began running back toward the temple entrance, not in fear, but determinedly. Perhaps if she ran speedily enough, she'd bash her head against the wall. Suicide couldn't be any worse than hating yourself, could it?
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Nafretiri had to be honest, both with him and with herself. no matter what it was going to cost her now. And from the look in his eyes at certain times, her honesty could cost her anything, even her life, and if not that, maybe an arm or a leg. But she had to trust in the gods now, didn't she? If she were really as devout as she was tryingto be, she'd just have to. She was trembling again, but this time the fear and anger which caused it were equal to each other. She looked him straight in the eye this time her anger and self-loathing probably equally evident, stomping her foot in anger.
"I don't know! Perhaps I just cracked. Being under this level of stress for a year now..." Actually it was more than a year, if one counted the months that remained of her pregnancy by the time she had actually arrived at the Hathor temple. She breathed in and out once through her teeth. "It's excruciating. Surely, all humans must have a limit to how long they can carry around a painful secret and a terrifying need to do something to escape the stress." She regarded him for a minute, her gaze calculating. "Except yourself, perhaps." She was willing to admit that he might possess a level of cunning that meant he could keep any secret possible until death and beyond.
"But you're right about everything. I have nothing to offer you that you would probably desire." And the one thing he might indeed desire had already been forcefully taken from her.... Her eyes turned wistful for a minute, as if, if the circumstances of her life had been different, she might like to be one of those prostitutes she talked about. Not that she would like it, but at least she wouldn't be so afraid That would have been something.
"And yes, I saw the look in your eyes- just for a second- the look that probably means it doesn't matter what a Hathor priestess thinks, and that you could do what you wanted if you chose. Who better than I- with what I have been through that you are now aware of- would know that a temple of women likely can't protect me if I should need it? But what exactly was I supposed to have done? Sometimes even the most loathsome predators respect the gods. Anywhere else, I would have absolutely nothing. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" Well, perhaps. Unless you were a foreigner among those women. But it was too late for her now.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
Nafretiri heard the wind whisper through the palm fronds, and suddenly she felt braver than before, though it was a courage born of self-hatred and not anything even remotely good or noble. For the space of about three breaths, she composed herself. Would he see that she was angry only because she had shattered? She had to trust someone at some point, she reasoned, or die bitter and alone. At least she'd tried to be brave. She looked up at the sun once, as if telling it goodbye.
"You may do as you will, though I notice I've offered you henbane, belladonna, and apricot seeds, and you haven't yet taken any of them. What did you want those potions and ingredients for anyway? You said you had different ideas for them than what I might suppose. I might as well know that before you potentially end my life. Or perhaps if you don't end my life, I may do so myself!"
Having said this, she began running back toward the temple entrance, not in fear, but determinedly. Perhaps if she ran speedily enough, she'd bash her head against the wall. Suicide couldn't be any worse than hating yourself, could it?
Nafretiri had to be honest, both with him and with herself. no matter what it was going to cost her now. And from the look in his eyes at certain times, her honesty could cost her anything, even her life, and if not that, maybe an arm or a leg. But she had to trust in the gods now, didn't she? If she were really as devout as she was tryingto be, she'd just have to. She was trembling again, but this time the fear and anger which caused it were equal to each other. She looked him straight in the eye this time her anger and self-loathing probably equally evident, stomping her foot in anger.
"I don't know! Perhaps I just cracked. Being under this level of stress for a year now..." Actually it was more than a year, if one counted the months that remained of her pregnancy by the time she had actually arrived at the Hathor temple. She breathed in and out once through her teeth. "It's excruciating. Surely, all humans must have a limit to how long they can carry around a painful secret and a terrifying need to do something to escape the stress." She regarded him for a minute, her gaze calculating. "Except yourself, perhaps." She was willing to admit that he might possess a level of cunning that meant he could keep any secret possible until death and beyond.
"But you're right about everything. I have nothing to offer you that you would probably desire." And the one thing he might indeed desire had already been forcefully taken from her.... Her eyes turned wistful for a minute, as if, if the circumstances of her life had been different, she might like to be one of those prostitutes she talked about. Not that she would like it, but at least she wouldn't be so afraid That would have been something.
"And yes, I saw the look in your eyes- just for a second- the look that probably means it doesn't matter what a Hathor priestess thinks, and that you could do what you wanted if you chose. Who better than I- with what I have been through that you are now aware of- would know that a temple of women likely can't protect me if I should need it? But what exactly was I supposed to have done? Sometimes even the most loathsome predators respect the gods. Anywhere else, I would have absolutely nothing. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" Well, perhaps. Unless you were a foreigner among those women. But it was too late for her now.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
Nafretiri heard the wind whisper through the palm fronds, and suddenly she felt braver than before, though it was a courage born of self-hatred and not anything even remotely good or noble. For the space of about three breaths, she composed herself. Would he see that she was angry only because she had shattered? She had to trust someone at some point, she reasoned, or die bitter and alone. At least she'd tried to be brave. She looked up at the sun once, as if telling it goodbye.
"You may do as you will, though I notice I've offered you henbane, belladonna, and apricot seeds, and you haven't yet taken any of them. What did you want those potions and ingredients for anyway? You said you had different ideas for them than what I might suppose. I might as well know that before you potentially end my life. Or perhaps if you don't end my life, I may do so myself!"
Having said this, she began running back toward the temple entrance, not in fear, but determinedly. Perhaps if she ran speedily enough, she'd bash her head against the wall. Suicide couldn't be any worse than hating yourself, could it?
Lukos merely offered her a bemused smirk as her manner suddenly flipped on its head. Before, she’d been sedate, alarmed, but mostly docile. Now, the panic and confusion that he supposed she’d been holding at bay bubbled to the surface. Words poured out of her mouth in a halting stream and he said nothing to any of it, except to nod when she accused him of being able to keep painful secrets hidden, and to smirk when she claimed to have nothing of value that he’d want. She was absolutely right in thinking that he wasn’t going to take a tumble in bed with her in lieu of payment but if she wanted to in spite of pay? Who was he to say no to a priestess?
Unfortunately, she didn’t appear to be offering to sleep together. Since that wasn’t what he’d come for in the first place, he didn’t bring it up. What she did start doing was launching into a conversation that felt like he’d walked into the center of without being privy to the first portion. As she spoke, he scrunched up his face a little bit, eyes narrowing, trying to follow her train of thought. He even clasped his hands behind his back, blinking at her every so often as she accused him of all kinds of accurate things, but then spoke as though he knew things about her that he did not. His best guess was this had to do with her asking for his help from...whoever that might be. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" she demanded suddenly, to which Lukos found himself, at a loss of how to answer that.
“Yes?” he hazarded, unsure that she actually wanted an answer or why he was even giving one. Their interaction had taken on such a bizarre turn, to his mind, that he was a little lost on how they’d gotten to this point. Obviously it had to do with her sudden tears but all that she was saying, he was only half following. If they were on his ship, or if she was under his power in some way, he’d have had no trouble settling her down. There were ways, both easy and cruel that he knew of to ensure no tears and perfect silence. But they weren’t on his ship, she wasn’t his slave, his lover, or his anything, truthfully. She was a completely free agent, able to do as she pleased, and despite whatever she’d been thinking, he had no intention of killing her. Lukos did things to serve himself, and spilling her blood in the sand benefited him in no way, shape, or form at the moment.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
He refolded his arms after that statement, giving her raised eyebrows and looking her up and down. To say he disagreed with her on the naive part was an understatement. There wasn’t much time for him to contradict her. Nafretiri’s emotions were running high and she launched from one topic to another, not appearing to really want him to answer the questions she flung at him. Lukos sighed loudly when she demanded to know what he was even going to do with the potions before she flat out accused him of attempting to murder her and ran.
“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, watching dust trail behind her as she fled back to the temple. At least she wasn’t weeping anymore. There was that. For a few seconds, he stood, hands on his hips, debating about leaving, but then closed his eyes and let his head tip slowly back until his face was bathed with green shadows from the palm. “The potions,” he groaned aloud. “Are inside the fucking temple.” He had to go back.
By the time Lukos wandered back to the temple, Nafertiri was lost to sight. He walked up the stairs, arms folded, maintaining eye contact with the priestesses he passed, daring them to assume that he’d been the one to make the girl cry. But Lukos was definitely on his way back to where he’d left the potion she’d already given him. He needed it, though he found Nafertiri first.
“There’s no limit,” he said to her back, finding her turned away from him. “To human suffering. Trust me. And you don’t need hopes and dreams to continue on.” He shrugged and looked out towards the desert vista, still open to him from here. “You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing. You will go to sleep, you’ll wake up. You’ll eat eventually.” Looking back at her, he let his eyes wander up and down her, taking in the measure of her. “Only weak people lay down and die.” His jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you even understand the tip of suffering.” This last part was said in such a cold, calloused way that brooked no argument. He knew what it was like to suffer. All he could tell was that she’d run from a man she didn’t like and had a child out of wedlock. To Lukos, that didn’t count as suffering.
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Lukos merely offered her a bemused smirk as her manner suddenly flipped on its head. Before, she’d been sedate, alarmed, but mostly docile. Now, the panic and confusion that he supposed she’d been holding at bay bubbled to the surface. Words poured out of her mouth in a halting stream and he said nothing to any of it, except to nod when she accused him of being able to keep painful secrets hidden, and to smirk when she claimed to have nothing of value that he’d want. She was absolutely right in thinking that he wasn’t going to take a tumble in bed with her in lieu of payment but if she wanted to in spite of pay? Who was he to say no to a priestess?
Unfortunately, she didn’t appear to be offering to sleep together. Since that wasn’t what he’d come for in the first place, he didn’t bring it up. What she did start doing was launching into a conversation that felt like he’d walked into the center of without being privy to the first portion. As she spoke, he scrunched up his face a little bit, eyes narrowing, trying to follow her train of thought. He even clasped his hands behind his back, blinking at her every so often as she accused him of all kinds of accurate things, but then spoke as though he knew things about her that he did not. His best guess was this had to do with her asking for his help from...whoever that might be. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" she demanded suddenly, to which Lukos found himself, at a loss of how to answer that.
“Yes?” he hazarded, unsure that she actually wanted an answer or why he was even giving one. Their interaction had taken on such a bizarre turn, to his mind, that he was a little lost on how they’d gotten to this point. Obviously it had to do with her sudden tears but all that she was saying, he was only half following. If they were on his ship, or if she was under his power in some way, he’d have had no trouble settling her down. There were ways, both easy and cruel that he knew of to ensure no tears and perfect silence. But they weren’t on his ship, she wasn’t his slave, his lover, or his anything, truthfully. She was a completely free agent, able to do as she pleased, and despite whatever she’d been thinking, he had no intention of killing her. Lukos did things to serve himself, and spilling her blood in the sand benefited him in no way, shape, or form at the moment.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
He refolded his arms after that statement, giving her raised eyebrows and looking her up and down. To say he disagreed with her on the naive part was an understatement. There wasn’t much time for him to contradict her. Nafretiri’s emotions were running high and she launched from one topic to another, not appearing to really want him to answer the questions she flung at him. Lukos sighed loudly when she demanded to know what he was even going to do with the potions before she flat out accused him of attempting to murder her and ran.
“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, watching dust trail behind her as she fled back to the temple. At least she wasn’t weeping anymore. There was that. For a few seconds, he stood, hands on his hips, debating about leaving, but then closed his eyes and let his head tip slowly back until his face was bathed with green shadows from the palm. “The potions,” he groaned aloud. “Are inside the fucking temple.” He had to go back.
By the time Lukos wandered back to the temple, Nafertiri was lost to sight. He walked up the stairs, arms folded, maintaining eye contact with the priestesses he passed, daring them to assume that he’d been the one to make the girl cry. But Lukos was definitely on his way back to where he’d left the potion she’d already given him. He needed it, though he found Nafertiri first.
“There’s no limit,” he said to her back, finding her turned away from him. “To human suffering. Trust me. And you don’t need hopes and dreams to continue on.” He shrugged and looked out towards the desert vista, still open to him from here. “You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing. You will go to sleep, you’ll wake up. You’ll eat eventually.” Looking back at her, he let his eyes wander up and down her, taking in the measure of her. “Only weak people lay down and die.” His jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you even understand the tip of suffering.” This last part was said in such a cold, calloused way that brooked no argument. He knew what it was like to suffer. All he could tell was that she’d run from a man she didn’t like and had a child out of wedlock. To Lukos, that didn’t count as suffering.
Lukos merely offered her a bemused smirk as her manner suddenly flipped on its head. Before, she’d been sedate, alarmed, but mostly docile. Now, the panic and confusion that he supposed she’d been holding at bay bubbled to the surface. Words poured out of her mouth in a halting stream and he said nothing to any of it, except to nod when she accused him of being able to keep painful secrets hidden, and to smirk when she claimed to have nothing of value that he’d want. She was absolutely right in thinking that he wasn’t going to take a tumble in bed with her in lieu of payment but if she wanted to in spite of pay? Who was he to say no to a priestess?
Unfortunately, she didn’t appear to be offering to sleep together. Since that wasn’t what he’d come for in the first place, he didn’t bring it up. What she did start doing was launching into a conversation that felt like he’d walked into the center of without being privy to the first portion. As she spoke, he scrunched up his face a little bit, eyes narrowing, trying to follow her train of thought. He even clasped his hands behind his back, blinking at her every so often as she accused him of all kinds of accurate things, but then spoke as though he knew things about her that he did not. His best guess was this had to do with her asking for his help from...whoever that might be. And isn't the best place to hide for a woman among other women?" she demanded suddenly, to which Lukos found himself, at a loss of how to answer that.
“Yes?” he hazarded, unsure that she actually wanted an answer or why he was even giving one. Their interaction had taken on such a bizarre turn, to his mind, that he was a little lost on how they’d gotten to this point. Obviously it had to do with her sudden tears but all that she was saying, he was only half following. If they were on his ship, or if she was under his power in some way, he’d have had no trouble settling her down. There were ways, both easy and cruel that he knew of to ensure no tears and perfect silence. But they weren’t on his ship, she wasn’t his slave, his lover, or his anything, truthfully. She was a completely free agent, able to do as she pleased, and despite whatever she’d been thinking, he had no intention of killing her. Lukos did things to serve himself, and spilling her blood in the sand benefited him in no way, shape, or form at the moment.
"Rest assured, I am not as naive as I am aware I most probably seem to you. But I think there is a limit to how much sorrow the human spirit can endure. One must have dreams, sometimes, or else stop breathing. And I had a child coming. One who, if nothing else, will be cared for now."
He refolded his arms after that statement, giving her raised eyebrows and looking her up and down. To say he disagreed with her on the naive part was an understatement. There wasn’t much time for him to contradict her. Nafretiri’s emotions were running high and she launched from one topic to another, not appearing to really want him to answer the questions she flung at him. Lukos sighed loudly when she demanded to know what he was even going to do with the potions before she flat out accused him of attempting to murder her and ran.
“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, watching dust trail behind her as she fled back to the temple. At least she wasn’t weeping anymore. There was that. For a few seconds, he stood, hands on his hips, debating about leaving, but then closed his eyes and let his head tip slowly back until his face was bathed with green shadows from the palm. “The potions,” he groaned aloud. “Are inside the fucking temple.” He had to go back.
By the time Lukos wandered back to the temple, Nafertiri was lost to sight. He walked up the stairs, arms folded, maintaining eye contact with the priestesses he passed, daring them to assume that he’d been the one to make the girl cry. But Lukos was definitely on his way back to where he’d left the potion she’d already given him. He needed it, though he found Nafertiri first.
“There’s no limit,” he said to her back, finding her turned away from him. “To human suffering. Trust me. And you don’t need hopes and dreams to continue on.” He shrugged and looked out towards the desert vista, still open to him from here. “You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing. You will go to sleep, you’ll wake up. You’ll eat eventually.” Looking back at her, he let his eyes wander up and down her, taking in the measure of her. “Only weak people lay down and die.” His jaw clenched and his gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you even understand the tip of suffering.” This last part was said in such a cold, calloused way that brooked no argument. He knew what it was like to suffer. All he could tell was that she’d run from a man she didn’t like and had a child out of wedlock. To Lukos, that didn’t count as suffering.
By the time Lukos had returned to the temple, Nafretiri had somehow calmed down. It wasn't that she lost her nerve- she still ached too much to be happy living this way. But she had remembered Aneksi, because she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that no matter if the priestesses loved Aneksi and would care for her for Nafretiri's sake, it probably wouldn't matter to the girl years later. They were not her biological mothers.
And somehow, that made it worse. Nafretiri hadn't had a choice in how her biological mother had treated her. But to leave Aneksi without a mother when Nafretiri loved her? That was cruel, and for all she knew, it might well be an unforgivable sin on the mother's part- anywhere in the world. She remembered an earlier observation- that if you were not the one suffering, somebody else surely was.
She would be damned if that someone was Aneksi. But she still had an excruciating ache inside- in her heart, in her bones, in her throat, and behind her eyes... and yet she would not let the tears fall. His reaction- what part of it she'd actually witnessed- had taught her all over again that snapping didn't do any good. Who cared if there was a crack in her armor that it seemed no one was willing to help her to fix? It was the only armor she had, and she'd probably just have to avoid the crack from now on. Somehow.
As she returned to her potion counter, he appeared, and although she was shocked by his words, a single phrase penetrated the shock and somehow comforted her, despite his tone. which seemed to want to convey that she'd somehow gotten on his last nerve.
"You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing."
She was suddenly and almost inexplicably filled with a warmth and thankfulness toward him. Surely, she ought to pay him something. He had put words to feelings she had had even back home and couldn't describe.
She had known, somehow, that all the worship and obligation in the world wouldn't change what El Shaddai- or the gods- wanted to do with you. But somehow, it always seemed that religion didn't recognize that, no matter how much real life seemed to prove otherwise.
As she gathered his potions, seeds, and herbs into a basket, she thought for a minute, and then, just before handing the basket to him, she reached up on the shelf. All the temples and vendors seemed to sell amulets here, but the ones she was looking for were special- and monetarily valuable, for they contained
She felt around on the shelf, and finally felt the telltale hardness of the small gem she could not quite see with her eyes while looking for something so high up, tall as she was.
She grabbed the amulet, then returned to her former standing position behind the counter and held the amulet out to him, passing him the basket containing the potions with her other hand.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
So he did get it- sort of. At least someone did.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else." She had a suspicion that he would probably choose to sell it, but if he did, so much the better. He deserved that much for his sage advice.
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By the time Lukos had returned to the temple, Nafretiri had somehow calmed down. It wasn't that she lost her nerve- she still ached too much to be happy living this way. But she had remembered Aneksi, because she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that no matter if the priestesses loved Aneksi and would care for her for Nafretiri's sake, it probably wouldn't matter to the girl years later. They were not her biological mothers.
And somehow, that made it worse. Nafretiri hadn't had a choice in how her biological mother had treated her. But to leave Aneksi without a mother when Nafretiri loved her? That was cruel, and for all she knew, it might well be an unforgivable sin on the mother's part- anywhere in the world. She remembered an earlier observation- that if you were not the one suffering, somebody else surely was.
She would be damned if that someone was Aneksi. But she still had an excruciating ache inside- in her heart, in her bones, in her throat, and behind her eyes... and yet she would not let the tears fall. His reaction- what part of it she'd actually witnessed- had taught her all over again that snapping didn't do any good. Who cared if there was a crack in her armor that it seemed no one was willing to help her to fix? It was the only armor she had, and she'd probably just have to avoid the crack from now on. Somehow.
As she returned to her potion counter, he appeared, and although she was shocked by his words, a single phrase penetrated the shock and somehow comforted her, despite his tone. which seemed to want to convey that she'd somehow gotten on his last nerve.
"You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing."
She was suddenly and almost inexplicably filled with a warmth and thankfulness toward him. Surely, she ought to pay him something. He had put words to feelings she had had even back home and couldn't describe.
She had known, somehow, that all the worship and obligation in the world wouldn't change what El Shaddai- or the gods- wanted to do with you. But somehow, it always seemed that religion didn't recognize that, no matter how much real life seemed to prove otherwise.
As she gathered his potions, seeds, and herbs into a basket, she thought for a minute, and then, just before handing the basket to him, she reached up on the shelf. All the temples and vendors seemed to sell amulets here, but the ones she was looking for were special- and monetarily valuable, for they contained
She felt around on the shelf, and finally felt the telltale hardness of the small gem she could not quite see with her eyes while looking for something so high up, tall as she was.
She grabbed the amulet, then returned to her former standing position behind the counter and held the amulet out to him, passing him the basket containing the potions with her other hand.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
So he did get it- sort of. At least someone did.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else." She had a suspicion that he would probably choose to sell it, but if he did, so much the better. He deserved that much for his sage advice.
By the time Lukos had returned to the temple, Nafretiri had somehow calmed down. It wasn't that she lost her nerve- she still ached too much to be happy living this way. But she had remembered Aneksi, because she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that no matter if the priestesses loved Aneksi and would care for her for Nafretiri's sake, it probably wouldn't matter to the girl years later. They were not her biological mothers.
And somehow, that made it worse. Nafretiri hadn't had a choice in how her biological mother had treated her. But to leave Aneksi without a mother when Nafretiri loved her? That was cruel, and for all she knew, it might well be an unforgivable sin on the mother's part- anywhere in the world. She remembered an earlier observation- that if you were not the one suffering, somebody else surely was.
She would be damned if that someone was Aneksi. But she still had an excruciating ache inside- in her heart, in her bones, in her throat, and behind her eyes... and yet she would not let the tears fall. His reaction- what part of it she'd actually witnessed- had taught her all over again that snapping didn't do any good. Who cared if there was a crack in her armor that it seemed no one was willing to help her to fix? It was the only armor she had, and she'd probably just have to avoid the crack from now on. Somehow.
As she returned to her potion counter, he appeared, and although she was shocked by his words, a single phrase penetrated the shock and somehow comforted her, despite his tone. which seemed to want to convey that she'd somehow gotten on his last nerve.
"You just...keep living. No matter how you want to, you won’t stop breathing."
She was suddenly and almost inexplicably filled with a warmth and thankfulness toward him. Surely, she ought to pay him something. He had put words to feelings she had had even back home and couldn't describe.
She had known, somehow, that all the worship and obligation in the world wouldn't change what El Shaddai- or the gods- wanted to do with you. But somehow, it always seemed that religion didn't recognize that, no matter how much real life seemed to prove otherwise.
As she gathered his potions, seeds, and herbs into a basket, she thought for a minute, and then, just before handing the basket to him, she reached up on the shelf. All the temples and vendors seemed to sell amulets here, but the ones she was looking for were special- and monetarily valuable, for they contained
She felt around on the shelf, and finally felt the telltale hardness of the small gem she could not quite see with her eyes while looking for something so high up, tall as she was.
She grabbed the amulet, then returned to her former standing position behind the counter and held the amulet out to him, passing him the basket containing the potions with her other hand.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
So he did get it- sort of. At least someone did.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else." She had a suspicion that he would probably choose to sell it, but if he did, so much the better. He deserved that much for his sage advice.
Lukos’s eyes narrowed as Nafretiri’s features took on a relieved expression, rather than further offense, but she said nothing at first. He made a ‘hmm’ under his breath and folded his arms, looking around at the huge, decorated columns of limestone. Behind him, she gathered his things into a basket. The shuffling noises were soothing and Lukos paid her no more mind than he would a cat. He spoke Coptic but he could read none of what he was seeing. Recognizing the symbols of Hathor or Horus or even Apophis did not give him the ability to divine what they meant in the context of the hieroglyphs. And just because the symbol of a god or goddess was there didn’t mean it was even talking about that god in the first place. For all Lukos knew, this was Hathor’s laundry list. Probably not, but he didn’t know one way or the other.
The shuffling quieted for a few moments and Lukos half turned to find Nafretiri reaching up for something on a high shelf. His attention dropped to the way her kalisaris framed her ass perfectly while she was on tiptoe, the fabric shifting this way and that as she reached higher, feeling along the shelf. Shame she seemed so disinclined to be loose with herself. It was almost the same moment that he turned back to look at the columns, when her fingers finally brushed the ruby. His back was to her when she came back to the counter and held out the jewel. Lukos only turned back when she started to speak.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
“People don’t often thank-” he began in a smirking, snarky tone but abruptly stopped, frowning at her hand in confusion as she held out the square of elaborate rock containing the ruby. “What’s this?” he asked, not understanding why she was trying to hand him a jewel, and wondering if she was trying to make him pay for it, somehow.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else."
Lukos didn’t immediately reach for it. He edged toward her, arms tightly coiled against his chest, lifting his chin as he studied the gem in her palm. His narrowed eyes flicked up to hers and he nodded towards the gem, about to ask a question, and then changed his mind. He took it from her, growing more comfortable with the situation now that he had it in his possession. Shifting his hip against the counter, and then onto it, so that he sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other leg hanging down for balance, the way he’d have done on the railing of his ship, he inspected what she’d given him.
“I can say other things,” he finally looked back at her, smirking. “What other precious gems do you want to give away?”
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Lukos’s eyes narrowed as Nafretiri’s features took on a relieved expression, rather than further offense, but she said nothing at first. He made a ‘hmm’ under his breath and folded his arms, looking around at the huge, decorated columns of limestone. Behind him, she gathered his things into a basket. The shuffling noises were soothing and Lukos paid her no more mind than he would a cat. He spoke Coptic but he could read none of what he was seeing. Recognizing the symbols of Hathor or Horus or even Apophis did not give him the ability to divine what they meant in the context of the hieroglyphs. And just because the symbol of a god or goddess was there didn’t mean it was even talking about that god in the first place. For all Lukos knew, this was Hathor’s laundry list. Probably not, but he didn’t know one way or the other.
The shuffling quieted for a few moments and Lukos half turned to find Nafretiri reaching up for something on a high shelf. His attention dropped to the way her kalisaris framed her ass perfectly while she was on tiptoe, the fabric shifting this way and that as she reached higher, feeling along the shelf. Shame she seemed so disinclined to be loose with herself. It was almost the same moment that he turned back to look at the columns, when her fingers finally brushed the ruby. His back was to her when she came back to the counter and held out the jewel. Lukos only turned back when she started to speak.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
“People don’t often thank-” he began in a smirking, snarky tone but abruptly stopped, frowning at her hand in confusion as she held out the square of elaborate rock containing the ruby. “What’s this?” he asked, not understanding why she was trying to hand him a jewel, and wondering if she was trying to make him pay for it, somehow.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else."
Lukos didn’t immediately reach for it. He edged toward her, arms tightly coiled against his chest, lifting his chin as he studied the gem in her palm. His narrowed eyes flicked up to hers and he nodded towards the gem, about to ask a question, and then changed his mind. He took it from her, growing more comfortable with the situation now that he had it in his possession. Shifting his hip against the counter, and then onto it, so that he sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other leg hanging down for balance, the way he’d have done on the railing of his ship, he inspected what she’d given him.
“I can say other things,” he finally looked back at her, smirking. “What other precious gems do you want to give away?”
Lukos’s eyes narrowed as Nafretiri’s features took on a relieved expression, rather than further offense, but she said nothing at first. He made a ‘hmm’ under his breath and folded his arms, looking around at the huge, decorated columns of limestone. Behind him, she gathered his things into a basket. The shuffling noises were soothing and Lukos paid her no more mind than he would a cat. He spoke Coptic but he could read none of what he was seeing. Recognizing the symbols of Hathor or Horus or even Apophis did not give him the ability to divine what they meant in the context of the hieroglyphs. And just because the symbol of a god or goddess was there didn’t mean it was even talking about that god in the first place. For all Lukos knew, this was Hathor’s laundry list. Probably not, but he didn’t know one way or the other.
The shuffling quieted for a few moments and Lukos half turned to find Nafretiri reaching up for something on a high shelf. His attention dropped to the way her kalisaris framed her ass perfectly while she was on tiptoe, the fabric shifting this way and that as she reached higher, feeling along the shelf. Shame she seemed so disinclined to be loose with herself. It was almost the same moment that he turned back to look at the columns, when her fingers finally brushed the ruby. His back was to her when she came back to the counter and held out the jewel. Lukos only turned back when she started to speak.
"So. Life isn't quite as complicated as religion sometimes makes it seem, then. You have put words to things I've felt for awhile, but was unsure whether or not to quite believe. Thank you."
“People don’t often thank-” he began in a smirking, snarky tone but abruptly stopped, frowning at her hand in confusion as she held out the square of elaborate rock containing the ruby. “What’s this?” he asked, not understanding why she was trying to hand him a jewel, and wondering if she was trying to make him pay for it, somehow.
"This contains a ruby, and so it's valuable in its own right, whether you choose to use it for worship or to sell to someone else."
Lukos didn’t immediately reach for it. He edged toward her, arms tightly coiled against his chest, lifting his chin as he studied the gem in her palm. His narrowed eyes flicked up to hers and he nodded towards the gem, about to ask a question, and then changed his mind. He took it from her, growing more comfortable with the situation now that he had it in his possession. Shifting his hip against the counter, and then onto it, so that he sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other leg hanging down for balance, the way he’d have done on the railing of his ship, he inspected what she’d given him.
“I can say other things,” he finally looked back at her, smirking. “What other precious gems do you want to give away?”
As she had searched for the amulet, Nafretiri had been well aware that Lukos would probably ogle her breasts- what one could see of them- her lush hair, and the way her clothes fit her body, seeming to highlight the very parts of it she wished not to be known for. She was not as naive as she might appear, at least in this respect. In Judea, at least until men realized she was not yet nubile, being ogled had been a common occurrence for her, and even when they did know she hadn't yet begun her monthly cycles at the time...well...that didn't keep her body from looking like that of a young woman. She often wished it had. For that reason, and so many more, Nafretiri was convinced that if he wanted to sleep with her, Lukos was probably doing so out of a mixture of lust and perhaps pity- neither of which Nafretiri had really been after. If she had snapped, it had only because she had felt she needed help so badly that trying to explain was the only way to perhaps get someone to understand. Certainly, one could not possibly live in such a state of near-constant fight-or-flight forever.
She did in fact long to replace her horrible memories with good ones, but only if someone meant it as an expression of love. Perhaps it had been- at first- the way her mother treated her that had made Nafretiri determined to find love elsewhere in life, but she knew even then that arranged marriages were common. How much more difficult would it be to find what she sought here in Egypt? Was an offer such as she had now received the best she could hope for after all?
She hesitated only briefly before replying, with a telltale smirk that said she was going to try to give as good as she got,
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
She took this opportunity to look him over herself. He was, in fact, an attractive man in her estimation. His eyes, for one thing. And he was Greek, and Nafretiri had found them intriguing from her childhood onward. But she was also still painfully conscious of somehow having stepped on a nerve somewhere. Perhaps if she knew where they stood, then in the future...well, at least he might know someone who might be more her type. She was at least willing to keep her options open, the one thing that working for Hathor was seeming to teach her at present, even if she couldn't quite seem to open her heart to anyone- friend or otherwise- just yet.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today," she answered to his precious jewel reference. "But then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
She had a daughter to think of, after all, so her desire to wait for love didn't involve only her dreams that were perhaps unreachable. But she did feel a certain sense of obligation to keep him interested, so that she would not anger him if she could help it.
"Meanwhile, if we're to have some sort of business partnership, I suppose we ought to know other things about each other. What part of Greece is Magnemea in? I know a little of the language from my childhood, but even then, I was never sure exactly what part of the country they came from. Not that my parents so much cared."
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As she had searched for the amulet, Nafretiri had been well aware that Lukos would probably ogle her breasts- what one could see of them- her lush hair, and the way her clothes fit her body, seeming to highlight the very parts of it she wished not to be known for. She was not as naive as she might appear, at least in this respect. In Judea, at least until men realized she was not yet nubile, being ogled had been a common occurrence for her, and even when they did know she hadn't yet begun her monthly cycles at the time...well...that didn't keep her body from looking like that of a young woman. She often wished it had. For that reason, and so many more, Nafretiri was convinced that if he wanted to sleep with her, Lukos was probably doing so out of a mixture of lust and perhaps pity- neither of which Nafretiri had really been after. If she had snapped, it had only because she had felt she needed help so badly that trying to explain was the only way to perhaps get someone to understand. Certainly, one could not possibly live in such a state of near-constant fight-or-flight forever.
She did in fact long to replace her horrible memories with good ones, but only if someone meant it as an expression of love. Perhaps it had been- at first- the way her mother treated her that had made Nafretiri determined to find love elsewhere in life, but she knew even then that arranged marriages were common. How much more difficult would it be to find what she sought here in Egypt? Was an offer such as she had now received the best she could hope for after all?
She hesitated only briefly before replying, with a telltale smirk that said she was going to try to give as good as she got,
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
She took this opportunity to look him over herself. He was, in fact, an attractive man in her estimation. His eyes, for one thing. And he was Greek, and Nafretiri had found them intriguing from her childhood onward. But she was also still painfully conscious of somehow having stepped on a nerve somewhere. Perhaps if she knew where they stood, then in the future...well, at least he might know someone who might be more her type. She was at least willing to keep her options open, the one thing that working for Hathor was seeming to teach her at present, even if she couldn't quite seem to open her heart to anyone- friend or otherwise- just yet.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today," she answered to his precious jewel reference. "But then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
She had a daughter to think of, after all, so her desire to wait for love didn't involve only her dreams that were perhaps unreachable. But she did feel a certain sense of obligation to keep him interested, so that she would not anger him if she could help it.
"Meanwhile, if we're to have some sort of business partnership, I suppose we ought to know other things about each other. What part of Greece is Magnemea in? I know a little of the language from my childhood, but even then, I was never sure exactly what part of the country they came from. Not that my parents so much cared."
As she had searched for the amulet, Nafretiri had been well aware that Lukos would probably ogle her breasts- what one could see of them- her lush hair, and the way her clothes fit her body, seeming to highlight the very parts of it she wished not to be known for. She was not as naive as she might appear, at least in this respect. In Judea, at least until men realized she was not yet nubile, being ogled had been a common occurrence for her, and even when they did know she hadn't yet begun her monthly cycles at the time...well...that didn't keep her body from looking like that of a young woman. She often wished it had. For that reason, and so many more, Nafretiri was convinced that if he wanted to sleep with her, Lukos was probably doing so out of a mixture of lust and perhaps pity- neither of which Nafretiri had really been after. If she had snapped, it had only because she had felt she needed help so badly that trying to explain was the only way to perhaps get someone to understand. Certainly, one could not possibly live in such a state of near-constant fight-or-flight forever.
She did in fact long to replace her horrible memories with good ones, but only if someone meant it as an expression of love. Perhaps it had been- at first- the way her mother treated her that had made Nafretiri determined to find love elsewhere in life, but she knew even then that arranged marriages were common. How much more difficult would it be to find what she sought here in Egypt? Was an offer such as she had now received the best she could hope for after all?
She hesitated only briefly before replying, with a telltale smirk that said she was going to try to give as good as she got,
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
She took this opportunity to look him over herself. He was, in fact, an attractive man in her estimation. His eyes, for one thing. And he was Greek, and Nafretiri had found them intriguing from her childhood onward. But she was also still painfully conscious of somehow having stepped on a nerve somewhere. Perhaps if she knew where they stood, then in the future...well, at least he might know someone who might be more her type. She was at least willing to keep her options open, the one thing that working for Hathor was seeming to teach her at present, even if she couldn't quite seem to open her heart to anyone- friend or otherwise- just yet.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today," she answered to his precious jewel reference. "But then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
She had a daughter to think of, after all, so her desire to wait for love didn't involve only her dreams that were perhaps unreachable. But she did feel a certain sense of obligation to keep him interested, so that she would not anger him if she could help it.
"Meanwhile, if we're to have some sort of business partnership, I suppose we ought to know other things about each other. What part of Greece is Magnemea in? I know a little of the language from my childhood, but even then, I was never sure exactly what part of the country they came from. Not that my parents so much cared."
His gem comment hadn’t gone over her head and he listened with a cat’s smile as she threw the veiled question back at him. No, she wasn’t going to lead him off anywhere, which was a shame. A quick tumble between the sheets would probably do both of them a world of good and loosen her up. Judging by the outburst earlier, he was trying to decide if she’d be a lot of fun or terrible. Being the generous man he was, he was definitely willing to find out, but she was not, it seemed.
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
Shrugging at that, still not totally giving up, he grinned. “Originates same way any man’s thoughts do.” It was adorable how women assumed that some men were different. They were not. They might go about the pursuit any number of different ways, but the end goal was the same.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today, but then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
He smiled thinly, only choosing to acknowledge the part of her counter offer that he liked; the ‘perhaps another time’ part. It wasn’t a flat refusal and he leaned back on one hand, the jewel still tightly clasped in the other. If she wanted ardently pursued or life long love, she was speaking to the wrong person, who wanted neither of those things. Lukos liked easy and spirited, both of those things for a fixed amount of time. He had other things on his mind than playing house. But, wonderfully, she chose to ‘get to know him’ right now. Lukos tilted his head, looking her over openly this time as she asked about Magnemea.
“It’s an ugly little island off the coast, surrounded by other ugly little islands. And where is it you were born? Where’s your husband?”
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His gem comment hadn’t gone over her head and he listened with a cat’s smile as she threw the veiled question back at him. No, she wasn’t going to lead him off anywhere, which was a shame. A quick tumble between the sheets would probably do both of them a world of good and loosen her up. Judging by the outburst earlier, he was trying to decide if she’d be a lot of fun or terrible. Being the generous man he was, he was definitely willing to find out, but she was not, it seemed.
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
Shrugging at that, still not totally giving up, he grinned. “Originates same way any man’s thoughts do.” It was adorable how women assumed that some men were different. They were not. They might go about the pursuit any number of different ways, but the end goal was the same.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today, but then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
He smiled thinly, only choosing to acknowledge the part of her counter offer that he liked; the ‘perhaps another time’ part. It wasn’t a flat refusal and he leaned back on one hand, the jewel still tightly clasped in the other. If she wanted ardently pursued or life long love, she was speaking to the wrong person, who wanted neither of those things. Lukos liked easy and spirited, both of those things for a fixed amount of time. He had other things on his mind than playing house. But, wonderfully, she chose to ‘get to know him’ right now. Lukos tilted his head, looking her over openly this time as she asked about Magnemea.
“It’s an ugly little island off the coast, surrounded by other ugly little islands. And where is it you were born? Where’s your husband?”
His gem comment hadn’t gone over her head and he listened with a cat’s smile as she threw the veiled question back at him. No, she wasn’t going to lead him off anywhere, which was a shame. A quick tumble between the sheets would probably do both of them a world of good and loosen her up. Judging by the outburst earlier, he was trying to decide if she’d be a lot of fun or terrible. Being the generous man he was, he was definitely willing to find out, but she was not, it seemed.
"I'm sure you can say other things. But I think I know from where such thoughts would perhaps originate."
Shrugging at that, still not totally giving up, he grinned. “Originates same way any man’s thoughts do.” It was adorable how women assumed that some men were different. They were not. They might go about the pursuit any number of different ways, but the end goal was the same.
"Perhaps it will not be given away today, but then again, perhaps after another time, when I know you a little better. I know- somehow- I've probably annoyed you. But if you can show me what you're like when you're not...? We shall see."
He smiled thinly, only choosing to acknowledge the part of her counter offer that he liked; the ‘perhaps another time’ part. It wasn’t a flat refusal and he leaned back on one hand, the jewel still tightly clasped in the other. If she wanted ardently pursued or life long love, she was speaking to the wrong person, who wanted neither of those things. Lukos liked easy and spirited, both of those things for a fixed amount of time. He had other things on his mind than playing house. But, wonderfully, she chose to ‘get to know him’ right now. Lukos tilted his head, looking her over openly this time as she asked about Magnemea.
“It’s an ugly little island off the coast, surrounded by other ugly little islands. And where is it you were born? Where’s your husband?”
"I almost wish I had a husband," she admitted. "At least then what happened to me might have had a chance of being- what's the word? Consensual." She was so angry by now she could have spit, though it was not directed at him this time, but rather at the memories his words invoked. "Originally, I'm from Jerusalem. There was a famine after a siege. My family and I were fortunate enough to escape, but my mother's death, a kidnapping, and one man's lust changed it all. I had only recently become a woman- there was no time before all that to make arrangements for... anything. In my homeland, we wait for a possible marriage arrangement until a man's daughter is a woman. I love my daughter, but we are alone and unprotected. She's a year old."
She resisted the urge to add, not that you seem to care.
Throughout her short explanation, there were no tears, and her voice, while not cold, was hard, keeping back as much emotion as was possible for her at the moment. "Sadly, if the gods exist- and sometimes my faith wavers- then the Egyptian ones seem to have been kinder to me than El Shaddai. And that is the truth. Though...don't you doubt the gods exist too? You seem to. In that, perhaps we are alike." An ironic smile turned up her lips.
She wondered, though, what had made him respond as he had earlier, that one just keeps living because they are not dead. Perhaps there had been a time when he wanted to believe at least some parts of the world were good. She wanted to ask him about it, but didn't want to pry. Gods knew she'd probably caused him enough annoyance today. Perhaps now he might be able to see why she felt so desperate, though gods alone knew what he would do. She regarded him carefully from across the counter, thinking, fully aware now of just how complex a man like him could possibly be. Perhaps there was some humanity in even the most vile criminal, even if just a tiny bit.
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"I almost wish I had a husband," she admitted. "At least then what happened to me might have had a chance of being- what's the word? Consensual." She was so angry by now she could have spit, though it was not directed at him this time, but rather at the memories his words invoked. "Originally, I'm from Jerusalem. There was a famine after a siege. My family and I were fortunate enough to escape, but my mother's death, a kidnapping, and one man's lust changed it all. I had only recently become a woman- there was no time before all that to make arrangements for... anything. In my homeland, we wait for a possible marriage arrangement until a man's daughter is a woman. I love my daughter, but we are alone and unprotected. She's a year old."
She resisted the urge to add, not that you seem to care.
Throughout her short explanation, there were no tears, and her voice, while not cold, was hard, keeping back as much emotion as was possible for her at the moment. "Sadly, if the gods exist- and sometimes my faith wavers- then the Egyptian ones seem to have been kinder to me than El Shaddai. And that is the truth. Though...don't you doubt the gods exist too? You seem to. In that, perhaps we are alike." An ironic smile turned up her lips.
She wondered, though, what had made him respond as he had earlier, that one just keeps living because they are not dead. Perhaps there had been a time when he wanted to believe at least some parts of the world were good. She wanted to ask him about it, but didn't want to pry. Gods knew she'd probably caused him enough annoyance today. Perhaps now he might be able to see why she felt so desperate, though gods alone knew what he would do. She regarded him carefully from across the counter, thinking, fully aware now of just how complex a man like him could possibly be. Perhaps there was some humanity in even the most vile criminal, even if just a tiny bit.
"I almost wish I had a husband," she admitted. "At least then what happened to me might have had a chance of being- what's the word? Consensual." She was so angry by now she could have spit, though it was not directed at him this time, but rather at the memories his words invoked. "Originally, I'm from Jerusalem. There was a famine after a siege. My family and I were fortunate enough to escape, but my mother's death, a kidnapping, and one man's lust changed it all. I had only recently become a woman- there was no time before all that to make arrangements for... anything. In my homeland, we wait for a possible marriage arrangement until a man's daughter is a woman. I love my daughter, but we are alone and unprotected. She's a year old."
She resisted the urge to add, not that you seem to care.
Throughout her short explanation, there were no tears, and her voice, while not cold, was hard, keeping back as much emotion as was possible for her at the moment. "Sadly, if the gods exist- and sometimes my faith wavers- then the Egyptian ones seem to have been kinder to me than El Shaddai. And that is the truth. Though...don't you doubt the gods exist too? You seem to. In that, perhaps we are alike." An ironic smile turned up her lips.
She wondered, though, what had made him respond as he had earlier, that one just keeps living because they are not dead. Perhaps there had been a time when he wanted to believe at least some parts of the world were good. She wanted to ask him about it, but didn't want to pry. Gods knew she'd probably caused him enough annoyance today. Perhaps now he might be able to see why she felt so desperate, though gods alone knew what he would do. She regarded him carefully from across the counter, thinking, fully aware now of just how complex a man like him could possibly be. Perhaps there was some humanity in even the most vile criminal, even if just a tiny bit.
Her admission to being assaulted should have swayed some sort of sympathy inside him but he was unmoved by such admissions. Hers was a story far more common than people liked to admit. With her being cursed to be beautiful, it was little wonder that someone had taken advantage of her when she had no protection. Not like she did here. If she wanted empathy, she’d have to try harder. Lukos wasn’t interested in trading stories of the gorey past. The darkness was best left behind and not thought on. Ever.
He remained leaning casually, listening without interruption and offering no opinion, one way or the other, on her admissions. Nafretiri’s expression gave Lukos the feeling that she knew he cared very little about any of this. He was a slaver. Hers was a story he’d heard over and over again until they were as consequential as the whistling of breezes. What he cared about was the here and now and, more specifically, how any of it related to the nature of their budding relationship. Whether that relationship took on a more intimate nature or if it remained merely professional.
Nafretiri turned the conversation to the gods, surmising that he must not believe in them. A dangerous thing to infer when in the temple of one and Lukos did look up to the ceiling as he spoke. “I don’t not believe they exist,” he said with a flippant shrug and dropped his dark eyes back to her face. “But I know for a fact they don’t care. If they did, we’d have everything we asked for, wouldn’t we?”
He leaned down, both forearms on the counter, body extended out and lounging like he had absolutely nowhere to be, and with a jewel this size and the potions he wanted already promised for a good price, he really didn’t. His crew were taking care of their tasks and his first mate could be trusted to make sure that all ran according to the Captain’s orders; his orders. That meant that Lukos could talk to this woman for as long as he found it entertaining.
“Why don’t you lean a little more into that bitterness?” he suggested. “It’ll harden you to life’s more painful moments.” He smirked. “For example, almost nothing gets to me. I’m a happy man. Ship, life, crew, money, women. All I want.”
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Her admission to being assaulted should have swayed some sort of sympathy inside him but he was unmoved by such admissions. Hers was a story far more common than people liked to admit. With her being cursed to be beautiful, it was little wonder that someone had taken advantage of her when she had no protection. Not like she did here. If she wanted empathy, she’d have to try harder. Lukos wasn’t interested in trading stories of the gorey past. The darkness was best left behind and not thought on. Ever.
He remained leaning casually, listening without interruption and offering no opinion, one way or the other, on her admissions. Nafretiri’s expression gave Lukos the feeling that she knew he cared very little about any of this. He was a slaver. Hers was a story he’d heard over and over again until they were as consequential as the whistling of breezes. What he cared about was the here and now and, more specifically, how any of it related to the nature of their budding relationship. Whether that relationship took on a more intimate nature or if it remained merely professional.
Nafretiri turned the conversation to the gods, surmising that he must not believe in them. A dangerous thing to infer when in the temple of one and Lukos did look up to the ceiling as he spoke. “I don’t not believe they exist,” he said with a flippant shrug and dropped his dark eyes back to her face. “But I know for a fact they don’t care. If they did, we’d have everything we asked for, wouldn’t we?”
He leaned down, both forearms on the counter, body extended out and lounging like he had absolutely nowhere to be, and with a jewel this size and the potions he wanted already promised for a good price, he really didn’t. His crew were taking care of their tasks and his first mate could be trusted to make sure that all ran according to the Captain’s orders; his orders. That meant that Lukos could talk to this woman for as long as he found it entertaining.
“Why don’t you lean a little more into that bitterness?” he suggested. “It’ll harden you to life’s more painful moments.” He smirked. “For example, almost nothing gets to me. I’m a happy man. Ship, life, crew, money, women. All I want.”
Her admission to being assaulted should have swayed some sort of sympathy inside him but he was unmoved by such admissions. Hers was a story far more common than people liked to admit. With her being cursed to be beautiful, it was little wonder that someone had taken advantage of her when she had no protection. Not like she did here. If she wanted empathy, she’d have to try harder. Lukos wasn’t interested in trading stories of the gorey past. The darkness was best left behind and not thought on. Ever.
He remained leaning casually, listening without interruption and offering no opinion, one way or the other, on her admissions. Nafretiri’s expression gave Lukos the feeling that she knew he cared very little about any of this. He was a slaver. Hers was a story he’d heard over and over again until they were as consequential as the whistling of breezes. What he cared about was the here and now and, more specifically, how any of it related to the nature of their budding relationship. Whether that relationship took on a more intimate nature or if it remained merely professional.
Nafretiri turned the conversation to the gods, surmising that he must not believe in them. A dangerous thing to infer when in the temple of one and Lukos did look up to the ceiling as he spoke. “I don’t not believe they exist,” he said with a flippant shrug and dropped his dark eyes back to her face. “But I know for a fact they don’t care. If they did, we’d have everything we asked for, wouldn’t we?”
He leaned down, both forearms on the counter, body extended out and lounging like he had absolutely nowhere to be, and with a jewel this size and the potions he wanted already promised for a good price, he really didn’t. His crew were taking care of their tasks and his first mate could be trusted to make sure that all ran according to the Captain’s orders; his orders. That meant that Lukos could talk to this woman for as long as he found it entertaining.
“Why don’t you lean a little more into that bitterness?” he suggested. “It’ll harden you to life’s more painful moments.” He smirked. “For example, almost nothing gets to me. I’m a happy man. Ship, life, crew, money, women. All I want.”
She had, in fact, never mentioned that he might not believe in the gods. "I only said my own faith in them wavers. Quite frequently, in fact. But regardless, the temple has been my home and my place of safety- fleeting though that safety seems, and I suppose I must be grateful to something, at least. You're right, though. I doubt even then we would have quite everything we wanted- because the gods only allow so many to have money and power." Or friendship, or love, or a life they enjoy in any way at all, she added in her thoughts, though she sensed that to him money and power might be the most important of the things she could think of that people would desire.
"But life would certainly be a lot closer to the way we'd imagined it should be."
He might be right about leaning into the bitterness a little more, as well. "In a sense, I have a feeling the bitterness would give me a courage I've somehow lacked since arriving in Egypt. Bitterness drives people to things they might not otherwise do, if it festers long enough."
Hers had certainly festered long enough to change her.
"But perhaps I am as inexperienced in how to utilize that bitterness as I am in most other things. How would you suggest doing so. I have little need to steal anything such as food or clothing when the temple is my home. Revenge, however.... that's another matter, as is protection for myself and my daughter. Would you suggest that I let the bitterness make me so bold as to potentially risk death in the name of protection?" For she was not certain that lord Osorsen H'Moghadam the younger would care, and in any case, the idea of going to him frightened her nearly as much as Badru of Thebes had. She had no reason to believe any noble would actually care about her welfare if a mere steward didn't.
Though, now that she thought about it, if she were not willing to risk death for her daughter's protection as well as her own, what kind of mother was she? She somehow berated herself even more after that thought, and she wondered if letting the bitterness give her courage might not be the best idea after all. In any case, she was quite interested in what his response to her question might be.
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She had, in fact, never mentioned that he might not believe in the gods. "I only said my own faith in them wavers. Quite frequently, in fact. But regardless, the temple has been my home and my place of safety- fleeting though that safety seems, and I suppose I must be grateful to something, at least. You're right, though. I doubt even then we would have quite everything we wanted- because the gods only allow so many to have money and power." Or friendship, or love, or a life they enjoy in any way at all, she added in her thoughts, though she sensed that to him money and power might be the most important of the things she could think of that people would desire.
"But life would certainly be a lot closer to the way we'd imagined it should be."
He might be right about leaning into the bitterness a little more, as well. "In a sense, I have a feeling the bitterness would give me a courage I've somehow lacked since arriving in Egypt. Bitterness drives people to things they might not otherwise do, if it festers long enough."
Hers had certainly festered long enough to change her.
"But perhaps I am as inexperienced in how to utilize that bitterness as I am in most other things. How would you suggest doing so. I have little need to steal anything such as food or clothing when the temple is my home. Revenge, however.... that's another matter, as is protection for myself and my daughter. Would you suggest that I let the bitterness make me so bold as to potentially risk death in the name of protection?" For she was not certain that lord Osorsen H'Moghadam the younger would care, and in any case, the idea of going to him frightened her nearly as much as Badru of Thebes had. She had no reason to believe any noble would actually care about her welfare if a mere steward didn't.
Though, now that she thought about it, if she were not willing to risk death for her daughter's protection as well as her own, what kind of mother was she? She somehow berated herself even more after that thought, and she wondered if letting the bitterness give her courage might not be the best idea after all. In any case, she was quite interested in what his response to her question might be.
She had, in fact, never mentioned that he might not believe in the gods. "I only said my own faith in them wavers. Quite frequently, in fact. But regardless, the temple has been my home and my place of safety- fleeting though that safety seems, and I suppose I must be grateful to something, at least. You're right, though. I doubt even then we would have quite everything we wanted- because the gods only allow so many to have money and power." Or friendship, or love, or a life they enjoy in any way at all, she added in her thoughts, though she sensed that to him money and power might be the most important of the things she could think of that people would desire.
"But life would certainly be a lot closer to the way we'd imagined it should be."
He might be right about leaning into the bitterness a little more, as well. "In a sense, I have a feeling the bitterness would give me a courage I've somehow lacked since arriving in Egypt. Bitterness drives people to things they might not otherwise do, if it festers long enough."
Hers had certainly festered long enough to change her.
"But perhaps I am as inexperienced in how to utilize that bitterness as I am in most other things. How would you suggest doing so. I have little need to steal anything such as food or clothing when the temple is my home. Revenge, however.... that's another matter, as is protection for myself and my daughter. Would you suggest that I let the bitterness make me so bold as to potentially risk death in the name of protection?" For she was not certain that lord Osorsen H'Moghadam the younger would care, and in any case, the idea of going to him frightened her nearly as much as Badru of Thebes had. She had no reason to believe any noble would actually care about her welfare if a mere steward didn't.
Though, now that she thought about it, if she were not willing to risk death for her daughter's protection as well as her own, what kind of mother was she? She somehow berated herself even more after that thought, and she wondered if letting the bitterness give her courage might not be the best idea after all. In any case, she was quite interested in what his response to her question might be.
Before Lukos could answer any of that, or formulate any sort of real opinion, another priestess stuck her head in the room. ”There you are, Nafretiri,” she chided. She was a matronly woman whose hair was only black because of the wig she wore. Lukos strongly suspected that beneath her ornate wig, her hair would be streaked with gray. Her kohl rimmed eyes took in Lukos and Nafretiri. She pointed to the Greek.
“Is he the one here for the soul reading?” her eyes narrowed dubiously at Lukos, who’d spun around on the spot once he heard the words ‘soul reading’. The jewel was kept tightly in his fist behind his back and he smiled at the older priestess who had now swept fully into the room. She eyed him and obviously felt that his soul should be checked, because she planted her fists against her generous hips and jerked her chin at Nafretiri.
”I’ve prepared the room for you,” she said a little brusquely to get these two moving. ”Come on, come on,” and then just like that, she was turning, fully expecting to be followed. The whole interaction amused Lukos so much that, even though he hadn’t come for a soul evaluation, he wasn’t going to pass one up. Shooting a look over his shoulder at Nafretiri, he waggled his brows.
“Come on,” he coaxed, knowing full well that Nafretiri, rather than the older, larger priestess, knew the truth and might need some convincing. “Come weigh my soul and see if it needs cleansed.” Did he sometimes do things that society deemed outside of the law? Of course. But that didn’t necessarily make them wrong. It just depended on the perspective. If he wanted something, and he could take that something, who was to say he didn’t need it more than the person who’d had it before? Or if he killed someone, it was usually in self defense. The argument could be made that if the person he’d been stealing from chose not to fight, then they wouldn’t have been murdered. Really, it was all about one’s outlook.
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Before Lukos could answer any of that, or formulate any sort of real opinion, another priestess stuck her head in the room. ”There you are, Nafretiri,” she chided. She was a matronly woman whose hair was only black because of the wig she wore. Lukos strongly suspected that beneath her ornate wig, her hair would be streaked with gray. Her kohl rimmed eyes took in Lukos and Nafretiri. She pointed to the Greek.
“Is he the one here for the soul reading?” her eyes narrowed dubiously at Lukos, who’d spun around on the spot once he heard the words ‘soul reading’. The jewel was kept tightly in his fist behind his back and he smiled at the older priestess who had now swept fully into the room. She eyed him and obviously felt that his soul should be checked, because she planted her fists against her generous hips and jerked her chin at Nafretiri.
”I’ve prepared the room for you,” she said a little brusquely to get these two moving. ”Come on, come on,” and then just like that, she was turning, fully expecting to be followed. The whole interaction amused Lukos so much that, even though he hadn’t come for a soul evaluation, he wasn’t going to pass one up. Shooting a look over his shoulder at Nafretiri, he waggled his brows.
“Come on,” he coaxed, knowing full well that Nafretiri, rather than the older, larger priestess, knew the truth and might need some convincing. “Come weigh my soul and see if it needs cleansed.” Did he sometimes do things that society deemed outside of the law? Of course. But that didn’t necessarily make them wrong. It just depended on the perspective. If he wanted something, and he could take that something, who was to say he didn’t need it more than the person who’d had it before? Or if he killed someone, it was usually in self defense. The argument could be made that if the person he’d been stealing from chose not to fight, then they wouldn’t have been murdered. Really, it was all about one’s outlook.
Before Lukos could answer any of that, or formulate any sort of real opinion, another priestess stuck her head in the room. ”There you are, Nafretiri,” she chided. She was a matronly woman whose hair was only black because of the wig she wore. Lukos strongly suspected that beneath her ornate wig, her hair would be streaked with gray. Her kohl rimmed eyes took in Lukos and Nafretiri. She pointed to the Greek.
“Is he the one here for the soul reading?” her eyes narrowed dubiously at Lukos, who’d spun around on the spot once he heard the words ‘soul reading’. The jewel was kept tightly in his fist behind his back and he smiled at the older priestess who had now swept fully into the room. She eyed him and obviously felt that his soul should be checked, because she planted her fists against her generous hips and jerked her chin at Nafretiri.
”I’ve prepared the room for you,” she said a little brusquely to get these two moving. ”Come on, come on,” and then just like that, she was turning, fully expecting to be followed. The whole interaction amused Lukos so much that, even though he hadn’t come for a soul evaluation, he wasn’t going to pass one up. Shooting a look over his shoulder at Nafretiri, he waggled his brows.
“Come on,” he coaxed, knowing full well that Nafretiri, rather than the older, larger priestess, knew the truth and might need some convincing. “Come weigh my soul and see if it needs cleansed.” Did he sometimes do things that society deemed outside of the law? Of course. But that didn’t necessarily make them wrong. It just depended on the perspective. If he wanted something, and he could take that something, who was to say he didn’t need it more than the person who’d had it before? Or if he killed someone, it was usually in self defense. The argument could be made that if the person he’d been stealing from chose not to fight, then they wouldn’t have been murdered. Really, it was all about one’s outlook.
"Um... I don't know. I don't remember him saying," Nafretiri answered the other priestess honestly. She tried to rack her memory for a minute before realizing that either her sister priestess was possibly trying to rescue her, or the man was a bloody bastard who showed up in temples not only looking for things to sell, but also looking rather gleefully at the priestesses' behinds- if such a word as gleefully could be used for what seemed such a stern countenance.
Probably, both of those things applied.
She sighed and gave the other priestess a look of thanks, mostly relieved to see him go, though it disappointed her not to have an answer to her question.
And yet she could not bring herself to loathe him entirely. In what seemed a rather unconventional way, she had made a friend. Sometimes all one needed was reassurance that life really was the way it seemed sometimes, and that they were not crazy for thinking so!
There was good in him at least for that, though she supposed even that kind of good might be considered to be a bit warped by some people's standards. But if there was good in him. that also must mean that there was good in Badru of Thebes, and that she must forgive him as well, though she didn't know how she felt about that. Truth be told, she didn't know how she felt about much of anything anymore after meeting someone like Lukos of Magnemea. But she couldn't let him know that. Indeed, perhaps he already sensed it.
"One of you, please, tell me how that goes." She smiled despite herself. "As you will see, it is just one of many services the temple of Hathor offers."
Who knew? Now that they had a business arrangement of sorts, she might enjoy keeping him interested, if they offered a new service every time he arrived for his wares. And besides, she still needed him to explain how bitterness might aid her in life.
There would undoubtedly be much to talk about with him in the future.
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"Um... I don't know. I don't remember him saying," Nafretiri answered the other priestess honestly. She tried to rack her memory for a minute before realizing that either her sister priestess was possibly trying to rescue her, or the man was a bloody bastard who showed up in temples not only looking for things to sell, but also looking rather gleefully at the priestesses' behinds- if such a word as gleefully could be used for what seemed such a stern countenance.
Probably, both of those things applied.
She sighed and gave the other priestess a look of thanks, mostly relieved to see him go, though it disappointed her not to have an answer to her question.
And yet she could not bring herself to loathe him entirely. In what seemed a rather unconventional way, she had made a friend. Sometimes all one needed was reassurance that life really was the way it seemed sometimes, and that they were not crazy for thinking so!
There was good in him at least for that, though she supposed even that kind of good might be considered to be a bit warped by some people's standards. But if there was good in him. that also must mean that there was good in Badru of Thebes, and that she must forgive him as well, though she didn't know how she felt about that. Truth be told, she didn't know how she felt about much of anything anymore after meeting someone like Lukos of Magnemea. But she couldn't let him know that. Indeed, perhaps he already sensed it.
"One of you, please, tell me how that goes." She smiled despite herself. "As you will see, it is just one of many services the temple of Hathor offers."
Who knew? Now that they had a business arrangement of sorts, she might enjoy keeping him interested, if they offered a new service every time he arrived for his wares. And besides, she still needed him to explain how bitterness might aid her in life.
There would undoubtedly be much to talk about with him in the future.
"Um... I don't know. I don't remember him saying," Nafretiri answered the other priestess honestly. She tried to rack her memory for a minute before realizing that either her sister priestess was possibly trying to rescue her, or the man was a bloody bastard who showed up in temples not only looking for things to sell, but also looking rather gleefully at the priestesses' behinds- if such a word as gleefully could be used for what seemed such a stern countenance.
Probably, both of those things applied.
She sighed and gave the other priestess a look of thanks, mostly relieved to see him go, though it disappointed her not to have an answer to her question.
And yet she could not bring herself to loathe him entirely. In what seemed a rather unconventional way, she had made a friend. Sometimes all one needed was reassurance that life really was the way it seemed sometimes, and that they were not crazy for thinking so!
There was good in him at least for that, though she supposed even that kind of good might be considered to be a bit warped by some people's standards. But if there was good in him. that also must mean that there was good in Badru of Thebes, and that she must forgive him as well, though she didn't know how she felt about that. Truth be told, she didn't know how she felt about much of anything anymore after meeting someone like Lukos of Magnemea. But she couldn't let him know that. Indeed, perhaps he already sensed it.
"One of you, please, tell me how that goes." She smiled despite herself. "As you will see, it is just one of many services the temple of Hathor offers."
Who knew? Now that they had a business arrangement of sorts, she might enjoy keeping him interested, if they offered a new service every time he arrived for his wares. And besides, she still needed him to explain how bitterness might aid her in life.
There would undoubtedly be much to talk about with him in the future.