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Ever since she was a small girl. Mayet had adored the souk. Then, she would ride on the back of the rice cart with her brothers, scamper off as soon as their father had set about unloading his wares and bartering with the men who would take his produce. She’d spend all day wandering, between the fancy silks and the even fancier women who bought them, the spice traders and the snake charmers. Her smile would be wide, her eyes wondrous.
Of course, she could not buy anything then. She would glut herself with her eyes on the sweet pastries, and in her mind would adorn herself with the bright and brilliant cut stones on the jewellers stands, but young Mayet, a farmer’s daughter, did not have gold to spend. Occasionally, her big dark eyes would be enough to see a kindly merchant give her a handful of dates or some honey bread, and every so often, her light fingers would come away with an apple, and a belly too knotted with nerves to dare eat it until she was far away from the scene of the crime. But she had loved it there anyway, and her father would have to shush her chattering on the way back home, stamping out the child’s foolish notions that she would one day be able to afford all the wonderful things she had seen.
But though Adom of Obsor was a wise man, he was perhaps limited in his vision, or certainly in his understanding of just how determined his young daughter was. For here was Mayet, some years older, grown into a beauty beyond a simple farmer’s daughter, and with a purse full of gold.
Despite how long she had been in the city, and how Oso impressed upon her that she could spend as she wished, the souk had never lost its magic for Mayet. Today, she was looking for something particular, for the older Orsorsen had been complaining of aches in the joints of his hands, and Mayet knew the medicine woman who kept a stall in the souk would have something to offer some respite. In a small, secret part of her heart, Mayet still nursed a quiet hope that the elderly man would see her, really see her and change his mind long enough to let her Oso take her for a wife. It was a wish she would never voice, and that she only allowed herself to dwell upon for brief snatches of time, but it was enough to see her take every opportunity to please the patriarch.
Even so, Mayet could not disregard the silk sellers as she headed through the souk, and she had paused to look at some fine network, slender fingers reaching to touch the delicate silver beading when they accidentally met another hand questing to do the same. Mayet made a soft sound of surprise and drew back, her slanted, cat-like gaze coming to rest upon a young woman, and she smiled slightly, baring white teeth.
“We share similar tastes, do we?” she asked, glancing once more at the net work. “It is very fine”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Ever since she was a small girl. Mayet had adored the souk. Then, she would ride on the back of the rice cart with her brothers, scamper off as soon as their father had set about unloading his wares and bartering with the men who would take his produce. She’d spend all day wandering, between the fancy silks and the even fancier women who bought them, the spice traders and the snake charmers. Her smile would be wide, her eyes wondrous.
Of course, she could not buy anything then. She would glut herself with her eyes on the sweet pastries, and in her mind would adorn herself with the bright and brilliant cut stones on the jewellers stands, but young Mayet, a farmer’s daughter, did not have gold to spend. Occasionally, her big dark eyes would be enough to see a kindly merchant give her a handful of dates or some honey bread, and every so often, her light fingers would come away with an apple, and a belly too knotted with nerves to dare eat it until she was far away from the scene of the crime. But she had loved it there anyway, and her father would have to shush her chattering on the way back home, stamping out the child’s foolish notions that she would one day be able to afford all the wonderful things she had seen.
But though Adom of Obsor was a wise man, he was perhaps limited in his vision, or certainly in his understanding of just how determined his young daughter was. For here was Mayet, some years older, grown into a beauty beyond a simple farmer’s daughter, and with a purse full of gold.
Despite how long she had been in the city, and how Oso impressed upon her that she could spend as she wished, the souk had never lost its magic for Mayet. Today, she was looking for something particular, for the older Orsorsen had been complaining of aches in the joints of his hands, and Mayet knew the medicine woman who kept a stall in the souk would have something to offer some respite. In a small, secret part of her heart, Mayet still nursed a quiet hope that the elderly man would see her, really see her and change his mind long enough to let her Oso take her for a wife. It was a wish she would never voice, and that she only allowed herself to dwell upon for brief snatches of time, but it was enough to see her take every opportunity to please the patriarch.
Even so, Mayet could not disregard the silk sellers as she headed through the souk, and she had paused to look at some fine network, slender fingers reaching to touch the delicate silver beading when they accidentally met another hand questing to do the same. Mayet made a soft sound of surprise and drew back, her slanted, cat-like gaze coming to rest upon a young woman, and she smiled slightly, baring white teeth.
“We share similar tastes, do we?” she asked, glancing once more at the net work. “It is very fine”
Ever since she was a small girl. Mayet had adored the souk. Then, she would ride on the back of the rice cart with her brothers, scamper off as soon as their father had set about unloading his wares and bartering with the men who would take his produce. She’d spend all day wandering, between the fancy silks and the even fancier women who bought them, the spice traders and the snake charmers. Her smile would be wide, her eyes wondrous.
Of course, she could not buy anything then. She would glut herself with her eyes on the sweet pastries, and in her mind would adorn herself with the bright and brilliant cut stones on the jewellers stands, but young Mayet, a farmer’s daughter, did not have gold to spend. Occasionally, her big dark eyes would be enough to see a kindly merchant give her a handful of dates or some honey bread, and every so often, her light fingers would come away with an apple, and a belly too knotted with nerves to dare eat it until she was far away from the scene of the crime. But she had loved it there anyway, and her father would have to shush her chattering on the way back home, stamping out the child’s foolish notions that she would one day be able to afford all the wonderful things she had seen.
But though Adom of Obsor was a wise man, he was perhaps limited in his vision, or certainly in his understanding of just how determined his young daughter was. For here was Mayet, some years older, grown into a beauty beyond a simple farmer’s daughter, and with a purse full of gold.
Despite how long she had been in the city, and how Oso impressed upon her that she could spend as she wished, the souk had never lost its magic for Mayet. Today, she was looking for something particular, for the older Orsorsen had been complaining of aches in the joints of his hands, and Mayet knew the medicine woman who kept a stall in the souk would have something to offer some respite. In a small, secret part of her heart, Mayet still nursed a quiet hope that the elderly man would see her, really see her and change his mind long enough to let her Oso take her for a wife. It was a wish she would never voice, and that she only allowed herself to dwell upon for brief snatches of time, but it was enough to see her take every opportunity to please the patriarch.
Even so, Mayet could not disregard the silk sellers as she headed through the souk, and she had paused to look at some fine network, slender fingers reaching to touch the delicate silver beading when they accidentally met another hand questing to do the same. Mayet made a soft sound of surprise and drew back, her slanted, cat-like gaze coming to rest upon a young woman, and she smiled slightly, baring white teeth.
“We share similar tastes, do we?” she asked, glancing once more at the net work. “It is very fine”
Sameera loved the markets, the way things seemed so intertwined yet so separate, people yelling to sell or yelling for their loved ones to come and see. She loved purchasing the stories that some people sold, even the things written down that weren't fictional intrigued her.
Today, she wore a simpler linen dress, though not one that was uncomfortable. It was a light kalasiris tied at her shoulders, not quite one of her favourites but close. She was not quite certain what exactly she was here for. Ink, certainly, but perhaps she would find something else intriguing. She did have a little spending money. Perhaps some dates.
Sameera wandered through the Grand Souk, admiring the various materials there. She wished, at times, that she could be instead the relative of a rich merchant and not have to worry herself so much about money, and also have access to such fine things, to hear the people chattering every day. It was all very interesting. Sameera's life seemed to pale when she looked at the lives of others, even if they didn't get to enjoy some of the luxuries she had grown up enjoying. Her ink-stained fingers, still stained no matter how she scrubbed, traced some fabrics, until her eyes caught on something a little more interesting.
Network clothing was quite impressive to Sameera. She imagined that one would have to work so incredibly hard to make clothing that was that fine, and increase one's focus especially on certain pieces. She had a few dresses made up of networking, but at times she felt a little embarrassed, like when the threads got stuck to her sides, leaving the imprints of the pattern on her warm skin.
Moving to examine a piece closer, her own slightly ink-stained fingers touched a set that were much nicer than hers, she thought with some admiration, and she quickly looked up to see who it was, hoping that it was not anybody she would have offended by making such contact.
Though Sameera did not recognize the other woman, she too offered a smile at the stranger, delighted that there seemed to be no offense taken on her part, and there was really none on Sameera's either. Enjoying the look, the touch, of something so gorgeous should hardly be considered rude.
"Indeed. It is quite beautiful." Sameera let her hand rest on the networking before taking it off. She could hardly tell which one of them had gotten there first, and if it was the desire of the other woman to purchase it, Sameera would not stand in her way.
She looked at it closer, though her hands remained softly by her sides. "The amount of dedication it takes, putting so much thought into this...it's incredible." she sighed dreamily. The effort and the skill into constructing networked clothing, the likes of which the pair was admiring together. If something like that could bring people together, Sameera had to believe that her own stories, the words that ran through her head, could do the same thing. It was a nice idea, if a bit of a romantic one.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Sameera loved the markets, the way things seemed so intertwined yet so separate, people yelling to sell or yelling for their loved ones to come and see. She loved purchasing the stories that some people sold, even the things written down that weren't fictional intrigued her.
Today, she wore a simpler linen dress, though not one that was uncomfortable. It was a light kalasiris tied at her shoulders, not quite one of her favourites but close. She was not quite certain what exactly she was here for. Ink, certainly, but perhaps she would find something else intriguing. She did have a little spending money. Perhaps some dates.
Sameera wandered through the Grand Souk, admiring the various materials there. She wished, at times, that she could be instead the relative of a rich merchant and not have to worry herself so much about money, and also have access to such fine things, to hear the people chattering every day. It was all very interesting. Sameera's life seemed to pale when she looked at the lives of others, even if they didn't get to enjoy some of the luxuries she had grown up enjoying. Her ink-stained fingers, still stained no matter how she scrubbed, traced some fabrics, until her eyes caught on something a little more interesting.
Network clothing was quite impressive to Sameera. She imagined that one would have to work so incredibly hard to make clothing that was that fine, and increase one's focus especially on certain pieces. She had a few dresses made up of networking, but at times she felt a little embarrassed, like when the threads got stuck to her sides, leaving the imprints of the pattern on her warm skin.
Moving to examine a piece closer, her own slightly ink-stained fingers touched a set that were much nicer than hers, she thought with some admiration, and she quickly looked up to see who it was, hoping that it was not anybody she would have offended by making such contact.
Though Sameera did not recognize the other woman, she too offered a smile at the stranger, delighted that there seemed to be no offense taken on her part, and there was really none on Sameera's either. Enjoying the look, the touch, of something so gorgeous should hardly be considered rude.
"Indeed. It is quite beautiful." Sameera let her hand rest on the networking before taking it off. She could hardly tell which one of them had gotten there first, and if it was the desire of the other woman to purchase it, Sameera would not stand in her way.
She looked at it closer, though her hands remained softly by her sides. "The amount of dedication it takes, putting so much thought into this...it's incredible." she sighed dreamily. The effort and the skill into constructing networked clothing, the likes of which the pair was admiring together. If something like that could bring people together, Sameera had to believe that her own stories, the words that ran through her head, could do the same thing. It was a nice idea, if a bit of a romantic one.
Sameera loved the markets, the way things seemed so intertwined yet so separate, people yelling to sell or yelling for their loved ones to come and see. She loved purchasing the stories that some people sold, even the things written down that weren't fictional intrigued her.
Today, she wore a simpler linen dress, though not one that was uncomfortable. It was a light kalasiris tied at her shoulders, not quite one of her favourites but close. She was not quite certain what exactly she was here for. Ink, certainly, but perhaps she would find something else intriguing. She did have a little spending money. Perhaps some dates.
Sameera wandered through the Grand Souk, admiring the various materials there. She wished, at times, that she could be instead the relative of a rich merchant and not have to worry herself so much about money, and also have access to such fine things, to hear the people chattering every day. It was all very interesting. Sameera's life seemed to pale when she looked at the lives of others, even if they didn't get to enjoy some of the luxuries she had grown up enjoying. Her ink-stained fingers, still stained no matter how she scrubbed, traced some fabrics, until her eyes caught on something a little more interesting.
Network clothing was quite impressive to Sameera. She imagined that one would have to work so incredibly hard to make clothing that was that fine, and increase one's focus especially on certain pieces. She had a few dresses made up of networking, but at times she felt a little embarrassed, like when the threads got stuck to her sides, leaving the imprints of the pattern on her warm skin.
Moving to examine a piece closer, her own slightly ink-stained fingers touched a set that were much nicer than hers, she thought with some admiration, and she quickly looked up to see who it was, hoping that it was not anybody she would have offended by making such contact.
Though Sameera did not recognize the other woman, she too offered a smile at the stranger, delighted that there seemed to be no offense taken on her part, and there was really none on Sameera's either. Enjoying the look, the touch, of something so gorgeous should hardly be considered rude.
"Indeed. It is quite beautiful." Sameera let her hand rest on the networking before taking it off. She could hardly tell which one of them had gotten there first, and if it was the desire of the other woman to purchase it, Sameera would not stand in her way.
She looked at it closer, though her hands remained softly by her sides. "The amount of dedication it takes, putting so much thought into this...it's incredible." she sighed dreamily. The effort and the skill into constructing networked clothing, the likes of which the pair was admiring together. If something like that could bring people together, Sameera had to believe that her own stories, the words that ran through her head, could do the same thing. It was a nice idea, if a bit of a romantic one.
Mayet let her gaze wander unhurriedly over the girl, she recognised her vaguely, one of the H’haikaddad twins. Existing as she did on the fringes of noble society, she was far from the most informed about who was who, but the woman had made it her business to pay attention when she heard Oso and his grandfather speaking, and she paid attention at those events where she would attend on his arm.
One of the twins. But she did not know which.
“If you like it you should take it” Mayet urged, letting her hand fall back from the silver. “Silver is not my favourite, though I think it should look very well on you” The compliment slid easily from between full lips, and it appeared as if the woman spoke true. She wore bangles of gold, stacked one atop the other almost up to her elbows, set amongst with vivid splashes of turquoise and coral. No silver in sight.
The girl, Mayet decided, was pretty but had no idea how to bring it out. She wanted to paint her eyes with kohl or perhaps that mouth with red ochre. Though, and the thought came a little bitterly, perhaps she did not need such adornments when her name alone would be enough to carve her path in life.
As the girl spoke, Mayet looked back to what she remarked upon, tilting her head a little. The artistry of the garment. “ I have seen better,” she said, casting a sideways glance at the merchant who was loitering, eager to make a coin and no doubt spotting a chance to overcharge if his customers were so enamoured with the gown. “ In fact, I passed a stall just a moment ago with a beautiful offering, perhaps we should look there?” She said the second part a little louder, for despite not being short of gold to spend, Mayet was not one to hand it over needlessly. It was part and parcel of the soukh, the bartering and bargaining that came along with every sale.
“ Ahh Mistresses. You will not find network like this anywhere else, I promise you.” the man said silkily, easing up to the other side of the table, delicately picking the gown up and laying it over one arm. He moved a little closer to Sameera “ Stones of Lapis, mistress. They deserve to be worn only by those who can match their beauty”
Mayet laughed. “Match their beauty? You do her a disservice. A dress should only work to showcase the artistry of the body beneath. She would surpass any stones. Are you saying otherwise?”
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Mayet let her gaze wander unhurriedly over the girl, she recognised her vaguely, one of the H’haikaddad twins. Existing as she did on the fringes of noble society, she was far from the most informed about who was who, but the woman had made it her business to pay attention when she heard Oso and his grandfather speaking, and she paid attention at those events where she would attend on his arm.
One of the twins. But she did not know which.
“If you like it you should take it” Mayet urged, letting her hand fall back from the silver. “Silver is not my favourite, though I think it should look very well on you” The compliment slid easily from between full lips, and it appeared as if the woman spoke true. She wore bangles of gold, stacked one atop the other almost up to her elbows, set amongst with vivid splashes of turquoise and coral. No silver in sight.
The girl, Mayet decided, was pretty but had no idea how to bring it out. She wanted to paint her eyes with kohl or perhaps that mouth with red ochre. Though, and the thought came a little bitterly, perhaps she did not need such adornments when her name alone would be enough to carve her path in life.
As the girl spoke, Mayet looked back to what she remarked upon, tilting her head a little. The artistry of the garment. “ I have seen better,” she said, casting a sideways glance at the merchant who was loitering, eager to make a coin and no doubt spotting a chance to overcharge if his customers were so enamoured with the gown. “ In fact, I passed a stall just a moment ago with a beautiful offering, perhaps we should look there?” She said the second part a little louder, for despite not being short of gold to spend, Mayet was not one to hand it over needlessly. It was part and parcel of the soukh, the bartering and bargaining that came along with every sale.
“ Ahh Mistresses. You will not find network like this anywhere else, I promise you.” the man said silkily, easing up to the other side of the table, delicately picking the gown up and laying it over one arm. He moved a little closer to Sameera “ Stones of Lapis, mistress. They deserve to be worn only by those who can match their beauty”
Mayet laughed. “Match their beauty? You do her a disservice. A dress should only work to showcase the artistry of the body beneath. She would surpass any stones. Are you saying otherwise?”
Mayet let her gaze wander unhurriedly over the girl, she recognised her vaguely, one of the H’haikaddad twins. Existing as she did on the fringes of noble society, she was far from the most informed about who was who, but the woman had made it her business to pay attention when she heard Oso and his grandfather speaking, and she paid attention at those events where she would attend on his arm.
One of the twins. But she did not know which.
“If you like it you should take it” Mayet urged, letting her hand fall back from the silver. “Silver is not my favourite, though I think it should look very well on you” The compliment slid easily from between full lips, and it appeared as if the woman spoke true. She wore bangles of gold, stacked one atop the other almost up to her elbows, set amongst with vivid splashes of turquoise and coral. No silver in sight.
The girl, Mayet decided, was pretty but had no idea how to bring it out. She wanted to paint her eyes with kohl or perhaps that mouth with red ochre. Though, and the thought came a little bitterly, perhaps she did not need such adornments when her name alone would be enough to carve her path in life.
As the girl spoke, Mayet looked back to what she remarked upon, tilting her head a little. The artistry of the garment. “ I have seen better,” she said, casting a sideways glance at the merchant who was loitering, eager to make a coin and no doubt spotting a chance to overcharge if his customers were so enamoured with the gown. “ In fact, I passed a stall just a moment ago with a beautiful offering, perhaps we should look there?” She said the second part a little louder, for despite not being short of gold to spend, Mayet was not one to hand it over needlessly. It was part and parcel of the soukh, the bartering and bargaining that came along with every sale.
“ Ahh Mistresses. You will not find network like this anywhere else, I promise you.” the man said silkily, easing up to the other side of the table, delicately picking the gown up and laying it over one arm. He moved a little closer to Sameera “ Stones of Lapis, mistress. They deserve to be worn only by those who can match their beauty”
Mayet laughed. “Match their beauty? You do her a disservice. A dress should only work to showcase the artistry of the body beneath. She would surpass any stones. Are you saying otherwise?”
Sameera was a little reluctant to be the one to purchase the garment, especially since both of them had liked it. If it was her sister, Safiya, that had reached out at the same time it would not be a problem. They could split the cost, and share it, though doubtless Sameera would want her sister to wear it more. Safiya had always seemed, to Sameera at least, like the one who would look better in the clothes they shared. Maybe it was her confidence or her attitude.
Though Sameera would indeed admit she enjoyed silver quite a bit, and it did seem that the stranger had other preferences in metals. Sameera could've sworn she recognized her from somewhere or other, but never quite been introduced perhaps. Or if she had, perhaps it was while she had been out of things focusing on recalling some story or other or being busy making sure that she said the right things around other people. She found herself under the gaze of the other, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Perhaps the woman was simply trying to figure out which of the H'Haikaddad girls Sameera was. It was a common thing she dealt with, being nearly identical to her sister. She supposed that even if she was one of the outsiders looking in she would have a difficult time telling herself and her sister apart.
"Hm?" Sameera was momentarily confused. She thought the garment was quite lovely, and had not, in fact, seen anything like it before at any of the other stalls. She caught the other woman looking at the merchant though and her mouth formed an 'o' as she realized what her companion was doing. The bartering was still new to her, as it wasn't often she had been concerned with money before the more recent years. Still, now that she did have more concerns about money, it was all the better to have someone a little more experienced with bargaining.
She looked at the stones as they were shown to her. Truly, they were quite beautiful, and even though she was normally soft-spoken she was having trouble biting her tongue and not expressing some small form of delight at being compared to something that beautiful. It was likely only a way of selling this network dress at a higher price. She did not really think about her own appearance much, other than perhaps the troublesome ink stains on her fingers that refused to leave no matter how she scrubbed.
"Clearly." she said, hoping to match her companion's tone, "This merchant does not understand the insult he has given me." Sameera turned her back, then looked once more at the other woman. "Perhaps we would be better served finding our clothing at, um, other tables." She said the last with a slight tilt to her head. She did not wish to mess up what the other woman had started, but the merchant was stuttering now, perhaps trying to find a way to make up for his mistake. Maybe Sameera was better at bargaining than she had thought, or at least her companion's words had given her a strong enough space to launch her own words off of.
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Sameera was a little reluctant to be the one to purchase the garment, especially since both of them had liked it. If it was her sister, Safiya, that had reached out at the same time it would not be a problem. They could split the cost, and share it, though doubtless Sameera would want her sister to wear it more. Safiya had always seemed, to Sameera at least, like the one who would look better in the clothes they shared. Maybe it was her confidence or her attitude.
Though Sameera would indeed admit she enjoyed silver quite a bit, and it did seem that the stranger had other preferences in metals. Sameera could've sworn she recognized her from somewhere or other, but never quite been introduced perhaps. Or if she had, perhaps it was while she had been out of things focusing on recalling some story or other or being busy making sure that she said the right things around other people. She found herself under the gaze of the other, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Perhaps the woman was simply trying to figure out which of the H'Haikaddad girls Sameera was. It was a common thing she dealt with, being nearly identical to her sister. She supposed that even if she was one of the outsiders looking in she would have a difficult time telling herself and her sister apart.
"Hm?" Sameera was momentarily confused. She thought the garment was quite lovely, and had not, in fact, seen anything like it before at any of the other stalls. She caught the other woman looking at the merchant though and her mouth formed an 'o' as she realized what her companion was doing. The bartering was still new to her, as it wasn't often she had been concerned with money before the more recent years. Still, now that she did have more concerns about money, it was all the better to have someone a little more experienced with bargaining.
She looked at the stones as they were shown to her. Truly, they were quite beautiful, and even though she was normally soft-spoken she was having trouble biting her tongue and not expressing some small form of delight at being compared to something that beautiful. It was likely only a way of selling this network dress at a higher price. She did not really think about her own appearance much, other than perhaps the troublesome ink stains on her fingers that refused to leave no matter how she scrubbed.
"Clearly." she said, hoping to match her companion's tone, "This merchant does not understand the insult he has given me." Sameera turned her back, then looked once more at the other woman. "Perhaps we would be better served finding our clothing at, um, other tables." She said the last with a slight tilt to her head. She did not wish to mess up what the other woman had started, but the merchant was stuttering now, perhaps trying to find a way to make up for his mistake. Maybe Sameera was better at bargaining than she had thought, or at least her companion's words had given her a strong enough space to launch her own words off of.
Sameera was a little reluctant to be the one to purchase the garment, especially since both of them had liked it. If it was her sister, Safiya, that had reached out at the same time it would not be a problem. They could split the cost, and share it, though doubtless Sameera would want her sister to wear it more. Safiya had always seemed, to Sameera at least, like the one who would look better in the clothes they shared. Maybe it was her confidence or her attitude.
Though Sameera would indeed admit she enjoyed silver quite a bit, and it did seem that the stranger had other preferences in metals. Sameera could've sworn she recognized her from somewhere or other, but never quite been introduced perhaps. Or if she had, perhaps it was while she had been out of things focusing on recalling some story or other or being busy making sure that she said the right things around other people. She found herself under the gaze of the other, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Perhaps the woman was simply trying to figure out which of the H'Haikaddad girls Sameera was. It was a common thing she dealt with, being nearly identical to her sister. She supposed that even if she was one of the outsiders looking in she would have a difficult time telling herself and her sister apart.
"Hm?" Sameera was momentarily confused. She thought the garment was quite lovely, and had not, in fact, seen anything like it before at any of the other stalls. She caught the other woman looking at the merchant though and her mouth formed an 'o' as she realized what her companion was doing. The bartering was still new to her, as it wasn't often she had been concerned with money before the more recent years. Still, now that she did have more concerns about money, it was all the better to have someone a little more experienced with bargaining.
She looked at the stones as they were shown to her. Truly, they were quite beautiful, and even though she was normally soft-spoken she was having trouble biting her tongue and not expressing some small form of delight at being compared to something that beautiful. It was likely only a way of selling this network dress at a higher price. She did not really think about her own appearance much, other than perhaps the troublesome ink stains on her fingers that refused to leave no matter how she scrubbed.
"Clearly." she said, hoping to match her companion's tone, "This merchant does not understand the insult he has given me." Sameera turned her back, then looked once more at the other woman. "Perhaps we would be better served finding our clothing at, um, other tables." She said the last with a slight tilt to her head. She did not wish to mess up what the other woman had started, but the merchant was stuttering now, perhaps trying to find a way to make up for his mistake. Maybe Sameera was better at bargaining than she had thought, or at least her companion's words had given her a strong enough space to launch her own words off of.
Mayet’s almond eyes slid towards the other girl in approval as she proved herself quick to catch on to the game and added her own voice to the ruse. For the girl from Obsor it was not about being frugal- it was part of the fun, it was the sense of triumph when one got a bargain and clutched a purchase that had been a battle of wits and bluff as much as anything else.
“Indeed. For how can one trust the judgement of a man who cannot appreciate the value of what stands before him” Mayet mused, half angling her body away too, but not actually taking a step away from the stall. Now it was for the shop keep to make his play, and arched a brow toward the younger girl, an almost smile upon her lips as she waited for the inevitable.
“Lady, lady please. Of course I have only offerings to decorate your beauty” came the syrupy voice of the tradesman, and quick as a flash he set down the silver network and had reached underneath the table to produce something else. “ For you sweet lady”
Like an artist, the man spread his arms wide and let something fall across the table top, dark almost as the night sky, a contrast to the silvery network they had been looking at only moments ago.
He presented a bolt of linen, rich indigo. The kind of colour achieved only with layering due upon dye, the fabric was further enhanced with a secondary weave of metallic thread. “Maybe also you like this? Both, less coin. Two treasures for the beautiful lady”
That had piqued Mayet’s curiosity, for the linen was unusual in its finish and there was something to be said about standing out amongst the various painted ladies of court. She glanced toward her new found companion with a question on her face. Careful not to appear too enthused, her voice was edging in disinterest still
“ Well that is fine enough I suppose . Perhaps this man does see beauty after all?” Mayet rubbed the linen between her fingers to see how it felt. She had developed a taste for wearing soft fabrics next to her skin, a trapping of having gold to spend, and this had a pleasing silkiness to it.
“ What do you think, sadiq? Is this offer enough to soothe the insult done to you?”
If she were agreeable perhaps the girl could take the network and Mayet would claim this linen. They would both have something pretty to take away from their fortuitous meeting.
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Mayet’s almond eyes slid towards the other girl in approval as she proved herself quick to catch on to the game and added her own voice to the ruse. For the girl from Obsor it was not about being frugal- it was part of the fun, it was the sense of triumph when one got a bargain and clutched a purchase that had been a battle of wits and bluff as much as anything else.
“Indeed. For how can one trust the judgement of a man who cannot appreciate the value of what stands before him” Mayet mused, half angling her body away too, but not actually taking a step away from the stall. Now it was for the shop keep to make his play, and arched a brow toward the younger girl, an almost smile upon her lips as she waited for the inevitable.
“Lady, lady please. Of course I have only offerings to decorate your beauty” came the syrupy voice of the tradesman, and quick as a flash he set down the silver network and had reached underneath the table to produce something else. “ For you sweet lady”
Like an artist, the man spread his arms wide and let something fall across the table top, dark almost as the night sky, a contrast to the silvery network they had been looking at only moments ago.
He presented a bolt of linen, rich indigo. The kind of colour achieved only with layering due upon dye, the fabric was further enhanced with a secondary weave of metallic thread. “Maybe also you like this? Both, less coin. Two treasures for the beautiful lady”
That had piqued Mayet’s curiosity, for the linen was unusual in its finish and there was something to be said about standing out amongst the various painted ladies of court. She glanced toward her new found companion with a question on her face. Careful not to appear too enthused, her voice was edging in disinterest still
“ Well that is fine enough I suppose . Perhaps this man does see beauty after all?” Mayet rubbed the linen between her fingers to see how it felt. She had developed a taste for wearing soft fabrics next to her skin, a trapping of having gold to spend, and this had a pleasing silkiness to it.
“ What do you think, sadiq? Is this offer enough to soothe the insult done to you?”
If she were agreeable perhaps the girl could take the network and Mayet would claim this linen. They would both have something pretty to take away from their fortuitous meeting.
Mayet’s almond eyes slid towards the other girl in approval as she proved herself quick to catch on to the game and added her own voice to the ruse. For the girl from Obsor it was not about being frugal- it was part of the fun, it was the sense of triumph when one got a bargain and clutched a purchase that had been a battle of wits and bluff as much as anything else.
“Indeed. For how can one trust the judgement of a man who cannot appreciate the value of what stands before him” Mayet mused, half angling her body away too, but not actually taking a step away from the stall. Now it was for the shop keep to make his play, and arched a brow toward the younger girl, an almost smile upon her lips as she waited for the inevitable.
“Lady, lady please. Of course I have only offerings to decorate your beauty” came the syrupy voice of the tradesman, and quick as a flash he set down the silver network and had reached underneath the table to produce something else. “ For you sweet lady”
Like an artist, the man spread his arms wide and let something fall across the table top, dark almost as the night sky, a contrast to the silvery network they had been looking at only moments ago.
He presented a bolt of linen, rich indigo. The kind of colour achieved only with layering due upon dye, the fabric was further enhanced with a secondary weave of metallic thread. “Maybe also you like this? Both, less coin. Two treasures for the beautiful lady”
That had piqued Mayet’s curiosity, for the linen was unusual in its finish and there was something to be said about standing out amongst the various painted ladies of court. She glanced toward her new found companion with a question on her face. Careful not to appear too enthused, her voice was edging in disinterest still
“ Well that is fine enough I suppose . Perhaps this man does see beauty after all?” Mayet rubbed the linen between her fingers to see how it felt. She had developed a taste for wearing soft fabrics next to her skin, a trapping of having gold to spend, and this had a pleasing silkiness to it.
“ What do you think, sadiq? Is this offer enough to soothe the insult done to you?”
If she were agreeable perhaps the girl could take the network and Mayet would claim this linen. They would both have something pretty to take away from their fortuitous meeting.
It was interesting, the way they bargained, the talk and the way the threat of not buying something was enough for the merchant to bring out something entirely new. Sameera wished she could write about the things that happened in marketplaces like this daily, but her dialogues always felt forced and fake. Maybe she would write better if she took just a few things from life, observed people like the merchant longer.
Sameera, too, appeared to be looking towards the other stalls, following her companion's lead. She did feel a little bad. What if the reason everything was so expensive was because he was trying to feed his family? Still, the Haikaddads didn't need to lose any money that wasn't entirely necessary, so she tried to keep that in mind.
Though she was trying to appear aloof and offended, Sameera couldn't help but stare at the fabric that the man offered next. It was like something Nephthys herself might wear, she thought in awe, her eyes wide. She certainly would never wear such a thing, she didn't think it would look right on her. She thought that about a great many more gorgeous things, and she had wondered what her companion stood to gain if they did negotiate less price for the silver. It was hardly like sharing a dress with Safiya, where it could be switched in the home.
"Perhaps. One wonders why it took him this long to offer," Sameera said, not quite ready to give up her role as a disappointed somewhat haughty noblewoman. It was a little like playing a version of her that was a little bit more savvy, who could know how all these bargaining things were supposed to happen, and who had enough dresses and lovely things to wear that something like this was trivial to her.
That was imaginary Sameera. Real life Sameera was fascinated enough by the linen, which was so intricately colored, almost like it was the coloring equivalent to the network piece's networking. At first Mayet's words didn't even register to her ears. When they finally came across, she nodded. "This would certainly begin to make up for it."
She continued feeling the darker linen. How would one achieve that pattern, anyways? How did one make clothes? More things she would later have to research for her stories. The networking of the first one was intricate, but they were equals in a way, like Sameera and her sister. Different, but both beautiful and with their own talents. Of course, Sameera and Safiya were a lot more difficult to tell apart than the linen and the network dress, which were for one, different materials, but Sameera liked the way the words sounded in her head. No one else would hear them, anyways.
"Yes, I do think this will be satisfactory," she nodded, pulling out her coin purse. She had put a few coins in here in case she found something she really did like, and this seemed worthy, and now she was counting them, though she made sure the others couldn't see her count. That would be foolish, she thought.
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It was interesting, the way they bargained, the talk and the way the threat of not buying something was enough for the merchant to bring out something entirely new. Sameera wished she could write about the things that happened in marketplaces like this daily, but her dialogues always felt forced and fake. Maybe she would write better if she took just a few things from life, observed people like the merchant longer.
Sameera, too, appeared to be looking towards the other stalls, following her companion's lead. She did feel a little bad. What if the reason everything was so expensive was because he was trying to feed his family? Still, the Haikaddads didn't need to lose any money that wasn't entirely necessary, so she tried to keep that in mind.
Though she was trying to appear aloof and offended, Sameera couldn't help but stare at the fabric that the man offered next. It was like something Nephthys herself might wear, she thought in awe, her eyes wide. She certainly would never wear such a thing, she didn't think it would look right on her. She thought that about a great many more gorgeous things, and she had wondered what her companion stood to gain if they did negotiate less price for the silver. It was hardly like sharing a dress with Safiya, where it could be switched in the home.
"Perhaps. One wonders why it took him this long to offer," Sameera said, not quite ready to give up her role as a disappointed somewhat haughty noblewoman. It was a little like playing a version of her that was a little bit more savvy, who could know how all these bargaining things were supposed to happen, and who had enough dresses and lovely things to wear that something like this was trivial to her.
That was imaginary Sameera. Real life Sameera was fascinated enough by the linen, which was so intricately colored, almost like it was the coloring equivalent to the network piece's networking. At first Mayet's words didn't even register to her ears. When they finally came across, she nodded. "This would certainly begin to make up for it."
She continued feeling the darker linen. How would one achieve that pattern, anyways? How did one make clothes? More things she would later have to research for her stories. The networking of the first one was intricate, but they were equals in a way, like Sameera and her sister. Different, but both beautiful and with their own talents. Of course, Sameera and Safiya were a lot more difficult to tell apart than the linen and the network dress, which were for one, different materials, but Sameera liked the way the words sounded in her head. No one else would hear them, anyways.
"Yes, I do think this will be satisfactory," she nodded, pulling out her coin purse. She had put a few coins in here in case she found something she really did like, and this seemed worthy, and now she was counting them, though she made sure the others couldn't see her count. That would be foolish, she thought.
It was interesting, the way they bargained, the talk and the way the threat of not buying something was enough for the merchant to bring out something entirely new. Sameera wished she could write about the things that happened in marketplaces like this daily, but her dialogues always felt forced and fake. Maybe she would write better if she took just a few things from life, observed people like the merchant longer.
Sameera, too, appeared to be looking towards the other stalls, following her companion's lead. She did feel a little bad. What if the reason everything was so expensive was because he was trying to feed his family? Still, the Haikaddads didn't need to lose any money that wasn't entirely necessary, so she tried to keep that in mind.
Though she was trying to appear aloof and offended, Sameera couldn't help but stare at the fabric that the man offered next. It was like something Nephthys herself might wear, she thought in awe, her eyes wide. She certainly would never wear such a thing, she didn't think it would look right on her. She thought that about a great many more gorgeous things, and she had wondered what her companion stood to gain if they did negotiate less price for the silver. It was hardly like sharing a dress with Safiya, where it could be switched in the home.
"Perhaps. One wonders why it took him this long to offer," Sameera said, not quite ready to give up her role as a disappointed somewhat haughty noblewoman. It was a little like playing a version of her that was a little bit more savvy, who could know how all these bargaining things were supposed to happen, and who had enough dresses and lovely things to wear that something like this was trivial to her.
That was imaginary Sameera. Real life Sameera was fascinated enough by the linen, which was so intricately colored, almost like it was the coloring equivalent to the network piece's networking. At first Mayet's words didn't even register to her ears. When they finally came across, she nodded. "This would certainly begin to make up for it."
She continued feeling the darker linen. How would one achieve that pattern, anyways? How did one make clothes? More things she would later have to research for her stories. The networking of the first one was intricate, but they were equals in a way, like Sameera and her sister. Different, but both beautiful and with their own talents. Of course, Sameera and Safiya were a lot more difficult to tell apart than the linen and the network dress, which were for one, different materials, but Sameera liked the way the words sounded in her head. No one else would hear them, anyways.
"Yes, I do think this will be satisfactory," she nodded, pulling out her coin purse. She had put a few coins in here in case she found something she really did like, and this seemed worthy, and now she was counting them, though she made sure the others couldn't see her count. That would be foolish, she thought.
It was there, that little glow of triumph, the sense of victory. Mayet did not feel badly for the tradesman. Even paying what he offered as a ‘reduced’ price, she knew how much they marked up their wares. And the man looked well-fed enough. There was a place for charity but the soukh was not it.
With an encouraging nod at the noblewoman, Mayet reached for her own coin, fished out what he man asked for both the network dress and the indigo and handed it over. As the man bustled away to wrap their purchases she turned to the other girl and pretended not to notice her counting her coins.
“If you are agreeable, sadiq, we can divide the spoils? I like the blue, and the silver would look well on you, as we have agreed” She posed, one dark brow arching in question. She was trying to recall the names of the twins but she was not sure which one this was, so instead, she thought to offer her own name in the hope the gesture would be returned and save her making a mistake. “I’m Mayet,” she said, with the barest hint of a bow toward the other woman. And just in case she hadn’t made it plain enough, she prompted “ And you are…?”
Mayet could not imagine how odd it would be to have a mirror image of yourself walking the same earth. She was not sure she would like it. Imagine everything that made her beauty being diminished by their being another just like it. Much like the gems she wore about her neck, worth was only increased with rarity. Part of her pitied the girl before her.
“Will you keep it for yourself? Or share with your sister?” She asked, curiosity making her more chatty than she might have been. Mayet had no sisters, just brothers, though Kahi was as close to her as her own blood. But still, the two of them did not swap clothes nor jewellery. They were different enough to have distinct tastes that made such trades unlikely. And perhaps Mayet was a little possessive over the fine things that Oso had gifted her with over the years, each one a mark of his regard for her, a regard that he could not make known in any more public ways, such as making her his wife.
Mayet knew she played a dangerous game, for though she had his attention, and she thought his love, for now, there was no guarantees for a woman like her. Some of his gifts she sent away for storage with an aunt of hers. Her fallback for if and when he tired of her, or found some fancy wife who would not tolerate her. Maybe one like the girl before her.
Mayet drew her attention away from Sameera and spared a sharp smile for the shopkeep as she accepted their purchases, and as she did she consoled herself with the fact that this girl at least seemed too timid to tempt her Osorsen. And after exchanging a few words of thanks with the tradesman, she looked appraisingly at the girl. If she wasn’t a threat, then perhaps she could be a useful acquaintance.
“Will you join me for some palm wine so we might divide these packages?” It was a hot day, and a drink in the shade would be welcome, as far as Mayet was concerned.
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It was there, that little glow of triumph, the sense of victory. Mayet did not feel badly for the tradesman. Even paying what he offered as a ‘reduced’ price, she knew how much they marked up their wares. And the man looked well-fed enough. There was a place for charity but the soukh was not it.
With an encouraging nod at the noblewoman, Mayet reached for her own coin, fished out what he man asked for both the network dress and the indigo and handed it over. As the man bustled away to wrap their purchases she turned to the other girl and pretended not to notice her counting her coins.
“If you are agreeable, sadiq, we can divide the spoils? I like the blue, and the silver would look well on you, as we have agreed” She posed, one dark brow arching in question. She was trying to recall the names of the twins but she was not sure which one this was, so instead, she thought to offer her own name in the hope the gesture would be returned and save her making a mistake. “I’m Mayet,” she said, with the barest hint of a bow toward the other woman. And just in case she hadn’t made it plain enough, she prompted “ And you are…?”
Mayet could not imagine how odd it would be to have a mirror image of yourself walking the same earth. She was not sure she would like it. Imagine everything that made her beauty being diminished by their being another just like it. Much like the gems she wore about her neck, worth was only increased with rarity. Part of her pitied the girl before her.
“Will you keep it for yourself? Or share with your sister?” She asked, curiosity making her more chatty than she might have been. Mayet had no sisters, just brothers, though Kahi was as close to her as her own blood. But still, the two of them did not swap clothes nor jewellery. They were different enough to have distinct tastes that made such trades unlikely. And perhaps Mayet was a little possessive over the fine things that Oso had gifted her with over the years, each one a mark of his regard for her, a regard that he could not make known in any more public ways, such as making her his wife.
Mayet knew she played a dangerous game, for though she had his attention, and she thought his love, for now, there was no guarantees for a woman like her. Some of his gifts she sent away for storage with an aunt of hers. Her fallback for if and when he tired of her, or found some fancy wife who would not tolerate her. Maybe one like the girl before her.
Mayet drew her attention away from Sameera and spared a sharp smile for the shopkeep as she accepted their purchases, and as she did she consoled herself with the fact that this girl at least seemed too timid to tempt her Osorsen. And after exchanging a few words of thanks with the tradesman, she looked appraisingly at the girl. If she wasn’t a threat, then perhaps she could be a useful acquaintance.
“Will you join me for some palm wine so we might divide these packages?” It was a hot day, and a drink in the shade would be welcome, as far as Mayet was concerned.
It was there, that little glow of triumph, the sense of victory. Mayet did not feel badly for the tradesman. Even paying what he offered as a ‘reduced’ price, she knew how much they marked up their wares. And the man looked well-fed enough. There was a place for charity but the soukh was not it.
With an encouraging nod at the noblewoman, Mayet reached for her own coin, fished out what he man asked for both the network dress and the indigo and handed it over. As the man bustled away to wrap their purchases she turned to the other girl and pretended not to notice her counting her coins.
“If you are agreeable, sadiq, we can divide the spoils? I like the blue, and the silver would look well on you, as we have agreed” She posed, one dark brow arching in question. She was trying to recall the names of the twins but she was not sure which one this was, so instead, she thought to offer her own name in the hope the gesture would be returned and save her making a mistake. “I’m Mayet,” she said, with the barest hint of a bow toward the other woman. And just in case she hadn’t made it plain enough, she prompted “ And you are…?”
Mayet could not imagine how odd it would be to have a mirror image of yourself walking the same earth. She was not sure she would like it. Imagine everything that made her beauty being diminished by their being another just like it. Much like the gems she wore about her neck, worth was only increased with rarity. Part of her pitied the girl before her.
“Will you keep it for yourself? Or share with your sister?” She asked, curiosity making her more chatty than she might have been. Mayet had no sisters, just brothers, though Kahi was as close to her as her own blood. But still, the two of them did not swap clothes nor jewellery. They were different enough to have distinct tastes that made such trades unlikely. And perhaps Mayet was a little possessive over the fine things that Oso had gifted her with over the years, each one a mark of his regard for her, a regard that he could not make known in any more public ways, such as making her his wife.
Mayet knew she played a dangerous game, for though she had his attention, and she thought his love, for now, there was no guarantees for a woman like her. Some of his gifts she sent away for storage with an aunt of hers. Her fallback for if and when he tired of her, or found some fancy wife who would not tolerate her. Maybe one like the girl before her.
Mayet drew her attention away from Sameera and spared a sharp smile for the shopkeep as she accepted their purchases, and as she did she consoled herself with the fact that this girl at least seemed too timid to tempt her Osorsen. And after exchanging a few words of thanks with the tradesman, she looked appraisingly at the girl. If she wasn’t a threat, then perhaps she could be a useful acquaintance.
“Will you join me for some palm wine so we might divide these packages?” It was a hot day, and a drink in the shade would be welcome, as far as Mayet was concerned.
Sameera sighed in relief. She didn't want to have to pay for both things, as she wasn't sure she had the funds for it, but she didn't want to be rude. She was the noblewoman out of the two of them, and there were expectations placed on her, wealth being one of those. She wasn't sure how far the news of House Haikaddad's losses had spread to others, but she didn't want to be a part of any rumors. "Dividing them sounds fine, thank you."
She was pleased that Mayet realized a need to introduce herself. To be honest, Sameera wasn't sure if they had met before or not, if the meeting was not especially memorable, and she knew there was often confusion when it came to her own identity. She thought that her sister looked quite different from her, but it must be different to an outsider looking in.
"Sameera," she answered with a smile. Mayet was familiar with the pair of Haikaddad twins, then, so they must have met. Or perhaps she had met Safiya. Sameera couldn't help but feel like she had seen Mayet before.
"I suppose we'll share, as we do with most things. Sameera considered this, "Our wardrobes aren't separated by too much." Safiya had always been more daring, but perhaps Sameera could borrow some of her clothes more often. As if people didn't mistake them enough, that was another element of confusion.
Sometimes Sameera wished she could be seen as her own person, without the influence of her twin, but mostly she was glad for it. Safiya was her best friend, the person she felt most comfortable around. They could talk about anything, and Sameera would be happy to listen.
Of course, there were times when she had been mistaken for Safiya and that had been a bad thing, someone who was opposed to something her sister had done, but it was never anything too bad, and she was usually able to say her own name to dissuade them.
At worst, one of Safiya's friends would approach her whispering about a surprise that was intended for her, thinking her to be her sister. That was the most bothersome, but also the most entertaining.
She, too, added some grateful words to the merchant as he brought out the clothes and she turned cheerfully to Mayet as the pair started walking away from the merchant. It wasn't such a bad day, after all, and she was glad that they had been able to bargain down the silver outfit together. She didn't have nearly as good a grasp on what was going on in the markets as she thought she did.
"Palm wine sounds delightful," Sameera smiled. She had no plans for the day other than perhaps do some reading in her late father's library, and that was something she could do any time. She was never one to turn down invitations either. She enjoyed a good conversation as much as the next woman, and especially the opportunity to make a friend out of someone she had seen around court.
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Sameera sighed in relief. She didn't want to have to pay for both things, as she wasn't sure she had the funds for it, but she didn't want to be rude. She was the noblewoman out of the two of them, and there were expectations placed on her, wealth being one of those. She wasn't sure how far the news of House Haikaddad's losses had spread to others, but she didn't want to be a part of any rumors. "Dividing them sounds fine, thank you."
She was pleased that Mayet realized a need to introduce herself. To be honest, Sameera wasn't sure if they had met before or not, if the meeting was not especially memorable, and she knew there was often confusion when it came to her own identity. She thought that her sister looked quite different from her, but it must be different to an outsider looking in.
"Sameera," she answered with a smile. Mayet was familiar with the pair of Haikaddad twins, then, so they must have met. Or perhaps she had met Safiya. Sameera couldn't help but feel like she had seen Mayet before.
"I suppose we'll share, as we do with most things. Sameera considered this, "Our wardrobes aren't separated by too much." Safiya had always been more daring, but perhaps Sameera could borrow some of her clothes more often. As if people didn't mistake them enough, that was another element of confusion.
Sometimes Sameera wished she could be seen as her own person, without the influence of her twin, but mostly she was glad for it. Safiya was her best friend, the person she felt most comfortable around. They could talk about anything, and Sameera would be happy to listen.
Of course, there were times when she had been mistaken for Safiya and that had been a bad thing, someone who was opposed to something her sister had done, but it was never anything too bad, and she was usually able to say her own name to dissuade them.
At worst, one of Safiya's friends would approach her whispering about a surprise that was intended for her, thinking her to be her sister. That was the most bothersome, but also the most entertaining.
She, too, added some grateful words to the merchant as he brought out the clothes and she turned cheerfully to Mayet as the pair started walking away from the merchant. It wasn't such a bad day, after all, and she was glad that they had been able to bargain down the silver outfit together. She didn't have nearly as good a grasp on what was going on in the markets as she thought she did.
"Palm wine sounds delightful," Sameera smiled. She had no plans for the day other than perhaps do some reading in her late father's library, and that was something she could do any time. She was never one to turn down invitations either. She enjoyed a good conversation as much as the next woman, and especially the opportunity to make a friend out of someone she had seen around court.
Sameera sighed in relief. She didn't want to have to pay for both things, as she wasn't sure she had the funds for it, but she didn't want to be rude. She was the noblewoman out of the two of them, and there were expectations placed on her, wealth being one of those. She wasn't sure how far the news of House Haikaddad's losses had spread to others, but she didn't want to be a part of any rumors. "Dividing them sounds fine, thank you."
She was pleased that Mayet realized a need to introduce herself. To be honest, Sameera wasn't sure if they had met before or not, if the meeting was not especially memorable, and she knew there was often confusion when it came to her own identity. She thought that her sister looked quite different from her, but it must be different to an outsider looking in.
"Sameera," she answered with a smile. Mayet was familiar with the pair of Haikaddad twins, then, so they must have met. Or perhaps she had met Safiya. Sameera couldn't help but feel like she had seen Mayet before.
"I suppose we'll share, as we do with most things. Sameera considered this, "Our wardrobes aren't separated by too much." Safiya had always been more daring, but perhaps Sameera could borrow some of her clothes more often. As if people didn't mistake them enough, that was another element of confusion.
Sometimes Sameera wished she could be seen as her own person, without the influence of her twin, but mostly she was glad for it. Safiya was her best friend, the person she felt most comfortable around. They could talk about anything, and Sameera would be happy to listen.
Of course, there were times when she had been mistaken for Safiya and that had been a bad thing, someone who was opposed to something her sister had done, but it was never anything too bad, and she was usually able to say her own name to dissuade them.
At worst, one of Safiya's friends would approach her whispering about a surprise that was intended for her, thinking her to be her sister. That was the most bothersome, but also the most entertaining.
She, too, added some grateful words to the merchant as he brought out the clothes and she turned cheerfully to Mayet as the pair started walking away from the merchant. It wasn't such a bad day, after all, and she was glad that they had been able to bargain down the silver outfit together. She didn't have nearly as good a grasp on what was going on in the markets as she thought she did.
"Palm wine sounds delightful," Sameera smiled. She had no plans for the day other than perhaps do some reading in her late father's library, and that was something she could do any time. She was never one to turn down invitations either. She enjoyed a good conversation as much as the next woman, and especially the opportunity to make a friend out of someone she had seen around court.
Pleased and yet not surprised when the girl consented to her suggestion, Mayet nodded once before offering her name in an enticement to glean the others, which the girl was also forthcoming with. Helpful thing.
“Sameera” Mayet echoed. “I am not good with names, you will forgive me, but I am sure I will not forget yours now, no?” she smiled slightly as they waited for the shopkeep to wrap their purchases. The other woman let her gaze wanderer over the rest of the stock, unaware that her companion was trying to place her. Mayet might have been amused if she had known the girl was doing that. She would accompany Osorsen to those occasions he desired and so was not an irregular face around the gatherings of the rich. Still, without the General by her side, Mayet had no claim to attend those events. She existed somewhere between the world of her birth, which was decidedly humble and that inhabited by Sameera, not entirely comfortable in either. Not that she would show it.
Turning her dark eyes to the other girl as she answered her question, Mayet lifted a brow. “ Are you so similar as to share the same taste then? I think I would want very much to have my own style if I were in your place.”
But then perhaps this one liked being interchangeable, she had a softness to her that suggested she might be content without the sun shining upon her at all times. Mayet was not one to judge.
She knew just the place to lead them to once they had collected the packages, threading through the crowded souk with effortless ease, leading Sameera out towards the far edge where the sprawl of stalls and tents met the city wall. Here, under a canopy of brightly coloured silks which offered some shade, there was one of Mayet’s favourite places; indeed she greeted the older man tending the few tables with an embrace and a kiss to his cheek, letting him beckon her forwards to a table in the coolest spot. “It is good to see you, Bhenakh,” she said as she settled down into one of the seats before gesturing toward Sameera. “This is my new friend, be good to her as you are to me, sadiq, and she might bring all of her fancy friends to sample your wines.”
This thought seemed to please Bhenakh much, and so he fussed and fawned over the two women until they had their palm wine and a platter of sweet dates and honeyed nuts. Mayet paid him more than was strictly necessary and then turned her gaze to Sameera with a conspiratorial look. “You will find no better wine on the souk and certainly not a kinder man” she advised, reaching for a date and popping it into her mouth before chewing. In fact, he had come to Mayet’s rescue once when she was new to the city and less hardened to the follies that might trip up a beautiful young woman who was not being escorted by a man. Mayet had never forgotten it, and she always made sure to stop by whenever she visited.
“You have a brother too don’t you? Three of you?” she asked, waving a hand toward Sameera. “He is a soldier, yes? Is he away in the North too?”
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Pleased and yet not surprised when the girl consented to her suggestion, Mayet nodded once before offering her name in an enticement to glean the others, which the girl was also forthcoming with. Helpful thing.
“Sameera” Mayet echoed. “I am not good with names, you will forgive me, but I am sure I will not forget yours now, no?” she smiled slightly as they waited for the shopkeep to wrap their purchases. The other woman let her gaze wanderer over the rest of the stock, unaware that her companion was trying to place her. Mayet might have been amused if she had known the girl was doing that. She would accompany Osorsen to those occasions he desired and so was not an irregular face around the gatherings of the rich. Still, without the General by her side, Mayet had no claim to attend those events. She existed somewhere between the world of her birth, which was decidedly humble and that inhabited by Sameera, not entirely comfortable in either. Not that she would show it.
Turning her dark eyes to the other girl as she answered her question, Mayet lifted a brow. “ Are you so similar as to share the same taste then? I think I would want very much to have my own style if I were in your place.”
But then perhaps this one liked being interchangeable, she had a softness to her that suggested she might be content without the sun shining upon her at all times. Mayet was not one to judge.
She knew just the place to lead them to once they had collected the packages, threading through the crowded souk with effortless ease, leading Sameera out towards the far edge where the sprawl of stalls and tents met the city wall. Here, under a canopy of brightly coloured silks which offered some shade, there was one of Mayet’s favourite places; indeed she greeted the older man tending the few tables with an embrace and a kiss to his cheek, letting him beckon her forwards to a table in the coolest spot. “It is good to see you, Bhenakh,” she said as she settled down into one of the seats before gesturing toward Sameera. “This is my new friend, be good to her as you are to me, sadiq, and she might bring all of her fancy friends to sample your wines.”
This thought seemed to please Bhenakh much, and so he fussed and fawned over the two women until they had their palm wine and a platter of sweet dates and honeyed nuts. Mayet paid him more than was strictly necessary and then turned her gaze to Sameera with a conspiratorial look. “You will find no better wine on the souk and certainly not a kinder man” she advised, reaching for a date and popping it into her mouth before chewing. In fact, he had come to Mayet’s rescue once when she was new to the city and less hardened to the follies that might trip up a beautiful young woman who was not being escorted by a man. Mayet had never forgotten it, and she always made sure to stop by whenever she visited.
“You have a brother too don’t you? Three of you?” she asked, waving a hand toward Sameera. “He is a soldier, yes? Is he away in the North too?”
Pleased and yet not surprised when the girl consented to her suggestion, Mayet nodded once before offering her name in an enticement to glean the others, which the girl was also forthcoming with. Helpful thing.
“Sameera” Mayet echoed. “I am not good with names, you will forgive me, but I am sure I will not forget yours now, no?” she smiled slightly as they waited for the shopkeep to wrap their purchases. The other woman let her gaze wanderer over the rest of the stock, unaware that her companion was trying to place her. Mayet might have been amused if she had known the girl was doing that. She would accompany Osorsen to those occasions he desired and so was not an irregular face around the gatherings of the rich. Still, without the General by her side, Mayet had no claim to attend those events. She existed somewhere between the world of her birth, which was decidedly humble and that inhabited by Sameera, not entirely comfortable in either. Not that she would show it.
Turning her dark eyes to the other girl as she answered her question, Mayet lifted a brow. “ Are you so similar as to share the same taste then? I think I would want very much to have my own style if I were in your place.”
But then perhaps this one liked being interchangeable, she had a softness to her that suggested she might be content without the sun shining upon her at all times. Mayet was not one to judge.
She knew just the place to lead them to once they had collected the packages, threading through the crowded souk with effortless ease, leading Sameera out towards the far edge where the sprawl of stalls and tents met the city wall. Here, under a canopy of brightly coloured silks which offered some shade, there was one of Mayet’s favourite places; indeed she greeted the older man tending the few tables with an embrace and a kiss to his cheek, letting him beckon her forwards to a table in the coolest spot. “It is good to see you, Bhenakh,” she said as she settled down into one of the seats before gesturing toward Sameera. “This is my new friend, be good to her as you are to me, sadiq, and she might bring all of her fancy friends to sample your wines.”
This thought seemed to please Bhenakh much, and so he fussed and fawned over the two women until they had their palm wine and a platter of sweet dates and honeyed nuts. Mayet paid him more than was strictly necessary and then turned her gaze to Sameera with a conspiratorial look. “You will find no better wine on the souk and certainly not a kinder man” she advised, reaching for a date and popping it into her mouth before chewing. In fact, he had come to Mayet’s rescue once when she was new to the city and less hardened to the follies that might trip up a beautiful young woman who was not being escorted by a man. Mayet had never forgotten it, and she always made sure to stop by whenever she visited.
“You have a brother too don’t you? Three of you?” she asked, waving a hand toward Sameera. “He is a soldier, yes? Is he away in the North too?”
An easy smile crossed Sameera's face, "You may, though I believe it is a common mistake with my sister and I more than any others." It was a fact of life that Sameera had gotten used to long before she had gotten used to any of the rest of them, long before the death of her father. It had never been annoying to her, and in fact when they were much younger the twins had played up their similarities for causes of mischief.
Sameera wouldn't admit how much she missed being a carefree child, especially as she grew into her womanhood. There was slightly more expected of a woman, and she suspected that there were members of the other Heis with eyes on her, curious if she would be more like her foreign-born mother or like the father she had to take some time to remember?
The stories of the man lived in Sameera's head like so many of the others, but she treasured them more than anything. If she remembered a detail or so wrong, what was the problem? No one was there to correct it, especially the few moments when it had just been Sameera and her father. She wished she could recall the sound of his voice, but the words he spoke in her memories were colourless and bland, perhaps sounding more like her Uncle Narmer than anyone else.
"We do share similar tastes, though there are items we have in our rooms that only one of us will wear," Sameera liked wearing an outfit that was a little different from whatever Safiya was wearing. It meant less mistakes for the people they would be talking to that day, and it meant less 'I'm Sameera's for her to say. Less embarrassment as well. She had heard one or two things that had been meant for her sister, not her, and she had no doubt that Safiya had heard some things that were not meant for her ears as well.
Of course, the more attention was on her sister, the better. Sameera had always been the type to observe, not the type to seek out her own adventures, as much as she might find the idea fascinating, in practice she was more of a coward than she might've liked to admit. She did daydream frequently that some faceless yet handsome hero, blessed by the gods, would come and marry her, paying her Hei for her company and treating her to many, many libraries worth of books.
That was just a fantasy, though, and Sameera knew real life would likely be much different. Sometimes her daydreams were more like day-nightmares, though, and she would worry about things with not much chance happening.
Her eyes took in the crowded souk as Mayet led her. She seemed to know where she was going, and Sameera was always happy to follow anybody with a great confidence in what they were doing. She was more at ease around her fellow women, as she felt that they were more at her level, for the most part.
Mayet seemed familiar with the owner of the tents, so Sameera wasn't too worried about where they were. She nodded politely and smiled her most winning smile. Her cheeks felt hot when Mayet mentioned bringing more fancy friends, as she did not feel close with a great many people, but she would certainly tell Safiya, and Nenet, and everyone else she knew.
Sameera's eyes immediately went to the dates as soon as they were in view. She was of the opinion that the gods themselves had sent them to humanity as an accident, for they were so heavenly. She indulged herself by scooping up two and popping them in her mouth, smiling as she enjoyed the taste.
Next she tasted the palm wine, that Mayet had sung a praise of. "It is quite good," she nodded her head, certain that it was among the better wines she had tasted, though she was no critic of such things.
"Indeed, he is a couple years younger than the pair of us. Kissan," Sameera added, "is a soldier, yes. Sekhmet bless him." Sameera worried for her younger brother. Certainly young men made their way into the world through the battlefield, proved themselves, but she couldn't imagine what might happen if they lost him.
"And you, Mayet? Have you any siblings?" Sameera was the type who would grow uncomfortable were conversation to focus on her for too long, the type who would share the spotlight with others, and her slightly investigative spirit helped her out. Even now she fidgeted with her hands just a little, a habit she had not broken even when her fingers, stained with ink, had left traces up her arms.
She couldn't imagine being even greater in the focus of many people for her whole life. That was part of why she enjoyed being a twin, especially when her sister was as outgoing as Sameera was reserved.
Besides, it seemed that Mayet knew more about her than she knew about Mayet, a mildly uncomfortable position. She did hope that Mayet did not take much offense to the question, but it seemed to her to be a fairly innocent one. If Mayet had been a foreigner, there would certainly be more questions for her to ask her.
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An easy smile crossed Sameera's face, "You may, though I believe it is a common mistake with my sister and I more than any others." It was a fact of life that Sameera had gotten used to long before she had gotten used to any of the rest of them, long before the death of her father. It had never been annoying to her, and in fact when they were much younger the twins had played up their similarities for causes of mischief.
Sameera wouldn't admit how much she missed being a carefree child, especially as she grew into her womanhood. There was slightly more expected of a woman, and she suspected that there were members of the other Heis with eyes on her, curious if she would be more like her foreign-born mother or like the father she had to take some time to remember?
The stories of the man lived in Sameera's head like so many of the others, but she treasured them more than anything. If she remembered a detail or so wrong, what was the problem? No one was there to correct it, especially the few moments when it had just been Sameera and her father. She wished she could recall the sound of his voice, but the words he spoke in her memories were colourless and bland, perhaps sounding more like her Uncle Narmer than anyone else.
"We do share similar tastes, though there are items we have in our rooms that only one of us will wear," Sameera liked wearing an outfit that was a little different from whatever Safiya was wearing. It meant less mistakes for the people they would be talking to that day, and it meant less 'I'm Sameera's for her to say. Less embarrassment as well. She had heard one or two things that had been meant for her sister, not her, and she had no doubt that Safiya had heard some things that were not meant for her ears as well.
Of course, the more attention was on her sister, the better. Sameera had always been the type to observe, not the type to seek out her own adventures, as much as she might find the idea fascinating, in practice she was more of a coward than she might've liked to admit. She did daydream frequently that some faceless yet handsome hero, blessed by the gods, would come and marry her, paying her Hei for her company and treating her to many, many libraries worth of books.
That was just a fantasy, though, and Sameera knew real life would likely be much different. Sometimes her daydreams were more like day-nightmares, though, and she would worry about things with not much chance happening.
Her eyes took in the crowded souk as Mayet led her. She seemed to know where she was going, and Sameera was always happy to follow anybody with a great confidence in what they were doing. She was more at ease around her fellow women, as she felt that they were more at her level, for the most part.
Mayet seemed familiar with the owner of the tents, so Sameera wasn't too worried about where they were. She nodded politely and smiled her most winning smile. Her cheeks felt hot when Mayet mentioned bringing more fancy friends, as she did not feel close with a great many people, but she would certainly tell Safiya, and Nenet, and everyone else she knew.
Sameera's eyes immediately went to the dates as soon as they were in view. She was of the opinion that the gods themselves had sent them to humanity as an accident, for they were so heavenly. She indulged herself by scooping up two and popping them in her mouth, smiling as she enjoyed the taste.
Next she tasted the palm wine, that Mayet had sung a praise of. "It is quite good," she nodded her head, certain that it was among the better wines she had tasted, though she was no critic of such things.
"Indeed, he is a couple years younger than the pair of us. Kissan," Sameera added, "is a soldier, yes. Sekhmet bless him." Sameera worried for her younger brother. Certainly young men made their way into the world through the battlefield, proved themselves, but she couldn't imagine what might happen if they lost him.
"And you, Mayet? Have you any siblings?" Sameera was the type who would grow uncomfortable were conversation to focus on her for too long, the type who would share the spotlight with others, and her slightly investigative spirit helped her out. Even now she fidgeted with her hands just a little, a habit she had not broken even when her fingers, stained with ink, had left traces up her arms.
She couldn't imagine being even greater in the focus of many people for her whole life. That was part of why she enjoyed being a twin, especially when her sister was as outgoing as Sameera was reserved.
Besides, it seemed that Mayet knew more about her than she knew about Mayet, a mildly uncomfortable position. She did hope that Mayet did not take much offense to the question, but it seemed to her to be a fairly innocent one. If Mayet had been a foreigner, there would certainly be more questions for her to ask her.
An easy smile crossed Sameera's face, "You may, though I believe it is a common mistake with my sister and I more than any others." It was a fact of life that Sameera had gotten used to long before she had gotten used to any of the rest of them, long before the death of her father. It had never been annoying to her, and in fact when they were much younger the twins had played up their similarities for causes of mischief.
Sameera wouldn't admit how much she missed being a carefree child, especially as she grew into her womanhood. There was slightly more expected of a woman, and she suspected that there were members of the other Heis with eyes on her, curious if she would be more like her foreign-born mother or like the father she had to take some time to remember?
The stories of the man lived in Sameera's head like so many of the others, but she treasured them more than anything. If she remembered a detail or so wrong, what was the problem? No one was there to correct it, especially the few moments when it had just been Sameera and her father. She wished she could recall the sound of his voice, but the words he spoke in her memories were colourless and bland, perhaps sounding more like her Uncle Narmer than anyone else.
"We do share similar tastes, though there are items we have in our rooms that only one of us will wear," Sameera liked wearing an outfit that was a little different from whatever Safiya was wearing. It meant less mistakes for the people they would be talking to that day, and it meant less 'I'm Sameera's for her to say. Less embarrassment as well. She had heard one or two things that had been meant for her sister, not her, and she had no doubt that Safiya had heard some things that were not meant for her ears as well.
Of course, the more attention was on her sister, the better. Sameera had always been the type to observe, not the type to seek out her own adventures, as much as she might find the idea fascinating, in practice she was more of a coward than she might've liked to admit. She did daydream frequently that some faceless yet handsome hero, blessed by the gods, would come and marry her, paying her Hei for her company and treating her to many, many libraries worth of books.
That was just a fantasy, though, and Sameera knew real life would likely be much different. Sometimes her daydreams were more like day-nightmares, though, and she would worry about things with not much chance happening.
Her eyes took in the crowded souk as Mayet led her. She seemed to know where she was going, and Sameera was always happy to follow anybody with a great confidence in what they were doing. She was more at ease around her fellow women, as she felt that they were more at her level, for the most part.
Mayet seemed familiar with the owner of the tents, so Sameera wasn't too worried about where they were. She nodded politely and smiled her most winning smile. Her cheeks felt hot when Mayet mentioned bringing more fancy friends, as she did not feel close with a great many people, but she would certainly tell Safiya, and Nenet, and everyone else she knew.
Sameera's eyes immediately went to the dates as soon as they were in view. She was of the opinion that the gods themselves had sent them to humanity as an accident, for they were so heavenly. She indulged herself by scooping up two and popping them in her mouth, smiling as she enjoyed the taste.
Next she tasted the palm wine, that Mayet had sung a praise of. "It is quite good," she nodded her head, certain that it was among the better wines she had tasted, though she was no critic of such things.
"Indeed, he is a couple years younger than the pair of us. Kissan," Sameera added, "is a soldier, yes. Sekhmet bless him." Sameera worried for her younger brother. Certainly young men made their way into the world through the battlefield, proved themselves, but she couldn't imagine what might happen if they lost him.
"And you, Mayet? Have you any siblings?" Sameera was the type who would grow uncomfortable were conversation to focus on her for too long, the type who would share the spotlight with others, and her slightly investigative spirit helped her out. Even now she fidgeted with her hands just a little, a habit she had not broken even when her fingers, stained with ink, had left traces up her arms.
She couldn't imagine being even greater in the focus of many people for her whole life. That was part of why she enjoyed being a twin, especially when her sister was as outgoing as Sameera was reserved.
Besides, it seemed that Mayet knew more about her than she knew about Mayet, a mildly uncomfortable position. She did hope that Mayet did not take much offense to the question, but it seemed to her to be a fairly innocent one. If Mayet had been a foreigner, there would certainly be more questions for her to ask her.
Mayet surveyed Sameera through kohl-rimmed eyes, not judgingexactly but measuring instead. The girl did not seem terribly confident, a thing she found difficult to understand from one of the rich who were given everything they wanted. What reason did Sameera to be wary? Surely her days had been pampered and protected?
With a small smile and a nod as the girl agreed with her assessment of the wine, Mayet leant back, draped an arm over the seat as her other handled gently cradled the cup of wine. She was pleased that her knowledge of the H’haikaddad house had not failed her, and when the girl called out to Sekhmet, Mayet’s expression grew a little sharper.
She had said her own prayers for Osorsen of course. It was a well-worn routine, some battle of another always ready to draw him away from her arms. She was not overly pleased that this one would take him across the seas. Of course, he would be triumphant and come back dripping in gold and glory, but it was that much farther, and she knew he had been enamoured of the Greek lands when he was there before. What if he got too good a look and decided he wished to stay, to rule?
That he itched to be out from under the Pharoah’s rule was no surprise; it was a position that should have been his all along, but Mayet had no wish to leave her home to live amongst greeks even if they were cowed by defeat. Would that it would be a quick battle and over soon so that Osorsen could be back by her side where he belonged.” Sekhmet bless them” she repeated, tilting her glass toward the other.
‘And you Mayet? Have you any siblings?’
The question was hardly unexpected, and the woman did not look at all affronted by its asking, tilting forward a little to reach for a honeyed almond as she answered “Two brothers, both younger. They do not fight, though.”
It was one small mercy she supposed that she did not have to pray for them also. Anet and Sabra had taken small plots of land neighbouring her father. Anet was married with two children of his own and a wife to tend to. Sabra...had just never showed any inclination to wield a weapon; he was soft-spoken and thoughtful. Mayet had always thought he would do well if he learned his letters. Perhaps she would send some money back so he could pay someone to teach him.
“Your Uncle, the General is away as well in the North? Let us wish for a speedy victory and to have them home again with us soon enough.”
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Mayet surveyed Sameera through kohl-rimmed eyes, not judgingexactly but measuring instead. The girl did not seem terribly confident, a thing she found difficult to understand from one of the rich who were given everything they wanted. What reason did Sameera to be wary? Surely her days had been pampered and protected?
With a small smile and a nod as the girl agreed with her assessment of the wine, Mayet leant back, draped an arm over the seat as her other handled gently cradled the cup of wine. She was pleased that her knowledge of the H’haikaddad house had not failed her, and when the girl called out to Sekhmet, Mayet’s expression grew a little sharper.
She had said her own prayers for Osorsen of course. It was a well-worn routine, some battle of another always ready to draw him away from her arms. She was not overly pleased that this one would take him across the seas. Of course, he would be triumphant and come back dripping in gold and glory, but it was that much farther, and she knew he had been enamoured of the Greek lands when he was there before. What if he got too good a look and decided he wished to stay, to rule?
That he itched to be out from under the Pharoah’s rule was no surprise; it was a position that should have been his all along, but Mayet had no wish to leave her home to live amongst greeks even if they were cowed by defeat. Would that it would be a quick battle and over soon so that Osorsen could be back by her side where he belonged.” Sekhmet bless them” she repeated, tilting her glass toward the other.
‘And you Mayet? Have you any siblings?’
The question was hardly unexpected, and the woman did not look at all affronted by its asking, tilting forward a little to reach for a honeyed almond as she answered “Two brothers, both younger. They do not fight, though.”
It was one small mercy she supposed that she did not have to pray for them also. Anet and Sabra had taken small plots of land neighbouring her father. Anet was married with two children of his own and a wife to tend to. Sabra...had just never showed any inclination to wield a weapon; he was soft-spoken and thoughtful. Mayet had always thought he would do well if he learned his letters. Perhaps she would send some money back so he could pay someone to teach him.
“Your Uncle, the General is away as well in the North? Let us wish for a speedy victory and to have them home again with us soon enough.”
Mayet surveyed Sameera through kohl-rimmed eyes, not judgingexactly but measuring instead. The girl did not seem terribly confident, a thing she found difficult to understand from one of the rich who were given everything they wanted. What reason did Sameera to be wary? Surely her days had been pampered and protected?
With a small smile and a nod as the girl agreed with her assessment of the wine, Mayet leant back, draped an arm over the seat as her other handled gently cradled the cup of wine. She was pleased that her knowledge of the H’haikaddad house had not failed her, and when the girl called out to Sekhmet, Mayet’s expression grew a little sharper.
She had said her own prayers for Osorsen of course. It was a well-worn routine, some battle of another always ready to draw him away from her arms. She was not overly pleased that this one would take him across the seas. Of course, he would be triumphant and come back dripping in gold and glory, but it was that much farther, and she knew he had been enamoured of the Greek lands when he was there before. What if he got too good a look and decided he wished to stay, to rule?
That he itched to be out from under the Pharoah’s rule was no surprise; it was a position that should have been his all along, but Mayet had no wish to leave her home to live amongst greeks even if they were cowed by defeat. Would that it would be a quick battle and over soon so that Osorsen could be back by her side where he belonged.” Sekhmet bless them” she repeated, tilting her glass toward the other.
‘And you Mayet? Have you any siblings?’
The question was hardly unexpected, and the woman did not look at all affronted by its asking, tilting forward a little to reach for a honeyed almond as she answered “Two brothers, both younger. They do not fight, though.”
It was one small mercy she supposed that she did not have to pray for them also. Anet and Sabra had taken small plots of land neighbouring her father. Anet was married with two children of his own and a wife to tend to. Sabra...had just never showed any inclination to wield a weapon; he was soft-spoken and thoughtful. Mayet had always thought he would do well if he learned his letters. Perhaps she would send some money back so he could pay someone to teach him.
“Your Uncle, the General is away as well in the North? Let us wish for a speedy victory and to have them home again with us soon enough.”
Sameera felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the other woman, though she said nothing of it. She had stared at her, yes, so it was only fair that her companion would do something similar with her. Still, she could only assume that she was somehow mentally making comparisons, or otherwise pondering Sameera's moves. That was the way of others, she thought, whether it was for gossip or the simple pleasure of being able to figure things out based on past experiences.
Well, that was how she collected her thoughts on others anyways. Or for writing down stories that she would soon forget, pages of words that were not quite coherent now that they had been separated, much as Sameera found herself without her sister, though now as an adult she had been preparing herself for the harsher realities that, eventually, they would be separated for such a time, like her mother and the brother she sometimes spoke of back where she was raised.
Despite all of Na'meeah's words to the contrary, Sameera found the idea of Bedoa and their Gesins as a fixed place somewhat comforting. She could hardly imagine a childish version of her mother drifting through the sands, no matter how she tried, and much preferred the idea of her living in a house as Sameera and her siblings did.
The sharpening of her expression made Sameera sit up straighter, as though she was a student just to be scolded, or as if she had unknowingly offended Mayet. She truly hoped that it was just the sharper expression of someone newly focused, but she wasn't the best at reading expressions or people, for that matter.
She was glad when there was more verbalization, and tipped her glass lightly towards her companion, mimicking her just as she so often mimicked her twin. The conversation turned away from Sameera, something she was more than grateful for as she listened thoughtfully to Mayet's words about her younger brothers. Were they too young to fight, she wondered, or perhaps they didn't feel the same pressures or desires that Kissan did to follow their uncle into battle.
She blushed slightly as she realized she had forgotten to mention her uncle earlier when she had asked for Sekhmet's blessing. Her uncle was a bit more distant than Kissan was, and when she was younger, just after her father died, she recalled a time when the only contact they'd had was written, another reason why Sameera was somewhat more pleased to see things in writing. Easier to remember, as well.
"Indeed!" she said, perhaps a bit loudly, "A speedy victory, safety for the men, and glory for Egypt." That was, she was pretty sure, what the war was about, and if not it would be a pretty good substitute. Glory was what others craved. She was glad that she wasn't a young man, fighting in the war. Killing people seemed like something that should only happen in books, and she could still recall the last few days of her father's life. She assumed dying in battle would be as that had, but quicker, and had no experience to add to that frame of mind otherwise. She shuddered just a little.
Sameera took another sip of the wine, cautiously attempting more thoughts on the subject, "I couldn't imagine being a soldier," she admitted, "Then again, I don't suppose many of them could imagine being a young woman."
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Sameera felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the other woman, though she said nothing of it. She had stared at her, yes, so it was only fair that her companion would do something similar with her. Still, she could only assume that she was somehow mentally making comparisons, or otherwise pondering Sameera's moves. That was the way of others, she thought, whether it was for gossip or the simple pleasure of being able to figure things out based on past experiences.
Well, that was how she collected her thoughts on others anyways. Or for writing down stories that she would soon forget, pages of words that were not quite coherent now that they had been separated, much as Sameera found herself without her sister, though now as an adult she had been preparing herself for the harsher realities that, eventually, they would be separated for such a time, like her mother and the brother she sometimes spoke of back where she was raised.
Despite all of Na'meeah's words to the contrary, Sameera found the idea of Bedoa and their Gesins as a fixed place somewhat comforting. She could hardly imagine a childish version of her mother drifting through the sands, no matter how she tried, and much preferred the idea of her living in a house as Sameera and her siblings did.
The sharpening of her expression made Sameera sit up straighter, as though she was a student just to be scolded, or as if she had unknowingly offended Mayet. She truly hoped that it was just the sharper expression of someone newly focused, but she wasn't the best at reading expressions or people, for that matter.
She was glad when there was more verbalization, and tipped her glass lightly towards her companion, mimicking her just as she so often mimicked her twin. The conversation turned away from Sameera, something she was more than grateful for as she listened thoughtfully to Mayet's words about her younger brothers. Were they too young to fight, she wondered, or perhaps they didn't feel the same pressures or desires that Kissan did to follow their uncle into battle.
She blushed slightly as she realized she had forgotten to mention her uncle earlier when she had asked for Sekhmet's blessing. Her uncle was a bit more distant than Kissan was, and when she was younger, just after her father died, she recalled a time when the only contact they'd had was written, another reason why Sameera was somewhat more pleased to see things in writing. Easier to remember, as well.
"Indeed!" she said, perhaps a bit loudly, "A speedy victory, safety for the men, and glory for Egypt." That was, she was pretty sure, what the war was about, and if not it would be a pretty good substitute. Glory was what others craved. She was glad that she wasn't a young man, fighting in the war. Killing people seemed like something that should only happen in books, and she could still recall the last few days of her father's life. She assumed dying in battle would be as that had, but quicker, and had no experience to add to that frame of mind otherwise. She shuddered just a little.
Sameera took another sip of the wine, cautiously attempting more thoughts on the subject, "I couldn't imagine being a soldier," she admitted, "Then again, I don't suppose many of them could imagine being a young woman."
Sameera felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the other woman, though she said nothing of it. She had stared at her, yes, so it was only fair that her companion would do something similar with her. Still, she could only assume that she was somehow mentally making comparisons, or otherwise pondering Sameera's moves. That was the way of others, she thought, whether it was for gossip or the simple pleasure of being able to figure things out based on past experiences.
Well, that was how she collected her thoughts on others anyways. Or for writing down stories that she would soon forget, pages of words that were not quite coherent now that they had been separated, much as Sameera found herself without her sister, though now as an adult she had been preparing herself for the harsher realities that, eventually, they would be separated for such a time, like her mother and the brother she sometimes spoke of back where she was raised.
Despite all of Na'meeah's words to the contrary, Sameera found the idea of Bedoa and their Gesins as a fixed place somewhat comforting. She could hardly imagine a childish version of her mother drifting through the sands, no matter how she tried, and much preferred the idea of her living in a house as Sameera and her siblings did.
The sharpening of her expression made Sameera sit up straighter, as though she was a student just to be scolded, or as if she had unknowingly offended Mayet. She truly hoped that it was just the sharper expression of someone newly focused, but she wasn't the best at reading expressions or people, for that matter.
She was glad when there was more verbalization, and tipped her glass lightly towards her companion, mimicking her just as she so often mimicked her twin. The conversation turned away from Sameera, something she was more than grateful for as she listened thoughtfully to Mayet's words about her younger brothers. Were they too young to fight, she wondered, or perhaps they didn't feel the same pressures or desires that Kissan did to follow their uncle into battle.
She blushed slightly as she realized she had forgotten to mention her uncle earlier when she had asked for Sekhmet's blessing. Her uncle was a bit more distant than Kissan was, and when she was younger, just after her father died, she recalled a time when the only contact they'd had was written, another reason why Sameera was somewhat more pleased to see things in writing. Easier to remember, as well.
"Indeed!" she said, perhaps a bit loudly, "A speedy victory, safety for the men, and glory for Egypt." That was, she was pretty sure, what the war was about, and if not it would be a pretty good substitute. Glory was what others craved. She was glad that she wasn't a young man, fighting in the war. Killing people seemed like something that should only happen in books, and she could still recall the last few days of her father's life. She assumed dying in battle would be as that had, but quicker, and had no experience to add to that frame of mind otherwise. She shuddered just a little.
Sameera took another sip of the wine, cautiously attempting more thoughts on the subject, "I couldn't imagine being a soldier," she admitted, "Then again, I don't suppose many of them could imagine being a young woman."
Mayet watched the young girl languidly, eyes slitted slightly against the sun, and she got the impression this one was less comfortable with talk of war. She was young, perhaps the idea of it made her uneasy, or she had not waved her Uncle and brother off so many times as Mayet had seen Osorsen ride away from her. Still, Mayet inclined her head slightly at Sameera’s clumsy proclamation, echoing “glory for Egypt” before she took a long sip of the palm wine, letting the flavour of it roll around her tongue, pleasantly sharp. When the girl went on though, there was a low chuckle of a laugh from the other, and she set her cup down and eyed Sameera.
“You might be surprised what some men imagine,” she said, edging toward conspiratorial before something shifted in her expression, and she added. “Though I do think sometimes it would be nice to be one the leaving, rather than the ones left behind, no?”
She despised being placed in the position of helpless female, powerless to do anything but watch and wait for Osorsen to return. It was in part why she had carved herself such a position in his home: she knew Oso would be happy for her to lounge around and eat almonds all day if she wished, but that was not Mayet. She was content to be counted amongst his treasures, but she would not just be that. Too aware that one day the looks that had brought her to his attention would fade, Mayet made certain that she could bring more to the table. She almost thought Orsorsen Snr was beginning to come around to her too, and it reminded her of the reason for her visit to the souk. Despite being waylaid, she still needed to find the medicine woman and get some ointment for the old man.
Thinking about his gnarled and twisted hands, she had unconsciously focused on the hands of the girl she sat with, and Mayet blinked, curious at the smudges and discolouration there. “Are you a painter?” she asked, wondering why the girl would not have cleaned off the pigments before coming out to the Souk. Mayet had always been very careful with her hands - even as a girl growing up and helping on her father’s farm, she had soaked them in goats milk and scrubbed at them with salt and oil so they would remain soft and elegant and not have the weathered look that would tell all and sundry of her humble origins.
“Salt and olive oil will take that right off” she advised, and then registering that her words might be taken as a sign of judgement, which they were, or criticism, which they were not. “If you so wished?”
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Mayet watched the young girl languidly, eyes slitted slightly against the sun, and she got the impression this one was less comfortable with talk of war. She was young, perhaps the idea of it made her uneasy, or she had not waved her Uncle and brother off so many times as Mayet had seen Osorsen ride away from her. Still, Mayet inclined her head slightly at Sameera’s clumsy proclamation, echoing “glory for Egypt” before she took a long sip of the palm wine, letting the flavour of it roll around her tongue, pleasantly sharp. When the girl went on though, there was a low chuckle of a laugh from the other, and she set her cup down and eyed Sameera.
“You might be surprised what some men imagine,” she said, edging toward conspiratorial before something shifted in her expression, and she added. “Though I do think sometimes it would be nice to be one the leaving, rather than the ones left behind, no?”
She despised being placed in the position of helpless female, powerless to do anything but watch and wait for Osorsen to return. It was in part why she had carved herself such a position in his home: she knew Oso would be happy for her to lounge around and eat almonds all day if she wished, but that was not Mayet. She was content to be counted amongst his treasures, but she would not just be that. Too aware that one day the looks that had brought her to his attention would fade, Mayet made certain that she could bring more to the table. She almost thought Orsorsen Snr was beginning to come around to her too, and it reminded her of the reason for her visit to the souk. Despite being waylaid, she still needed to find the medicine woman and get some ointment for the old man.
Thinking about his gnarled and twisted hands, she had unconsciously focused on the hands of the girl she sat with, and Mayet blinked, curious at the smudges and discolouration there. “Are you a painter?” she asked, wondering why the girl would not have cleaned off the pigments before coming out to the Souk. Mayet had always been very careful with her hands - even as a girl growing up and helping on her father’s farm, she had soaked them in goats milk and scrubbed at them with salt and oil so they would remain soft and elegant and not have the weathered look that would tell all and sundry of her humble origins.
“Salt and olive oil will take that right off” she advised, and then registering that her words might be taken as a sign of judgement, which they were, or criticism, which they were not. “If you so wished?”
Mayet watched the young girl languidly, eyes slitted slightly against the sun, and she got the impression this one was less comfortable with talk of war. She was young, perhaps the idea of it made her uneasy, or she had not waved her Uncle and brother off so many times as Mayet had seen Osorsen ride away from her. Still, Mayet inclined her head slightly at Sameera’s clumsy proclamation, echoing “glory for Egypt” before she took a long sip of the palm wine, letting the flavour of it roll around her tongue, pleasantly sharp. When the girl went on though, there was a low chuckle of a laugh from the other, and she set her cup down and eyed Sameera.
“You might be surprised what some men imagine,” she said, edging toward conspiratorial before something shifted in her expression, and she added. “Though I do think sometimes it would be nice to be one the leaving, rather than the ones left behind, no?”
She despised being placed in the position of helpless female, powerless to do anything but watch and wait for Osorsen to return. It was in part why she had carved herself such a position in his home: she knew Oso would be happy for her to lounge around and eat almonds all day if she wished, but that was not Mayet. She was content to be counted amongst his treasures, but she would not just be that. Too aware that one day the looks that had brought her to his attention would fade, Mayet made certain that she could bring more to the table. She almost thought Orsorsen Snr was beginning to come around to her too, and it reminded her of the reason for her visit to the souk. Despite being waylaid, she still needed to find the medicine woman and get some ointment for the old man.
Thinking about his gnarled and twisted hands, she had unconsciously focused on the hands of the girl she sat with, and Mayet blinked, curious at the smudges and discolouration there. “Are you a painter?” she asked, wondering why the girl would not have cleaned off the pigments before coming out to the Souk. Mayet had always been very careful with her hands - even as a girl growing up and helping on her father’s farm, she had soaked them in goats milk and scrubbed at them with salt and oil so they would remain soft and elegant and not have the weathered look that would tell all and sundry of her humble origins.
“Salt and olive oil will take that right off” she advised, and then registering that her words might be taken as a sign of judgement, which they were, or criticism, which they were not. “If you so wished?”
