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Nenet stumbled out of her room, bare feet skidding on letters scattered over the floor in the hallway. In her fist, crumpled edges sticking out on either side, was the cruelest of Nia's letters. The one where her elder sister had taken the trouble to write out each little stutter that Nenet would have made in a verbal argument. That was the straw. In a clear, belting note that doubled as a distinct middle finger to her sister, she shrieked for Iaheru with no stutter and all the rage her small breast could hold.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
Her second shriek was even clearer than the last. All lack of confidence was gone and her stutter, for the moment, did not appear. She stomped down the stairs, skidded, and vaulted down, inertia and gravity took over and Nenet couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to. Instead of hitting the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, she slammed bodily into the largest of their male servants, who caught her with the ease of someone who’d done this exact same thing before. Because they had. The household knew Nenet and stairs did not work in tandem the way that the design seemed to be just fine for everyone else on the planet.
She ricocheted off him and scrambled to remain upright, another long shout for her mother leaving her lips but the name cut itself short as Nenet rounded a corner, bumping into it with her shoulder and held up the note. This fight would bruise her, if not from the stairs, then definitely this doorframe. Of course, Nia would be responsible for that too.
“I g-g-gave N-n-nia a n-n-n-note and-d sh-she s-s-s-en-nt-t th-this!”
Nenet had found her mother in one of the house’s more exotic rooms. It was one that housed a number of things from Greece, like urns and little statues of unknown and unknowable gods, but combined with masks from the Bedoan people, amongst other treasures that the House of Sheifa had collected over the years. On a little table of ebony wood, Nenet flung the crumpled piece of paper for her mother’s inspection and looked over her slim shoulder, fully expecting Nia to storm in to defend herself.
How truly thoughtful you are with your back-handed concern. If you wish to insult me, why don't you say it to my face? Oh wait, y-y-you c-c-can't.
Nenet usually did not speak this forcefully, nor was she so vocal. This was positively chatty for her. Most of the time she stuck to one or two words and there were rumors among the household staff that she was an imbecile and silent for that reason on top of the stutter. Whether or not she was stupid, that depended on the point of view. There was certainly nothing deficient in her understanding, but she was incredibly naive and self sheltered.
What she’d also failed to tell her mother, because it didn’t seem overly important, was that she’d pretty much called Nia a whore, in not so many words in the notes back and forth. This last one on Nia’s part was particularly vicious and Nenet wasn’t having it. Thus, she stood in front of her mother, shaking with anger, brown eyes bright with righteous indignation at her own sister’s audacity.
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Nenet stumbled out of her room, bare feet skidding on letters scattered over the floor in the hallway. In her fist, crumpled edges sticking out on either side, was the cruelest of Nia's letters. The one where her elder sister had taken the trouble to write out each little stutter that Nenet would have made in a verbal argument. That was the straw. In a clear, belting note that doubled as a distinct middle finger to her sister, she shrieked for Iaheru with no stutter and all the rage her small breast could hold.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
Her second shriek was even clearer than the last. All lack of confidence was gone and her stutter, for the moment, did not appear. She stomped down the stairs, skidded, and vaulted down, inertia and gravity took over and Nenet couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to. Instead of hitting the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, she slammed bodily into the largest of their male servants, who caught her with the ease of someone who’d done this exact same thing before. Because they had. The household knew Nenet and stairs did not work in tandem the way that the design seemed to be just fine for everyone else on the planet.
She ricocheted off him and scrambled to remain upright, another long shout for her mother leaving her lips but the name cut itself short as Nenet rounded a corner, bumping into it with her shoulder and held up the note. This fight would bruise her, if not from the stairs, then definitely this doorframe. Of course, Nia would be responsible for that too.
“I g-g-gave N-n-nia a n-n-n-note and-d sh-she s-s-s-en-nt-t th-this!”
Nenet had found her mother in one of the house’s more exotic rooms. It was one that housed a number of things from Greece, like urns and little statues of unknown and unknowable gods, but combined with masks from the Bedoan people, amongst other treasures that the House of Sheifa had collected over the years. On a little table of ebony wood, Nenet flung the crumpled piece of paper for her mother’s inspection and looked over her slim shoulder, fully expecting Nia to storm in to defend herself.
How truly thoughtful you are with your back-handed concern. If you wish to insult me, why don't you say it to my face? Oh wait, y-y-you c-c-can't.
Nenet usually did not speak this forcefully, nor was she so vocal. This was positively chatty for her. Most of the time she stuck to one or two words and there were rumors among the household staff that she was an imbecile and silent for that reason on top of the stutter. Whether or not she was stupid, that depended on the point of view. There was certainly nothing deficient in her understanding, but she was incredibly naive and self sheltered.
What she’d also failed to tell her mother, because it didn’t seem overly important, was that she’d pretty much called Nia a whore, in not so many words in the notes back and forth. This last one on Nia’s part was particularly vicious and Nenet wasn’t having it. Thus, she stood in front of her mother, shaking with anger, brown eyes bright with righteous indignation at her own sister’s audacity.
Nenet stumbled out of her room, bare feet skidding on letters scattered over the floor in the hallway. In her fist, crumpled edges sticking out on either side, was the cruelest of Nia's letters. The one where her elder sister had taken the trouble to write out each little stutter that Nenet would have made in a verbal argument. That was the straw. In a clear, belting note that doubled as a distinct middle finger to her sister, she shrieked for Iaheru with no stutter and all the rage her small breast could hold.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
Her second shriek was even clearer than the last. All lack of confidence was gone and her stutter, for the moment, did not appear. She stomped down the stairs, skidded, and vaulted down, inertia and gravity took over and Nenet couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to. Instead of hitting the stone floor at the bottom of the stairs, she slammed bodily into the largest of their male servants, who caught her with the ease of someone who’d done this exact same thing before. Because they had. The household knew Nenet and stairs did not work in tandem the way that the design seemed to be just fine for everyone else on the planet.
She ricocheted off him and scrambled to remain upright, another long shout for her mother leaving her lips but the name cut itself short as Nenet rounded a corner, bumping into it with her shoulder and held up the note. This fight would bruise her, if not from the stairs, then definitely this doorframe. Of course, Nia would be responsible for that too.
“I g-g-gave N-n-nia a n-n-n-note and-d sh-she s-s-s-en-nt-t th-this!”
Nenet had found her mother in one of the house’s more exotic rooms. It was one that housed a number of things from Greece, like urns and little statues of unknown and unknowable gods, but combined with masks from the Bedoan people, amongst other treasures that the House of Sheifa had collected over the years. On a little table of ebony wood, Nenet flung the crumpled piece of paper for her mother’s inspection and looked over her slim shoulder, fully expecting Nia to storm in to defend herself.
How truly thoughtful you are with your back-handed concern. If you wish to insult me, why don't you say it to my face? Oh wait, y-y-you c-c-can't.
Nenet usually did not speak this forcefully, nor was she so vocal. This was positively chatty for her. Most of the time she stuck to one or two words and there were rumors among the household staff that she was an imbecile and silent for that reason on top of the stutter. Whether or not she was stupid, that depended on the point of view. There was certainly nothing deficient in her understanding, but she was incredibly naive and self sheltered.
What she’d also failed to tell her mother, because it didn’t seem overly important, was that she’d pretty much called Nia a whore, in not so many words in the notes back and forth. This last one on Nia’s part was particularly vicious and Nenet wasn’t having it. Thus, she stood in front of her mother, shaking with anger, brown eyes bright with righteous indignation at her own sister’s audacity.
Nia knew her last note to her sister was crossing a line, but she found it hard to care. After Nenet’s own hateful correspondence, which she couldn’t even bother saying to her face, the older woman was out for blood. Perhaps her parents thought Nenet the sweet and innocent one, but Nia knew better. Her stupid stutter simply prevented her from showing just how vicious she could be.
When she heard her sibling’s shout and the clatter of her feet down the stairs, Nia stormed out of her own room after her, the notes Nenet sent first clutched tight in her fist. So, she wanted to tattle to Iaheru like a small child? Fine. Two could play that game, and she had just as much ammunition as the little traitor she was chasing. Why couldn’t they handle this themselves for once? Why did she need to bring their mother into it?
“She’s a lying little bitch!” Nia’s shout echoed down the hall. She was hot on Nenet’s heels, though she was remarkably more graceful in her gait. Unlike the little twerp she was fuming over, she could get down the stairs without a struggle or bumping into walls, even when she was mad. She might not have their parents’ favor, but at least she could walk.
Quickly coming up behind her sister, Nia stopped next to her with a seething glare. What was her problem? By the gods, she was twenty two years old! Was she going to hide behind their mother’s skirts forever? Would she ever grow up? Onuphrious and Iaheru seemed to think she and Hena were the familial disgrace, but what was Nenet? A stuttering mess of a woman who barely even left her bedroom, what sort of prestige would she ever bring to Hei Sheifa? Why was Nia always the target of such ire when they had such a useless daughter beneath their roof?
Thrusting her own offending note at Iaheru, her jaw was clenched and her eyes were hard as they lingered on Nenet. Did she really think she’d been any kinder? Did she truly expect Nia not to retaliate? Nenet might have started all this, but damn it all, Nia had finished it.
I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet
Waiting for the Sirdsett to read Nenet’s rude little jibe, she yelled, “See?! Don’t let her try to play innocent! I was only defending myself. She started all of this!”
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Nia knew her last note to her sister was crossing a line, but she found it hard to care. After Nenet’s own hateful correspondence, which she couldn’t even bother saying to her face, the older woman was out for blood. Perhaps her parents thought Nenet the sweet and innocent one, but Nia knew better. Her stupid stutter simply prevented her from showing just how vicious she could be.
When she heard her sibling’s shout and the clatter of her feet down the stairs, Nia stormed out of her own room after her, the notes Nenet sent first clutched tight in her fist. So, she wanted to tattle to Iaheru like a small child? Fine. Two could play that game, and she had just as much ammunition as the little traitor she was chasing. Why couldn’t they handle this themselves for once? Why did she need to bring their mother into it?
“She’s a lying little bitch!” Nia’s shout echoed down the hall. She was hot on Nenet’s heels, though she was remarkably more graceful in her gait. Unlike the little twerp she was fuming over, she could get down the stairs without a struggle or bumping into walls, even when she was mad. She might not have their parents’ favor, but at least she could walk.
Quickly coming up behind her sister, Nia stopped next to her with a seething glare. What was her problem? By the gods, she was twenty two years old! Was she going to hide behind their mother’s skirts forever? Would she ever grow up? Onuphrious and Iaheru seemed to think she and Hena were the familial disgrace, but what was Nenet? A stuttering mess of a woman who barely even left her bedroom, what sort of prestige would she ever bring to Hei Sheifa? Why was Nia always the target of such ire when they had such a useless daughter beneath their roof?
Thrusting her own offending note at Iaheru, her jaw was clenched and her eyes were hard as they lingered on Nenet. Did she really think she’d been any kinder? Did she truly expect Nia not to retaliate? Nenet might have started all this, but damn it all, Nia had finished it.
I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet
Waiting for the Sirdsett to read Nenet’s rude little jibe, she yelled, “See?! Don’t let her try to play innocent! I was only defending myself. She started all of this!”
Nia knew her last note to her sister was crossing a line, but she found it hard to care. After Nenet’s own hateful correspondence, which she couldn’t even bother saying to her face, the older woman was out for blood. Perhaps her parents thought Nenet the sweet and innocent one, but Nia knew better. Her stupid stutter simply prevented her from showing just how vicious she could be.
When she heard her sibling’s shout and the clatter of her feet down the stairs, Nia stormed out of her own room after her, the notes Nenet sent first clutched tight in her fist. So, she wanted to tattle to Iaheru like a small child? Fine. Two could play that game, and she had just as much ammunition as the little traitor she was chasing. Why couldn’t they handle this themselves for once? Why did she need to bring their mother into it?
“She’s a lying little bitch!” Nia’s shout echoed down the hall. She was hot on Nenet’s heels, though she was remarkably more graceful in her gait. Unlike the little twerp she was fuming over, she could get down the stairs without a struggle or bumping into walls, even when she was mad. She might not have their parents’ favor, but at least she could walk.
Quickly coming up behind her sister, Nia stopped next to her with a seething glare. What was her problem? By the gods, she was twenty two years old! Was she going to hide behind their mother’s skirts forever? Would she ever grow up? Onuphrious and Iaheru seemed to think she and Hena were the familial disgrace, but what was Nenet? A stuttering mess of a woman who barely even left her bedroom, what sort of prestige would she ever bring to Hei Sheifa? Why was Nia always the target of such ire when they had such a useless daughter beneath their roof?
Thrusting her own offending note at Iaheru, her jaw was clenched and her eyes were hard as they lingered on Nenet. Did she really think she’d been any kinder? Did she truly expect Nia not to retaliate? Nenet might have started all this, but damn it all, Nia had finished it.
I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet
Waiting for the Sirdsett to read Nenet’s rude little jibe, she yelled, “See?! Don’t let her try to play innocent! I was only defending myself. She started all of this!”
Iaheru had decided that the day was fair and ripe for taking. The sun hung perfectly in the sky as the Gods intended it to. Had she not been in the Thebes home, so old, stuffy, and not entirely of her exacting influence, the day may have been perfect like the skin slaves laid milky rose petals on. Their softness slicked to the contours of a preserved face. Common origins had sentenced her face to leather but by her own volition she rose to honeyed riches.
Servants from the city worked through her hair and more slaves tended to her feet. Yet another slave, perhaps her favorite, played a Grecian lute to complement the aviary. Onuphrious, before the revelations, had just released songbirds into the lush Oasis at the center of Hei Sheifa. Each twitter and tweet predicated chords of peaceful variety. Her daughters' shrieks pierced that reverie she'd slipped into. Her face slipped into a redness concealed by and as deep by the rose petals glued to a frowning face.
Iaheru sat silently, hearing pitter pattering feet halt the playing of the lute and there was a momentary lapse in the buffing of her feet hardened by sandals. Te woman had enjoyed her peace, but the chaos brought with it a certain familiarity, the noblewoman who entertained the finest of life convinced herself that her life lacked peace. The songbirds fluttered away in a fury of whistling leaves and creaking branches. She hated Thebes.
"Nenet." Dark eyes remain closed as she isn't compelled to open them. Slick golden polish is laid onto her toenails with a distinctive coolness. "You need to take a moment to gather yourself."
Her daughters, young women she had spoilt with too much freedom and confidence in their wiles. When Iaheru was Nenet's age, she had children. Iaheru was preeminent. When she was Nia's age? She was raising a son with an unwanted father. Would the young women ever scheme? Would they utilize a rather expensive and entirely supreme education they received?
It was a true shame Nenet had her stutter, as unnatural and shameful as it was, Iaheru still loved her fiercely and indulged her innocence. Yet, the past months had made her hard. "You wrote a note to your sister?"
"Why would you write a note to your sister?" Iaheru provides no emotion in her voice, almost dismissive in her beauty work enacted by the hordes of slaves. She preferred to keep a bare bones staff in Cairo, less ear were needed to hear of the heresy they spoke between cool marble walls and forked serpent tongues of rose. "And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?"
"Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today."
"Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Iaheru had decided that the day was fair and ripe for taking. The sun hung perfectly in the sky as the Gods intended it to. Had she not been in the Thebes home, so old, stuffy, and not entirely of her exacting influence, the day may have been perfect like the skin slaves laid milky rose petals on. Their softness slicked to the contours of a preserved face. Common origins had sentenced her face to leather but by her own volition she rose to honeyed riches.
Servants from the city worked through her hair and more slaves tended to her feet. Yet another slave, perhaps her favorite, played a Grecian lute to complement the aviary. Onuphrious, before the revelations, had just released songbirds into the lush Oasis at the center of Hei Sheifa. Each twitter and tweet predicated chords of peaceful variety. Her daughters' shrieks pierced that reverie she'd slipped into. Her face slipped into a redness concealed by and as deep by the rose petals glued to a frowning face.
Iaheru sat silently, hearing pitter pattering feet halt the playing of the lute and there was a momentary lapse in the buffing of her feet hardened by sandals. Te woman had enjoyed her peace, but the chaos brought with it a certain familiarity, the noblewoman who entertained the finest of life convinced herself that her life lacked peace. The songbirds fluttered away in a fury of whistling leaves and creaking branches. She hated Thebes.
"Nenet." Dark eyes remain closed as she isn't compelled to open them. Slick golden polish is laid onto her toenails with a distinctive coolness. "You need to take a moment to gather yourself."
Her daughters, young women she had spoilt with too much freedom and confidence in their wiles. When Iaheru was Nenet's age, she had children. Iaheru was preeminent. When she was Nia's age? She was raising a son with an unwanted father. Would the young women ever scheme? Would they utilize a rather expensive and entirely supreme education they received?
It was a true shame Nenet had her stutter, as unnatural and shameful as it was, Iaheru still loved her fiercely and indulged her innocence. Yet, the past months had made her hard. "You wrote a note to your sister?"
"Why would you write a note to your sister?" Iaheru provides no emotion in her voice, almost dismissive in her beauty work enacted by the hordes of slaves. She preferred to keep a bare bones staff in Cairo, less ear were needed to hear of the heresy they spoke between cool marble walls and forked serpent tongues of rose. "And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?"
"Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today."
"Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good."
Iaheru had decided that the day was fair and ripe for taking. The sun hung perfectly in the sky as the Gods intended it to. Had she not been in the Thebes home, so old, stuffy, and not entirely of her exacting influence, the day may have been perfect like the skin slaves laid milky rose petals on. Their softness slicked to the contours of a preserved face. Common origins had sentenced her face to leather but by her own volition she rose to honeyed riches.
Servants from the city worked through her hair and more slaves tended to her feet. Yet another slave, perhaps her favorite, played a Grecian lute to complement the aviary. Onuphrious, before the revelations, had just released songbirds into the lush Oasis at the center of Hei Sheifa. Each twitter and tweet predicated chords of peaceful variety. Her daughters' shrieks pierced that reverie she'd slipped into. Her face slipped into a redness concealed by and as deep by the rose petals glued to a frowning face.
Iaheru sat silently, hearing pitter pattering feet halt the playing of the lute and there was a momentary lapse in the buffing of her feet hardened by sandals. Te woman had enjoyed her peace, but the chaos brought with it a certain familiarity, the noblewoman who entertained the finest of life convinced herself that her life lacked peace. The songbirds fluttered away in a fury of whistling leaves and creaking branches. She hated Thebes.
"Nenet." Dark eyes remain closed as she isn't compelled to open them. Slick golden polish is laid onto her toenails with a distinctive coolness. "You need to take a moment to gather yourself."
Her daughters, young women she had spoilt with too much freedom and confidence in their wiles. When Iaheru was Nenet's age, she had children. Iaheru was preeminent. When she was Nia's age? She was raising a son with an unwanted father. Would the young women ever scheme? Would they utilize a rather expensive and entirely supreme education they received?
It was a true shame Nenet had her stutter, as unnatural and shameful as it was, Iaheru still loved her fiercely and indulged her innocence. Yet, the past months had made her hard. "You wrote a note to your sister?"
"Why would you write a note to your sister?" Iaheru provides no emotion in her voice, almost dismissive in her beauty work enacted by the hordes of slaves. She preferred to keep a bare bones staff in Cairo, less ear were needed to hear of the heresy they spoke between cool marble walls and forked serpent tongues of rose. "And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?"
"Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today."
"Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good."
Nenet threw a scathing glare at Nia as her sister positively screeched out her own accusations. Started this? By asking her sister politely to tone it down a little bit? To maybe not come back home quite so drunk? To maybe consider other people instead of whoring herself out to man and beast. ...well. Not beast. Nenet was pretty sure the horses knew better than to bother.
“Nenet.” The cold, almost bored lilt to her mother’s voice brought her back around and she unwillingly tore her eyes away from Nia to settle them on her mother. “You need to take a moment to gather yourself.” Almost at the same moment as the order was given, Nenet forced her shoulders, which had been high and tense, to drop a little. She worked them a little, forcing out the tension. Her heart still hammered but she took in deep, cleansing drafts of air, trying to keep in mind that while it wouldn’t be difficult to murder Nia, it would be hard to hide her body. Nenet knew her own limitations and dragging Nia all the way downstairs and out into the sands beyond the house, slight as Nia might be, would still be very difficult.
After a few seconds in which none of them spoke, Iaheru broke the silence. “You wrote a note to your sister?”
Nenet didn’t actually answer that. She didn’t need to. Much as she’d love to flounce out of the room, throwing a careless “I SO did write her a note!” over her shoulder...she would never be able to carry out such a wish. Instead she stood mute before her mother, still stewing in cold fury, and casting dark glances at her sister who was clearly the source of all this mischief. Surely their mother would see that. It didn’t seem Iaheru needed an answer because she went on,
“Why would you write a note to your sister?”
Now Nenet’s silence was less because of sullen pride and more for lack of an answer. Why not write a note? It was easier to get her point across through paper. Easier for her and for the recipient of such a letter. Nia would probably have just laughed in her face by the time she’d stammered through what she wanted and then would have left in the midst of a stuttering rebuttal, thus winning. Nenet’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched her mother with a wide, unflinching stare while she worked through how to answer that question.
With horrible clarity in an utterly silent room, Iaheru continued. “And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?”
Nenet finally glanced at Nia, melting a little in her frostiness at the hint that she wouldn’t bear the brunt of this unpleasant turn alone. For some reason, she’d thought, obviously erroneously, that her mother would be completely on her side, as she felt she’d been before. Now...maybe she’d caught her at a bad moment. After all, Nia was the whore of Egypt, not herself. No one could accuse Nenet Sheifa of any wrongdoing. Of course, that might be the problem...no one could really accuse Nenet of doing much except riding her horses and pursuing her own creative endeavors.
“Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today.”
Nenet had the grace to blush. She cast Nia a less hateful glance than before but returned it quickly to her mother who was still speaking. “Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good.”
Pressing her lips together, she gently plucked the note from her sister’s grasp and read it. The note said,
”I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet”
Nenet looked up from the note to gauge her mother’s reaction and didn’t look at Nia this time.
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Nenet threw a scathing glare at Nia as her sister positively screeched out her own accusations. Started this? By asking her sister politely to tone it down a little bit? To maybe not come back home quite so drunk? To maybe consider other people instead of whoring herself out to man and beast. ...well. Not beast. Nenet was pretty sure the horses knew better than to bother.
“Nenet.” The cold, almost bored lilt to her mother’s voice brought her back around and she unwillingly tore her eyes away from Nia to settle them on her mother. “You need to take a moment to gather yourself.” Almost at the same moment as the order was given, Nenet forced her shoulders, which had been high and tense, to drop a little. She worked them a little, forcing out the tension. Her heart still hammered but she took in deep, cleansing drafts of air, trying to keep in mind that while it wouldn’t be difficult to murder Nia, it would be hard to hide her body. Nenet knew her own limitations and dragging Nia all the way downstairs and out into the sands beyond the house, slight as Nia might be, would still be very difficult.
After a few seconds in which none of them spoke, Iaheru broke the silence. “You wrote a note to your sister?”
Nenet didn’t actually answer that. She didn’t need to. Much as she’d love to flounce out of the room, throwing a careless “I SO did write her a note!” over her shoulder...she would never be able to carry out such a wish. Instead she stood mute before her mother, still stewing in cold fury, and casting dark glances at her sister who was clearly the source of all this mischief. Surely their mother would see that. It didn’t seem Iaheru needed an answer because she went on,
“Why would you write a note to your sister?”
Now Nenet’s silence was less because of sullen pride and more for lack of an answer. Why not write a note? It was easier to get her point across through paper. Easier for her and for the recipient of such a letter. Nia would probably have just laughed in her face by the time she’d stammered through what she wanted and then would have left in the midst of a stuttering rebuttal, thus winning. Nenet’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched her mother with a wide, unflinching stare while she worked through how to answer that question.
With horrible clarity in an utterly silent room, Iaheru continued. “And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?”
Nenet finally glanced at Nia, melting a little in her frostiness at the hint that she wouldn’t bear the brunt of this unpleasant turn alone. For some reason, she’d thought, obviously erroneously, that her mother would be completely on her side, as she felt she’d been before. Now...maybe she’d caught her at a bad moment. After all, Nia was the whore of Egypt, not herself. No one could accuse Nenet Sheifa of any wrongdoing. Of course, that might be the problem...no one could really accuse Nenet of doing much except riding her horses and pursuing her own creative endeavors.
“Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today.”
Nenet had the grace to blush. She cast Nia a less hateful glance than before but returned it quickly to her mother who was still speaking. “Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good.”
Pressing her lips together, she gently plucked the note from her sister’s grasp and read it. The note said,
”I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet”
Nenet looked up from the note to gauge her mother’s reaction and didn’t look at Nia this time.
Nenet threw a scathing glare at Nia as her sister positively screeched out her own accusations. Started this? By asking her sister politely to tone it down a little bit? To maybe not come back home quite so drunk? To maybe consider other people instead of whoring herself out to man and beast. ...well. Not beast. Nenet was pretty sure the horses knew better than to bother.
“Nenet.” The cold, almost bored lilt to her mother’s voice brought her back around and she unwillingly tore her eyes away from Nia to settle them on her mother. “You need to take a moment to gather yourself.” Almost at the same moment as the order was given, Nenet forced her shoulders, which had been high and tense, to drop a little. She worked them a little, forcing out the tension. Her heart still hammered but she took in deep, cleansing drafts of air, trying to keep in mind that while it wouldn’t be difficult to murder Nia, it would be hard to hide her body. Nenet knew her own limitations and dragging Nia all the way downstairs and out into the sands beyond the house, slight as Nia might be, would still be very difficult.
After a few seconds in which none of them spoke, Iaheru broke the silence. “You wrote a note to your sister?”
Nenet didn’t actually answer that. She didn’t need to. Much as she’d love to flounce out of the room, throwing a careless “I SO did write her a note!” over her shoulder...she would never be able to carry out such a wish. Instead she stood mute before her mother, still stewing in cold fury, and casting dark glances at her sister who was clearly the source of all this mischief. Surely their mother would see that. It didn’t seem Iaheru needed an answer because she went on,
“Why would you write a note to your sister?”
Now Nenet’s silence was less because of sullen pride and more for lack of an answer. Why not write a note? It was easier to get her point across through paper. Easier for her and for the recipient of such a letter. Nia would probably have just laughed in her face by the time she’d stammered through what she wanted and then would have left in the midst of a stuttering rebuttal, thus winning. Nenet’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched her mother with a wide, unflinching stare while she worked through how to answer that question.
With horrible clarity in an utterly silent room, Iaheru continued. “And, if I'm correct, you wrote a note back, Nia?”
Nenet finally glanced at Nia, melting a little in her frostiness at the hint that she wouldn’t bear the brunt of this unpleasant turn alone. For some reason, she’d thought, obviously erroneously, that her mother would be completely on her side, as she felt she’d been before. Now...maybe she’d caught her at a bad moment. After all, Nia was the whore of Egypt, not herself. No one could accuse Nenet Sheifa of any wrongdoing. Of course, that might be the problem...no one could really accuse Nenet of doing much except riding her horses and pursuing her own creative endeavors.
“Pathetic, for all parties. Why can't you both absolve yourselves. I wish to cultivate beauty and drink wine with my daughters today.”
Nenet had the grace to blush. She cast Nia a less hateful glance than before but returned it quickly to her mother who was still speaking. “Read me what you wrote Nenet, it had better be good.”
Pressing her lips together, she gently plucked the note from her sister’s grasp and read it. The note said,
”I wouldn't bother spending time with the kind of people you associate with. I've set this little jar of soothing balm for you beside the note. It's for your knees. They look a bit raw from over use.
Nenet”
Nenet looked up from the note to gauge her mother’s reaction and didn’t look at Nia this time.
Their mother did not seem amused by the daughters’ antics, her rose petal pampering interrupted by the appearance of the two squabbling women. Iaheru asked why Nenet would write a note, Nia casting a hateful glance over at her younger sister. Why, indeed. Did the Sirdsett not already know the answer to such questions? Nenet could hardly talk to insult her to her face; she had to rely on pen and paper to bring her bratty and childish sentiments to life. Even if Nia hardly had a pristine reputation, at least she could speak.
“I wrote one back, yes,” Nia replied with a bite in her tone, glancing between Nenet and Iaheru with cold condescension in her gaze. “I thought I would meet her at her level. Since she couldn’t be bothered to meet me at mine.” Her lip curled in Nenet’s direction, who at least had the decency to blush at Iaheru’s needling.
Nenet presented the note that had started it all, her own presentation of it apparently ignored. “She called me a whore without saying the words,” Nia bluntly explained, yanking the note back from her sister’s grasp and placing it in their mother’s. “Rather than… oh, I don’t know… speaking to me like a human being instead of hiding in her room and feigning innocence.”
Sniffing with indignation, she straightened her posture and dismissed Nenet from her attention entirely as she spoke only to Iaheru, “So I finished the whole stupid exchange by pointing out she could have actually spoken to me if it wasn’t for her fucking s-s-s-stutter.” Here, she did glance back at her sister for her reaction as she mocked the girl’s speech impediment, her gaze lit with a cruel and angry light. Really, she had brought this all on herself, and the fact that they were down here involving Iaheru, as if Nenet was innocent of it all, was even more infuriating than the notes themselves.
“I would have preferred that we just settle it ourselves, but apparently someone is still a child who needs to run to her parents at the first sign of trouble.” Ignoring Nenet once more, she looked back at Iaheru with a sickly sweet smile. “If it were my choice, I would have just given her a nice sound slap and called it a day. But apparently that’s too simple for our sweet, darling Nenet.”
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Their mother did not seem amused by the daughters’ antics, her rose petal pampering interrupted by the appearance of the two squabbling women. Iaheru asked why Nenet would write a note, Nia casting a hateful glance over at her younger sister. Why, indeed. Did the Sirdsett not already know the answer to such questions? Nenet could hardly talk to insult her to her face; she had to rely on pen and paper to bring her bratty and childish sentiments to life. Even if Nia hardly had a pristine reputation, at least she could speak.
“I wrote one back, yes,” Nia replied with a bite in her tone, glancing between Nenet and Iaheru with cold condescension in her gaze. “I thought I would meet her at her level. Since she couldn’t be bothered to meet me at mine.” Her lip curled in Nenet’s direction, who at least had the decency to blush at Iaheru’s needling.
Nenet presented the note that had started it all, her own presentation of it apparently ignored. “She called me a whore without saying the words,” Nia bluntly explained, yanking the note back from her sister’s grasp and placing it in their mother’s. “Rather than… oh, I don’t know… speaking to me like a human being instead of hiding in her room and feigning innocence.”
Sniffing with indignation, she straightened her posture and dismissed Nenet from her attention entirely as she spoke only to Iaheru, “So I finished the whole stupid exchange by pointing out she could have actually spoken to me if it wasn’t for her fucking s-s-s-stutter.” Here, she did glance back at her sister for her reaction as she mocked the girl’s speech impediment, her gaze lit with a cruel and angry light. Really, she had brought this all on herself, and the fact that they were down here involving Iaheru, as if Nenet was innocent of it all, was even more infuriating than the notes themselves.
“I would have preferred that we just settle it ourselves, but apparently someone is still a child who needs to run to her parents at the first sign of trouble.” Ignoring Nenet once more, she looked back at Iaheru with a sickly sweet smile. “If it were my choice, I would have just given her a nice sound slap and called it a day. But apparently that’s too simple for our sweet, darling Nenet.”
Their mother did not seem amused by the daughters’ antics, her rose petal pampering interrupted by the appearance of the two squabbling women. Iaheru asked why Nenet would write a note, Nia casting a hateful glance over at her younger sister. Why, indeed. Did the Sirdsett not already know the answer to such questions? Nenet could hardly talk to insult her to her face; she had to rely on pen and paper to bring her bratty and childish sentiments to life. Even if Nia hardly had a pristine reputation, at least she could speak.
“I wrote one back, yes,” Nia replied with a bite in her tone, glancing between Nenet and Iaheru with cold condescension in her gaze. “I thought I would meet her at her level. Since she couldn’t be bothered to meet me at mine.” Her lip curled in Nenet’s direction, who at least had the decency to blush at Iaheru’s needling.
Nenet presented the note that had started it all, her own presentation of it apparently ignored. “She called me a whore without saying the words,” Nia bluntly explained, yanking the note back from her sister’s grasp and placing it in their mother’s. “Rather than… oh, I don’t know… speaking to me like a human being instead of hiding in her room and feigning innocence.”
Sniffing with indignation, she straightened her posture and dismissed Nenet from her attention entirely as she spoke only to Iaheru, “So I finished the whole stupid exchange by pointing out she could have actually spoken to me if it wasn’t for her fucking s-s-s-stutter.” Here, she did glance back at her sister for her reaction as she mocked the girl’s speech impediment, her gaze lit with a cruel and angry light. Really, she had brought this all on herself, and the fact that they were down here involving Iaheru, as if Nenet was innocent of it all, was even more infuriating than the notes themselves.
“I would have preferred that we just settle it ourselves, but apparently someone is still a child who needs to run to her parents at the first sign of trouble.” Ignoring Nenet once more, she looked back at Iaheru with a sickly sweet smile. “If it were my choice, I would have just given her a nice sound slap and called it a day. But apparently that’s too simple for our sweet, darling Nenet.”
Plush lips drew to a fine line as a hand raised to beckoning the servants away from half braided hair. Rose petals twitched out of place as she bit back laughter from both women’s bickering. It was hard to remain stoic all the time, and she was sure both of her daughter’s noticed the altering of her brand. To her dismay, and to her pleasure, her daughters were here and she was to make the most of it. “Sit,” she rose from her reclined position, standing before both women with slippery, high arched feet on the slick marble.
Nenet wasn’t wrong, Neithotep was a slut, and Neithotep was right, the stutter wasn’t becoming and Nenet had been childish in the first place. It was a true shame her fondest, most obedient daughter had the unnatural proclivity, it was inopportune for a Sheifa to have the curse of poor speech. Perhaps her lessons would take hold one of these days. As the years of Nenet’s youth came to a close, exactly four years prior but one could never reveal to the mother of a crippled child that they ever grew up, Iaheru was having trouble accepting the failures of multiple tutors and physicians. All the gold in Cairo and Thebes combined couldn’t alleviate a stutter, or a disobedient whore daughter.
But, nevertheless, Iaheru saw the good in her children in their worst moments, or, at least, she told herself so to satisfy narcissism rampant in a haughty matriarch. At least she had taught them to insult others cleverly. Hopefully they insulted others as well as they did each other.
“Nenet,” she summoned, “Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.”
“Neithotep,” her voice lowered, “You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.” Iaheru was always careful around Nenet in ways she wasn’t around her other children. There was something about the woman’s doe eyes that Iaheru couldn’t deny. Nenet’s life was already hard enough with a condition that she couldn’t overcome.
“This is unbecoming. Come enjoy your riches with me. Have your face smoothed.” Amber eyes squinted at Nenet, “I think I see a blemish forming on your chin.”
“And you look miserably hungover, Neithotep.”
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Plush lips drew to a fine line as a hand raised to beckoning the servants away from half braided hair. Rose petals twitched out of place as she bit back laughter from both women’s bickering. It was hard to remain stoic all the time, and she was sure both of her daughter’s noticed the altering of her brand. To her dismay, and to her pleasure, her daughters were here and she was to make the most of it. “Sit,” she rose from her reclined position, standing before both women with slippery, high arched feet on the slick marble.
Nenet wasn’t wrong, Neithotep was a slut, and Neithotep was right, the stutter wasn’t becoming and Nenet had been childish in the first place. It was a true shame her fondest, most obedient daughter had the unnatural proclivity, it was inopportune for a Sheifa to have the curse of poor speech. Perhaps her lessons would take hold one of these days. As the years of Nenet’s youth came to a close, exactly four years prior but one could never reveal to the mother of a crippled child that they ever grew up, Iaheru was having trouble accepting the failures of multiple tutors and physicians. All the gold in Cairo and Thebes combined couldn’t alleviate a stutter, or a disobedient whore daughter.
But, nevertheless, Iaheru saw the good in her children in their worst moments, or, at least, she told herself so to satisfy narcissism rampant in a haughty matriarch. At least she had taught them to insult others cleverly. Hopefully they insulted others as well as they did each other.
“Nenet,” she summoned, “Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.”
“Neithotep,” her voice lowered, “You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.” Iaheru was always careful around Nenet in ways she wasn’t around her other children. There was something about the woman’s doe eyes that Iaheru couldn’t deny. Nenet’s life was already hard enough with a condition that she couldn’t overcome.
“This is unbecoming. Come enjoy your riches with me. Have your face smoothed.” Amber eyes squinted at Nenet, “I think I see a blemish forming on your chin.”
“And you look miserably hungover, Neithotep.”
Plush lips drew to a fine line as a hand raised to beckoning the servants away from half braided hair. Rose petals twitched out of place as she bit back laughter from both women’s bickering. It was hard to remain stoic all the time, and she was sure both of her daughter’s noticed the altering of her brand. To her dismay, and to her pleasure, her daughters were here and she was to make the most of it. “Sit,” she rose from her reclined position, standing before both women with slippery, high arched feet on the slick marble.
Nenet wasn’t wrong, Neithotep was a slut, and Neithotep was right, the stutter wasn’t becoming and Nenet had been childish in the first place. It was a true shame her fondest, most obedient daughter had the unnatural proclivity, it was inopportune for a Sheifa to have the curse of poor speech. Perhaps her lessons would take hold one of these days. As the years of Nenet’s youth came to a close, exactly four years prior but one could never reveal to the mother of a crippled child that they ever grew up, Iaheru was having trouble accepting the failures of multiple tutors and physicians. All the gold in Cairo and Thebes combined couldn’t alleviate a stutter, or a disobedient whore daughter.
But, nevertheless, Iaheru saw the good in her children in their worst moments, or, at least, she told herself so to satisfy narcissism rampant in a haughty matriarch. At least she had taught them to insult others cleverly. Hopefully they insulted others as well as they did each other.
“Nenet,” she summoned, “Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.”
“Neithotep,” her voice lowered, “You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.” Iaheru was always careful around Nenet in ways she wasn’t around her other children. There was something about the woman’s doe eyes that Iaheru couldn’t deny. Nenet’s life was already hard enough with a condition that she couldn’t overcome.
“This is unbecoming. Come enjoy your riches with me. Have your face smoothed.” Amber eyes squinted at Nenet, “I think I see a blemish forming on your chin.”
“And you look miserably hungover, Neithotep.”
Nenet had a healthy level of fearful respect for her mother but it was tempered with genuine love and admiration, too. Her mother was beautiful. Iaheru was in possession of the kind of beauty artists yearned to immortalize; the sort of untouchable grace that poets wrote ballads about by lamplight, too haunted to bother to sleep until their muse had run its course. She was terrifying and awe inspiring in equal measure, wielding self confidence and power like a goddess. Nenet would have given her soul to become even half of what her mother was.
Sometimes Iaheru seemed as cold as desert nights and her wrath could scorch like the midday sun. Then there were times, rare times, where she was as gentle as currents of water curling around you in a tranquil pool. The hint of gentleness presented itself now as her mother’s lips twitched. That was a good sign, right? She watched her mother rise to stand before them, elegant and lovely and imposing, as always.
”Sit,” Iaheru’s command wasn’t too harsh but it had Nenet sinking promptly down on the closest chair to her. The letter fluttered out of her grasp and she leaned down to pick it back up, shooting her mother a furtive glance as she did so. ”Nenet,” Iaheru started, as though it was the dropped note that drew the offense. ”Nenet, writing a note is shameful. Say what you mean, even if it takes a moment.”
Ha.
Then, before Nenet could stutter out a ‘yes mama,’ she was cut off as Iaheru moved smoothly on to chastising Nia. Good. Though Nenet’s eyes snapped up and narrowed on the word ‘suffer’. Iaheru then invited the two of them to primp with her, though with the added charm of pointing out a blemish on Nenet’s chin. Nenet’s hand flew to her chin, but she grinned over at Nia, who did look the worse for wear.
“Y-y-y-y-yes-s-s, N-n-n-nia. Y-y-y-y-you n-n-n-n-n-need-d-d alllllll th-the h-h-h-h-h-help-p y-y-y-y-y-you c-c-c-c-c-c-can-n g-g-g-g-g-get-t-t-t.” She had to crunch down on that last ‘t’ to keep it from going further. Then she rose with more grace than she usually could muster, which was to say, she didn’t trip over anything, and made her way to the mirror. Before the mirror sat jars of creams and ointments, sticks of pigment and wax, powders, jewel colored flecks of dust for the eyelids, puffs, and any number of other dreamy pampering things. Nenet chose one jar, dipping her fingertip into it and dabbing at the spot on her chin. Honestly, she was 22. When would she stop getting pimples!?
In the mirror, she looked at Nia and her mother, both sitting there looking gorgeous. Nia, even with dark circles under her eyes and looking like death warmed over, still had the bone structure and features that would lighten right up with sleep. And even if they didn’t, someone could still put a bag over her head and admire that divine figure. Nenet looked back at herself and pushed up her small boobs, trying to give them a bit more oomph.
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Nenet had a healthy level of fearful respect for her mother but it was tempered with genuine love and admiration, too. Her mother was beautiful. Iaheru was in possession of the kind of beauty artists yearned to immortalize; the sort of untouchable grace that poets wrote ballads about by lamplight, too haunted to bother to sleep until their muse had run its course. She was terrifying and awe inspiring in equal measure, wielding self confidence and power like a goddess. Nenet would have given her soul to become even half of what her mother was.
Sometimes Iaheru seemed as cold as desert nights and her wrath could scorch like the midday sun. Then there were times, rare times, where she was as gentle as currents of water curling around you in a tranquil pool. The hint of gentleness presented itself now as her mother’s lips twitched. That was a good sign, right? She watched her mother rise to stand before them, elegant and lovely and imposing, as always.
”Sit,” Iaheru’s command wasn’t too harsh but it had Nenet sinking promptly down on the closest chair to her. The letter fluttered out of her grasp and she leaned down to pick it back up, shooting her mother a furtive glance as she did so. ”Nenet,” Iaheru started, as though it was the dropped note that drew the offense. ”Nenet, writing a note is shameful. Say what you mean, even if it takes a moment.”
Ha.
Then, before Nenet could stutter out a ‘yes mama,’ she was cut off as Iaheru moved smoothly on to chastising Nia. Good. Though Nenet’s eyes snapped up and narrowed on the word ‘suffer’. Iaheru then invited the two of them to primp with her, though with the added charm of pointing out a blemish on Nenet’s chin. Nenet’s hand flew to her chin, but she grinned over at Nia, who did look the worse for wear.
“Y-y-y-y-yes-s-s, N-n-n-nia. Y-y-y-y-you n-n-n-n-n-need-d-d alllllll th-the h-h-h-h-h-help-p y-y-y-y-y-you c-c-c-c-c-c-can-n g-g-g-g-g-get-t-t-t.” She had to crunch down on that last ‘t’ to keep it from going further. Then she rose with more grace than she usually could muster, which was to say, she didn’t trip over anything, and made her way to the mirror. Before the mirror sat jars of creams and ointments, sticks of pigment and wax, powders, jewel colored flecks of dust for the eyelids, puffs, and any number of other dreamy pampering things. Nenet chose one jar, dipping her fingertip into it and dabbing at the spot on her chin. Honestly, she was 22. When would she stop getting pimples!?
In the mirror, she looked at Nia and her mother, both sitting there looking gorgeous. Nia, even with dark circles under her eyes and looking like death warmed over, still had the bone structure and features that would lighten right up with sleep. And even if they didn’t, someone could still put a bag over her head and admire that divine figure. Nenet looked back at herself and pushed up her small boobs, trying to give them a bit more oomph.
Nenet had a healthy level of fearful respect for her mother but it was tempered with genuine love and admiration, too. Her mother was beautiful. Iaheru was in possession of the kind of beauty artists yearned to immortalize; the sort of untouchable grace that poets wrote ballads about by lamplight, too haunted to bother to sleep until their muse had run its course. She was terrifying and awe inspiring in equal measure, wielding self confidence and power like a goddess. Nenet would have given her soul to become even half of what her mother was.
Sometimes Iaheru seemed as cold as desert nights and her wrath could scorch like the midday sun. Then there were times, rare times, where she was as gentle as currents of water curling around you in a tranquil pool. The hint of gentleness presented itself now as her mother’s lips twitched. That was a good sign, right? She watched her mother rise to stand before them, elegant and lovely and imposing, as always.
”Sit,” Iaheru’s command wasn’t too harsh but it had Nenet sinking promptly down on the closest chair to her. The letter fluttered out of her grasp and she leaned down to pick it back up, shooting her mother a furtive glance as she did so. ”Nenet,” Iaheru started, as though it was the dropped note that drew the offense. ”Nenet, writing a note is shameful. Say what you mean, even if it takes a moment.”
Ha.
Then, before Nenet could stutter out a ‘yes mama,’ she was cut off as Iaheru moved smoothly on to chastising Nia. Good. Though Nenet’s eyes snapped up and narrowed on the word ‘suffer’. Iaheru then invited the two of them to primp with her, though with the added charm of pointing out a blemish on Nenet’s chin. Nenet’s hand flew to her chin, but she grinned over at Nia, who did look the worse for wear.
“Y-y-y-y-yes-s-s, N-n-n-nia. Y-y-y-y-you n-n-n-n-n-need-d-d alllllll th-the h-h-h-h-h-help-p y-y-y-y-y-you c-c-c-c-c-c-can-n g-g-g-g-g-get-t-t-t.” She had to crunch down on that last ‘t’ to keep it from going further. Then she rose with more grace than she usually could muster, which was to say, she didn’t trip over anything, and made her way to the mirror. Before the mirror sat jars of creams and ointments, sticks of pigment and wax, powders, jewel colored flecks of dust for the eyelids, puffs, and any number of other dreamy pampering things. Nenet chose one jar, dipping her fingertip into it and dabbing at the spot on her chin. Honestly, she was 22. When would she stop getting pimples!?
In the mirror, she looked at Nia and her mother, both sitting there looking gorgeous. Nia, even with dark circles under her eyes and looking like death warmed over, still had the bone structure and features that would lighten right up with sleep. And even if they didn’t, someone could still put a bag over her head and admire that divine figure. Nenet looked back at herself and pushed up her small boobs, trying to give them a bit more oomph.
At Iaheru’s ordered command of ‘Sit,’ Nia remained defiantly standing, her arms crossed over her chest. A sullen gaze flicked between her mother and her sister, entirely frustrated that such arguments should still come to this with both daughters in their twenties. Would her sister ever mature? Their parents babied her too much. Sure, she had a stutter, but she was still an adult. And an asshole, at that.
She’d still take Nenet’s childishness over Nefertaari’s haughty selfishness any day, though, so at least she could be grateful their oldest sister hadn’t nosily come to see what the fuss was about. With her vast set of rooms, maybe she couldn’t even hear their arguing, though she thought it more likely they’d simply been ignored. Princess Nefertaari could rarely be bothered to descend from her throne.
‘Nenet. Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.’
There was a smug look of triumph on her face as she looked at her sister. Ha. Nia was right, and for once, her mother seemed to acknowledge that. Of course, she wasn’t going to get off without her own reprimand, Iaheru coming at her with, ‘You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.’
“She leans on that too much,” she snapped back with a sidelong look toward Nenet. “And hides behind it like it makes her innocent.” Her youngest sister might have Iaheru fooled, but not her. She knew Nenet could be, and often was, just as mean as the rest of them.
Iaheru went on as if she hadn’t even spoken, asserting that their behavior was unbecoming. Pointing out a pimple on Nenet’s chin and Nia’s own haggard appearance, she briefly smirked. Well, their mother was nothing if not blunt. At least she didn’t seem all that mad.
She lifted a brow at her sister, gaze flicking over her in a quick scan from head to toe. “I could say the same about you,” was her dry response, Nenet drifting away from her to stand in front of a nearby looking glass. Sighing, Nia shook her head and took a seat, leaning back on the imported kline and propping her feet up.
“And I am hungover, Mother, thank you for noticing,” was her equally dry comment to Iaheru, closing her eyes and reaching up to rub her head. “Trust me, this whole experience has made it so much more pleasant, too.” She thought her ears would never stop ringing from the shrill ‘MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!’ her sister had first run down the stairs with.
Well, nothing better to cure a hangover than a bit of what caused it in the first place. Reaching over to a nearby decanter, she poured herself a glass and took a deep swallow. She’d be damned if she started painting her face like Nenet was, but hey, she’d be happy to drink the day away if her family wanted her to remain.
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At Iaheru’s ordered command of ‘Sit,’ Nia remained defiantly standing, her arms crossed over her chest. A sullen gaze flicked between her mother and her sister, entirely frustrated that such arguments should still come to this with both daughters in their twenties. Would her sister ever mature? Their parents babied her too much. Sure, she had a stutter, but she was still an adult. And an asshole, at that.
She’d still take Nenet’s childishness over Nefertaari’s haughty selfishness any day, though, so at least she could be grateful their oldest sister hadn’t nosily come to see what the fuss was about. With her vast set of rooms, maybe she couldn’t even hear their arguing, though she thought it more likely they’d simply been ignored. Princess Nefertaari could rarely be bothered to descend from her throne.
‘Nenet. Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.’
There was a smug look of triumph on her face as she looked at her sister. Ha. Nia was right, and for once, her mother seemed to acknowledge that. Of course, she wasn’t going to get off without her own reprimand, Iaheru coming at her with, ‘You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.’
“She leans on that too much,” she snapped back with a sidelong look toward Nenet. “And hides behind it like it makes her innocent.” Her youngest sister might have Iaheru fooled, but not her. She knew Nenet could be, and often was, just as mean as the rest of them.
Iaheru went on as if she hadn’t even spoken, asserting that their behavior was unbecoming. Pointing out a pimple on Nenet’s chin and Nia’s own haggard appearance, she briefly smirked. Well, their mother was nothing if not blunt. At least she didn’t seem all that mad.
She lifted a brow at her sister, gaze flicking over her in a quick scan from head to toe. “I could say the same about you,” was her dry response, Nenet drifting away from her to stand in front of a nearby looking glass. Sighing, Nia shook her head and took a seat, leaning back on the imported kline and propping her feet up.
“And I am hungover, Mother, thank you for noticing,” was her equally dry comment to Iaheru, closing her eyes and reaching up to rub her head. “Trust me, this whole experience has made it so much more pleasant, too.” She thought her ears would never stop ringing from the shrill ‘MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!’ her sister had first run down the stairs with.
Well, nothing better to cure a hangover than a bit of what caused it in the first place. Reaching over to a nearby decanter, she poured herself a glass and took a deep swallow. She’d be damned if she started painting her face like Nenet was, but hey, she’d be happy to drink the day away if her family wanted her to remain.
At Iaheru’s ordered command of ‘Sit,’ Nia remained defiantly standing, her arms crossed over her chest. A sullen gaze flicked between her mother and her sister, entirely frustrated that such arguments should still come to this with both daughters in their twenties. Would her sister ever mature? Their parents babied her too much. Sure, she had a stutter, but she was still an adult. And an asshole, at that.
She’d still take Nenet’s childishness over Nefertaari’s haughty selfishness any day, though, so at least she could be grateful their oldest sister hadn’t nosily come to see what the fuss was about. With her vast set of rooms, maybe she couldn’t even hear their arguing, though she thought it more likely they’d simply been ignored. Princess Nefertaari could rarely be bothered to descend from her throne.
‘Nenet. Writing a note to your sister is shameful, say what you mean even if it takes a moment.’
There was a smug look of triumph on her face as she looked at her sister. Ha. Nia was right, and for once, her mother seemed to acknowledge that. Of course, she wasn’t going to get off without her own reprimand, Iaheru coming at her with, ‘You are older. Why would you even need to write a note? You don’t suffer, vocally, as Nenet does.’
“She leans on that too much,” she snapped back with a sidelong look toward Nenet. “And hides behind it like it makes her innocent.” Her youngest sister might have Iaheru fooled, but not her. She knew Nenet could be, and often was, just as mean as the rest of them.
Iaheru went on as if she hadn’t even spoken, asserting that their behavior was unbecoming. Pointing out a pimple on Nenet’s chin and Nia’s own haggard appearance, she briefly smirked. Well, their mother was nothing if not blunt. At least she didn’t seem all that mad.
She lifted a brow at her sister, gaze flicking over her in a quick scan from head to toe. “I could say the same about you,” was her dry response, Nenet drifting away from her to stand in front of a nearby looking glass. Sighing, Nia shook her head and took a seat, leaning back on the imported kline and propping her feet up.
“And I am hungover, Mother, thank you for noticing,” was her equally dry comment to Iaheru, closing her eyes and reaching up to rub her head. “Trust me, this whole experience has made it so much more pleasant, too.” She thought her ears would never stop ringing from the shrill ‘MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!’ her sister had first run down the stairs with.
Well, nothing better to cure a hangover than a bit of what caused it in the first place. Reaching over to a nearby decanter, she poured herself a glass and took a deep swallow. She’d be damned if she started painting her face like Nenet was, but hey, she’d be happy to drink the day away if her family wanted her to remain.
Nefertaari, always the well-behaved one, lounged in her room. She smoked hash from a pipe, her eyes heavy. A nap felt like a wonderful thing at that moment, were it not for Nenet’s incessant, stuttering shout. Her eyes widened; the young woman jarred into wakefulness again. She swore beneath her breath and reached for a goblet of wine, drinking deeply from its carmine insides.
A second drink became a second and she inhaled again, adjusting on her lounge for comfort. That was when Nia’s shout followed, this time startling the unwary eldest child. She sighed, frustrated. The slave that attended to her at that moment, a handsome young male that cooled her skin with fanning, took a step back as she moved to the edge of the bed.
”Is this really how today will go?” the noblewoman groaned aloud, rising to her feet. The yelling softened, but she could still hear their muffled voices. Laying down her smoldering hash, Nefertaari slipped her feet into sandals that were placed carefully nearby. A moment later, she walked toward their mother’s room, where the other women of the house squabbled over correspondence with one another.
By this point, Nefertaari found herself curious and rose from her feet, quietly traipsing down the hallway. She stood in the doorway, leaned against it with her arms folded loosely over her torso as she regarded the three h’Sheifa women. To the Sirdsett, Nefertaari inclined her chin in quiet greeting. Her gaze settled on the back of her sisters’ heads as they defended their actions and passed blame back and forth between one another.
She watched observantly as her mother diffused the dispute between the two, making notes for how she might better mediate such exchanges herself, were they to arise so pettily in her own life. An amused smirk toyed with the corner of her painted lips, bright with the hue of blood. Nefertaari’s own morning rituals were already completed, her face appearing far more flawless than it probably was. Then, Nenet’s stuttering insult to Nia nudged Nefertaari into a bubbling fit of laughter.
”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give,” Nefertaari remarked snidely, watching as Nenet measured her chest. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her own thoughts mirrored Neithotep’s, the eldest of the daughters wondering if the two youngers would ever grow up. Nef’s dark gaze belied fatigue that lingered beneath her painted features. It was not often that Nefertaari could be found in the same place as the rest of Hei Sheifa’s women. She made it a point to avoid these types of situations, finding them inherently exhausting. Pushing off the threshold, she stepped deeper into the room.
”Hello, mother,” Nefertaari greeted.
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Nefertaari, always the well-behaved one, lounged in her room. She smoked hash from a pipe, her eyes heavy. A nap felt like a wonderful thing at that moment, were it not for Nenet’s incessant, stuttering shout. Her eyes widened; the young woman jarred into wakefulness again. She swore beneath her breath and reached for a goblet of wine, drinking deeply from its carmine insides.
A second drink became a second and she inhaled again, adjusting on her lounge for comfort. That was when Nia’s shout followed, this time startling the unwary eldest child. She sighed, frustrated. The slave that attended to her at that moment, a handsome young male that cooled her skin with fanning, took a step back as she moved to the edge of the bed.
”Is this really how today will go?” the noblewoman groaned aloud, rising to her feet. The yelling softened, but she could still hear their muffled voices. Laying down her smoldering hash, Nefertaari slipped her feet into sandals that were placed carefully nearby. A moment later, she walked toward their mother’s room, where the other women of the house squabbled over correspondence with one another.
By this point, Nefertaari found herself curious and rose from her feet, quietly traipsing down the hallway. She stood in the doorway, leaned against it with her arms folded loosely over her torso as she regarded the three h’Sheifa women. To the Sirdsett, Nefertaari inclined her chin in quiet greeting. Her gaze settled on the back of her sisters’ heads as they defended their actions and passed blame back and forth between one another.
She watched observantly as her mother diffused the dispute between the two, making notes for how she might better mediate such exchanges herself, were they to arise so pettily in her own life. An amused smirk toyed with the corner of her painted lips, bright with the hue of blood. Nefertaari’s own morning rituals were already completed, her face appearing far more flawless than it probably was. Then, Nenet’s stuttering insult to Nia nudged Nefertaari into a bubbling fit of laughter.
”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give,” Nefertaari remarked snidely, watching as Nenet measured her chest. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her own thoughts mirrored Neithotep’s, the eldest of the daughters wondering if the two youngers would ever grow up. Nef’s dark gaze belied fatigue that lingered beneath her painted features. It was not often that Nefertaari could be found in the same place as the rest of Hei Sheifa’s women. She made it a point to avoid these types of situations, finding them inherently exhausting. Pushing off the threshold, she stepped deeper into the room.
”Hello, mother,” Nefertaari greeted.
Nefertaari, always the well-behaved one, lounged in her room. She smoked hash from a pipe, her eyes heavy. A nap felt like a wonderful thing at that moment, were it not for Nenet’s incessant, stuttering shout. Her eyes widened; the young woman jarred into wakefulness again. She swore beneath her breath and reached for a goblet of wine, drinking deeply from its carmine insides.
A second drink became a second and she inhaled again, adjusting on her lounge for comfort. That was when Nia’s shout followed, this time startling the unwary eldest child. She sighed, frustrated. The slave that attended to her at that moment, a handsome young male that cooled her skin with fanning, took a step back as she moved to the edge of the bed.
”Is this really how today will go?” the noblewoman groaned aloud, rising to her feet. The yelling softened, but she could still hear their muffled voices. Laying down her smoldering hash, Nefertaari slipped her feet into sandals that were placed carefully nearby. A moment later, she walked toward their mother’s room, where the other women of the house squabbled over correspondence with one another.
By this point, Nefertaari found herself curious and rose from her feet, quietly traipsing down the hallway. She stood in the doorway, leaned against it with her arms folded loosely over her torso as she regarded the three h’Sheifa women. To the Sirdsett, Nefertaari inclined her chin in quiet greeting. Her gaze settled on the back of her sisters’ heads as they defended their actions and passed blame back and forth between one another.
She watched observantly as her mother diffused the dispute between the two, making notes for how she might better mediate such exchanges herself, were they to arise so pettily in her own life. An amused smirk toyed with the corner of her painted lips, bright with the hue of blood. Nefertaari’s own morning rituals were already completed, her face appearing far more flawless than it probably was. Then, Nenet’s stuttering insult to Nia nudged Nefertaari into a bubbling fit of laughter.
”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give,” Nefertaari remarked snidely, watching as Nenet measured her chest. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her own thoughts mirrored Neithotep’s, the eldest of the daughters wondering if the two youngers would ever grow up. Nef’s dark gaze belied fatigue that lingered beneath her painted features. It was not often that Nefertaari could be found in the same place as the rest of Hei Sheifa’s women. She made it a point to avoid these types of situations, finding them inherently exhausting. Pushing off the threshold, she stepped deeper into the room.
”Hello, mother,” Nefertaari greeted.
Iaheru did not plan on entertaining the women’s last exchanges. There was simply no need on such a beautiful day as this. A day in which she could relish in her hard work by the pampering of slaves and rich cosmetics. And then, on a day where things could not get any more sweet, her daughter Nefertaari graced the women with her presence. Iaheru smiled, rose petals shifting on a wrinkless face. The topic of motherhood broached and her stomach twisted. Motherhood, something she hoped was mentioned in passing. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Iaheru pursed her lips, eyes lifting up to see her eldest, her wisest, and Onuphrious’s jewel.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru narrowed her eyes thin, like a serpent, “You look awfully relaxed.”
Iaheru wiggled her toes, the soles of her feet sensitive to the slaves applying salve to heels beginning to show signs of cracking. She was attending to business in Thebes, a city famed for its walkability and safety compared to the rambunctious Cairo she cherished deeply. For the most part, Onuphrious took to Thebes as she took to her residence in Cairo, only visiting when necessity willed it to existence. There was always and underlying unease in the residence, an air of old wealth she wasn’t quite accustomed to. Thebes was caught in ceremonial drivel whereas she desired upshot vitality of Cairo. “All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.”
“How have you been adjusting,” Iaheru tiptoes around the real question of ‘how have you been adjusting to my secret come to life’. She was sure the lessons she provided them, the tutors she paid villas for, would have cued their daughters in on the subtexts. “And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
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Iaheru did not plan on entertaining the women’s last exchanges. There was simply no need on such a beautiful day as this. A day in which she could relish in her hard work by the pampering of slaves and rich cosmetics. And then, on a day where things could not get any more sweet, her daughter Nefertaari graced the women with her presence. Iaheru smiled, rose petals shifting on a wrinkless face. The topic of motherhood broached and her stomach twisted. Motherhood, something she hoped was mentioned in passing. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Iaheru pursed her lips, eyes lifting up to see her eldest, her wisest, and Onuphrious’s jewel.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru narrowed her eyes thin, like a serpent, “You look awfully relaxed.”
Iaheru wiggled her toes, the soles of her feet sensitive to the slaves applying salve to heels beginning to show signs of cracking. She was attending to business in Thebes, a city famed for its walkability and safety compared to the rambunctious Cairo she cherished deeply. For the most part, Onuphrious took to Thebes as she took to her residence in Cairo, only visiting when necessity willed it to existence. There was always and underlying unease in the residence, an air of old wealth she wasn’t quite accustomed to. Thebes was caught in ceremonial drivel whereas she desired upshot vitality of Cairo. “All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.”
“How have you been adjusting,” Iaheru tiptoes around the real question of ‘how have you been adjusting to my secret come to life’. She was sure the lessons she provided them, the tutors she paid villas for, would have cued their daughters in on the subtexts. “And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
Iaheru did not plan on entertaining the women’s last exchanges. There was simply no need on such a beautiful day as this. A day in which she could relish in her hard work by the pampering of slaves and rich cosmetics. And then, on a day where things could not get any more sweet, her daughter Nefertaari graced the women with her presence. Iaheru smiled, rose petals shifting on a wrinkless face. The topic of motherhood broached and her stomach twisted. Motherhood, something she hoped was mentioned in passing. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Iaheru pursed her lips, eyes lifting up to see her eldest, her wisest, and Onuphrious’s jewel.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru narrowed her eyes thin, like a serpent, “You look awfully relaxed.”
Iaheru wiggled her toes, the soles of her feet sensitive to the slaves applying salve to heels beginning to show signs of cracking. She was attending to business in Thebes, a city famed for its walkability and safety compared to the rambunctious Cairo she cherished deeply. For the most part, Onuphrious took to Thebes as she took to her residence in Cairo, only visiting when necessity willed it to existence. There was always and underlying unease in the residence, an air of old wealth she wasn’t quite accustomed to. Thebes was caught in ceremonial drivel whereas she desired upshot vitality of Cairo. “All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.”
“How have you been adjusting,” Iaheru tiptoes around the real question of ‘how have you been adjusting to my secret come to life’. She was sure the lessons she provided them, the tutors she paid villas for, would have cued their daughters in on the subtexts. “And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
The scent of Nefertaari’s hash smoking finally reached Nenet and she wrinkled her nose, looking in the mirror at her perfect elder sister as the other spoke. ”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give.” Instantly Nenet stopped pushing her breasts up and dropped her hands back to the vanity’s top. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“H-h-h-ow w-w-w-w-ould-d y-y-you kn-know?” Nenet muttered to herself. As if Nefertaari had any actual prospects on the horizon so that she could fulfill that duty herself. Nenet didn’t have all that much to worry about, since she never planned to marry. In a month or so, the idea would form to become a priestess of Nephthys, but she hadn’t quite reached that thought yet. For the moment, she was just stubbornly insisting to anyone who’d listen, mostly to Akhenaten (as he was the one threatening to marry her off to a horrible old man) that she wouldn’t marry anyone. Books were all well and good but the thought of having to do any of what marriage entailed in real life was...quite frankly terrifying.
She watched with undisguised loathing as Nefertaari stepped into the room but she did finally turn away from the mirror. Her own reflection had hidden Nia for a moment and now that she was turned around, she could see the drink in Nia’s hand. A sigh escaped her lips and for a single, solitary moment, she honestly did worry about Nia. This was all...so woefully unhealthy. Then she remembered what an incredible bitch Nia had been only a few seconds ago and decided she’d help Nia drown herself in wine if that’s what her sister wanted; to be cross eyed and slobbering, pregnant by some vagrant and still pawing all over Akhenaten, depending on him for generosity. What. A. Loser.
Iaheru didn’t miss the topic of marriage. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Nenet side eyed her and opted not to bring up the subject of her not marrying. It likely wouldn’t go over well and she wouldn’t put it past her mother to drag out a man from the woodwork. Though, if she was that magical, Nia wouldn’t be staring at a broken engagement at the moment. Nenet’s lips twisted. Again...what a loser.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru was saying to Nef and Nenet’s smile dropped like a stone off her face. “You look awfully relaxed.”
Maybe. Just maybe if she side inched her way to the door, perhaps took a detour to stand behind that plant over there in the corner...no one would notice her leave…
“All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.” There went that fantasy of leaving, shot with an arrow to the face. “How have you been adjusting? And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
Rather than answering the adjusting part, which Nenet soundly didn’t want to discuss, she raised her hand to the second question and stammered out ‘me’. Either her mother would beam at the idea or Nenet might go three for three on the rejection scale. It was always a gamble. As she’d volunteered to leave, she’d thought of her friends and how they were generally in residence at Cairo. It’d make it easier to see them…
Taking the rather bold step and perching her butt on the end of Nia’s chair, Nenet made sure to keep her back to her elder sister, and kept her face towards Iaheru. Nef? Nef could go suck more hash into her lungs.
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The scent of Nefertaari’s hash smoking finally reached Nenet and she wrinkled her nose, looking in the mirror at her perfect elder sister as the other spoke. ”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give.” Instantly Nenet stopped pushing her breasts up and dropped her hands back to the vanity’s top. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“H-h-h-ow w-w-w-w-ould-d y-y-you kn-know?” Nenet muttered to herself. As if Nefertaari had any actual prospects on the horizon so that she could fulfill that duty herself. Nenet didn’t have all that much to worry about, since she never planned to marry. In a month or so, the idea would form to become a priestess of Nephthys, but she hadn’t quite reached that thought yet. For the moment, she was just stubbornly insisting to anyone who’d listen, mostly to Akhenaten (as he was the one threatening to marry her off to a horrible old man) that she wouldn’t marry anyone. Books were all well and good but the thought of having to do any of what marriage entailed in real life was...quite frankly terrifying.
She watched with undisguised loathing as Nefertaari stepped into the room but she did finally turn away from the mirror. Her own reflection had hidden Nia for a moment and now that she was turned around, she could see the drink in Nia’s hand. A sigh escaped her lips and for a single, solitary moment, she honestly did worry about Nia. This was all...so woefully unhealthy. Then she remembered what an incredible bitch Nia had been only a few seconds ago and decided she’d help Nia drown herself in wine if that’s what her sister wanted; to be cross eyed and slobbering, pregnant by some vagrant and still pawing all over Akhenaten, depending on him for generosity. What. A. Loser.
Iaheru didn’t miss the topic of marriage. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Nenet side eyed her and opted not to bring up the subject of her not marrying. It likely wouldn’t go over well and she wouldn’t put it past her mother to drag out a man from the woodwork. Though, if she was that magical, Nia wouldn’t be staring at a broken engagement at the moment. Nenet’s lips twisted. Again...what a loser.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru was saying to Nef and Nenet’s smile dropped like a stone off her face. “You look awfully relaxed.”
Maybe. Just maybe if she side inched her way to the door, perhaps took a detour to stand behind that plant over there in the corner...no one would notice her leave…
“All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.” There went that fantasy of leaving, shot with an arrow to the face. “How have you been adjusting? And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
Rather than answering the adjusting part, which Nenet soundly didn’t want to discuss, she raised her hand to the second question and stammered out ‘me’. Either her mother would beam at the idea or Nenet might go three for three on the rejection scale. It was always a gamble. As she’d volunteered to leave, she’d thought of her friends and how they were generally in residence at Cairo. It’d make it easier to see them…
Taking the rather bold step and perching her butt on the end of Nia’s chair, Nenet made sure to keep her back to her elder sister, and kept her face towards Iaheru. Nef? Nef could go suck more hash into her lungs.
The scent of Nefertaari’s hash smoking finally reached Nenet and she wrinkled her nose, looking in the mirror at her perfect elder sister as the other spoke. ”You both need more help than anyone is equipped to give.” Instantly Nenet stopped pushing her breasts up and dropped her hands back to the vanity’s top. ”Motherhood would give you a bit more to squeeze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“H-h-h-ow w-w-w-w-ould-d y-y-you kn-know?” Nenet muttered to herself. As if Nefertaari had any actual prospects on the horizon so that she could fulfill that duty herself. Nenet didn’t have all that much to worry about, since she never planned to marry. In a month or so, the idea would form to become a priestess of Nephthys, but she hadn’t quite reached that thought yet. For the moment, she was just stubbornly insisting to anyone who’d listen, mostly to Akhenaten (as he was the one threatening to marry her off to a horrible old man) that she wouldn’t marry anyone. Books were all well and good but the thought of having to do any of what marriage entailed in real life was...quite frankly terrifying.
She watched with undisguised loathing as Nefertaari stepped into the room but she did finally turn away from the mirror. Her own reflection had hidden Nia for a moment and now that she was turned around, she could see the drink in Nia’s hand. A sigh escaped her lips and for a single, solitary moment, she honestly did worry about Nia. This was all...so woefully unhealthy. Then she remembered what an incredible bitch Nia had been only a few seconds ago and decided she’d help Nia drown herself in wine if that’s what her sister wanted; to be cross eyed and slobbering, pregnant by some vagrant and still pawing all over Akhenaten, depending on him for generosity. What. A. Loser.
Iaheru didn’t miss the topic of marriage. “Say, motherhood? And not one marriage between you three. As it should be.” Nenet side eyed her and opted not to bring up the subject of her not marrying. It likely wouldn’t go over well and she wouldn’t put it past her mother to drag out a man from the woodwork. Though, if she was that magical, Nia wouldn’t be staring at a broken engagement at the moment. Nenet’s lips twisted. Again...what a loser.
“What has the afternoon brought you, eldest? Aside from screeching?” Iaheru was saying to Nef and Nenet’s smile dropped like a stone off her face. “You look awfully relaxed.”
Maybe. Just maybe if she side inched her way to the door, perhaps took a detour to stand behind that plant over there in the corner...no one would notice her leave…
“All of my daughters together, what a treat. A mother could not ask for more.” There went that fantasy of leaving, shot with an arrow to the face. “How have you been adjusting? And who will join me in Cairo when I depart from this dusty urn of a city?”
Rather than answering the adjusting part, which Nenet soundly didn’t want to discuss, she raised her hand to the second question and stammered out ‘me’. Either her mother would beam at the idea or Nenet might go three for three on the rejection scale. It was always a gamble. As she’d volunteered to leave, she’d thought of her friends and how they were generally in residence at Cairo. It’d make it easier to see them…
Taking the rather bold step and perching her butt on the end of Nia’s chair, Nenet made sure to keep her back to her elder sister, and kept her face towards Iaheru. Nef? Nef could go suck more hash into her lungs.
It was as if her relief at Nefertaari’s absence summoned the woman into existence, Nia suppressing a sigh when she heard the dry tones of her older sister behind her. How lovely. What a way to make an already wonderful day even better. Just what they were all hoping for.
She did her best to tune out the chatter of the other women, bringing her wine glass up to her lips and pretending she was… well, anywhere else. In the arms of a handsome man with two lungfuls of opium smoke sounded perfect, but of course, that fantasy didn’t last very long, not with the prattling around her. Her mother’s question of who would return to Cairo with her invaded on the young woman’s indolent daydreams, turning her head back to look at the Sirdsett.
There was a part of her that wished she could remain in Thebes. Here, she was somewhat shielded from Iahotep; he was far less likely to summon her if she was a few hours down the river from the Evening Star Palace. However, therein lay the problem—she could not remain here for that very reason. It was only a matter of time before his patience ran out, and he summoned her anyway, and then came the awkward explanation to her father of why she suddenly needed to sail to Cairo…
Normally, she would not even consider the notion of remaining in the Great City with Onuphrious. She much preferred the hustle and bustle of Cairo, but with the threat of the Pharaoh hanging over her head, the capital lost much of its appeal. However, if she remained behind, she imagined she would have to deal with Nefertaari more often, and that didn’t sound all that appealing, either.
“I will return with you,” she said to her mother without even so much as a greeting for her other sibling and declining to answer her other question entirely. How was she coping with the big secret? Oh, just by reliving the same story that got Iaheru into a scandal in the first place, no big deal… Shaking those thoughts away, she thought of firing back a barb at Nef for her comment on she and Nenet needing all the help they could get, but decided it wasn’t worth expending the energy, particularly after the shouting fest with Nenet.
Who was now claiming room on her chair like she hadn’t been tattling on her only moments before. Cutting a look over at the younger woman, Nia raised a brow at her with an incredulous expression. Really? “Are you serious right now? Do you even know how bony your ass is?” she complained, uncomfortably wriggling as far away as the chair would allow. She’d be damned if she gave it up for her little brat of a sister. She was here first. “Or, I don’t know, how many other chairs are in this room?”
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It was as if her relief at Nefertaari’s absence summoned the woman into existence, Nia suppressing a sigh when she heard the dry tones of her older sister behind her. How lovely. What a way to make an already wonderful day even better. Just what they were all hoping for.
She did her best to tune out the chatter of the other women, bringing her wine glass up to her lips and pretending she was… well, anywhere else. In the arms of a handsome man with two lungfuls of opium smoke sounded perfect, but of course, that fantasy didn’t last very long, not with the prattling around her. Her mother’s question of who would return to Cairo with her invaded on the young woman’s indolent daydreams, turning her head back to look at the Sirdsett.
There was a part of her that wished she could remain in Thebes. Here, she was somewhat shielded from Iahotep; he was far less likely to summon her if she was a few hours down the river from the Evening Star Palace. However, therein lay the problem—she could not remain here for that very reason. It was only a matter of time before his patience ran out, and he summoned her anyway, and then came the awkward explanation to her father of why she suddenly needed to sail to Cairo…
Normally, she would not even consider the notion of remaining in the Great City with Onuphrious. She much preferred the hustle and bustle of Cairo, but with the threat of the Pharaoh hanging over her head, the capital lost much of its appeal. However, if she remained behind, she imagined she would have to deal with Nefertaari more often, and that didn’t sound all that appealing, either.
“I will return with you,” she said to her mother without even so much as a greeting for her other sibling and declining to answer her other question entirely. How was she coping with the big secret? Oh, just by reliving the same story that got Iaheru into a scandal in the first place, no big deal… Shaking those thoughts away, she thought of firing back a barb at Nef for her comment on she and Nenet needing all the help they could get, but decided it wasn’t worth expending the energy, particularly after the shouting fest with Nenet.
Who was now claiming room on her chair like she hadn’t been tattling on her only moments before. Cutting a look over at the younger woman, Nia raised a brow at her with an incredulous expression. Really? “Are you serious right now? Do you even know how bony your ass is?” she complained, uncomfortably wriggling as far away as the chair would allow. She’d be damned if she gave it up for her little brat of a sister. She was here first. “Or, I don’t know, how many other chairs are in this room?”
It was as if her relief at Nefertaari’s absence summoned the woman into existence, Nia suppressing a sigh when she heard the dry tones of her older sister behind her. How lovely. What a way to make an already wonderful day even better. Just what they were all hoping for.
She did her best to tune out the chatter of the other women, bringing her wine glass up to her lips and pretending she was… well, anywhere else. In the arms of a handsome man with two lungfuls of opium smoke sounded perfect, but of course, that fantasy didn’t last very long, not with the prattling around her. Her mother’s question of who would return to Cairo with her invaded on the young woman’s indolent daydreams, turning her head back to look at the Sirdsett.
There was a part of her that wished she could remain in Thebes. Here, she was somewhat shielded from Iahotep; he was far less likely to summon her if she was a few hours down the river from the Evening Star Palace. However, therein lay the problem—she could not remain here for that very reason. It was only a matter of time before his patience ran out, and he summoned her anyway, and then came the awkward explanation to her father of why she suddenly needed to sail to Cairo…
Normally, she would not even consider the notion of remaining in the Great City with Onuphrious. She much preferred the hustle and bustle of Cairo, but with the threat of the Pharaoh hanging over her head, the capital lost much of its appeal. However, if she remained behind, she imagined she would have to deal with Nefertaari more often, and that didn’t sound all that appealing, either.
“I will return with you,” she said to her mother without even so much as a greeting for her other sibling and declining to answer her other question entirely. How was she coping with the big secret? Oh, just by reliving the same story that got Iaheru into a scandal in the first place, no big deal… Shaking those thoughts away, she thought of firing back a barb at Nef for her comment on she and Nenet needing all the help they could get, but decided it wasn’t worth expending the energy, particularly after the shouting fest with Nenet.
Who was now claiming room on her chair like she hadn’t been tattling on her only moments before. Cutting a look over at the younger woman, Nia raised a brow at her with an incredulous expression. Really? “Are you serious right now? Do you even know how bony your ass is?” she complained, uncomfortably wriggling as far away as the chair would allow. She’d be damned if she gave it up for her little brat of a sister. She was here first. “Or, I don’t know, how many other chairs are in this room?”
A sly grin curled the corner of Nefertaari’s lips, and she barely bit back a snicker at her mother’s observation regarding her appearance. “I am always relaxed mother, except when I am not.” If she bore any answer to the query of motherhood and marriage, she didn’t speak it. She much preferred being single and having all the fun she could muster, versus being tied down to someone.
Then the query regarding Sutekh came and she grew silent, her brow furrowed slightly. There was something to be said about her mother’s transgressions against her father, but now was not the time for Nefertaari to open her mouth on that matter. She did not want Hena to be the heir, but that was no secret. If Nefertaari could put on a beard, perhaps there would be more she could do with her life.
She snorted; the expression was extremely unladylike. Nenet’s remark seemed to sour Nef’s mood a hair and she grew silent as Nenet turned away from her, offering a shrug up to her mother in response.
Finally, she stepped away from the mirror they’d been looking into and addressed the back of Nenet’s head. “You’re too thin, and that’s not healthy. Contrary to yours and Neith’s beliefs, I actually do care about you two. I’m not nearly as heartless as any of you seem to think I am.” Her words were a bit harsh, yes, but they came from a good place.
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A sly grin curled the corner of Nefertaari’s lips, and she barely bit back a snicker at her mother’s observation regarding her appearance. “I am always relaxed mother, except when I am not.” If she bore any answer to the query of motherhood and marriage, she didn’t speak it. She much preferred being single and having all the fun she could muster, versus being tied down to someone.
Then the query regarding Sutekh came and she grew silent, her brow furrowed slightly. There was something to be said about her mother’s transgressions against her father, but now was not the time for Nefertaari to open her mouth on that matter. She did not want Hena to be the heir, but that was no secret. If Nefertaari could put on a beard, perhaps there would be more she could do with her life.
She snorted; the expression was extremely unladylike. Nenet’s remark seemed to sour Nef’s mood a hair and she grew silent as Nenet turned away from her, offering a shrug up to her mother in response.
Finally, she stepped away from the mirror they’d been looking into and addressed the back of Nenet’s head. “You’re too thin, and that’s not healthy. Contrary to yours and Neith’s beliefs, I actually do care about you two. I’m not nearly as heartless as any of you seem to think I am.” Her words were a bit harsh, yes, but they came from a good place.
A sly grin curled the corner of Nefertaari’s lips, and she barely bit back a snicker at her mother’s observation regarding her appearance. “I am always relaxed mother, except when I am not.” If she bore any answer to the query of motherhood and marriage, she didn’t speak it. She much preferred being single and having all the fun she could muster, versus being tied down to someone.
Then the query regarding Sutekh came and she grew silent, her brow furrowed slightly. There was something to be said about her mother’s transgressions against her father, but now was not the time for Nefertaari to open her mouth on that matter. She did not want Hena to be the heir, but that was no secret. If Nefertaari could put on a beard, perhaps there would be more she could do with her life.
She snorted; the expression was extremely unladylike. Nenet’s remark seemed to sour Nef’s mood a hair and she grew silent as Nenet turned away from her, offering a shrug up to her mother in response.
Finally, she stepped away from the mirror they’d been looking into and addressed the back of Nenet’s head. “You’re too thin, and that’s not healthy. Contrary to yours and Neith’s beliefs, I actually do care about you two. I’m not nearly as heartless as any of you seem to think I am.” Her words were a bit harsh, yes, but they came from a good place.
