The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Akila wasn’t what you called a friendly girl… until you put a whole lot of alcohol in her. She didn’t know when she began drinking. She didn’t even know what the fucking time was. And it didn’t matter, not tonight at least. Tonight was all about the fun, tomorrow the hangover, and the next day the sea. Everything was just fine.
“And then I was like… Eye for an Eye!” Akila jabbed forward at a fake opponent and the table erupted with laughter. Tonight was a raucous night. Drummers were banging on their instruments in the corner, people were stomping their feet, and there were plenty of drinks to go around. The night was young, and Akila felt alive.
She wasn’t so drunk, however, to not notice the cute little rich girl sitting at the bar alone. She might have dressed down, but it was obvious. No poor had hair quite as settled and clean as her’s, nor did they have skin so smooth. She never worked a day in her life, did she? Her hands weren’t calloused as they reached for the cup, and her eyes still had laugh lines like they never faced a day of hardship. The little girl was so out of place. How adorable.
Akila tilted her chin towards one of her crew members giving him a wink before she made her way to the girl. She threw an arm around her shoulder reaching for the girl’s cup and downing the contents within it. “You look a little lost, girlie.” Akila slurred sitting down on the seat beside her. She looked to the Tavern keeper, “Another round, on her.”
This version of Akila… was what she could call friendly.
The tavern keeper left to fetch the drinks and Akila put a drunken elbow on the bar, propping her chin with her hand. “You ain’t a whore.” she said outright.”This is prime working hours. Not a serving girl, hands too clean for that. This place seems a bit out of the way for you. What brings you? Lookin’ to impress your friends by braving the big bad slums? Or are you hidin’ away from daddy?” The drinks arrived and Akila took a swig. “Wouldn’t be the first.”
In fact, Akila loved it when rich girls thought to rebel by going down the wrong side of town. Not only were they easy targets, but they were fun toys. Even if Akila kept her hands to herself, just showing a world that wasn’t the pretty perfect little thing their parents raised them to think was… well, the look never got old. Darkness lurked in every corner.
“Well,” Akila raised her glass. “What’s your story, kid? You don’t look to be a girl with daddy issues. They’re a lot huffier than that. Bored of the same old? Thought you could fair a night on the wild side?” She won’t. Her coin purse would be gone by the end of the night after she paid for Akila’s drinks, and she’d be taught to never stray far from her station again.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Akila wasn’t what you called a friendly girl… until you put a whole lot of alcohol in her. She didn’t know when she began drinking. She didn’t even know what the fucking time was. And it didn’t matter, not tonight at least. Tonight was all about the fun, tomorrow the hangover, and the next day the sea. Everything was just fine.
“And then I was like… Eye for an Eye!” Akila jabbed forward at a fake opponent and the table erupted with laughter. Tonight was a raucous night. Drummers were banging on their instruments in the corner, people were stomping their feet, and there were plenty of drinks to go around. The night was young, and Akila felt alive.
She wasn’t so drunk, however, to not notice the cute little rich girl sitting at the bar alone. She might have dressed down, but it was obvious. No poor had hair quite as settled and clean as her’s, nor did they have skin so smooth. She never worked a day in her life, did she? Her hands weren’t calloused as they reached for the cup, and her eyes still had laugh lines like they never faced a day of hardship. The little girl was so out of place. How adorable.
Akila tilted her chin towards one of her crew members giving him a wink before she made her way to the girl. She threw an arm around her shoulder reaching for the girl’s cup and downing the contents within it. “You look a little lost, girlie.” Akila slurred sitting down on the seat beside her. She looked to the Tavern keeper, “Another round, on her.”
This version of Akila… was what she could call friendly.
The tavern keeper left to fetch the drinks and Akila put a drunken elbow on the bar, propping her chin with her hand. “You ain’t a whore.” she said outright.”This is prime working hours. Not a serving girl, hands too clean for that. This place seems a bit out of the way for you. What brings you? Lookin’ to impress your friends by braving the big bad slums? Or are you hidin’ away from daddy?” The drinks arrived and Akila took a swig. “Wouldn’t be the first.”
In fact, Akila loved it when rich girls thought to rebel by going down the wrong side of town. Not only were they easy targets, but they were fun toys. Even if Akila kept her hands to herself, just showing a world that wasn’t the pretty perfect little thing their parents raised them to think was… well, the look never got old. Darkness lurked in every corner.
“Well,” Akila raised her glass. “What’s your story, kid? You don’t look to be a girl with daddy issues. They’re a lot huffier than that. Bored of the same old? Thought you could fair a night on the wild side?” She won’t. Her coin purse would be gone by the end of the night after she paid for Akila’s drinks, and she’d be taught to never stray far from her station again.
Akila wasn’t what you called a friendly girl… until you put a whole lot of alcohol in her. She didn’t know when she began drinking. She didn’t even know what the fucking time was. And it didn’t matter, not tonight at least. Tonight was all about the fun, tomorrow the hangover, and the next day the sea. Everything was just fine.
“And then I was like… Eye for an Eye!” Akila jabbed forward at a fake opponent and the table erupted with laughter. Tonight was a raucous night. Drummers were banging on their instruments in the corner, people were stomping their feet, and there were plenty of drinks to go around. The night was young, and Akila felt alive.
She wasn’t so drunk, however, to not notice the cute little rich girl sitting at the bar alone. She might have dressed down, but it was obvious. No poor had hair quite as settled and clean as her’s, nor did they have skin so smooth. She never worked a day in her life, did she? Her hands weren’t calloused as they reached for the cup, and her eyes still had laugh lines like they never faced a day of hardship. The little girl was so out of place. How adorable.
Akila tilted her chin towards one of her crew members giving him a wink before she made her way to the girl. She threw an arm around her shoulder reaching for the girl’s cup and downing the contents within it. “You look a little lost, girlie.” Akila slurred sitting down on the seat beside her. She looked to the Tavern keeper, “Another round, on her.”
This version of Akila… was what she could call friendly.
The tavern keeper left to fetch the drinks and Akila put a drunken elbow on the bar, propping her chin with her hand. “You ain’t a whore.” she said outright.”This is prime working hours. Not a serving girl, hands too clean for that. This place seems a bit out of the way for you. What brings you? Lookin’ to impress your friends by braving the big bad slums? Or are you hidin’ away from daddy?” The drinks arrived and Akila took a swig. “Wouldn’t be the first.”
In fact, Akila loved it when rich girls thought to rebel by going down the wrong side of town. Not only were they easy targets, but they were fun toys. Even if Akila kept her hands to herself, just showing a world that wasn’t the pretty perfect little thing their parents raised them to think was… well, the look never got old. Darkness lurked in every corner.
“Well,” Akila raised her glass. “What’s your story, kid? You don’t look to be a girl with daddy issues. They’re a lot huffier than that. Bored of the same old? Thought you could fair a night on the wild side?” She won’t. Her coin purse would be gone by the end of the night after she paid for Akila’s drinks, and she’d be taught to never stray far from her station again.
Sameera had only considered being so bold as to go out like this once before, and even then she had been too frightened that someone might mistake her for a whore, or try to kill her, that she had talked herself out of it. Now, though, she had been able to talk herself into going, albeit with some level of disguise.
Her dress was made of a more rough linen than she normally wore, and she considered it a bit scratchy. The way she itched at it every once in a while, she thought, would possibly make her seem as though she had some issues, possible fleas. Did the people who went to bars like this catch fleas? She shuddered at the idea of something crawling on her skin, the idea of something biting her was that much worse.
Expecting only to catch snatches of conversation, words that she might use to keep her stories interesting, document what these people were like compared with the more civilized people she normally eavesdropped on. Well, the purpose was much the same, except their stories, the way they moved, everything about them seemed so interesting to Sameera.
She sipped at her cup. It wasn’t often she drank anything stronger than barley beer or wine, but tonight called for some more daring. She imagined what Safiya would say if she was here, putting the cup down as she tried to focus on what was going on. She wasn’t drunk, thankfully, though she was a bit worried about that.
“Oh, wait, I--” Sameera said as a strange woman downed all that was left. She shook her head at the tavern keeper, somehow trying to signal a denial of the strange woman’s request without being terribly rude. There was no way she could afford that with the money she brought, she thought and she had no desires to pay any other way.
Alas, it was too late and the tavern keeper had already left to go get them. Uncle Narmer was going to kill her. Or perhaps sell her off as a slave to pay for those drinks.
She stiffened up as the strange woman analyzed her. “I...I mean, I…” the tavern’s keeper came back with the drinks, putting one down in front of the strange woman and one in front of Sameera. She nodded her thanks. “I think that will be enough for tonight.” she said quietly, just to the tavern keeper. Just two. Phew, and she thought for sure that she’d be paying for the whole tavern. Maybe the tavern keeper had been listening. Maybe there was more word out about the ruin of Hei Haikaddad than she had thought. Whatever it was, Sameera was grateful.
“I just wanted to listen. To learn more about what goes on...here.” she gestured to the tavern and its occupants, some still engaged in rowdy conversations that Sameera had lost focus on due to talking with the strange woman. Then again, she had heard the other saying some pretty interesting things.
She considered her next words carefully. “How about you? What’s your story?” she asked, intrigued. “From what I’ve heard...it’s quite interesting.” she smiled lightly, “And I did just buy you a drink...and a half.” she said, pointing at the drink and question and the empty cup that the other woman had stolen the last half of Sameera’s drink out of. “At the very least, I think, I could have some conversation.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sameera had only considered being so bold as to go out like this once before, and even then she had been too frightened that someone might mistake her for a whore, or try to kill her, that she had talked herself out of it. Now, though, she had been able to talk herself into going, albeit with some level of disguise.
Her dress was made of a more rough linen than she normally wore, and she considered it a bit scratchy. The way she itched at it every once in a while, she thought, would possibly make her seem as though she had some issues, possible fleas. Did the people who went to bars like this catch fleas? She shuddered at the idea of something crawling on her skin, the idea of something biting her was that much worse.
Expecting only to catch snatches of conversation, words that she might use to keep her stories interesting, document what these people were like compared with the more civilized people she normally eavesdropped on. Well, the purpose was much the same, except their stories, the way they moved, everything about them seemed so interesting to Sameera.
She sipped at her cup. It wasn’t often she drank anything stronger than barley beer or wine, but tonight called for some more daring. She imagined what Safiya would say if she was here, putting the cup down as she tried to focus on what was going on. She wasn’t drunk, thankfully, though she was a bit worried about that.
“Oh, wait, I--” Sameera said as a strange woman downed all that was left. She shook her head at the tavern keeper, somehow trying to signal a denial of the strange woman’s request without being terribly rude. There was no way she could afford that with the money she brought, she thought and she had no desires to pay any other way.
Alas, it was too late and the tavern keeper had already left to go get them. Uncle Narmer was going to kill her. Or perhaps sell her off as a slave to pay for those drinks.
She stiffened up as the strange woman analyzed her. “I...I mean, I…” the tavern’s keeper came back with the drinks, putting one down in front of the strange woman and one in front of Sameera. She nodded her thanks. “I think that will be enough for tonight.” she said quietly, just to the tavern keeper. Just two. Phew, and she thought for sure that she’d be paying for the whole tavern. Maybe the tavern keeper had been listening. Maybe there was more word out about the ruin of Hei Haikaddad than she had thought. Whatever it was, Sameera was grateful.
“I just wanted to listen. To learn more about what goes on...here.” she gestured to the tavern and its occupants, some still engaged in rowdy conversations that Sameera had lost focus on due to talking with the strange woman. Then again, she had heard the other saying some pretty interesting things.
She considered her next words carefully. “How about you? What’s your story?” she asked, intrigued. “From what I’ve heard...it’s quite interesting.” she smiled lightly, “And I did just buy you a drink...and a half.” she said, pointing at the drink and question and the empty cup that the other woman had stolen the last half of Sameera’s drink out of. “At the very least, I think, I could have some conversation.”
Sameera had only considered being so bold as to go out like this once before, and even then she had been too frightened that someone might mistake her for a whore, or try to kill her, that she had talked herself out of it. Now, though, she had been able to talk herself into going, albeit with some level of disguise.
Her dress was made of a more rough linen than she normally wore, and she considered it a bit scratchy. The way she itched at it every once in a while, she thought, would possibly make her seem as though she had some issues, possible fleas. Did the people who went to bars like this catch fleas? She shuddered at the idea of something crawling on her skin, the idea of something biting her was that much worse.
Expecting only to catch snatches of conversation, words that she might use to keep her stories interesting, document what these people were like compared with the more civilized people she normally eavesdropped on. Well, the purpose was much the same, except their stories, the way they moved, everything about them seemed so interesting to Sameera.
She sipped at her cup. It wasn’t often she drank anything stronger than barley beer or wine, but tonight called for some more daring. She imagined what Safiya would say if she was here, putting the cup down as she tried to focus on what was going on. She wasn’t drunk, thankfully, though she was a bit worried about that.
“Oh, wait, I--” Sameera said as a strange woman downed all that was left. She shook her head at the tavern keeper, somehow trying to signal a denial of the strange woman’s request without being terribly rude. There was no way she could afford that with the money she brought, she thought and she had no desires to pay any other way.
Alas, it was too late and the tavern keeper had already left to go get them. Uncle Narmer was going to kill her. Or perhaps sell her off as a slave to pay for those drinks.
She stiffened up as the strange woman analyzed her. “I...I mean, I…” the tavern’s keeper came back with the drinks, putting one down in front of the strange woman and one in front of Sameera. She nodded her thanks. “I think that will be enough for tonight.” she said quietly, just to the tavern keeper. Just two. Phew, and she thought for sure that she’d be paying for the whole tavern. Maybe the tavern keeper had been listening. Maybe there was more word out about the ruin of Hei Haikaddad than she had thought. Whatever it was, Sameera was grateful.
“I just wanted to listen. To learn more about what goes on...here.” she gestured to the tavern and its occupants, some still engaged in rowdy conversations that Sameera had lost focus on due to talking with the strange woman. Then again, she had heard the other saying some pretty interesting things.
She considered her next words carefully. “How about you? What’s your story?” she asked, intrigued. “From what I’ve heard...it’s quite interesting.” she smiled lightly, “And I did just buy you a drink...and a half.” she said, pointing at the drink and question and the empty cup that the other woman had stolen the last half of Sameera’s drink out of. “At the very least, I think, I could have some conversation.”
Oh good, she didn’t immediately shy away from Akila when she took her drink. Despite how small and unassuming this girl was, at least she didn’t immediately run away when someone just sauntered over and blatantly stole her bottle (and ordered another on her behalf). It would have been so dull if that was all she did. And a waste of Akila’s time. (Though she would have gotten a drink out of it, so she couldn’t complain too much.)
Akila owed her nothing. The drink? If she weren’t so meek and mild-mannered, then she wouldn’t have paid, now would she? This wasn’t a transaction. And Akila was no bard that would have stories on demand. Not… that she wanted to stay quiet either necessarily. Giving her a little scare would be incredibly fun. And Akila loved a good scare.
With a sharp whistle, she attracted the attention of her crew. “The girl wants a story.” The smirk on her face told it all, and immediately their drunken shouts filled the tavern, with calls for her to tell all her different tales, one more gruesome than the next. Blood, gore, theft, this was Akila’s life. She was born in blood and carnage and brought it wherever she went. Her life was no fairytale. And Akila would not have it any other way.
The voices of her crew drowned out as she took another large swig before slamming it back down to the bar, some of the alcohol spilling over. “Well, since I owe you,” Akila said with a tinge of sarcasm, “I’ll let it be your choice. Would you prefer to hear the tale of the Songstress of the Sea or the story of the Child from the Sands.”
Both were not happy stories, but stories Akila loved nonetheless. They were memories she would look back on with glee. They were what shaped her to what she was today: A bitch with a khopesh and a proclivity for violence. One that walked her own path instead of what was ‘destined’ for her. In fact, there was no such thing as destiny. The gods did not care, and neither did Akila. In fact, fuck fate, Akila was her own person who walked her own path. She did not succumb to expectations. She instead lied, stole, and murdered her way to making her path. It may be a road covered in blood, but it was one that Akila had found success.
Once a Child from the Sands, now the Songstress of the Sea. Both stories showed what this girl would do to get exactly what she wants. And why no one should fuck with her.
So Akila smirked at the smile the girl gave, which she promptly buried with a swig of her drink. “By the time this drink is done, I’ll be done with storytime. So choose wisely, and don’t regret it.” Either would be fun, and that’s all Akila cared about. Well… that and money. But the latter would be easy with a girl so distracted.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Oh good, she didn’t immediately shy away from Akila when she took her drink. Despite how small and unassuming this girl was, at least she didn’t immediately run away when someone just sauntered over and blatantly stole her bottle (and ordered another on her behalf). It would have been so dull if that was all she did. And a waste of Akila’s time. (Though she would have gotten a drink out of it, so she couldn’t complain too much.)
Akila owed her nothing. The drink? If she weren’t so meek and mild-mannered, then she wouldn’t have paid, now would she? This wasn’t a transaction. And Akila was no bard that would have stories on demand. Not… that she wanted to stay quiet either necessarily. Giving her a little scare would be incredibly fun. And Akila loved a good scare.
With a sharp whistle, she attracted the attention of her crew. “The girl wants a story.” The smirk on her face told it all, and immediately their drunken shouts filled the tavern, with calls for her to tell all her different tales, one more gruesome than the next. Blood, gore, theft, this was Akila’s life. She was born in blood and carnage and brought it wherever she went. Her life was no fairytale. And Akila would not have it any other way.
The voices of her crew drowned out as she took another large swig before slamming it back down to the bar, some of the alcohol spilling over. “Well, since I owe you,” Akila said with a tinge of sarcasm, “I’ll let it be your choice. Would you prefer to hear the tale of the Songstress of the Sea or the story of the Child from the Sands.”
Both were not happy stories, but stories Akila loved nonetheless. They were memories she would look back on with glee. They were what shaped her to what she was today: A bitch with a khopesh and a proclivity for violence. One that walked her own path instead of what was ‘destined’ for her. In fact, there was no such thing as destiny. The gods did not care, and neither did Akila. In fact, fuck fate, Akila was her own person who walked her own path. She did not succumb to expectations. She instead lied, stole, and murdered her way to making her path. It may be a road covered in blood, but it was one that Akila had found success.
Once a Child from the Sands, now the Songstress of the Sea. Both stories showed what this girl would do to get exactly what she wants. And why no one should fuck with her.
So Akila smirked at the smile the girl gave, which she promptly buried with a swig of her drink. “By the time this drink is done, I’ll be done with storytime. So choose wisely, and don’t regret it.” Either would be fun, and that’s all Akila cared about. Well… that and money. But the latter would be easy with a girl so distracted.
Oh good, she didn’t immediately shy away from Akila when she took her drink. Despite how small and unassuming this girl was, at least she didn’t immediately run away when someone just sauntered over and blatantly stole her bottle (and ordered another on her behalf). It would have been so dull if that was all she did. And a waste of Akila’s time. (Though she would have gotten a drink out of it, so she couldn’t complain too much.)
Akila owed her nothing. The drink? If she weren’t so meek and mild-mannered, then she wouldn’t have paid, now would she? This wasn’t a transaction. And Akila was no bard that would have stories on demand. Not… that she wanted to stay quiet either necessarily. Giving her a little scare would be incredibly fun. And Akila loved a good scare.
With a sharp whistle, she attracted the attention of her crew. “The girl wants a story.” The smirk on her face told it all, and immediately their drunken shouts filled the tavern, with calls for her to tell all her different tales, one more gruesome than the next. Blood, gore, theft, this was Akila’s life. She was born in blood and carnage and brought it wherever she went. Her life was no fairytale. And Akila would not have it any other way.
The voices of her crew drowned out as she took another large swig before slamming it back down to the bar, some of the alcohol spilling over. “Well, since I owe you,” Akila said with a tinge of sarcasm, “I’ll let it be your choice. Would you prefer to hear the tale of the Songstress of the Sea or the story of the Child from the Sands.”
Both were not happy stories, but stories Akila loved nonetheless. They were memories she would look back on with glee. They were what shaped her to what she was today: A bitch with a khopesh and a proclivity for violence. One that walked her own path instead of what was ‘destined’ for her. In fact, there was no such thing as destiny. The gods did not care, and neither did Akila. In fact, fuck fate, Akila was her own person who walked her own path. She did not succumb to expectations. She instead lied, stole, and murdered her way to making her path. It may be a road covered in blood, but it was one that Akila had found success.
Once a Child from the Sands, now the Songstress of the Sea. Both stories showed what this girl would do to get exactly what she wants. And why no one should fuck with her.
So Akila smirked at the smile the girl gave, which she promptly buried with a swig of her drink. “By the time this drink is done, I’ll be done with storytime. So choose wisely, and don’t regret it.” Either would be fun, and that’s all Akila cared about. Well… that and money. But the latter would be easy with a girl so distracted.
Sameera sat straight and tall, keeping her eyes on the strange woman, though whether the purpose was to make sure she didn't try to steal her drink again or because she was paying close attention to the words was something that was known not even to her, but she thought it was probably both.
At the words of the stranger, she heard the crew erupt into cries of stories unfamiliar to her, and though each of them sounded interesting, and some that sounded as if they would tell her what truly happened when somebody was disembowled or mummified, she merely nodded to the captain's words. A story she wanted, and a story, it seemed, she would get.
Though she could recognize the sarcasm in her voice, Sameera tried not to let it deter her. What would Safiya do? She might have even laughed along with the crew. Maybe she would have been better off here if she had brought her more outgoing twin, but Safiya was not here and Sameera doubted she would suddenly know to make an appearance in a tavern filled with people neither of them had seen before, or if they had, would have tried to pretend they didn't notice.
She considered the words in the titles, though she did not take very long to do so. After all, she had been given a time limit, and did not wish to waste time picking a story. The quicker she picked, the more she would hear. Sameera was much more interested in the sands at home than the seas that seemed so far away, even with the war going on. To the side, she wondered if perhaps any of these people now fighting against Greece would return as a new Noble Hei. Preferably one that would ally with her own.
"Child of the Sands." Sameera said, thinking that this was probably the last time she set foot in this tavern. It would most likely be harder to come in unseen after the scene the strange drunk storyteller was making out of her presence. That was part of being nobility, though it was a part Sameera wished was less present. How else would she hear the truths of the world? "I want to hear the story about the Child of the Sands." she nodded, confirming her choice.
She did hope she had chosen correctly...and that the woman wouldn't finish her drink before the story was over. And that she would be able to make her retreat quickly after. Really, Sameera was thinking about a lot of things, all while eyeing her own drink. Should she bother to drink any of it, or would it make her more likely to forget the story she heard, more likely to be overpowered by this woman and what appeared to be her crew? She had her teeth, yes, but she did not think she could take them all.
In the end, Sameera decided to enjoy a sip or two. Maybe if she timed it out well, she could add more to the strange woman's drink without her knowing and grant herself more time for the story.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sameera sat straight and tall, keeping her eyes on the strange woman, though whether the purpose was to make sure she didn't try to steal her drink again or because she was paying close attention to the words was something that was known not even to her, but she thought it was probably both.
At the words of the stranger, she heard the crew erupt into cries of stories unfamiliar to her, and though each of them sounded interesting, and some that sounded as if they would tell her what truly happened when somebody was disembowled or mummified, she merely nodded to the captain's words. A story she wanted, and a story, it seemed, she would get.
Though she could recognize the sarcasm in her voice, Sameera tried not to let it deter her. What would Safiya do? She might have even laughed along with the crew. Maybe she would have been better off here if she had brought her more outgoing twin, but Safiya was not here and Sameera doubted she would suddenly know to make an appearance in a tavern filled with people neither of them had seen before, or if they had, would have tried to pretend they didn't notice.
She considered the words in the titles, though she did not take very long to do so. After all, she had been given a time limit, and did not wish to waste time picking a story. The quicker she picked, the more she would hear. Sameera was much more interested in the sands at home than the seas that seemed so far away, even with the war going on. To the side, she wondered if perhaps any of these people now fighting against Greece would return as a new Noble Hei. Preferably one that would ally with her own.
"Child of the Sands." Sameera said, thinking that this was probably the last time she set foot in this tavern. It would most likely be harder to come in unseen after the scene the strange drunk storyteller was making out of her presence. That was part of being nobility, though it was a part Sameera wished was less present. How else would she hear the truths of the world? "I want to hear the story about the Child of the Sands." she nodded, confirming her choice.
She did hope she had chosen correctly...and that the woman wouldn't finish her drink before the story was over. And that she would be able to make her retreat quickly after. Really, Sameera was thinking about a lot of things, all while eyeing her own drink. Should she bother to drink any of it, or would it make her more likely to forget the story she heard, more likely to be overpowered by this woman and what appeared to be her crew? She had her teeth, yes, but she did not think she could take them all.
In the end, Sameera decided to enjoy a sip or two. Maybe if she timed it out well, she could add more to the strange woman's drink without her knowing and grant herself more time for the story.
Sameera sat straight and tall, keeping her eyes on the strange woman, though whether the purpose was to make sure she didn't try to steal her drink again or because she was paying close attention to the words was something that was known not even to her, but she thought it was probably both.
At the words of the stranger, she heard the crew erupt into cries of stories unfamiliar to her, and though each of them sounded interesting, and some that sounded as if they would tell her what truly happened when somebody was disembowled or mummified, she merely nodded to the captain's words. A story she wanted, and a story, it seemed, she would get.
Though she could recognize the sarcasm in her voice, Sameera tried not to let it deter her. What would Safiya do? She might have even laughed along with the crew. Maybe she would have been better off here if she had brought her more outgoing twin, but Safiya was not here and Sameera doubted she would suddenly know to make an appearance in a tavern filled with people neither of them had seen before, or if they had, would have tried to pretend they didn't notice.
She considered the words in the titles, though she did not take very long to do so. After all, she had been given a time limit, and did not wish to waste time picking a story. The quicker she picked, the more she would hear. Sameera was much more interested in the sands at home than the seas that seemed so far away, even with the war going on. To the side, she wondered if perhaps any of these people now fighting against Greece would return as a new Noble Hei. Preferably one that would ally with her own.
"Child of the Sands." Sameera said, thinking that this was probably the last time she set foot in this tavern. It would most likely be harder to come in unseen after the scene the strange drunk storyteller was making out of her presence. That was part of being nobility, though it was a part Sameera wished was less present. How else would she hear the truths of the world? "I want to hear the story about the Child of the Sands." she nodded, confirming her choice.
She did hope she had chosen correctly...and that the woman wouldn't finish her drink before the story was over. And that she would be able to make her retreat quickly after. Really, Sameera was thinking about a lot of things, all while eyeing her own drink. Should she bother to drink any of it, or would it make her more likely to forget the story she heard, more likely to be overpowered by this woman and what appeared to be her crew? She had her teeth, yes, but she did not think she could take them all.
In the end, Sameera decided to enjoy a sip or two. Maybe if she timed it out well, she could add more to the strange woman's drink without her knowing and grant herself more time for the story.
Child of the Sands. Oh, how interesting. She’d rather start from the beginning, an excellent choice. The sands weren’t a place of fairytales. They were cruel, they were harsh, and they could kill you in a far worse way than a knife could. And this was where Akila first found her strength. She survived the desert, where the heat and sand brought misery upon its people. So the girl chose wisely, and Akila was excited to begin.
“Once upon a fucking time,” the pirate began in her brash manner. She was a singer, she could probably tell this story in a lovely delight manner. But the world wasn’t lovely, it wasn’t delightful, and if this girl wanted to learn about what goes on here then the fanciful pretty words her parent’s spun when they tucked her in shouldn’t be expected.
“There was a little girl. Eldest of six, the girl was pathetic. She’d sacrifice her meals for her siblings, if there were any meals, to begin with. She’d run around the shit show that was her city begging and stealing so that she may live another day.” She was pathetic. She was kind sacrificing her meals for the good of her siblings. How idiotic was Akila to have done that? That self-sacrifice is what weakened her. Had it continued, she’d still be in Edwa to this day.
But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.
Akila took a swig of her alcohol, eyes glancing over to her crew. They knew the story, some probably even made the connection it was about her. Akila took no shame in it, for whatever tragedy may have occurred she became a better person out of it. Well, maybe not... better.
“Do you know what it feels like, girl?” Akila pinched the girl’s arm, getting some of the meat of it. “For this to not exist? To feel as if you’re nothing? That was what this girl felt. The Child of the Sands. She was withering away, disappearing into the winds. The highlight of her day was when she found a dead body, for whatever that corpse once owned was her’s for the taking. The people who lived in this far off land were not humans, but vultures. Peck, pecking away to survive.”
In many ways, Akila liked this about Edwa. There were no tougher humans in the world than those that survive Edwa. The land was forgotten. It was nothing but crime and corruption, where those that lived there were less than slaves. It was a place that shouldn’t even exist.
And in many ways, Akila was the embodiment of Edwa. The merciless nature of the city was exactly who Akila was today. As such, she feels no shame in her story. This was who she was.
“But one day a man found this child. A man filled with riches, who was the Pharaoh to his small land. Everything he touched turned to gold. He found this child and spoiled her. He took her from her family life, adorned her with clothing made from the finest of silks, jewelry that was treasures in it of themselves. He made sure he was fed, and provided for her family.”
Akila stopped. Her lips curled into a sneer. Eyes glanced down at the girl and Akila brought the mug to her lips once again. “Tell me. Is this the story you wanted to hear?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Child of the Sands. Oh, how interesting. She’d rather start from the beginning, an excellent choice. The sands weren’t a place of fairytales. They were cruel, they were harsh, and they could kill you in a far worse way than a knife could. And this was where Akila first found her strength. She survived the desert, where the heat and sand brought misery upon its people. So the girl chose wisely, and Akila was excited to begin.
“Once upon a fucking time,” the pirate began in her brash manner. She was a singer, she could probably tell this story in a lovely delight manner. But the world wasn’t lovely, it wasn’t delightful, and if this girl wanted to learn about what goes on here then the fanciful pretty words her parent’s spun when they tucked her in shouldn’t be expected.
“There was a little girl. Eldest of six, the girl was pathetic. She’d sacrifice her meals for her siblings, if there were any meals, to begin with. She’d run around the shit show that was her city begging and stealing so that she may live another day.” She was pathetic. She was kind sacrificing her meals for the good of her siblings. How idiotic was Akila to have done that? That self-sacrifice is what weakened her. Had it continued, she’d still be in Edwa to this day.
But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.
Akila took a swig of her alcohol, eyes glancing over to her crew. They knew the story, some probably even made the connection it was about her. Akila took no shame in it, for whatever tragedy may have occurred she became a better person out of it. Well, maybe not... better.
“Do you know what it feels like, girl?” Akila pinched the girl’s arm, getting some of the meat of it. “For this to not exist? To feel as if you’re nothing? That was what this girl felt. The Child of the Sands. She was withering away, disappearing into the winds. The highlight of her day was when she found a dead body, for whatever that corpse once owned was her’s for the taking. The people who lived in this far off land were not humans, but vultures. Peck, pecking away to survive.”
In many ways, Akila liked this about Edwa. There were no tougher humans in the world than those that survive Edwa. The land was forgotten. It was nothing but crime and corruption, where those that lived there were less than slaves. It was a place that shouldn’t even exist.
And in many ways, Akila was the embodiment of Edwa. The merciless nature of the city was exactly who Akila was today. As such, she feels no shame in her story. This was who she was.
“But one day a man found this child. A man filled with riches, who was the Pharaoh to his small land. Everything he touched turned to gold. He found this child and spoiled her. He took her from her family life, adorned her with clothing made from the finest of silks, jewelry that was treasures in it of themselves. He made sure he was fed, and provided for her family.”
Akila stopped. Her lips curled into a sneer. Eyes glanced down at the girl and Akila brought the mug to her lips once again. “Tell me. Is this the story you wanted to hear?”
Child of the Sands. Oh, how interesting. She’d rather start from the beginning, an excellent choice. The sands weren’t a place of fairytales. They were cruel, they were harsh, and they could kill you in a far worse way than a knife could. And this was where Akila first found her strength. She survived the desert, where the heat and sand brought misery upon its people. So the girl chose wisely, and Akila was excited to begin.
“Once upon a fucking time,” the pirate began in her brash manner. She was a singer, she could probably tell this story in a lovely delight manner. But the world wasn’t lovely, it wasn’t delightful, and if this girl wanted to learn about what goes on here then the fanciful pretty words her parent’s spun when they tucked her in shouldn’t be expected.
“There was a little girl. Eldest of six, the girl was pathetic. She’d sacrifice her meals for her siblings, if there were any meals, to begin with. She’d run around the shit show that was her city begging and stealing so that she may live another day.” She was pathetic. She was kind sacrificing her meals for the good of her siblings. How idiotic was Akila to have done that? That self-sacrifice is what weakened her. Had it continued, she’d still be in Edwa to this day.
But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.
Akila took a swig of her alcohol, eyes glancing over to her crew. They knew the story, some probably even made the connection it was about her. Akila took no shame in it, for whatever tragedy may have occurred she became a better person out of it. Well, maybe not... better.
“Do you know what it feels like, girl?” Akila pinched the girl’s arm, getting some of the meat of it. “For this to not exist? To feel as if you’re nothing? That was what this girl felt. The Child of the Sands. She was withering away, disappearing into the winds. The highlight of her day was when she found a dead body, for whatever that corpse once owned was her’s for the taking. The people who lived in this far off land were not humans, but vultures. Peck, pecking away to survive.”
In many ways, Akila liked this about Edwa. There were no tougher humans in the world than those that survive Edwa. The land was forgotten. It was nothing but crime and corruption, where those that lived there were less than slaves. It was a place that shouldn’t even exist.
And in many ways, Akila was the embodiment of Edwa. The merciless nature of the city was exactly who Akila was today. As such, she feels no shame in her story. This was who she was.
“But one day a man found this child. A man filled with riches, who was the Pharaoh to his small land. Everything he touched turned to gold. He found this child and spoiled her. He took her from her family life, adorned her with clothing made from the finest of silks, jewelry that was treasures in it of themselves. He made sure he was fed, and provided for her family.”
Akila stopped. Her lips curled into a sneer. Eyes glanced down at the girl and Akila brought the mug to her lips once again. “Tell me. Is this the story you wanted to hear?”
Sameera listened, her attention focused more on the person currently telling a story to her than much else in the room. She did have a little amount of hope that the story would be a pleasant one, after all, it was about a child. It seemed however, as her drinking partner began to speak, that it was not a wholesome tale. That much could be understood from her coarse language at just the beginning of the story, so Sameera prepared for the worst. Most likely, she thought, the child would be dead by the end of the story and she would feel worse off for having heard it in the first place.
The beginning did not seem too bad. Sameera herself was the middle of three children, and only by an hour or so at that, so she had no experience being in charge of anyone. Kissan wouldn't listen to her, that was for certain. But he was a boy, anyways, and only a few years younger. In a group of six, Sameera imagined, there would be much more of an age gap between younger siblings and the oldest sibling.
She flinched at the pinch, then noted the rhyme that had occurred in her head. Sameera shook her head. She had always been well-fed, despite the losses her family had experienced. The life of a vulture, scavenger as this girl in the story was, it was completely unfamiliar to her. Even as she was, she still had nice things, could still afford the ink that she wrote down her stories in, and was treated well by others for the most part, this strange woman and a few others excepted.
She gasped at the next part, thinking only for a second that the Pharaoh himself had found the child, though by the way the other woman described this rich man, it seemed like perhaps he was only a Pharaoh in terms of his wealth and the way people of the land respected him. Still, Sameera could not help but wonder if the Pharaoh of that land had also taken the child's family as he had taken her, though she did say that the family was provided for, Sameera couldn't help but wonder about the rest of the family.
Then she was asked a question. She knew she couldn't take too much time to answer the question, or the woman would finish her drink and Sameera would only have that as an ending to her story. She thought there was more, and she wanted to hear it, though having a kind rich man take you from poverty to living in riches with silks and jewellry would be a nice ending, and she did want the child to end up happy.
"I think so. It's quite interesting, really." she said, trying to be polite but also voicing her own opinions, "Though I do wonder why it was the child that was chosen to share in the riches of this 'Pharaoh of his small land.' Was she special, in a way?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sameera listened, her attention focused more on the person currently telling a story to her than much else in the room. She did have a little amount of hope that the story would be a pleasant one, after all, it was about a child. It seemed however, as her drinking partner began to speak, that it was not a wholesome tale. That much could be understood from her coarse language at just the beginning of the story, so Sameera prepared for the worst. Most likely, she thought, the child would be dead by the end of the story and she would feel worse off for having heard it in the first place.
The beginning did not seem too bad. Sameera herself was the middle of three children, and only by an hour or so at that, so she had no experience being in charge of anyone. Kissan wouldn't listen to her, that was for certain. But he was a boy, anyways, and only a few years younger. In a group of six, Sameera imagined, there would be much more of an age gap between younger siblings and the oldest sibling.
She flinched at the pinch, then noted the rhyme that had occurred in her head. Sameera shook her head. She had always been well-fed, despite the losses her family had experienced. The life of a vulture, scavenger as this girl in the story was, it was completely unfamiliar to her. Even as she was, she still had nice things, could still afford the ink that she wrote down her stories in, and was treated well by others for the most part, this strange woman and a few others excepted.
She gasped at the next part, thinking only for a second that the Pharaoh himself had found the child, though by the way the other woman described this rich man, it seemed like perhaps he was only a Pharaoh in terms of his wealth and the way people of the land respected him. Still, Sameera could not help but wonder if the Pharaoh of that land had also taken the child's family as he had taken her, though she did say that the family was provided for, Sameera couldn't help but wonder about the rest of the family.
Then she was asked a question. She knew she couldn't take too much time to answer the question, or the woman would finish her drink and Sameera would only have that as an ending to her story. She thought there was more, and she wanted to hear it, though having a kind rich man take you from poverty to living in riches with silks and jewellry would be a nice ending, and she did want the child to end up happy.
"I think so. It's quite interesting, really." she said, trying to be polite but also voicing her own opinions, "Though I do wonder why it was the child that was chosen to share in the riches of this 'Pharaoh of his small land.' Was she special, in a way?"
Sameera listened, her attention focused more on the person currently telling a story to her than much else in the room. She did have a little amount of hope that the story would be a pleasant one, after all, it was about a child. It seemed however, as her drinking partner began to speak, that it was not a wholesome tale. That much could be understood from her coarse language at just the beginning of the story, so Sameera prepared for the worst. Most likely, she thought, the child would be dead by the end of the story and she would feel worse off for having heard it in the first place.
The beginning did not seem too bad. Sameera herself was the middle of three children, and only by an hour or so at that, so she had no experience being in charge of anyone. Kissan wouldn't listen to her, that was for certain. But he was a boy, anyways, and only a few years younger. In a group of six, Sameera imagined, there would be much more of an age gap between younger siblings and the oldest sibling.
She flinched at the pinch, then noted the rhyme that had occurred in her head. Sameera shook her head. She had always been well-fed, despite the losses her family had experienced. The life of a vulture, scavenger as this girl in the story was, it was completely unfamiliar to her. Even as she was, she still had nice things, could still afford the ink that she wrote down her stories in, and was treated well by others for the most part, this strange woman and a few others excepted.
She gasped at the next part, thinking only for a second that the Pharaoh himself had found the child, though by the way the other woman described this rich man, it seemed like perhaps he was only a Pharaoh in terms of his wealth and the way people of the land respected him. Still, Sameera could not help but wonder if the Pharaoh of that land had also taken the child's family as he had taken her, though she did say that the family was provided for, Sameera couldn't help but wonder about the rest of the family.
Then she was asked a question. She knew she couldn't take too much time to answer the question, or the woman would finish her drink and Sameera would only have that as an ending to her story. She thought there was more, and she wanted to hear it, though having a kind rich man take you from poverty to living in riches with silks and jewellry would be a nice ending, and she did want the child to end up happy.
"I think so. It's quite interesting, really." she said, trying to be polite but also voicing her own opinions, "Though I do wonder why it was the child that was chosen to share in the riches of this 'Pharaoh of his small land.' Was she special, in a way?"
The right questions. Akila’s smirk grew even wider curling to almost a sneer. “She sang.” Akila’s voice was her greatest weapon and worst downfall. For with her voice she could lure a man closer, just like those Greek sirens. But not all attention is wanted, and Akila had found herself in situations all because of her voice. “It was a lovely voice. A voice that could make the strongest of men, those with hearts of stone, weep. It was an alluring voice, a voice that once heard you could never forget it. A voice that created a sense of longing.”
Akila’s fingertips danced upon the wood of the bar, at first lost in her own little world. “She was sold to her husband at ten. Her family was cared for, and so long as the girl’s voice remained as it was she would be too. As I said she was clothed by the finest silks, and glittering jewelry would adorn her neck. She was taught to be proper. How to pour tea, how to care for a husband.”
Her eyes returned to the girl in the tavern. “How to fuck.”
The story wasn’t a happy story. And Akila didn’t gods damned care. Because it wasn’t over yet… the ending was a real happy ending. To her.
“She would sing him to sleep every night for years. She would care for her husband, and in turn, see her family from a distance grow stronger and healthier. She was no longer allowed contact with anyone she once knew. She was a prisoner of the sands, trapped in the Pharoah’s desert.”
Akila was once a weak girl. Some would argue that she was a child, but that was no excuse. She was weak and pathetic wishing for a world where her husband didn’t exist. Not just wishing… she prayed. The gods didn’t fucking care. They never cared. Why would they bother with mortal lives?
It was Akila who had to save herself.
“She was singing to her husband at night. The soft, soothing words lulling him to sleep. When suddenly… everything changed.” Akila snapped her fingers. Her mind broke that day. This was the day Akila made her first steps towards being the woman that she is now. This moment… started her on her path.
All of a sudden Akila brandished her knife and pressed it against the woman’s throat. It was not enough to break skin. There was no blood tricking down her flesh. But she leaned in to whisper in the stranger’s ear. “Imagine the feeling of choking on your own blood. The taste of iron filling your mouth. Your lungs drowning and suffocating by the red liquid that is supposed to give you life. Imagine being awoken to the sharp, hot pain of a blade ripping open your flesh. No matter how rich you are, how pretty the bed you sleep on is… you are not immune to death. And the girl was no fucking victim.”
Akila pulled the blade from her throat and stabbed it loudly onto the bar, the tip digging into the wood. She met the tavern keeps unamused expression, especially knowing that this was not the first time this had happened.
Akila glanced at her mug- now empty. “Story’s over. Get the fuck out.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The right questions. Akila’s smirk grew even wider curling to almost a sneer. “She sang.” Akila’s voice was her greatest weapon and worst downfall. For with her voice she could lure a man closer, just like those Greek sirens. But not all attention is wanted, and Akila had found herself in situations all because of her voice. “It was a lovely voice. A voice that could make the strongest of men, those with hearts of stone, weep. It was an alluring voice, a voice that once heard you could never forget it. A voice that created a sense of longing.”
Akila’s fingertips danced upon the wood of the bar, at first lost in her own little world. “She was sold to her husband at ten. Her family was cared for, and so long as the girl’s voice remained as it was she would be too. As I said she was clothed by the finest silks, and glittering jewelry would adorn her neck. She was taught to be proper. How to pour tea, how to care for a husband.”
Her eyes returned to the girl in the tavern. “How to fuck.”
The story wasn’t a happy story. And Akila didn’t gods damned care. Because it wasn’t over yet… the ending was a real happy ending. To her.
“She would sing him to sleep every night for years. She would care for her husband, and in turn, see her family from a distance grow stronger and healthier. She was no longer allowed contact with anyone she once knew. She was a prisoner of the sands, trapped in the Pharoah’s desert.”
Akila was once a weak girl. Some would argue that she was a child, but that was no excuse. She was weak and pathetic wishing for a world where her husband didn’t exist. Not just wishing… she prayed. The gods didn’t fucking care. They never cared. Why would they bother with mortal lives?
It was Akila who had to save herself.
“She was singing to her husband at night. The soft, soothing words lulling him to sleep. When suddenly… everything changed.” Akila snapped her fingers. Her mind broke that day. This was the day Akila made her first steps towards being the woman that she is now. This moment… started her on her path.
All of a sudden Akila brandished her knife and pressed it against the woman’s throat. It was not enough to break skin. There was no blood tricking down her flesh. But she leaned in to whisper in the stranger’s ear. “Imagine the feeling of choking on your own blood. The taste of iron filling your mouth. Your lungs drowning and suffocating by the red liquid that is supposed to give you life. Imagine being awoken to the sharp, hot pain of a blade ripping open your flesh. No matter how rich you are, how pretty the bed you sleep on is… you are not immune to death. And the girl was no fucking victim.”
Akila pulled the blade from her throat and stabbed it loudly onto the bar, the tip digging into the wood. She met the tavern keeps unamused expression, especially knowing that this was not the first time this had happened.
Akila glanced at her mug- now empty. “Story’s over. Get the fuck out.”
The right questions. Akila’s smirk grew even wider curling to almost a sneer. “She sang.” Akila’s voice was her greatest weapon and worst downfall. For with her voice she could lure a man closer, just like those Greek sirens. But not all attention is wanted, and Akila had found herself in situations all because of her voice. “It was a lovely voice. A voice that could make the strongest of men, those with hearts of stone, weep. It was an alluring voice, a voice that once heard you could never forget it. A voice that created a sense of longing.”
Akila’s fingertips danced upon the wood of the bar, at first lost in her own little world. “She was sold to her husband at ten. Her family was cared for, and so long as the girl’s voice remained as it was she would be too. As I said she was clothed by the finest silks, and glittering jewelry would adorn her neck. She was taught to be proper. How to pour tea, how to care for a husband.”
Her eyes returned to the girl in the tavern. “How to fuck.”
The story wasn’t a happy story. And Akila didn’t gods damned care. Because it wasn’t over yet… the ending was a real happy ending. To her.
“She would sing him to sleep every night for years. She would care for her husband, and in turn, see her family from a distance grow stronger and healthier. She was no longer allowed contact with anyone she once knew. She was a prisoner of the sands, trapped in the Pharoah’s desert.”
Akila was once a weak girl. Some would argue that she was a child, but that was no excuse. She was weak and pathetic wishing for a world where her husband didn’t exist. Not just wishing… she prayed. The gods didn’t fucking care. They never cared. Why would they bother with mortal lives?
It was Akila who had to save herself.
“She was singing to her husband at night. The soft, soothing words lulling him to sleep. When suddenly… everything changed.” Akila snapped her fingers. Her mind broke that day. This was the day Akila made her first steps towards being the woman that she is now. This moment… started her on her path.
All of a sudden Akila brandished her knife and pressed it against the woman’s throat. It was not enough to break skin. There was no blood tricking down her flesh. But she leaned in to whisper in the stranger’s ear. “Imagine the feeling of choking on your own blood. The taste of iron filling your mouth. Your lungs drowning and suffocating by the red liquid that is supposed to give you life. Imagine being awoken to the sharp, hot pain of a blade ripping open your flesh. No matter how rich you are, how pretty the bed you sleep on is… you are not immune to death. And the girl was no fucking victim.”
Akila pulled the blade from her throat and stabbed it loudly onto the bar, the tip digging into the wood. She met the tavern keeps unamused expression, especially knowing that this was not the first time this had happened.
Akila glanced at her mug- now empty. “Story’s over. Get the fuck out.”
Sameera continued her listening. Perhaps it was her one greatest skill, other than writing, or perhaps it was her memory for the things people told her, the stories they said. Anyways, she was no singer, and she simply nodded. She had never seen the allure of singing all by itself, though with some more meaningful lyrics she could understand the appeal of a nice tune improving the tone of the lyrics. Longing, though, she understood. Though it wasn't immediately apparent just by looking at her, Sameera had a great many things that she longed for. Her father to have been here the whole time, for one, but even a number of smaller things.
She cringed as her storytelling companion said that the girl was sold at ten. She couldn't imagine such a thing, but maybe it was more common among the common people. She was only nineteen, but she thought a girl should be at least twelve before she was married, at least having bled a few times, but she wondered if that was really the goal in the first place, to sell the girl off as soon as possible.
Sameera winced once more. She wasn't truly certain about sex, or 'fucking' as the storytelling woman so eloquently put it, but she had a general idea of what was supposed to happen, and had even read a few stories and heard accounts of what happened, but she was still a virgin, a fact she didn't quite regret. She felt confident enough in her body, but her mother was Bedoan, and maybe some of those ideals about women remaining chaste had made their effects on her.
The suddenness with which the woman snapped her fingers startled Sameera, but not nearly as much as the knife to her throat. Sameera froze. Was this how she would die? In a tavern, unknown, having only written down where she was going? Would the other woman kill her just to take all the coins, or really, the one coin that she had left? She couldn't even breathe, she was so terrified. A tear slipped down her cheek.
The woman's words echoed in her ears. This was still part of the story, Sameera told herself. She was not going to be harmed. She was fine. This was fine. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she couldn't help but imagine waking up to a similar knife pressed against her throat in the middle of the night. Would this woman try to track her down, kill her and her family?
Sameera stood with a start the instant the blade dug into the wood and not her flesh. With no departing words, she simply ran out of the door, oblivious to whatever was going on behind her. If they laughed at her cowardice, so be it, but she would not die in a tavern, nameless, without anyone knowing what had happened to her. The worst part would be that she would be forgotten in history, and she would not let that happen.
She sent one last glance towards the tavern, then began the run home, looking over her shoulder every so often to make sure that nobody was following her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Sameera continued her listening. Perhaps it was her one greatest skill, other than writing, or perhaps it was her memory for the things people told her, the stories they said. Anyways, she was no singer, and she simply nodded. She had never seen the allure of singing all by itself, though with some more meaningful lyrics she could understand the appeal of a nice tune improving the tone of the lyrics. Longing, though, she understood. Though it wasn't immediately apparent just by looking at her, Sameera had a great many things that she longed for. Her father to have been here the whole time, for one, but even a number of smaller things.
She cringed as her storytelling companion said that the girl was sold at ten. She couldn't imagine such a thing, but maybe it was more common among the common people. She was only nineteen, but she thought a girl should be at least twelve before she was married, at least having bled a few times, but she wondered if that was really the goal in the first place, to sell the girl off as soon as possible.
Sameera winced once more. She wasn't truly certain about sex, or 'fucking' as the storytelling woman so eloquently put it, but she had a general idea of what was supposed to happen, and had even read a few stories and heard accounts of what happened, but she was still a virgin, a fact she didn't quite regret. She felt confident enough in her body, but her mother was Bedoan, and maybe some of those ideals about women remaining chaste had made their effects on her.
The suddenness with which the woman snapped her fingers startled Sameera, but not nearly as much as the knife to her throat. Sameera froze. Was this how she would die? In a tavern, unknown, having only written down where she was going? Would the other woman kill her just to take all the coins, or really, the one coin that she had left? She couldn't even breathe, she was so terrified. A tear slipped down her cheek.
The woman's words echoed in her ears. This was still part of the story, Sameera told herself. She was not going to be harmed. She was fine. This was fine. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she couldn't help but imagine waking up to a similar knife pressed against her throat in the middle of the night. Would this woman try to track her down, kill her and her family?
Sameera stood with a start the instant the blade dug into the wood and not her flesh. With no departing words, she simply ran out of the door, oblivious to whatever was going on behind her. If they laughed at her cowardice, so be it, but she would not die in a tavern, nameless, without anyone knowing what had happened to her. The worst part would be that she would be forgotten in history, and she would not let that happen.
She sent one last glance towards the tavern, then began the run home, looking over her shoulder every so often to make sure that nobody was following her.
Sameera continued her listening. Perhaps it was her one greatest skill, other than writing, or perhaps it was her memory for the things people told her, the stories they said. Anyways, she was no singer, and she simply nodded. She had never seen the allure of singing all by itself, though with some more meaningful lyrics she could understand the appeal of a nice tune improving the tone of the lyrics. Longing, though, she understood. Though it wasn't immediately apparent just by looking at her, Sameera had a great many things that she longed for. Her father to have been here the whole time, for one, but even a number of smaller things.
She cringed as her storytelling companion said that the girl was sold at ten. She couldn't imagine such a thing, but maybe it was more common among the common people. She was only nineteen, but she thought a girl should be at least twelve before she was married, at least having bled a few times, but she wondered if that was really the goal in the first place, to sell the girl off as soon as possible.
Sameera winced once more. She wasn't truly certain about sex, or 'fucking' as the storytelling woman so eloquently put it, but she had a general idea of what was supposed to happen, and had even read a few stories and heard accounts of what happened, but she was still a virgin, a fact she didn't quite regret. She felt confident enough in her body, but her mother was Bedoan, and maybe some of those ideals about women remaining chaste had made their effects on her.
The suddenness with which the woman snapped her fingers startled Sameera, but not nearly as much as the knife to her throat. Sameera froze. Was this how she would die? In a tavern, unknown, having only written down where she was going? Would the other woman kill her just to take all the coins, or really, the one coin that she had left? She couldn't even breathe, she was so terrified. A tear slipped down her cheek.
The woman's words echoed in her ears. This was still part of the story, Sameera told herself. She was not going to be harmed. She was fine. This was fine. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she couldn't help but imagine waking up to a similar knife pressed against her throat in the middle of the night. Would this woman try to track her down, kill her and her family?
Sameera stood with a start the instant the blade dug into the wood and not her flesh. With no departing words, she simply ran out of the door, oblivious to whatever was going on behind her. If they laughed at her cowardice, so be it, but she would not die in a tavern, nameless, without anyone knowing what had happened to her. The worst part would be that she would be forgotten in history, and she would not let that happen.
She sent one last glance towards the tavern, then began the run home, looking over her shoulder every so often to make sure that nobody was following her.