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She was thankful for them, for they carried her from her misery in Athenia towards sanctuary and a new life, but that particular gift from Poseidon eluded her capacity to understand them. Mostly... because she didn't really care. She didn't know when a boat became a ship, or how to pull at the sails and how the wind carried them. Perhaps it wasn't beyond her understanding, but... being a sailor sounded horribly dull. Lodged in a compartment with several dozen men for days or weeks at a time seemed a sort of misery that only a depraved being could handle at length. But, Anastasia withstood it in order to move from kingdom to kingdom, following her ambitions for travel wherever the whimsical nature of such followed.
However, this time... it wasn't whimsy that compelled her to leave. It was necessity. Anastasia was transported to the past, with the same sort of panic that drove her into the arms of Adrestus of Nikolaos and compelled her to uproot her life. The sort of emergency that abandoned the concept of planning. She needed to hide, for the vile hands of a man scorned and the premise of a spear buried deep in her gut... Well, suffice it to say, Anastasia of the Siren's Song was no more. She'd abandon her life in Taengea. At least... for long enough for the tension to simmer down and for her to recover her legacy.
This is not the last reprise of Anastasia of the Siren's Song.
It would be with some lament that Anastasia looked back on that thought and realized how false it was.
It would take too much time for her to book passage elsewhere, and the fact that there were records would mean that the man she was fleeing from could very well follow her. She needed something more... personal. Or, to the contrary, something completely off the books. she could easily stowaway and find herself somewhere else. She could deal with whatever consequences while on the journey. It was simple enough for Anastasia to negotiate with someone in the midst of it. It wasn't like, after all, someone leaving Taengea would turn right around and maroon her there. Already, she saw the signs of a crew packing for a journey.
Anastasia had seen dozens of similar ships before, with their twin trunk things with small sails and a lot of poked out holes in the hull for rows. It was a large enough vessel, even if it had a weird vacant feel to it that she hadn't seen in others similar to it. Anastasia was ignorant, and far too pressed for time to consider the matter further. There was a large mass of tough-looking men moving in and off the ship and that was good enough for her. The young woman tightened the sash on her plain white chiton, intent on looking as plain as possible. She'd brought with her enough to make her way across and survive for a time, but little of consequence.
After all, the girl made her living as a bard and a thief. The trove in Taengea was woefully full, and she made no effort to go digging for it while being pursued by some meaty charlatan with a grudge.
Goodbye, precious trove. May we meet again in a year, she said as she wove her way opposite side of the entry plank to the ship. Easily, Anastasia made the fluid jump that threw her towards the stern. The recoil against wood ached at her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and made the climb. Tipping her head to eye level above the bulwark, she saw her opportunity and stowed herself between two barrels that, at further prodding, seemed full. She'd stay put and wait until she was able to stow in a cabin. Then...
I can seduce one of the men and improvise from there, she assured herself, waiting for the unmistakable sensation that came with casting off.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Ana didn't know a damn thing about boats.
She was thankful for them, for they carried her from her misery in Athenia towards sanctuary and a new life, but that particular gift from Poseidon eluded her capacity to understand them. Mostly... because she didn't really care. She didn't know when a boat became a ship, or how to pull at the sails and how the wind carried them. Perhaps it wasn't beyond her understanding, but... being a sailor sounded horribly dull. Lodged in a compartment with several dozen men for days or weeks at a time seemed a sort of misery that only a depraved being could handle at length. But, Anastasia withstood it in order to move from kingdom to kingdom, following her ambitions for travel wherever the whimsical nature of such followed.
However, this time... it wasn't whimsy that compelled her to leave. It was necessity. Anastasia was transported to the past, with the same sort of panic that drove her into the arms of Adrestus of Nikolaos and compelled her to uproot her life. The sort of emergency that abandoned the concept of planning. She needed to hide, for the vile hands of a man scorned and the premise of a spear buried deep in her gut... Well, suffice it to say, Anastasia of the Siren's Song was no more. She'd abandon her life in Taengea. At least... for long enough for the tension to simmer down and for her to recover her legacy.
This is not the last reprise of Anastasia of the Siren's Song.
It would be with some lament that Anastasia looked back on that thought and realized how false it was.
It would take too much time for her to book passage elsewhere, and the fact that there were records would mean that the man she was fleeing from could very well follow her. She needed something more... personal. Or, to the contrary, something completely off the books. she could easily stowaway and find herself somewhere else. She could deal with whatever consequences while on the journey. It was simple enough for Anastasia to negotiate with someone in the midst of it. It wasn't like, after all, someone leaving Taengea would turn right around and maroon her there. Already, she saw the signs of a crew packing for a journey.
Anastasia had seen dozens of similar ships before, with their twin trunk things with small sails and a lot of poked out holes in the hull for rows. It was a large enough vessel, even if it had a weird vacant feel to it that she hadn't seen in others similar to it. Anastasia was ignorant, and far too pressed for time to consider the matter further. There was a large mass of tough-looking men moving in and off the ship and that was good enough for her. The young woman tightened the sash on her plain white chiton, intent on looking as plain as possible. She'd brought with her enough to make her way across and survive for a time, but little of consequence.
After all, the girl made her living as a bard and a thief. The trove in Taengea was woefully full, and she made no effort to go digging for it while being pursued by some meaty charlatan with a grudge.
Goodbye, precious trove. May we meet again in a year, she said as she wove her way opposite side of the entry plank to the ship. Easily, Anastasia made the fluid jump that threw her towards the stern. The recoil against wood ached at her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and made the climb. Tipping her head to eye level above the bulwark, she saw her opportunity and stowed herself between two barrels that, at further prodding, seemed full. She'd stay put and wait until she was able to stow in a cabin. Then...
I can seduce one of the men and improvise from there, she assured herself, waiting for the unmistakable sensation that came with casting off.
Ana didn't know a damn thing about boats.
She was thankful for them, for they carried her from her misery in Athenia towards sanctuary and a new life, but that particular gift from Poseidon eluded her capacity to understand them. Mostly... because she didn't really care. She didn't know when a boat became a ship, or how to pull at the sails and how the wind carried them. Perhaps it wasn't beyond her understanding, but... being a sailor sounded horribly dull. Lodged in a compartment with several dozen men for days or weeks at a time seemed a sort of misery that only a depraved being could handle at length. But, Anastasia withstood it in order to move from kingdom to kingdom, following her ambitions for travel wherever the whimsical nature of such followed.
However, this time... it wasn't whimsy that compelled her to leave. It was necessity. Anastasia was transported to the past, with the same sort of panic that drove her into the arms of Adrestus of Nikolaos and compelled her to uproot her life. The sort of emergency that abandoned the concept of planning. She needed to hide, for the vile hands of a man scorned and the premise of a spear buried deep in her gut... Well, suffice it to say, Anastasia of the Siren's Song was no more. She'd abandon her life in Taengea. At least... for long enough for the tension to simmer down and for her to recover her legacy.
This is not the last reprise of Anastasia of the Siren's Song.
It would be with some lament that Anastasia looked back on that thought and realized how false it was.
It would take too much time for her to book passage elsewhere, and the fact that there were records would mean that the man she was fleeing from could very well follow her. She needed something more... personal. Or, to the contrary, something completely off the books. she could easily stowaway and find herself somewhere else. She could deal with whatever consequences while on the journey. It was simple enough for Anastasia to negotiate with someone in the midst of it. It wasn't like, after all, someone leaving Taengea would turn right around and maroon her there. Already, she saw the signs of a crew packing for a journey.
Anastasia had seen dozens of similar ships before, with their twin trunk things with small sails and a lot of poked out holes in the hull for rows. It was a large enough vessel, even if it had a weird vacant feel to it that she hadn't seen in others similar to it. Anastasia was ignorant, and far too pressed for time to consider the matter further. There was a large mass of tough-looking men moving in and off the ship and that was good enough for her. The young woman tightened the sash on her plain white chiton, intent on looking as plain as possible. She'd brought with her enough to make her way across and survive for a time, but little of consequence.
After all, the girl made her living as a bard and a thief. The trove in Taengea was woefully full, and she made no effort to go digging for it while being pursued by some meaty charlatan with a grudge.
Goodbye, precious trove. May we meet again in a year, she said as she wove her way opposite side of the entry plank to the ship. Easily, Anastasia made the fluid jump that threw her towards the stern. The recoil against wood ached at her wrists, but she gritted her teeth and made the climb. Tipping her head to eye level above the bulwark, she saw her opportunity and stowed herself between two barrels that, at further prodding, seemed full. She'd stay put and wait until she was able to stow in a cabin. Then...
I can seduce one of the men and improvise from there, she assured herself, waiting for the unmistakable sensation that came with casting off.
Taengea was always a fucking good time. The drink was fantastic, the company better than average, which was a high compliment compared to some kingdoms, and the money always flowing. It was almost a shame every time Akila ready to leave Taengea, but knowing that she was about to head home to Egypt was lessened the sting. Besides, Akila could only tolerate Greeks for so long before wanting to shove a knife into their throat just to shut them up… which was something that was near impossible for many of the people in Taengea.
Akila cracked her neck as her crew prepared to set sail. The drummer got on his drum, the rowers making their way to their ores. It did not take long until her vessel was on the sea, away from the docks of Taengea. The fresh air of the ocean breeze was always a welcome one than that of the stagnant air of the city.
“Right. Let’s go over the numbers one more time.” Akila had turned to her scribe now that her direction was no longer needed to cast off. “If we-”
What was that? Akila, for a moment, thought she saw a flash of white. Her eyes zeroed in on the location and saw a tiny piece of fabric sticking out from between two barrels. Odd, there were no textiles on her ship. Taengean wine- yes. Jewels, also yes. But no textiles.
“If we hand off our lot in Alexandria,” Akila continued as she quietly unsheathed her khopesh. She sauntered towards the fabric, “we should…” her pointed part of the khopesh caught the white fabric.
Interesting. Her blade caught a chiton that was connected to an unfamiliar woman. She was beautiful, Akila could tell that. She was the type that would sell quite nicely as a pleasure slave with her smooth skin, soft curves, and even lips that were plump and inviting. Oh, she would sell quite nicely indeed.
That was if Akila had been planning to speak with her slaver contacts. Instead, this stranger was just an unwanted, uninvited guest aboard or ship. Akila crouched down so that she was at eye level with the girl, sitting on her knees. Both hands still gripped the khopesh that had caught her chiton. “You look a little lost, hm?” Akila said, giving the girl a raised brow. “I don’t remember inviting you to my ship. Tell me… how well do you swim?”
She could feel eyes on her. Her crew, which had previously been bustling, moving back and forth to do their various jobs now, were watching the events unfold. Akila stood back up and twisted the blade, lifting it back off the wood.
Akila was not in the business of giving free rides, lest they come out with a massive payout at the end. Right now, this woman was dead weight. She could only hope that she was a good enough talker to sway the pirate. For if she didn’t speak fast, she would find herself at the bottom of the ocean. That was, Akila supposed, one way to escape Taengea.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Taengea was always a fucking good time. The drink was fantastic, the company better than average, which was a high compliment compared to some kingdoms, and the money always flowing. It was almost a shame every time Akila ready to leave Taengea, but knowing that she was about to head home to Egypt was lessened the sting. Besides, Akila could only tolerate Greeks for so long before wanting to shove a knife into their throat just to shut them up… which was something that was near impossible for many of the people in Taengea.
Akila cracked her neck as her crew prepared to set sail. The drummer got on his drum, the rowers making their way to their ores. It did not take long until her vessel was on the sea, away from the docks of Taengea. The fresh air of the ocean breeze was always a welcome one than that of the stagnant air of the city.
“Right. Let’s go over the numbers one more time.” Akila had turned to her scribe now that her direction was no longer needed to cast off. “If we-”
What was that? Akila, for a moment, thought she saw a flash of white. Her eyes zeroed in on the location and saw a tiny piece of fabric sticking out from between two barrels. Odd, there were no textiles on her ship. Taengean wine- yes. Jewels, also yes. But no textiles.
“If we hand off our lot in Alexandria,” Akila continued as she quietly unsheathed her khopesh. She sauntered towards the fabric, “we should…” her pointed part of the khopesh caught the white fabric.
Interesting. Her blade caught a chiton that was connected to an unfamiliar woman. She was beautiful, Akila could tell that. She was the type that would sell quite nicely as a pleasure slave with her smooth skin, soft curves, and even lips that were plump and inviting. Oh, she would sell quite nicely indeed.
That was if Akila had been planning to speak with her slaver contacts. Instead, this stranger was just an unwanted, uninvited guest aboard or ship. Akila crouched down so that she was at eye level with the girl, sitting on her knees. Both hands still gripped the khopesh that had caught her chiton. “You look a little lost, hm?” Akila said, giving the girl a raised brow. “I don’t remember inviting you to my ship. Tell me… how well do you swim?”
She could feel eyes on her. Her crew, which had previously been bustling, moving back and forth to do their various jobs now, were watching the events unfold. Akila stood back up and twisted the blade, lifting it back off the wood.
Akila was not in the business of giving free rides, lest they come out with a massive payout at the end. Right now, this woman was dead weight. She could only hope that she was a good enough talker to sway the pirate. For if she didn’t speak fast, she would find herself at the bottom of the ocean. That was, Akila supposed, one way to escape Taengea.
Taengea was always a fucking good time. The drink was fantastic, the company better than average, which was a high compliment compared to some kingdoms, and the money always flowing. It was almost a shame every time Akila ready to leave Taengea, but knowing that she was about to head home to Egypt was lessened the sting. Besides, Akila could only tolerate Greeks for so long before wanting to shove a knife into their throat just to shut them up… which was something that was near impossible for many of the people in Taengea.
Akila cracked her neck as her crew prepared to set sail. The drummer got on his drum, the rowers making their way to their ores. It did not take long until her vessel was on the sea, away from the docks of Taengea. The fresh air of the ocean breeze was always a welcome one than that of the stagnant air of the city.
“Right. Let’s go over the numbers one more time.” Akila had turned to her scribe now that her direction was no longer needed to cast off. “If we-”
What was that? Akila, for a moment, thought she saw a flash of white. Her eyes zeroed in on the location and saw a tiny piece of fabric sticking out from between two barrels. Odd, there were no textiles on her ship. Taengean wine- yes. Jewels, also yes. But no textiles.
“If we hand off our lot in Alexandria,” Akila continued as she quietly unsheathed her khopesh. She sauntered towards the fabric, “we should…” her pointed part of the khopesh caught the white fabric.
Interesting. Her blade caught a chiton that was connected to an unfamiliar woman. She was beautiful, Akila could tell that. She was the type that would sell quite nicely as a pleasure slave with her smooth skin, soft curves, and even lips that were plump and inviting. Oh, she would sell quite nicely indeed.
That was if Akila had been planning to speak with her slaver contacts. Instead, this stranger was just an unwanted, uninvited guest aboard or ship. Akila crouched down so that she was at eye level with the girl, sitting on her knees. Both hands still gripped the khopesh that had caught her chiton. “You look a little lost, hm?” Akila said, giving the girl a raised brow. “I don’t remember inviting you to my ship. Tell me… how well do you swim?”
She could feel eyes on her. Her crew, which had previously been bustling, moving back and forth to do their various jobs now, were watching the events unfold. Akila stood back up and twisted the blade, lifting it back off the wood.
Akila was not in the business of giving free rides, lest they come out with a massive payout at the end. Right now, this woman was dead weight. She could only hope that she was a good enough talker to sway the pirate. For if she didn’t speak fast, she would find herself at the bottom of the ocean. That was, Akila supposed, one way to escape Taengea.
Anastasia didn't know what captains went about on once a ship had cast off. She didn't much care, for often enough she was propelled from kingdom to kingdom by fare paid by her own hand or by the generous contribution of a merchant she had every intention to steal from. Whimsy propelled her from place to place, and stealing the attentions and coin of foreign men was the means by which she rolled so easily from place to place. Taengea was Anastasia's golden goose, for it was the wealthiest, most festive, and most palatable of the three kingdoms of Greece. How Anastasia wished she could turn back time, just to leave Kreios of Phosis alone and find some other mark.
We must always move forward, she thought to herself as she rested between two barrels, a position of hiding that was contrary to the nature of the bard. How vile the necessity was that she demeaned herself to be nothing more than a stowaway. However, her status didn't linger for long. She noted the sound of a female voice rising above the rest. It was strange, hearing another woman aboard a vessel, particularly in a position of authority. The words were spoken in Coptic, a language Anastasia was familiar with, but quite unpractised in. She'd studied it in Athenia, but seldom spoke it. She, perhaps, was losing her fluency in it. But, she understood what the woman was saying, and tried to tune it out.
It didn't matter to her. She tried to quiet her breathing, to keep herself small enough as to remain ignored, but she missed something, clearly. The woman trailed off, and Ana had followed her movements. They were directly in front of one another, and then... a bronze blade caught against the fabric of her chiton. The fabric tore, and Anastasia knew that her ruse was up. Not wanting to be caught in this compromised position, she rose to her feet. It was funny to her, that the pirate thought she'd stay still, that she thought to lower herself to Anastasia's level. No, the girl was well-learned in how to move on a ship. No, Anastasia was no defenseless girl to stare wide-eyed at much of anyone.
Nevertheless, the pirate woman spoke, raising her brow at Anastasia and following her movements. The thief found her feet clinging to the ship's bulwark. It spoke to an extreme sense of balance for Anastasia to battle the crashing tide and the moving ship as she shifted to and fro, following the waves and allowing her slender form to settle.
While this situation was dangerous... while there were countless eyes upon her and a captain who'd crouched trying to meet her... Everyone on this ship could be an enemy to her, now. But, were they? The blade was out, and the pirate seemed more interested in playing around with her. The words she spoke were in Greek, a sort of mockery in her tone.
"Lost is one way to put it," Anastasia began, at last letting herself off from the bulwark and balancing her rear on the ledge. Slender, but powerful calves caught into the groove, supporting her weight as she hummed in thought at the question. So, she'd throw her to the sea and not end her life with the weird sword in her hand?
Who is this woman?
Anastasia couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration that superseded any fear. While the surprise of being discovered and the numerous eyes upon her that seemed to glint with varying degrees of malice was certainly frightening... the shiver that coursed through her was more due to the strength of the wind that buffeted against her body.
"I didn't ask for an invitation. Not that I could tell who was in charge the moment I stowed away. But, now that I know... it's only fair that I do, isn't it?"
Anastasia let a smile cast upon her features, her fingertips dancing along the wood of Akila's ship, her hazel gaze clinging to the woman's face, though she was well aware of the other assets that struck her senses. For a woman who led a ship's crew, she was certainly beautiful. Anastasia doubted she had the ability to be so striking despite the elements hitting her as they would this woman. It was... fascinating.
"I'd rather keep it to myself, how well I swim. Instead, since I'm already here, we could negotiate the terms of my passage. I heard you speaking Coptic earlier... and the complexion of you and your crew... You are Egyptian. Are you heading for that nation? I'd very much like to come along."
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Anastasia didn't know what captains went about on once a ship had cast off. She didn't much care, for often enough she was propelled from kingdom to kingdom by fare paid by her own hand or by the generous contribution of a merchant she had every intention to steal from. Whimsy propelled her from place to place, and stealing the attentions and coin of foreign men was the means by which she rolled so easily from place to place. Taengea was Anastasia's golden goose, for it was the wealthiest, most festive, and most palatable of the three kingdoms of Greece. How Anastasia wished she could turn back time, just to leave Kreios of Phosis alone and find some other mark.
We must always move forward, she thought to herself as she rested between two barrels, a position of hiding that was contrary to the nature of the bard. How vile the necessity was that she demeaned herself to be nothing more than a stowaway. However, her status didn't linger for long. She noted the sound of a female voice rising above the rest. It was strange, hearing another woman aboard a vessel, particularly in a position of authority. The words were spoken in Coptic, a language Anastasia was familiar with, but quite unpractised in. She'd studied it in Athenia, but seldom spoke it. She, perhaps, was losing her fluency in it. But, she understood what the woman was saying, and tried to tune it out.
It didn't matter to her. She tried to quiet her breathing, to keep herself small enough as to remain ignored, but she missed something, clearly. The woman trailed off, and Ana had followed her movements. They were directly in front of one another, and then... a bronze blade caught against the fabric of her chiton. The fabric tore, and Anastasia knew that her ruse was up. Not wanting to be caught in this compromised position, she rose to her feet. It was funny to her, that the pirate thought she'd stay still, that she thought to lower herself to Anastasia's level. No, the girl was well-learned in how to move on a ship. No, Anastasia was no defenseless girl to stare wide-eyed at much of anyone.
Nevertheless, the pirate woman spoke, raising her brow at Anastasia and following her movements. The thief found her feet clinging to the ship's bulwark. It spoke to an extreme sense of balance for Anastasia to battle the crashing tide and the moving ship as she shifted to and fro, following the waves and allowing her slender form to settle.
While this situation was dangerous... while there were countless eyes upon her and a captain who'd crouched trying to meet her... Everyone on this ship could be an enemy to her, now. But, were they? The blade was out, and the pirate seemed more interested in playing around with her. The words she spoke were in Greek, a sort of mockery in her tone.
"Lost is one way to put it," Anastasia began, at last letting herself off from the bulwark and balancing her rear on the ledge. Slender, but powerful calves caught into the groove, supporting her weight as she hummed in thought at the question. So, she'd throw her to the sea and not end her life with the weird sword in her hand?
Who is this woman?
Anastasia couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration that superseded any fear. While the surprise of being discovered and the numerous eyes upon her that seemed to glint with varying degrees of malice was certainly frightening... the shiver that coursed through her was more due to the strength of the wind that buffeted against her body.
"I didn't ask for an invitation. Not that I could tell who was in charge the moment I stowed away. But, now that I know... it's only fair that I do, isn't it?"
Anastasia let a smile cast upon her features, her fingertips dancing along the wood of Akila's ship, her hazel gaze clinging to the woman's face, though she was well aware of the other assets that struck her senses. For a woman who led a ship's crew, she was certainly beautiful. Anastasia doubted she had the ability to be so striking despite the elements hitting her as they would this woman. It was... fascinating.
"I'd rather keep it to myself, how well I swim. Instead, since I'm already here, we could negotiate the terms of my passage. I heard you speaking Coptic earlier... and the complexion of you and your crew... You are Egyptian. Are you heading for that nation? I'd very much like to come along."
Anastasia didn't know what captains went about on once a ship had cast off. She didn't much care, for often enough she was propelled from kingdom to kingdom by fare paid by her own hand or by the generous contribution of a merchant she had every intention to steal from. Whimsy propelled her from place to place, and stealing the attentions and coin of foreign men was the means by which she rolled so easily from place to place. Taengea was Anastasia's golden goose, for it was the wealthiest, most festive, and most palatable of the three kingdoms of Greece. How Anastasia wished she could turn back time, just to leave Kreios of Phosis alone and find some other mark.
We must always move forward, she thought to herself as she rested between two barrels, a position of hiding that was contrary to the nature of the bard. How vile the necessity was that she demeaned herself to be nothing more than a stowaway. However, her status didn't linger for long. She noted the sound of a female voice rising above the rest. It was strange, hearing another woman aboard a vessel, particularly in a position of authority. The words were spoken in Coptic, a language Anastasia was familiar with, but quite unpractised in. She'd studied it in Athenia, but seldom spoke it. She, perhaps, was losing her fluency in it. But, she understood what the woman was saying, and tried to tune it out.
It didn't matter to her. She tried to quiet her breathing, to keep herself small enough as to remain ignored, but she missed something, clearly. The woman trailed off, and Ana had followed her movements. They were directly in front of one another, and then... a bronze blade caught against the fabric of her chiton. The fabric tore, and Anastasia knew that her ruse was up. Not wanting to be caught in this compromised position, she rose to her feet. It was funny to her, that the pirate thought she'd stay still, that she thought to lower herself to Anastasia's level. No, the girl was well-learned in how to move on a ship. No, Anastasia was no defenseless girl to stare wide-eyed at much of anyone.
Nevertheless, the pirate woman spoke, raising her brow at Anastasia and following her movements. The thief found her feet clinging to the ship's bulwark. It spoke to an extreme sense of balance for Anastasia to battle the crashing tide and the moving ship as she shifted to and fro, following the waves and allowing her slender form to settle.
While this situation was dangerous... while there were countless eyes upon her and a captain who'd crouched trying to meet her... Everyone on this ship could be an enemy to her, now. But, were they? The blade was out, and the pirate seemed more interested in playing around with her. The words she spoke were in Greek, a sort of mockery in her tone.
"Lost is one way to put it," Anastasia began, at last letting herself off from the bulwark and balancing her rear on the ledge. Slender, but powerful calves caught into the groove, supporting her weight as she hummed in thought at the question. So, she'd throw her to the sea and not end her life with the weird sword in her hand?
Who is this woman?
Anastasia couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration that superseded any fear. While the surprise of being discovered and the numerous eyes upon her that seemed to glint with varying degrees of malice was certainly frightening... the shiver that coursed through her was more due to the strength of the wind that buffeted against her body.
"I didn't ask for an invitation. Not that I could tell who was in charge the moment I stowed away. But, now that I know... it's only fair that I do, isn't it?"
Anastasia let a smile cast upon her features, her fingertips dancing along the wood of Akila's ship, her hazel gaze clinging to the woman's face, though she was well aware of the other assets that struck her senses. For a woman who led a ship's crew, she was certainly beautiful. Anastasia doubted she had the ability to be so striking despite the elements hitting her as they would this woman. It was... fascinating.
"I'd rather keep it to myself, how well I swim. Instead, since I'm already here, we could negotiate the terms of my passage. I heard you speaking Coptic earlier... and the complexion of you and your crew... You are Egyptian. Are you heading for that nation? I'd very much like to come along."
No shit, she stowed away. If Akila believed in crap like fate or luck, she’d say the girl pissed someone off to find her way on a pirate’s ship. Maybe a merchant would be kinder, asking for an extra set of hands and a fuck or two. It wasn’t long, from Taengea to Egypt. Two weeks if the weather was fair. It’s not like the woman would be too much of an inconvenience. While there were many words to describe Akila, nice was not one of them. Two weeks or two days, this girl was a nuisance to be thrown away to the ocean to meet… was it Poseidon? Whatever.
The more she talked, however, the more… irritated Akila got. It was her voice, really. It got under Akila’s skin. Or maybe it was the way her fingertips touched her ship. Akila ought to chop her fingers off one by one. That would be fun. Her voice would be less annoying when she was screaming.
But Akila shouldn’t resort to violence yet. The girl could actually be useful. The men needed a good fuck from time to time. Sure, they get it on their shore leave, but a warm body on their ship did… wonder’s for their mind. A girl to pass around might be worth taking her to Egypt.
Or maybe she had other hidden talents that may be of use. That was something much more interesting to Akila, and potentially what could be saving her from a dip in the ocean. Such as her little balancing act that she was playing on her ship. A moving ship rocked by the waves of the ocean, that certainly wasn't an easy feat to do. But also... Akila wanted more than an acrobat. “Convince me,” Akila said, giving the girl a cold, hard stare. “Why I shouldn’t throw you off this ship. You want to negotiate? I need to know what I’m buying first.”
And the fact of the matter was, Akila couldn’t guarantee she would go straight to Egypt. While she certainly had business there, opportunities could be found everywhere. A lone ship, for instance, filled with potential riches, was a chance she couldn’t allow to pass up. And should they get into battle, Akila wasn’t willing to carry the burden of a random girl on her ship. Each man that was on here was expected to carry their own and be worth sailing with the pirate. Whether it is slaves, sobbing as they get carted away from their lands, or her crew each with their own unique use, no one was on this ship without a role to play.
The khopesh never left Akila’s hand, but she took a step back and raked her eyes up and down the woman, studying her, scanning her for any worth. Khalid moved to just behind Akila, ready to shove his spear into the girl if she so much as looked funny. Akila wasn’t worried, though. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She signed her death warrant when she stepped onto this ship. That or she found herself to be of use to a pirate that was very possessive of her toys. Truth be told… Akila wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
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No shit, she stowed away. If Akila believed in crap like fate or luck, she’d say the girl pissed someone off to find her way on a pirate’s ship. Maybe a merchant would be kinder, asking for an extra set of hands and a fuck or two. It wasn’t long, from Taengea to Egypt. Two weeks if the weather was fair. It’s not like the woman would be too much of an inconvenience. While there were many words to describe Akila, nice was not one of them. Two weeks or two days, this girl was a nuisance to be thrown away to the ocean to meet… was it Poseidon? Whatever.
The more she talked, however, the more… irritated Akila got. It was her voice, really. It got under Akila’s skin. Or maybe it was the way her fingertips touched her ship. Akila ought to chop her fingers off one by one. That would be fun. Her voice would be less annoying when she was screaming.
But Akila shouldn’t resort to violence yet. The girl could actually be useful. The men needed a good fuck from time to time. Sure, they get it on their shore leave, but a warm body on their ship did… wonder’s for their mind. A girl to pass around might be worth taking her to Egypt.
Or maybe she had other hidden talents that may be of use. That was something much more interesting to Akila, and potentially what could be saving her from a dip in the ocean. Such as her little balancing act that she was playing on her ship. A moving ship rocked by the waves of the ocean, that certainly wasn't an easy feat to do. But also... Akila wanted more than an acrobat. “Convince me,” Akila said, giving the girl a cold, hard stare. “Why I shouldn’t throw you off this ship. You want to negotiate? I need to know what I’m buying first.”
And the fact of the matter was, Akila couldn’t guarantee she would go straight to Egypt. While she certainly had business there, opportunities could be found everywhere. A lone ship, for instance, filled with potential riches, was a chance she couldn’t allow to pass up. And should they get into battle, Akila wasn’t willing to carry the burden of a random girl on her ship. Each man that was on here was expected to carry their own and be worth sailing with the pirate. Whether it is slaves, sobbing as they get carted away from their lands, or her crew each with their own unique use, no one was on this ship without a role to play.
The khopesh never left Akila’s hand, but she took a step back and raked her eyes up and down the woman, studying her, scanning her for any worth. Khalid moved to just behind Akila, ready to shove his spear into the girl if she so much as looked funny. Akila wasn’t worried, though. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She signed her death warrant when she stepped onto this ship. That or she found herself to be of use to a pirate that was very possessive of her toys. Truth be told… Akila wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
No shit, she stowed away. If Akila believed in crap like fate or luck, she’d say the girl pissed someone off to find her way on a pirate’s ship. Maybe a merchant would be kinder, asking for an extra set of hands and a fuck or two. It wasn’t long, from Taengea to Egypt. Two weeks if the weather was fair. It’s not like the woman would be too much of an inconvenience. While there were many words to describe Akila, nice was not one of them. Two weeks or two days, this girl was a nuisance to be thrown away to the ocean to meet… was it Poseidon? Whatever.
The more she talked, however, the more… irritated Akila got. It was her voice, really. It got under Akila’s skin. Or maybe it was the way her fingertips touched her ship. Akila ought to chop her fingers off one by one. That would be fun. Her voice would be less annoying when she was screaming.
But Akila shouldn’t resort to violence yet. The girl could actually be useful. The men needed a good fuck from time to time. Sure, they get it on their shore leave, but a warm body on their ship did… wonder’s for their mind. A girl to pass around might be worth taking her to Egypt.
Or maybe she had other hidden talents that may be of use. That was something much more interesting to Akila, and potentially what could be saving her from a dip in the ocean. Such as her little balancing act that she was playing on her ship. A moving ship rocked by the waves of the ocean, that certainly wasn't an easy feat to do. But also... Akila wanted more than an acrobat. “Convince me,” Akila said, giving the girl a cold, hard stare. “Why I shouldn’t throw you off this ship. You want to negotiate? I need to know what I’m buying first.”
And the fact of the matter was, Akila couldn’t guarantee she would go straight to Egypt. While she certainly had business there, opportunities could be found everywhere. A lone ship, for instance, filled with potential riches, was a chance she couldn’t allow to pass up. And should they get into battle, Akila wasn’t willing to carry the burden of a random girl on her ship. Each man that was on here was expected to carry their own and be worth sailing with the pirate. Whether it is slaves, sobbing as they get carted away from their lands, or her crew each with their own unique use, no one was on this ship without a role to play.
The khopesh never left Akila’s hand, but she took a step back and raked her eyes up and down the woman, studying her, scanning her for any worth. Khalid moved to just behind Akila, ready to shove his spear into the girl if she so much as looked funny. Akila wasn’t worried, though. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She signed her death warrant when she stepped onto this ship. That or she found herself to be of use to a pirate that was very possessive of her toys. Truth be told… Akila wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
"Convince me."
There were all manner of ways to do that, if this was a normal vessel with a normal crew. But, Anastasia seemed to have stowed away on a vessel filled with anything but the normal sort of sailor. These people held a sense of menace about them, clearly the sort of riff raff that languished about on dry land. Pirates? That complicated matters immensely, and the idea of being thrown overboard, while not in it of itself a death sentence, was not the sort of day she wanted to be having. Crawling back to the shores of Taengea would be... counter-productive. And Anastasia wasn't entirely without assets to offer.
There was the woman herself, and all of the talents she'd picked up over the course of her life as a bard. There was Anastasia, the kleptomaniac. The thief within her always sought to break itself out, a fascination with jewels without the stomach, or as she called it, the weakness that came with ending human life. To Anastasia, even the worst among humanity was deserving of their time on the world. For life was a gift from the Gods, not some trifle to be ended at a whim. But, she wouldn't discuss philosophical differences while her way out of Taengea was on the line.
Without speaking, Anastasia moved from the bulwark. One step was all she wanted, feeling no desire to draw closer to this woman and lessen her advantage. Every bit of distance, every inch away from their blades served to act as her barrier. By the look of the sailors and their dispositions... If Anastasia meant to resist them, she'd end up off the ship without too much of a fuss. The distance between Taengea's shores and the ship grew larger and larger. It would be impractical for her to try to escape.
"You all seem the sorts to garner your riches by the end of those metal sticks you're holding. All mess and fuss with none of the nuances. It's a good sort of strategy, but not... mine? I've made my nights sweeter and my life comfortable through theft, miss captain. If you take me away from Taengea, I can make it well worth your while."
It was the first time that Anastasia openly admitted to being a thief. She'd been caught before, but she played it off as innocent, or escaped and threw herself into a different province for several weeks until the heat rolled off from her. It was always amusing, how a bit of kohl and a different outfit could split the prince of thieves from the siren given legs.
"Have you ever heard of the prince of thieves, miss pirate captain? There's a tale that spreads through the Greek kingdoms. Though, I wonder who did the telling..."
Anastasia would not shift her voice for this woman. To come from a position of confidence was the foundation of any sort of advantage she might have in this situation. All in all, this was a loss, a bad time given a bit of leniency by the fact that she'd be strung up by Kreios in Taengea, or left to drown here by the Egyptians.
At least in this situation, she had a fighting chance.
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"Convince me."
There were all manner of ways to do that, if this was a normal vessel with a normal crew. But, Anastasia seemed to have stowed away on a vessel filled with anything but the normal sort of sailor. These people held a sense of menace about them, clearly the sort of riff raff that languished about on dry land. Pirates? That complicated matters immensely, and the idea of being thrown overboard, while not in it of itself a death sentence, was not the sort of day she wanted to be having. Crawling back to the shores of Taengea would be... counter-productive. And Anastasia wasn't entirely without assets to offer.
There was the woman herself, and all of the talents she'd picked up over the course of her life as a bard. There was Anastasia, the kleptomaniac. The thief within her always sought to break itself out, a fascination with jewels without the stomach, or as she called it, the weakness that came with ending human life. To Anastasia, even the worst among humanity was deserving of their time on the world. For life was a gift from the Gods, not some trifle to be ended at a whim. But, she wouldn't discuss philosophical differences while her way out of Taengea was on the line.
Without speaking, Anastasia moved from the bulwark. One step was all she wanted, feeling no desire to draw closer to this woman and lessen her advantage. Every bit of distance, every inch away from their blades served to act as her barrier. By the look of the sailors and their dispositions... If Anastasia meant to resist them, she'd end up off the ship without too much of a fuss. The distance between Taengea's shores and the ship grew larger and larger. It would be impractical for her to try to escape.
"You all seem the sorts to garner your riches by the end of those metal sticks you're holding. All mess and fuss with none of the nuances. It's a good sort of strategy, but not... mine? I've made my nights sweeter and my life comfortable through theft, miss captain. If you take me away from Taengea, I can make it well worth your while."
It was the first time that Anastasia openly admitted to being a thief. She'd been caught before, but she played it off as innocent, or escaped and threw herself into a different province for several weeks until the heat rolled off from her. It was always amusing, how a bit of kohl and a different outfit could split the prince of thieves from the siren given legs.
"Have you ever heard of the prince of thieves, miss pirate captain? There's a tale that spreads through the Greek kingdoms. Though, I wonder who did the telling..."
Anastasia would not shift her voice for this woman. To come from a position of confidence was the foundation of any sort of advantage she might have in this situation. All in all, this was a loss, a bad time given a bit of leniency by the fact that she'd be strung up by Kreios in Taengea, or left to drown here by the Egyptians.
At least in this situation, she had a fighting chance.
"Convince me."
There were all manner of ways to do that, if this was a normal vessel with a normal crew. But, Anastasia seemed to have stowed away on a vessel filled with anything but the normal sort of sailor. These people held a sense of menace about them, clearly the sort of riff raff that languished about on dry land. Pirates? That complicated matters immensely, and the idea of being thrown overboard, while not in it of itself a death sentence, was not the sort of day she wanted to be having. Crawling back to the shores of Taengea would be... counter-productive. And Anastasia wasn't entirely without assets to offer.
There was the woman herself, and all of the talents she'd picked up over the course of her life as a bard. There was Anastasia, the kleptomaniac. The thief within her always sought to break itself out, a fascination with jewels without the stomach, or as she called it, the weakness that came with ending human life. To Anastasia, even the worst among humanity was deserving of their time on the world. For life was a gift from the Gods, not some trifle to be ended at a whim. But, she wouldn't discuss philosophical differences while her way out of Taengea was on the line.
Without speaking, Anastasia moved from the bulwark. One step was all she wanted, feeling no desire to draw closer to this woman and lessen her advantage. Every bit of distance, every inch away from their blades served to act as her barrier. By the look of the sailors and their dispositions... If Anastasia meant to resist them, she'd end up off the ship without too much of a fuss. The distance between Taengea's shores and the ship grew larger and larger. It would be impractical for her to try to escape.
"You all seem the sorts to garner your riches by the end of those metal sticks you're holding. All mess and fuss with none of the nuances. It's a good sort of strategy, but not... mine? I've made my nights sweeter and my life comfortable through theft, miss captain. If you take me away from Taengea, I can make it well worth your while."
It was the first time that Anastasia openly admitted to being a thief. She'd been caught before, but she played it off as innocent, or escaped and threw herself into a different province for several weeks until the heat rolled off from her. It was always amusing, how a bit of kohl and a different outfit could split the prince of thieves from the siren given legs.
"Have you ever heard of the prince of thieves, miss pirate captain? There's a tale that spreads through the Greek kingdoms. Though, I wonder who did the telling..."
Anastasia would not shift her voice for this woman. To come from a position of confidence was the foundation of any sort of advantage she might have in this situation. All in all, this was a loss, a bad time given a bit of leniency by the fact that she'd be strung up by Kreios in Taengea, or left to drown here by the Egyptians.
At least in this situation, she had a fighting chance.
Why wasn’t Akila surprised? Maybe it was the way the woman walked. Her balance was impeccable. Her steps were soft, silent even, with the wood not even creaking as she distributed her weight evenly. Was it her cocky, overconfident attitude as she spoke to Akila despite clearly being at the disadvantage? Or was it that invisible force that seemed to always attract thieves to thieves?
It also made a little more sense as to why the woman would stowaway. People didn’t wander onto a ship for no reason. From Akila’s experience, there were two reasons to stowaway: The first was to cause trouble, a suicidal reason if any. The second was to run away. Whether it’s from a broken home life, or a crime gone wrong, or anything in between, it really didn’t matter to Akila.
As long as there’s profit…
Nothing in life came free, especially Akila’s… kindness. But if this woman was willing to pay that price, then all she had to do was say it. Akila could be… accommodating. If she wanted to be. This girl shouldn’t expect a royal treatment, but if the money was good then Akila could at least turn a blind eye to what would otherwise have been a foolish decision on her part.
The pirate captain turned her head slightly to the side to say over her shoulder, “Don’t you lot got work to be done?” She barked at her crew. The men all jumped and immediately went to get busy. Khalid leaving her side to make sure they were doing just that. Though Akila knew that the corner of his eye was still trained on the pair, ready to move should the situation suddenly turn sour. He was a good first mate, Akila would give him that.
One part caught the woman’s interest. Prince of Thieves. Was she calling herself that? Or was she simply trying to win her over with fascinating words? Honestly, it didn’t much matter. There were two weeks between Taengea and Egypt. If Akila threw her from the ship now or she threw her from the ship later, it didn’t much matter to her. She may as well dabble in the different. A change of pace, if you will. And if it was a story this woman had, well… Akila could appreciate a good tale. That alone might be worth forgiving the girl for annoying her.
“Prince of Thieves? Never heard of him.” Akila said with a straight face. She leaned against one of her crates, “Only Greek stories I like are the ones I use to scare their sailors.” Sirens were of particular interest to Akila. Women who sing their alluring song to men, draw them close for the kill. Apparently sirens aren’t only Greek. But typically other stories don’t catch Akila’s interest, particularly of their gods. Akila didn’t even like hearing about Egyptian ones, why the fuck would she care about Greeks? “But go on, change my mind. Tell me the story that spreads through your kingdoms.”
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Why wasn’t Akila surprised? Maybe it was the way the woman walked. Her balance was impeccable. Her steps were soft, silent even, with the wood not even creaking as she distributed her weight evenly. Was it her cocky, overconfident attitude as she spoke to Akila despite clearly being at the disadvantage? Or was it that invisible force that seemed to always attract thieves to thieves?
It also made a little more sense as to why the woman would stowaway. People didn’t wander onto a ship for no reason. From Akila’s experience, there were two reasons to stowaway: The first was to cause trouble, a suicidal reason if any. The second was to run away. Whether it’s from a broken home life, or a crime gone wrong, or anything in between, it really didn’t matter to Akila.
As long as there’s profit…
Nothing in life came free, especially Akila’s… kindness. But if this woman was willing to pay that price, then all she had to do was say it. Akila could be… accommodating. If she wanted to be. This girl shouldn’t expect a royal treatment, but if the money was good then Akila could at least turn a blind eye to what would otherwise have been a foolish decision on her part.
The pirate captain turned her head slightly to the side to say over her shoulder, “Don’t you lot got work to be done?” She barked at her crew. The men all jumped and immediately went to get busy. Khalid leaving her side to make sure they were doing just that. Though Akila knew that the corner of his eye was still trained on the pair, ready to move should the situation suddenly turn sour. He was a good first mate, Akila would give him that.
One part caught the woman’s interest. Prince of Thieves. Was she calling herself that? Or was she simply trying to win her over with fascinating words? Honestly, it didn’t much matter. There were two weeks between Taengea and Egypt. If Akila threw her from the ship now or she threw her from the ship later, it didn’t much matter to her. She may as well dabble in the different. A change of pace, if you will. And if it was a story this woman had, well… Akila could appreciate a good tale. That alone might be worth forgiving the girl for annoying her.
“Prince of Thieves? Never heard of him.” Akila said with a straight face. She leaned against one of her crates, “Only Greek stories I like are the ones I use to scare their sailors.” Sirens were of particular interest to Akila. Women who sing their alluring song to men, draw them close for the kill. Apparently sirens aren’t only Greek. But typically other stories don’t catch Akila’s interest, particularly of their gods. Akila didn’t even like hearing about Egyptian ones, why the fuck would she care about Greeks? “But go on, change my mind. Tell me the story that spreads through your kingdoms.”
Why wasn’t Akila surprised? Maybe it was the way the woman walked. Her balance was impeccable. Her steps were soft, silent even, with the wood not even creaking as she distributed her weight evenly. Was it her cocky, overconfident attitude as she spoke to Akila despite clearly being at the disadvantage? Or was it that invisible force that seemed to always attract thieves to thieves?
It also made a little more sense as to why the woman would stowaway. People didn’t wander onto a ship for no reason. From Akila’s experience, there were two reasons to stowaway: The first was to cause trouble, a suicidal reason if any. The second was to run away. Whether it’s from a broken home life, or a crime gone wrong, or anything in between, it really didn’t matter to Akila.
As long as there’s profit…
Nothing in life came free, especially Akila’s… kindness. But if this woman was willing to pay that price, then all she had to do was say it. Akila could be… accommodating. If she wanted to be. This girl shouldn’t expect a royal treatment, but if the money was good then Akila could at least turn a blind eye to what would otherwise have been a foolish decision on her part.
The pirate captain turned her head slightly to the side to say over her shoulder, “Don’t you lot got work to be done?” She barked at her crew. The men all jumped and immediately went to get busy. Khalid leaving her side to make sure they were doing just that. Though Akila knew that the corner of his eye was still trained on the pair, ready to move should the situation suddenly turn sour. He was a good first mate, Akila would give him that.
One part caught the woman’s interest. Prince of Thieves. Was she calling herself that? Or was she simply trying to win her over with fascinating words? Honestly, it didn’t much matter. There were two weeks between Taengea and Egypt. If Akila threw her from the ship now or she threw her from the ship later, it didn’t much matter to her. She may as well dabble in the different. A change of pace, if you will. And if it was a story this woman had, well… Akila could appreciate a good tale. That alone might be worth forgiving the girl for annoying her.
“Prince of Thieves? Never heard of him.” Akila said with a straight face. She leaned against one of her crates, “Only Greek stories I like are the ones I use to scare their sailors.” Sirens were of particular interest to Akila. Women who sing their alluring song to men, draw them close for the kill. Apparently sirens aren’t only Greek. But typically other stories don’t catch Akila’s interest, particularly of their gods. Akila didn’t even like hearing about Egyptian ones, why the fuck would she care about Greeks? “But go on, change my mind. Tell me the story that spreads through your kingdoms.”
The story of the Prince of Thieves was just the sort of tale this woman would've heard if she was a Greek. A story for the people, it was not the sort she brandished when meeting with nobility or royalty, which happened on occasion in her line of work. Taleweavers, buskers... they had the potential, if they were talented enough, to stand in front of many, or just a few, and earn the same rake when the night ended. Ana truly had no preference, but the stories or feats she laid out did.
In this situation, she presumed that counting tales of sirens and their rake over sailors might cause alarm, the sort that drew to the souls of those who pirated the seas. But, it hadn't occurred to her that tale weaving would save her here. She didn't offer herself as morale and entertainment to the pirate's crew, mostly due to the stark difference in nature between them. Anastasia flourished in the social, in the wide and open and this woman seemed more prone to beating the wide and open with a club, or stabbing it with her weird, curved sword. She listened as the pirate dismissed her crew, leaving it at just the two of them.
The rowers got back to rowing, and the sail was turned to catch the wind. The pace picked up and Ana felt the kick against her feet as her body righted itself, almost automatically, to prevent herself from falling over. The tide was a dangerous thing, and these ships that traversed them seemed all but helpless in the midst of them. But, it was the only way to go unless Poseidon himself deemed her worthy to be an actual siren rather than a misdirection. It was funny, to her, that the thought sprang up just as Akila mentioned sailors being scared by tales. Anastasia always played coy with those legends. She'd twist perception, using the words she enjoyed, calling a siren rather than a nymph just for the sake of the flow of the story.
I wonder how this life continues without the Greek Gods to draw off from.
The thought harkened to her future, a musing that might never see the light of day again. Or, a musing that might worm itself into her heart.
"Well, it's quite the tale. If you like the ones that scare the sailors, then this one should do you just fine, too. This one's to scare the merchants. Especially the ones with big purses and short attention spans," she mused, the expression growing wider as she thought back on how many Greek sellers she'd hoodwinked into staying around her for just a little while too long. Anastasia shifted, moving to the ship's bulwark once more, letting her legs hold her to the ledge as her hands fingered along the sea-worn wooden surface.
"If the tales are true, even we aren't safe from the prince's powers. Some who've seen his escapes believe him a shadow given life. Others see the face of Hermes under his hood. A stalker of the void, he seems to slide in and out of reality with his every action.
Imagine, if you would, miss pirate captain, a humble taleweaver such as myself. Eyes wide and ever so innocent, watched from afar as the shouts grew louder and the torches flew out of the aether. Shadow after shadow was vanquished by the light, and yet... nothing. The Prince of Thieves seems to ride on the void, to dance beneath the moonlight, his every breath a gale from Zephyrus, mocking his victims for their insolence in chasing him. He's said to ride those gales, to jump through the kingdoms of Greece at a whim. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?"
Practised was the cadence with which Ana's voice carried, offering a possibility to the stories. She's always seen her tales of the present as legends without ends. Questions as of yet unanswered, she did not offer solutions or insight to reach them, but rather posed questions with the information she "knew."
"Of course, the prince of thieves is just a tale, isn't he? It's always been fitting to attribute feats committed to a legend rather than let them stir and fester unawares. It gives the feat a face, even if it's a fake one, and detracts suspicion from more mundane possibilities."
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The story of the Prince of Thieves was just the sort of tale this woman would've heard if she was a Greek. A story for the people, it was not the sort she brandished when meeting with nobility or royalty, which happened on occasion in her line of work. Taleweavers, buskers... they had the potential, if they were talented enough, to stand in front of many, or just a few, and earn the same rake when the night ended. Ana truly had no preference, but the stories or feats she laid out did.
In this situation, she presumed that counting tales of sirens and their rake over sailors might cause alarm, the sort that drew to the souls of those who pirated the seas. But, it hadn't occurred to her that tale weaving would save her here. She didn't offer herself as morale and entertainment to the pirate's crew, mostly due to the stark difference in nature between them. Anastasia flourished in the social, in the wide and open and this woman seemed more prone to beating the wide and open with a club, or stabbing it with her weird, curved sword. She listened as the pirate dismissed her crew, leaving it at just the two of them.
The rowers got back to rowing, and the sail was turned to catch the wind. The pace picked up and Ana felt the kick against her feet as her body righted itself, almost automatically, to prevent herself from falling over. The tide was a dangerous thing, and these ships that traversed them seemed all but helpless in the midst of them. But, it was the only way to go unless Poseidon himself deemed her worthy to be an actual siren rather than a misdirection. It was funny, to her, that the thought sprang up just as Akila mentioned sailors being scared by tales. Anastasia always played coy with those legends. She'd twist perception, using the words she enjoyed, calling a siren rather than a nymph just for the sake of the flow of the story.
I wonder how this life continues without the Greek Gods to draw off from.
The thought harkened to her future, a musing that might never see the light of day again. Or, a musing that might worm itself into her heart.
"Well, it's quite the tale. If you like the ones that scare the sailors, then this one should do you just fine, too. This one's to scare the merchants. Especially the ones with big purses and short attention spans," she mused, the expression growing wider as she thought back on how many Greek sellers she'd hoodwinked into staying around her for just a little while too long. Anastasia shifted, moving to the ship's bulwark once more, letting her legs hold her to the ledge as her hands fingered along the sea-worn wooden surface.
"If the tales are true, even we aren't safe from the prince's powers. Some who've seen his escapes believe him a shadow given life. Others see the face of Hermes under his hood. A stalker of the void, he seems to slide in and out of reality with his every action.
Imagine, if you would, miss pirate captain, a humble taleweaver such as myself. Eyes wide and ever so innocent, watched from afar as the shouts grew louder and the torches flew out of the aether. Shadow after shadow was vanquished by the light, and yet... nothing. The Prince of Thieves seems to ride on the void, to dance beneath the moonlight, his every breath a gale from Zephyrus, mocking his victims for their insolence in chasing him. He's said to ride those gales, to jump through the kingdoms of Greece at a whim. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?"
Practised was the cadence with which Ana's voice carried, offering a possibility to the stories. She's always seen her tales of the present as legends without ends. Questions as of yet unanswered, she did not offer solutions or insight to reach them, but rather posed questions with the information she "knew."
"Of course, the prince of thieves is just a tale, isn't he? It's always been fitting to attribute feats committed to a legend rather than let them stir and fester unawares. It gives the feat a face, even if it's a fake one, and detracts suspicion from more mundane possibilities."
The story of the Prince of Thieves was just the sort of tale this woman would've heard if she was a Greek. A story for the people, it was not the sort she brandished when meeting with nobility or royalty, which happened on occasion in her line of work. Taleweavers, buskers... they had the potential, if they were talented enough, to stand in front of many, or just a few, and earn the same rake when the night ended. Ana truly had no preference, but the stories or feats she laid out did.
In this situation, she presumed that counting tales of sirens and their rake over sailors might cause alarm, the sort that drew to the souls of those who pirated the seas. But, it hadn't occurred to her that tale weaving would save her here. She didn't offer herself as morale and entertainment to the pirate's crew, mostly due to the stark difference in nature between them. Anastasia flourished in the social, in the wide and open and this woman seemed more prone to beating the wide and open with a club, or stabbing it with her weird, curved sword. She listened as the pirate dismissed her crew, leaving it at just the two of them.
The rowers got back to rowing, and the sail was turned to catch the wind. The pace picked up and Ana felt the kick against her feet as her body righted itself, almost automatically, to prevent herself from falling over. The tide was a dangerous thing, and these ships that traversed them seemed all but helpless in the midst of them. But, it was the only way to go unless Poseidon himself deemed her worthy to be an actual siren rather than a misdirection. It was funny, to her, that the thought sprang up just as Akila mentioned sailors being scared by tales. Anastasia always played coy with those legends. She'd twist perception, using the words she enjoyed, calling a siren rather than a nymph just for the sake of the flow of the story.
I wonder how this life continues without the Greek Gods to draw off from.
The thought harkened to her future, a musing that might never see the light of day again. Or, a musing that might worm itself into her heart.
"Well, it's quite the tale. If you like the ones that scare the sailors, then this one should do you just fine, too. This one's to scare the merchants. Especially the ones with big purses and short attention spans," she mused, the expression growing wider as she thought back on how many Greek sellers she'd hoodwinked into staying around her for just a little while too long. Anastasia shifted, moving to the ship's bulwark once more, letting her legs hold her to the ledge as her hands fingered along the sea-worn wooden surface.
"If the tales are true, even we aren't safe from the prince's powers. Some who've seen his escapes believe him a shadow given life. Others see the face of Hermes under his hood. A stalker of the void, he seems to slide in and out of reality with his every action.
Imagine, if you would, miss pirate captain, a humble taleweaver such as myself. Eyes wide and ever so innocent, watched from afar as the shouts grew louder and the torches flew out of the aether. Shadow after shadow was vanquished by the light, and yet... nothing. The Prince of Thieves seems to ride on the void, to dance beneath the moonlight, his every breath a gale from Zephyrus, mocking his victims for their insolence in chasing him. He's said to ride those gales, to jump through the kingdoms of Greece at a whim. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?"
Practised was the cadence with which Ana's voice carried, offering a possibility to the stories. She's always seen her tales of the present as legends without ends. Questions as of yet unanswered, she did not offer solutions or insight to reach them, but rather posed questions with the information she "knew."
"Of course, the prince of thieves is just a tale, isn't he? It's always been fitting to attribute feats committed to a legend rather than let them stir and fester unawares. It gives the feat a face, even if it's a fake one, and detracts suspicion from more mundane possibilities."
The girl spoke in an interesting way. She did not sing, but her voice carried the rhythm of a song. Like the waves, it ebbed and flowed, words painting the tale like a brush on a canvas. Though with her words came a barrier. For this would perhaps be more interesting should Akila be Greek. But upon names such as Hermes and Zephyrus Akila’s mind drew a blank. She did not care for the Greeks and their gods. She knew of a few. Poseidon and Hades namely. But they mattered not to the pirate.
Nor did they really matter much to the story. Though Akila found her scar brow raising at the girl and her words. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?
At the end of the day, it was a story. Akila had been taking and pillaging for many years, and never had she met someone as… magnificent as she described. Though the girl did manage to pique her interest, and Akila found herself further curious as to what she may have to say. “Perhaps he is just a tale, perhaps he is not. I am curious about one thing, Greek. You say he rides a gale from… Zeph… Zeph-whosit.” Akila truly did not care. “Whether he does or not matters not. But do you believe if he were to, would that gale reach Egypt? Do you truly believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?”
Akila did not care for the gods. Whether it be Greek or Egyptian it mattered not. She believed they did not care for mortals, and she did not care for them. But while she may not care about them it didn’t mean she didn’t believe in them. Of course, they existed, they just did nothing for her. Why would the Greeks be any different? Oh, she’s heard stories of them coming and interacting with mortals, and from those stories, it sounded as if they caused trouble and strife. But to believe they had power in Egypt’s domain would be something else entirely.
That was if both pantheons existed in tandem. A curious thought, and an interesting one at that. Even if at the end of the day it did not affect Akila. But it would be interesting of someone who makes mention to Greek Gods’ opinion on the manner. “Or a followup question. If that Prince would have gotten caught, executed in Egypt, where would he go? Would he follow the path of Anubis and meet the Lord of the Du’at? Or would he find himself in your underworld going through whatever trials that you Greeks go through?”
Honestly if anything, her fancy words entertained the captain. It would be a long two weeks, and that was if the crew made no detours. She could use it for some entertainment. Her men’s tales could only be heard so many times before even the ocean feels too small for the woman.
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The girl spoke in an interesting way. She did not sing, but her voice carried the rhythm of a song. Like the waves, it ebbed and flowed, words painting the tale like a brush on a canvas. Though with her words came a barrier. For this would perhaps be more interesting should Akila be Greek. But upon names such as Hermes and Zephyrus Akila’s mind drew a blank. She did not care for the Greeks and their gods. She knew of a few. Poseidon and Hades namely. But they mattered not to the pirate.
Nor did they really matter much to the story. Though Akila found her scar brow raising at the girl and her words. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?
At the end of the day, it was a story. Akila had been taking and pillaging for many years, and never had she met someone as… magnificent as she described. Though the girl did manage to pique her interest, and Akila found herself further curious as to what she may have to say. “Perhaps he is just a tale, perhaps he is not. I am curious about one thing, Greek. You say he rides a gale from… Zeph… Zeph-whosit.” Akila truly did not care. “Whether he does or not matters not. But do you believe if he were to, would that gale reach Egypt? Do you truly believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?”
Akila did not care for the gods. Whether it be Greek or Egyptian it mattered not. She believed they did not care for mortals, and she did not care for them. But while she may not care about them it didn’t mean she didn’t believe in them. Of course, they existed, they just did nothing for her. Why would the Greeks be any different? Oh, she’s heard stories of them coming and interacting with mortals, and from those stories, it sounded as if they caused trouble and strife. But to believe they had power in Egypt’s domain would be something else entirely.
That was if both pantheons existed in tandem. A curious thought, and an interesting one at that. Even if at the end of the day it did not affect Akila. But it would be interesting of someone who makes mention to Greek Gods’ opinion on the manner. “Or a followup question. If that Prince would have gotten caught, executed in Egypt, where would he go? Would he follow the path of Anubis and meet the Lord of the Du’at? Or would he find himself in your underworld going through whatever trials that you Greeks go through?”
Honestly if anything, her fancy words entertained the captain. It would be a long two weeks, and that was if the crew made no detours. She could use it for some entertainment. Her men’s tales could only be heard so many times before even the ocean feels too small for the woman.
The girl spoke in an interesting way. She did not sing, but her voice carried the rhythm of a song. Like the waves, it ebbed and flowed, words painting the tale like a brush on a canvas. Though with her words came a barrier. For this would perhaps be more interesting should Akila be Greek. But upon names such as Hermes and Zephyrus Akila’s mind drew a blank. She did not care for the Greeks and their gods. She knew of a few. Poseidon and Hades namely. But they mattered not to the pirate.
Nor did they really matter much to the story. Though Akila found her scar brow raising at the girl and her words. Who knows, maybe your sovereign has been pilfered by his hands?
At the end of the day, it was a story. Akila had been taking and pillaging for many years, and never had she met someone as… magnificent as she described. Though the girl did manage to pique her interest, and Akila found herself further curious as to what she may have to say. “Perhaps he is just a tale, perhaps he is not. I am curious about one thing, Greek. You say he rides a gale from… Zeph… Zeph-whosit.” Akila truly did not care. “Whether he does or not matters not. But do you believe if he were to, would that gale reach Egypt? Do you truly believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?”
Akila did not care for the gods. Whether it be Greek or Egyptian it mattered not. She believed they did not care for mortals, and she did not care for them. But while she may not care about them it didn’t mean she didn’t believe in them. Of course, they existed, they just did nothing for her. Why would the Greeks be any different? Oh, she’s heard stories of them coming and interacting with mortals, and from those stories, it sounded as if they caused trouble and strife. But to believe they had power in Egypt’s domain would be something else entirely.
That was if both pantheons existed in tandem. A curious thought, and an interesting one at that. Even if at the end of the day it did not affect Akila. But it would be interesting of someone who makes mention to Greek Gods’ opinion on the manner. “Or a followup question. If that Prince would have gotten caught, executed in Egypt, where would he go? Would he follow the path of Anubis and meet the Lord of the Du’at? Or would he find himself in your underworld going through whatever trials that you Greeks go through?”
Honestly if anything, her fancy words entertained the captain. It would be a long two weeks, and that was if the crew made no detours. She could use it for some entertainment. Her men’s tales could only be heard so many times before even the ocean feels too small for the woman.
Legends with such obvious signs of magic and power beyond the realm of the natural always filled Anastasia with a sense of mystique about the world and how it could possibly create such wonders. Often enough, such legends were mere hyperbole, or more importantly, they were symbolism that sought to educate the listener about the follies of one such thing or another. The notion of a thief capable of such arcane feats was one of her own creation (as far as she knew!), a lesson for merchants to be more fearful and inspire them to figure the consequences for their nefarious methods and vile temperaments.
Anastasia did not consider herself any sort of hero through her criminal actions. Everything she did was for herself, from the fabrication of the myths to cast doubt as to the sex of the thief that stole so handily from merchants to the make of a story that pulled particular heartstrings and inspired moods that brought her greater accolades. The Gods were brought honour by her actions but in the end, Anastasia served herself, loved herself and it was evident in the lavish lifestyle she'd lived in Taengea.
I'll find those fortunes again, she mused, lamenting the fact that she surrendered so much by being caught by the wrong man.
"Do you believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?"
Well, that's unexpected.
Anastasia didn't expect a pirate to begin to wax philosophical with her. The domains of the Gods was... a difficult thing to address. If she was to believe in the power of someone like Poseidon, or Hades, who presided over essential realms of their own, or speak to the notion of a being like Zeus... She really didn't have a great answer for the woman. A hum of thought escaped her lips, but she didn't quite need to answer that question just yet, for Akila asked another.
Equally as metaphysical and beyond the scope of mortal certainty, Anastasia raised her hand to her chin. She didn't know either of the names she spoke. Anubis was clearly some sort of parallel to Hades, but the other word was utter nonsense to her.
"It depends on if the prince is a mortal or a godling in it of itself, doesn't it? It is said that mortals all go to the Underworld, regardless of where they die, so long as their 'toll' is paid. But, a God wrapped in mortal flesh would go to the world on high, Olympus? It's not for me to say, though. I don't think the Gods will be kowtowing in my daily life much anymore."
The idea of abandoning her sovereign realm and delving into another life in another place with a different religion didn't bother her too much. Not yet, anyway. Surely, she'd feel those pains in the coming months.
"I don't think he'd ever get caught, though. Given that skill set. I've never turned up in prison and I'm a mortal lady. Most times, anyway."
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Legends with such obvious signs of magic and power beyond the realm of the natural always filled Anastasia with a sense of mystique about the world and how it could possibly create such wonders. Often enough, such legends were mere hyperbole, or more importantly, they were symbolism that sought to educate the listener about the follies of one such thing or another. The notion of a thief capable of such arcane feats was one of her own creation (as far as she knew!), a lesson for merchants to be more fearful and inspire them to figure the consequences for their nefarious methods and vile temperaments.
Anastasia did not consider herself any sort of hero through her criminal actions. Everything she did was for herself, from the fabrication of the myths to cast doubt as to the sex of the thief that stole so handily from merchants to the make of a story that pulled particular heartstrings and inspired moods that brought her greater accolades. The Gods were brought honour by her actions but in the end, Anastasia served herself, loved herself and it was evident in the lavish lifestyle she'd lived in Taengea.
I'll find those fortunes again, she mused, lamenting the fact that she surrendered so much by being caught by the wrong man.
"Do you believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?"
Well, that's unexpected.
Anastasia didn't expect a pirate to begin to wax philosophical with her. The domains of the Gods was... a difficult thing to address. If she was to believe in the power of someone like Poseidon, or Hades, who presided over essential realms of their own, or speak to the notion of a being like Zeus... She really didn't have a great answer for the woman. A hum of thought escaped her lips, but she didn't quite need to answer that question just yet, for Akila asked another.
Equally as metaphysical and beyond the scope of mortal certainty, Anastasia raised her hand to her chin. She didn't know either of the names she spoke. Anubis was clearly some sort of parallel to Hades, but the other word was utter nonsense to her.
"It depends on if the prince is a mortal or a godling in it of itself, doesn't it? It is said that mortals all go to the Underworld, regardless of where they die, so long as their 'toll' is paid. But, a God wrapped in mortal flesh would go to the world on high, Olympus? It's not for me to say, though. I don't think the Gods will be kowtowing in my daily life much anymore."
The idea of abandoning her sovereign realm and delving into another life in another place with a different religion didn't bother her too much. Not yet, anyway. Surely, she'd feel those pains in the coming months.
"I don't think he'd ever get caught, though. Given that skill set. I've never turned up in prison and I'm a mortal lady. Most times, anyway."
Legends with such obvious signs of magic and power beyond the realm of the natural always filled Anastasia with a sense of mystique about the world and how it could possibly create such wonders. Often enough, such legends were mere hyperbole, or more importantly, they were symbolism that sought to educate the listener about the follies of one such thing or another. The notion of a thief capable of such arcane feats was one of her own creation (as far as she knew!), a lesson for merchants to be more fearful and inspire them to figure the consequences for their nefarious methods and vile temperaments.
Anastasia did not consider herself any sort of hero through her criminal actions. Everything she did was for herself, from the fabrication of the myths to cast doubt as to the sex of the thief that stole so handily from merchants to the make of a story that pulled particular heartstrings and inspired moods that brought her greater accolades. The Gods were brought honour by her actions but in the end, Anastasia served herself, loved herself and it was evident in the lavish lifestyle she'd lived in Taengea.
I'll find those fortunes again, she mused, lamenting the fact that she surrendered so much by being caught by the wrong man.
"Do you believe that your Gods have power in Egyptian sands?"
Well, that's unexpected.
Anastasia didn't expect a pirate to begin to wax philosophical with her. The domains of the Gods was... a difficult thing to address. If she was to believe in the power of someone like Poseidon, or Hades, who presided over essential realms of their own, or speak to the notion of a being like Zeus... She really didn't have a great answer for the woman. A hum of thought escaped her lips, but she didn't quite need to answer that question just yet, for Akila asked another.
Equally as metaphysical and beyond the scope of mortal certainty, Anastasia raised her hand to her chin. She didn't know either of the names she spoke. Anubis was clearly some sort of parallel to Hades, but the other word was utter nonsense to her.
"It depends on if the prince is a mortal or a godling in it of itself, doesn't it? It is said that mortals all go to the Underworld, regardless of where they die, so long as their 'toll' is paid. But, a God wrapped in mortal flesh would go to the world on high, Olympus? It's not for me to say, though. I don't think the Gods will be kowtowing in my daily life much anymore."
The idea of abandoning her sovereign realm and delving into another life in another place with a different religion didn't bother her too much. Not yet, anyway. Surely, she'd feel those pains in the coming months.
"I don't think he'd ever get caught, though. Given that skill set. I've never turned up in prison and I'm a mortal lady. Most times, anyway."
Akila gave a sharp laugh and a wicked smile. She liked this girl’s answer. In particular, I don’t think the gods will be kotowing in my daily life anymore. If there was one thing Akila believed it was this: The gods don’t give a damn. If they gave a damn, there wouldn’t be problems in the world. If they gave a damn, Akila would have had a much different past. They won’t be kotowing in her life, they won’t be kotowing in anyone’s life. They certainly never did with her’s, unless it was just to give her more trouble.
There was probably more Akila could pick apart on that. A scholar somewhere would be itching to debate whether a dead god would go to… Olympus or what have you. But Akila was no fucking scholar. She asked a question, she got a response, an entertaining one at that. And the girl got a second chance to boast about her own skills and this so-called Prince. That was all Akila needed to know.
“I know everything that’s on this ship.” She said. “A single thing is lost, a fucking crumb of food, and there won’t be a ship on this god damned ocean for you to stowaway on where I can’t find you, got it?” Akila finally sheathed her weapon. This girl wasn’t a danger- at least not at this current moment.
Her eyes moved away from the girl and to the rest of her ship. Her men had finally lost interest too, lost to their work as they should be. Some gathered to talk, only occasionally glancing at their new guest with gazes somewhere between intrigue and lust. Akila could only roll her eyes at them, before continuing. “Two weeks, give or take any detours.” Never know when an opportunity might strike. A lone H’Shiefa trading ship was always oh-so-tempting. “Before we reach Egypt. Don’t give me a reason to get pissed off and it’ll be quick.” Akila’s eyes went back to her scribe. Right, time for her to get back to work too.
Akila had turned to walk-off. She made it one step before stopping. “Oh and, girl. You had better be right. This had better be worth my while.” Or once again, there would be no ship she could run away in, no place she could hide, where Akila would not find her. She was not a woman to be cheated. You don’t steal from a thief.
With that, Akila went to her scribe. It was back to work.
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Akila gave a sharp laugh and a wicked smile. She liked this girl’s answer. In particular, I don’t think the gods will be kotowing in my daily life anymore. If there was one thing Akila believed it was this: The gods don’t give a damn. If they gave a damn, there wouldn’t be problems in the world. If they gave a damn, Akila would have had a much different past. They won’t be kotowing in her life, they won’t be kotowing in anyone’s life. They certainly never did with her’s, unless it was just to give her more trouble.
There was probably more Akila could pick apart on that. A scholar somewhere would be itching to debate whether a dead god would go to… Olympus or what have you. But Akila was no fucking scholar. She asked a question, she got a response, an entertaining one at that. And the girl got a second chance to boast about her own skills and this so-called Prince. That was all Akila needed to know.
“I know everything that’s on this ship.” She said. “A single thing is lost, a fucking crumb of food, and there won’t be a ship on this god damned ocean for you to stowaway on where I can’t find you, got it?” Akila finally sheathed her weapon. This girl wasn’t a danger- at least not at this current moment.
Her eyes moved away from the girl and to the rest of her ship. Her men had finally lost interest too, lost to their work as they should be. Some gathered to talk, only occasionally glancing at their new guest with gazes somewhere between intrigue and lust. Akila could only roll her eyes at them, before continuing. “Two weeks, give or take any detours.” Never know when an opportunity might strike. A lone H’Shiefa trading ship was always oh-so-tempting. “Before we reach Egypt. Don’t give me a reason to get pissed off and it’ll be quick.” Akila’s eyes went back to her scribe. Right, time for her to get back to work too.
Akila had turned to walk-off. She made it one step before stopping. “Oh and, girl. You had better be right. This had better be worth my while.” Or once again, there would be no ship she could run away in, no place she could hide, where Akila would not find her. She was not a woman to be cheated. You don’t steal from a thief.
With that, Akila went to her scribe. It was back to work.
Akila gave a sharp laugh and a wicked smile. She liked this girl’s answer. In particular, I don’t think the gods will be kotowing in my daily life anymore. If there was one thing Akila believed it was this: The gods don’t give a damn. If they gave a damn, there wouldn’t be problems in the world. If they gave a damn, Akila would have had a much different past. They won’t be kotowing in her life, they won’t be kotowing in anyone’s life. They certainly never did with her’s, unless it was just to give her more trouble.
There was probably more Akila could pick apart on that. A scholar somewhere would be itching to debate whether a dead god would go to… Olympus or what have you. But Akila was no fucking scholar. She asked a question, she got a response, an entertaining one at that. And the girl got a second chance to boast about her own skills and this so-called Prince. That was all Akila needed to know.
“I know everything that’s on this ship.” She said. “A single thing is lost, a fucking crumb of food, and there won’t be a ship on this god damned ocean for you to stowaway on where I can’t find you, got it?” Akila finally sheathed her weapon. This girl wasn’t a danger- at least not at this current moment.
Her eyes moved away from the girl and to the rest of her ship. Her men had finally lost interest too, lost to their work as they should be. Some gathered to talk, only occasionally glancing at their new guest with gazes somewhere between intrigue and lust. Akila could only roll her eyes at them, before continuing. “Two weeks, give or take any detours.” Never know when an opportunity might strike. A lone H’Shiefa trading ship was always oh-so-tempting. “Before we reach Egypt. Don’t give me a reason to get pissed off and it’ll be quick.” Akila’s eyes went back to her scribe. Right, time for her to get back to work too.
Akila had turned to walk-off. She made it one step before stopping. “Oh and, girl. You had better be right. This had better be worth my while.” Or once again, there would be no ship she could run away in, no place she could hide, where Akila would not find her. She was not a woman to be cheated. You don’t steal from a thief.
With that, Akila went to her scribe. It was back to work.