The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Moab is a city of great diversity and perhaps the least resistant of the Judean cities for foreigners and travellers. To them, those from other districts, kingdoms and realms are the chance for more trade. And the Moab like money. Here, in the early part of summer, they open their shores even wider than normal and welcome those from all coastlines of the Dead Sea. From the Judeans in the north and east, to the Egyptians in the west. Even a few Bedoans might find their way to Moab, when the summer sun starts to lengthen days to their fullest. On this particular day - the first trading day of the month of Nisan - the waters of Moab are filled with so many trading boats that one can walk from the 'Island' and central city, across the Dead Sea to the Mereth Isle, without the need to dip a toe in the waters. Men, women, slaves and families walk the planks between each vessel and inspect the goods for sail from all over the eastern provinces; enjoying the floating market place and all it has to offer.
Event Ideas
-- This is a month after the provincial story Predator. It is perfectly likely that anyone that journeyed as far East as Ammun for their sales and merchant stores might find their way to Moab afterwards. Word of mouth would have circulated about the upcoming trading festival at the Floating City.
-- Traders come from all over the known world to sell at Moab. Some will even sail across the Red Sea, have their ship carted by horse across the land, so that they can then sail in the Dead Sea once more to join the procession of vessels! Many could have been picked up along the way or encouraged to journey with them.
-- As for the festivities themselves - traders and merchants will do all sorts to attract people to their boats. They might hoist decorations or flags with sale information. They might call out to passersby, wave hands and urge those with money to come closer. They might pay slaves or servants of other people to lend them the extra hand for a day.
-- With trade and fun comes a dropping of xenophobic tensions and fears. People enjoy the festivities at Moab because they are lax, with money flowing and men in good cheer. Children might swim in the waters of the Dead Sea, in and out of the vessels. They might grab at the ankles of passersby, play pranks and games on the traders. Women might sit on walkways, their bare feet and ankles dipped into the cool waters under the hot summer sun. The Isle of Mereth is a sweet and fertile place - more green than any of Moab and some families might take the time to picnic on their lawns whilst the men trade and make the money.
-- Or anything else! If you want to do something wild and wacky that makes sense in this event then go for it! You can use it for your own personal drama, start a cat fight, declare a rivalry, reveal a secret in public to all. You can use the NPC traders and customers as you like and come up with your own ways to make this Event fun and dramatic. Remember: there is no wrong way to do this. There is no plan. Just storm forward and go for it! Just remember to tag everyone who might be affected by your more curveball-y posts in the #roleplay-tags channel.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Moab is a city of great diversity and perhaps the least resistant of the Judean cities for foreigners and travellers. To them, those from other districts, kingdoms and realms are the chance for more trade. And the Moab like money. Here, in the early part of summer, they open their shores even wider than normal and welcome those from all coastlines of the Dead Sea. From the Judeans in the north and east, to the Egyptians in the west. Even a few Bedoans might find their way to Moab, when the summer sun starts to lengthen days to their fullest. On this particular day - the first trading day of the month of Nisan - the waters of Moab are filled with so many trading boats that one can walk from the 'Island' and central city, across the Dead Sea to the Mereth Isle, without the need to dip a toe in the waters. Men, women, slaves and families walk the planks between each vessel and inspect the goods for sail from all over the eastern provinces; enjoying the floating market place and all it has to offer.
Event Ideas
-- This is a month after the provincial story Predator. It is perfectly likely that anyone that journeyed as far East as Ammun for their sales and merchant stores might find their way to Moab afterwards. Word of mouth would have circulated about the upcoming trading festival at the Floating City.
-- Traders come from all over the known world to sell at Moab. Some will even sail across the Red Sea, have their ship carted by horse across the land, so that they can then sail in the Dead Sea once more to join the procession of vessels! Many could have been picked up along the way or encouraged to journey with them.
-- As for the festivities themselves - traders and merchants will do all sorts to attract people to their boats. They might hoist decorations or flags with sale information. They might call out to passersby, wave hands and urge those with money to come closer. They might pay slaves or servants of other people to lend them the extra hand for a day.
-- With trade and fun comes a dropping of xenophobic tensions and fears. People enjoy the festivities at Moab because they are lax, with money flowing and men in good cheer. Children might swim in the waters of the Dead Sea, in and out of the vessels. They might grab at the ankles of passersby, play pranks and games on the traders. Women might sit on walkways, their bare feet and ankles dipped into the cool waters under the hot summer sun. The Isle of Mereth is a sweet and fertile place - more green than any of Moab and some families might take the time to picnic on their lawns whilst the men trade and make the money.
-- Or anything else! If you want to do something wild and wacky that makes sense in this event then go for it! You can use it for your own personal drama, start a cat fight, declare a rivalry, reveal a secret in public to all. You can use the NPC traders and customers as you like and come up with your own ways to make this Event fun and dramatic. Remember: there is no wrong way to do this. There is no plan. Just storm forward and go for it! Just remember to tag everyone who might be affected by your more curveball-y posts in the #roleplay-tags channel.
Golden Afternoon Provincial Story - Judea
Moab is a city of great diversity and perhaps the least resistant of the Judean cities for foreigners and travellers. To them, those from other districts, kingdoms and realms are the chance for more trade. And the Moab like money. Here, in the early part of summer, they open their shores even wider than normal and welcome those from all coastlines of the Dead Sea. From the Judeans in the north and east, to the Egyptians in the west. Even a few Bedoans might find their way to Moab, when the summer sun starts to lengthen days to their fullest. On this particular day - the first trading day of the month of Nisan - the waters of Moab are filled with so many trading boats that one can walk from the 'Island' and central city, across the Dead Sea to the Mereth Isle, without the need to dip a toe in the waters. Men, women, slaves and families walk the planks between each vessel and inspect the goods for sail from all over the eastern provinces; enjoying the floating market place and all it has to offer.
Event Ideas
-- This is a month after the provincial story Predator. It is perfectly likely that anyone that journeyed as far East as Ammun for their sales and merchant stores might find their way to Moab afterwards. Word of mouth would have circulated about the upcoming trading festival at the Floating City.
-- Traders come from all over the known world to sell at Moab. Some will even sail across the Red Sea, have their ship carted by horse across the land, so that they can then sail in the Dead Sea once more to join the procession of vessels! Many could have been picked up along the way or encouraged to journey with them.
-- As for the festivities themselves - traders and merchants will do all sorts to attract people to their boats. They might hoist decorations or flags with sale information. They might call out to passersby, wave hands and urge those with money to come closer. They might pay slaves or servants of other people to lend them the extra hand for a day.
-- With trade and fun comes a dropping of xenophobic tensions and fears. People enjoy the festivities at Moab because they are lax, with money flowing and men in good cheer. Children might swim in the waters of the Dead Sea, in and out of the vessels. They might grab at the ankles of passersby, play pranks and games on the traders. Women might sit on walkways, their bare feet and ankles dipped into the cool waters under the hot summer sun. The Isle of Mereth is a sweet and fertile place - more green than any of Moab and some families might take the time to picnic on their lawns whilst the men trade and make the money.
-- Or anything else! If you want to do something wild and wacky that makes sense in this event then go for it! You can use it for your own personal drama, start a cat fight, declare a rivalry, reveal a secret in public to all. You can use the NPC traders and customers as you like and come up with your own ways to make this Event fun and dramatic. Remember: there is no wrong way to do this. There is no plan. Just storm forward and go for it! Just remember to tag everyone who might be affected by your more curveball-y posts in the #roleplay-tags channel.
There. Were. So. Many. Colors.
Kesi was used to colors. The circus was colorful and happy and amazing. But there were other colors. And for once (well, twice) Kesi was so excited to be in Judea. Even if she wore all these ridiculous clothes and shoes. There. Were. Colors. People were shouting from the various ships, and the market was floating. How many markets were floating?! Okay, it was official. Judea was a little bit cool. It still wasn’t Egypt’s level of amazingness, but… it was one step closer at least.
Kesi had a basket of her snakes, but she had no desire to perform. Even if there was an opportunity to profit and get their name known beyond the borders of Egypt, especially with the foreign merchants that were in port on this day, Kesi wanted to play instead. The child in Kesi was overstimulated by all the excitement and desire, too, lusted for all the silks, jewels, and shiny objects. She wanted to play.
At first, Kesi’s eyes landed on a boat that was selling a multitude of different flowers. Some were useless, medicinal ones that maybe only Rekhmire would care about. But there were a few that Kesi could have a lot of fun with.
But then she saw it. A sash dyed with indigo, with silver and gold spun into it. It was beautiful, and most likely one of the most expensive item on any of these ships. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and anyone who had it would be someone with an exuberant amount of wealth.
And Nem had to have it.
Kesi, herself, wasn’t one that was very materialistic. While she might get excited when she was in a market, and even then only in events such as these, she didn’t normally feel the need to buy anything. She was perfectly happy with what she had, and honestly things like finances and whatnot went right over her head. She trusted that Nem handled it, being the only man in their small family and just completely smart and perfect in every way. But despite the fact that her brother handled her fiances, Kesi wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew her lack of spending caused her to accumulate some savings. And now was the time to cash it in.
Kesi handed her basket of snakes to a now alarmed slave and went over to Miri grabbing her hand. She quickly moved over to her brother, dragging the Judean with her. “I want my money.” Despite her voice sounding very much like a different shard of her personality, her eyes were wide with child-like personality. Unbeknownst to the girl, her mind was currently a swirling tempest. A war was going on, both desiring to be out in the forefront, both wanting that sash, glittering and shining, taunting the girl, before anyone else could lay their hands on it.
It will be Nem’s.
“Miri will help translate.” Kesi continued simply, even though Kesi never once asked Miri’s opinion on this. “I want my money.”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There. Were. So. Many. Colors.
Kesi was used to colors. The circus was colorful and happy and amazing. But there were other colors. And for once (well, twice) Kesi was so excited to be in Judea. Even if she wore all these ridiculous clothes and shoes. There. Were. Colors. People were shouting from the various ships, and the market was floating. How many markets were floating?! Okay, it was official. Judea was a little bit cool. It still wasn’t Egypt’s level of amazingness, but… it was one step closer at least.
Kesi had a basket of her snakes, but she had no desire to perform. Even if there was an opportunity to profit and get their name known beyond the borders of Egypt, especially with the foreign merchants that were in port on this day, Kesi wanted to play instead. The child in Kesi was overstimulated by all the excitement and desire, too, lusted for all the silks, jewels, and shiny objects. She wanted to play.
At first, Kesi’s eyes landed on a boat that was selling a multitude of different flowers. Some were useless, medicinal ones that maybe only Rekhmire would care about. But there were a few that Kesi could have a lot of fun with.
But then she saw it. A sash dyed with indigo, with silver and gold spun into it. It was beautiful, and most likely one of the most expensive item on any of these ships. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and anyone who had it would be someone with an exuberant amount of wealth.
And Nem had to have it.
Kesi, herself, wasn’t one that was very materialistic. While she might get excited when she was in a market, and even then only in events such as these, she didn’t normally feel the need to buy anything. She was perfectly happy with what she had, and honestly things like finances and whatnot went right over her head. She trusted that Nem handled it, being the only man in their small family and just completely smart and perfect in every way. But despite the fact that her brother handled her fiances, Kesi wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew her lack of spending caused her to accumulate some savings. And now was the time to cash it in.
Kesi handed her basket of snakes to a now alarmed slave and went over to Miri grabbing her hand. She quickly moved over to her brother, dragging the Judean with her. “I want my money.” Despite her voice sounding very much like a different shard of her personality, her eyes were wide with child-like personality. Unbeknownst to the girl, her mind was currently a swirling tempest. A war was going on, both desiring to be out in the forefront, both wanting that sash, glittering and shining, taunting the girl, before anyone else could lay their hands on it.
It will be Nem’s.
“Miri will help translate.” Kesi continued simply, even though Kesi never once asked Miri’s opinion on this. “I want my money.”
There. Were. So. Many. Colors.
Kesi was used to colors. The circus was colorful and happy and amazing. But there were other colors. And for once (well, twice) Kesi was so excited to be in Judea. Even if she wore all these ridiculous clothes and shoes. There. Were. Colors. People were shouting from the various ships, and the market was floating. How many markets were floating?! Okay, it was official. Judea was a little bit cool. It still wasn’t Egypt’s level of amazingness, but… it was one step closer at least.
Kesi had a basket of her snakes, but she had no desire to perform. Even if there was an opportunity to profit and get their name known beyond the borders of Egypt, especially with the foreign merchants that were in port on this day, Kesi wanted to play instead. The child in Kesi was overstimulated by all the excitement and desire, too, lusted for all the silks, jewels, and shiny objects. She wanted to play.
At first, Kesi’s eyes landed on a boat that was selling a multitude of different flowers. Some were useless, medicinal ones that maybe only Rekhmire would care about. But there were a few that Kesi could have a lot of fun with.
But then she saw it. A sash dyed with indigo, with silver and gold spun into it. It was beautiful, and most likely one of the most expensive item on any of these ships. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and anyone who had it would be someone with an exuberant amount of wealth.
And Nem had to have it.
Kesi, herself, wasn’t one that was very materialistic. While she might get excited when she was in a market, and even then only in events such as these, she didn’t normally feel the need to buy anything. She was perfectly happy with what she had, and honestly things like finances and whatnot went right over her head. She trusted that Nem handled it, being the only man in their small family and just completely smart and perfect in every way. But despite the fact that her brother handled her fiances, Kesi wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew her lack of spending caused her to accumulate some savings. And now was the time to cash it in.
Kesi handed her basket of snakes to a now alarmed slave and went over to Miri grabbing her hand. She quickly moved over to her brother, dragging the Judean with her. “I want my money.” Despite her voice sounding very much like a different shard of her personality, her eyes were wide with child-like personality. Unbeknownst to the girl, her mind was currently a swirling tempest. A war was going on, both desiring to be out in the forefront, both wanting that sash, glittering and shining, taunting the girl, before anyone else could lay their hands on it.
It will be Nem’s.
“Miri will help translate.” Kesi continued simply, even though Kesi never once asked Miri’s opinion on this. “I want my money.”
Hazael had gotten lucky during this trip. Normally, by the time that the boy and his uncle’s family reached Moab during their yearly trading trip around Judea, Haz would be a bit desperate to get rid of the extra puppies he still had from the previous year. After all, there was no room in his kennel for a surplus amount of dogs that didn’t really do anything for his business. Every year he either had to find homes for all the dogs or swallow his pride and compromise his morals by selling the dogs to those who had less than honorable intentions. The dilemma that this normally brought onto the eighteen-year-old normally cast a dark shadow over his journey into Moab, but that wouldn’t be the case this time around. By some gracious miracle, Hazael had found a home for all the dogs he had parted from Israel with. Even the mother for one of the younger litters had fetched him a good price. Now not only was his conscious clear as he was sure that the dogs would be loved, not worked to death, but now his pockets were lined with a fair amount of gold. He could actually enjoy the trade festival for once.
Though enjoy was a rather strong word for the experience that Hazael was nearly certain that this would be for him. The boy couldn’t exactly spend the coin that he had earned as he needed a good portion of the costs of this business. Anything extra was supposed to go to the temple as a way to stay in the good favor of Yahweh after choosing a career that wasn’t exactly forbidden but not exactly smiled upon either. It was unlikely that any of the bright and colorful ships or their skilled salesmen would be able to part the boy from his earnings. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the festivities.
There was a visible smile on his face as he weaved through the crowd of people on the platforms. Bracha was leading the way, of course, as these rickety beams could be a danger for blind boys like Hazael. After spending so many years at his side the dog had become an expert at ensuring that Haz didn’t trip over anyone or anything. Normally Hazael would have been a bit more helpful in this endeavor as Bracha was only really a safeguard, but he was fairly distracted by the sheer amount of bright colors that kept drawing his eyes from ship to ship. He had long ago lost the ability to see the details of the riggings of each vessel and he was absolutely hopeless in the quest to read any of the signs, but the colors were simply inescapable. Everything was just a vibrant blur and Hazael loved it. Israel was rarely ever so brightly hued, so this truly was an exciting thing for the boy to witness as it broke up the monotonous dull gray and brown palettes that normally dotted his vision. He just really didn’t know how to explain it. For some reason, all of these colors just stirred some sort of childish giddiness in him.
As he was really only able to see the colors though, there was quite a bit that he was missing as he moved along the platforms. With none of the wares truly being as eye-catching as the merchant’s attempts to draw passersby onto their ships, Hazael didn’t really stop to look at any of the wares or the people who could actually see them. Haz completely missed how two young women seemed to be infatuated with a single scarf, to the point where one of them was practically dragging the other to the merchant. Not that he would have paid attention to them anyway if he had heard the foreign words tumbling out of the first girl’s mouth. He might be in a different city that had different views on Egyptians, but Haz was still Israeli born and raised. His province had no love for those who came from Kesi’s country and even though Haz himself didn’t have any experiences that should make him wary of his neighbors to the south, the sheer amount of xenophobia he had been raised in would keep him from trying to make friends anyway.
However, Bracha knew no such distinction.
The blonde Saluki didn’t know the difference between Judean and Egyptian. After all, she was a dog. She could see the two young women clearly and she was very quick to alert Haz that she did not like what she saw. Without being told to, Bracha quickly came to a stop beside the boy she was guiding, growling lowly. Hazael, who had no idea what on earth could cause his dog to act so strangely, tried his best to lead the dog away and continue their journey through the market. However, the dog would not be swayed from her protective stance. The boy looked around, confused at what had his dog all up in a fuss. Following her gaze, he could see what looked like a slave carrying something large. Maybe a basket? Hazael didn’t know and quite frankly did not care as there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with the scene. Surely, his dog was just freaking out over nothing.
“Bracha, leave it!” The boy hissed sharply in his native language as he tried to pull his dog away from the sight, but Bracha wasn’t listening to him. She stayed stubbornly in place, snarling and growling. Time seemed to slow as Haz tried to get his dog away from whatever was setting her off, but she quickly decided that merely snarling wasn’t enough. With little warning, the dog pulled on her lead, trying to drag Hazael over to where the confused and likely scared slave stood. Her snarling had now turned into a loud, repetitive bark that refused to pipe down as Haz tried to shush her. “Bracha! Bracha! No!”
The boy and his loud dog were quickly causing a scene on the makeshift pier as the Saluki would not be steered from her course as she knew something that Haz didn’t. There was a snake in that basket and little did everyone know that this dog was likely to not end her barking until she was either dragged away from the snake or had it dead beneath her paws.
Even though Hazael was in the dark as to what had his dog in such a tizzy, clearly he would prefer the first outcome, but given that he was struggling to control Bracha, he was going to need a little help in pulling his dog away from that basket...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hazael had gotten lucky during this trip. Normally, by the time that the boy and his uncle’s family reached Moab during their yearly trading trip around Judea, Haz would be a bit desperate to get rid of the extra puppies he still had from the previous year. After all, there was no room in his kennel for a surplus amount of dogs that didn’t really do anything for his business. Every year he either had to find homes for all the dogs or swallow his pride and compromise his morals by selling the dogs to those who had less than honorable intentions. The dilemma that this normally brought onto the eighteen-year-old normally cast a dark shadow over his journey into Moab, but that wouldn’t be the case this time around. By some gracious miracle, Hazael had found a home for all the dogs he had parted from Israel with. Even the mother for one of the younger litters had fetched him a good price. Now not only was his conscious clear as he was sure that the dogs would be loved, not worked to death, but now his pockets were lined with a fair amount of gold. He could actually enjoy the trade festival for once.
Though enjoy was a rather strong word for the experience that Hazael was nearly certain that this would be for him. The boy couldn’t exactly spend the coin that he had earned as he needed a good portion of the costs of this business. Anything extra was supposed to go to the temple as a way to stay in the good favor of Yahweh after choosing a career that wasn’t exactly forbidden but not exactly smiled upon either. It was unlikely that any of the bright and colorful ships or their skilled salesmen would be able to part the boy from his earnings. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the festivities.
There was a visible smile on his face as he weaved through the crowd of people on the platforms. Bracha was leading the way, of course, as these rickety beams could be a danger for blind boys like Hazael. After spending so many years at his side the dog had become an expert at ensuring that Haz didn’t trip over anyone or anything. Normally Hazael would have been a bit more helpful in this endeavor as Bracha was only really a safeguard, but he was fairly distracted by the sheer amount of bright colors that kept drawing his eyes from ship to ship. He had long ago lost the ability to see the details of the riggings of each vessel and he was absolutely hopeless in the quest to read any of the signs, but the colors were simply inescapable. Everything was just a vibrant blur and Hazael loved it. Israel was rarely ever so brightly hued, so this truly was an exciting thing for the boy to witness as it broke up the monotonous dull gray and brown palettes that normally dotted his vision. He just really didn’t know how to explain it. For some reason, all of these colors just stirred some sort of childish giddiness in him.
As he was really only able to see the colors though, there was quite a bit that he was missing as he moved along the platforms. With none of the wares truly being as eye-catching as the merchant’s attempts to draw passersby onto their ships, Hazael didn’t really stop to look at any of the wares or the people who could actually see them. Haz completely missed how two young women seemed to be infatuated with a single scarf, to the point where one of them was practically dragging the other to the merchant. Not that he would have paid attention to them anyway if he had heard the foreign words tumbling out of the first girl’s mouth. He might be in a different city that had different views on Egyptians, but Haz was still Israeli born and raised. His province had no love for those who came from Kesi’s country and even though Haz himself didn’t have any experiences that should make him wary of his neighbors to the south, the sheer amount of xenophobia he had been raised in would keep him from trying to make friends anyway.
However, Bracha knew no such distinction.
The blonde Saluki didn’t know the difference between Judean and Egyptian. After all, she was a dog. She could see the two young women clearly and she was very quick to alert Haz that she did not like what she saw. Without being told to, Bracha quickly came to a stop beside the boy she was guiding, growling lowly. Hazael, who had no idea what on earth could cause his dog to act so strangely, tried his best to lead the dog away and continue their journey through the market. However, the dog would not be swayed from her protective stance. The boy looked around, confused at what had his dog all up in a fuss. Following her gaze, he could see what looked like a slave carrying something large. Maybe a basket? Hazael didn’t know and quite frankly did not care as there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with the scene. Surely, his dog was just freaking out over nothing.
“Bracha, leave it!” The boy hissed sharply in his native language as he tried to pull his dog away from the sight, but Bracha wasn’t listening to him. She stayed stubbornly in place, snarling and growling. Time seemed to slow as Haz tried to get his dog away from whatever was setting her off, but she quickly decided that merely snarling wasn’t enough. With little warning, the dog pulled on her lead, trying to drag Hazael over to where the confused and likely scared slave stood. Her snarling had now turned into a loud, repetitive bark that refused to pipe down as Haz tried to shush her. “Bracha! Bracha! No!”
The boy and his loud dog were quickly causing a scene on the makeshift pier as the Saluki would not be steered from her course as she knew something that Haz didn’t. There was a snake in that basket and little did everyone know that this dog was likely to not end her barking until she was either dragged away from the snake or had it dead beneath her paws.
Even though Hazael was in the dark as to what had his dog in such a tizzy, clearly he would prefer the first outcome, but given that he was struggling to control Bracha, he was going to need a little help in pulling his dog away from that basket...
Hazael had gotten lucky during this trip. Normally, by the time that the boy and his uncle’s family reached Moab during their yearly trading trip around Judea, Haz would be a bit desperate to get rid of the extra puppies he still had from the previous year. After all, there was no room in his kennel for a surplus amount of dogs that didn’t really do anything for his business. Every year he either had to find homes for all the dogs or swallow his pride and compromise his morals by selling the dogs to those who had less than honorable intentions. The dilemma that this normally brought onto the eighteen-year-old normally cast a dark shadow over his journey into Moab, but that wouldn’t be the case this time around. By some gracious miracle, Hazael had found a home for all the dogs he had parted from Israel with. Even the mother for one of the younger litters had fetched him a good price. Now not only was his conscious clear as he was sure that the dogs would be loved, not worked to death, but now his pockets were lined with a fair amount of gold. He could actually enjoy the trade festival for once.
Though enjoy was a rather strong word for the experience that Hazael was nearly certain that this would be for him. The boy couldn’t exactly spend the coin that he had earned as he needed a good portion of the costs of this business. Anything extra was supposed to go to the temple as a way to stay in the good favor of Yahweh after choosing a career that wasn’t exactly forbidden but not exactly smiled upon either. It was unlikely that any of the bright and colorful ships or their skilled salesmen would be able to part the boy from his earnings. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the festivities.
There was a visible smile on his face as he weaved through the crowd of people on the platforms. Bracha was leading the way, of course, as these rickety beams could be a danger for blind boys like Hazael. After spending so many years at his side the dog had become an expert at ensuring that Haz didn’t trip over anyone or anything. Normally Hazael would have been a bit more helpful in this endeavor as Bracha was only really a safeguard, but he was fairly distracted by the sheer amount of bright colors that kept drawing his eyes from ship to ship. He had long ago lost the ability to see the details of the riggings of each vessel and he was absolutely hopeless in the quest to read any of the signs, but the colors were simply inescapable. Everything was just a vibrant blur and Hazael loved it. Israel was rarely ever so brightly hued, so this truly was an exciting thing for the boy to witness as it broke up the monotonous dull gray and brown palettes that normally dotted his vision. He just really didn’t know how to explain it. For some reason, all of these colors just stirred some sort of childish giddiness in him.
As he was really only able to see the colors though, there was quite a bit that he was missing as he moved along the platforms. With none of the wares truly being as eye-catching as the merchant’s attempts to draw passersby onto their ships, Hazael didn’t really stop to look at any of the wares or the people who could actually see them. Haz completely missed how two young women seemed to be infatuated with a single scarf, to the point where one of them was practically dragging the other to the merchant. Not that he would have paid attention to them anyway if he had heard the foreign words tumbling out of the first girl’s mouth. He might be in a different city that had different views on Egyptians, but Haz was still Israeli born and raised. His province had no love for those who came from Kesi’s country and even though Haz himself didn’t have any experiences that should make him wary of his neighbors to the south, the sheer amount of xenophobia he had been raised in would keep him from trying to make friends anyway.
However, Bracha knew no such distinction.
The blonde Saluki didn’t know the difference between Judean and Egyptian. After all, she was a dog. She could see the two young women clearly and she was very quick to alert Haz that she did not like what she saw. Without being told to, Bracha quickly came to a stop beside the boy she was guiding, growling lowly. Hazael, who had no idea what on earth could cause his dog to act so strangely, tried his best to lead the dog away and continue their journey through the market. However, the dog would not be swayed from her protective stance. The boy looked around, confused at what had his dog all up in a fuss. Following her gaze, he could see what looked like a slave carrying something large. Maybe a basket? Hazael didn’t know and quite frankly did not care as there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with the scene. Surely, his dog was just freaking out over nothing.
“Bracha, leave it!” The boy hissed sharply in his native language as he tried to pull his dog away from the sight, but Bracha wasn’t listening to him. She stayed stubbornly in place, snarling and growling. Time seemed to slow as Haz tried to get his dog away from whatever was setting her off, but she quickly decided that merely snarling wasn’t enough. With little warning, the dog pulled on her lead, trying to drag Hazael over to where the confused and likely scared slave stood. Her snarling had now turned into a loud, repetitive bark that refused to pipe down as Haz tried to shush her. “Bracha! Bracha! No!”
The boy and his loud dog were quickly causing a scene on the makeshift pier as the Saluki would not be steered from her course as she knew something that Haz didn’t. There was a snake in that basket and little did everyone know that this dog was likely to not end her barking until she was either dragged away from the snake or had it dead beneath her paws.
Even though Hazael was in the dark as to what had his dog in such a tizzy, clearly he would prefer the first outcome, but given that he was struggling to control Bracha, he was going to need a little help in pulling his dog away from that basket...
They had been touring around Judea for over a month now, and Miri was settling back into Hebrew and old customs. No more did she flinch at the sound of her native tongue, nor did she cast her eyes about for familiar faces in the colorful crowd, far away from her little seaside home as she was. It was easy to slip between languages, and translation was easy enough. Harder was the way her fellow Judeans looked at her—a young performer amongst foreigners. She knew that, to them, she was a traitor who had abandoned her family to traipse around in costumes. And Miri was, of course, overjoyed with her life. It was everything she could possibly want—a secure position from which to do the gods’ work, in the employ of a godly and powerful man. Still, she saw the flash of surprise in the eyes of the merchants when a fellow circus member spoke to her in Egyptian. The suspicion and the disappointment. How could she not? Miri prided herself on noticing just about everything. Anything could be useful for the gods.
The pocket money was another story. Miri of Lea did not much care for finery, though she knew appearances were everything in the circus and made purchases accordingly. She was not yet accustomed to the feeling of freedom she got from walking into a market and making her own choices. Her parents had certainly never given her such options. But now she could truly appreciate the beauty of a Judean market. There were colors everywhere and so much light. There was almost too much to look at, even without the constant murmuring in her ears.
And so Miri contented herself with conversing with strolling along the edges, watching everyone else. Girls were buying jewelry and scarves and silks for their homes. Everyone seemed perfectly happy to chat idly and make general merriment. The coins weighed heavily in Miri’s little bag. She had no use for scarves or gaudy jewels. She had everything she needed back in her tent. Like a good Judean, Miri was wary of adorning herself too much. It was the gods who deserved worship: not her. She could praise the movement of the ships on the water and the countless ways a single person could walk and what would be the use of a big blue jewel perched on her finger?
She was however, extremely tired of being dragged around. She had been brought along to translate, and she would do so, but there was not much respect in the way Kesi seized her hand and pulled her towards Amenemhat. Miri herself was of no more importance than anyone else, but Ptah had created her, and Ptah, at the very least, deserved respect. “I will translate, yes,” she repeated quietly, trying not to sigh. She smiled slightly at Amenemhat, starting to ask Kesi what it was they would be buying, when a dog started barking. And did not stop.
Eyes flickering but posture still relaxed, Miri turned towards the noise. The dog was pulling its master towards the slave holding Kesi’s basket, apparently displeased with the slithering creatures within. The boy, roughly her age, was ineffective in restraining his animal. Miri glanced sideways back at Kesi, eyebrows furrowing in worry at what her companion might do to an animal—or person—who dared threaten her snakes. People were starting to stare and murmur at the disturbance.
Hoping to avoid conflict, though, small as she was, she would be little help in stopping the dog, Miri stepped forward. As she stared at the boy, the barking continued to ring in her ears, drowning out any snippet of godly wisdom. Irritating. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. “It would seem your dog does not like my friend’s basket,” she stared pointedly at the boy, hoping he would grasp the precariousness of the situation. “If you like, I could fetch some meat from that stand just there to tempt her away. I do not think anyone here would like the present scene to play out much further.”
This could not end well.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
They had been touring around Judea for over a month now, and Miri was settling back into Hebrew and old customs. No more did she flinch at the sound of her native tongue, nor did she cast her eyes about for familiar faces in the colorful crowd, far away from her little seaside home as she was. It was easy to slip between languages, and translation was easy enough. Harder was the way her fellow Judeans looked at her—a young performer amongst foreigners. She knew that, to them, she was a traitor who had abandoned her family to traipse around in costumes. And Miri was, of course, overjoyed with her life. It was everything she could possibly want—a secure position from which to do the gods’ work, in the employ of a godly and powerful man. Still, she saw the flash of surprise in the eyes of the merchants when a fellow circus member spoke to her in Egyptian. The suspicion and the disappointment. How could she not? Miri prided herself on noticing just about everything. Anything could be useful for the gods.
The pocket money was another story. Miri of Lea did not much care for finery, though she knew appearances were everything in the circus and made purchases accordingly. She was not yet accustomed to the feeling of freedom she got from walking into a market and making her own choices. Her parents had certainly never given her such options. But now she could truly appreciate the beauty of a Judean market. There were colors everywhere and so much light. There was almost too much to look at, even without the constant murmuring in her ears.
And so Miri contented herself with conversing with strolling along the edges, watching everyone else. Girls were buying jewelry and scarves and silks for their homes. Everyone seemed perfectly happy to chat idly and make general merriment. The coins weighed heavily in Miri’s little bag. She had no use for scarves or gaudy jewels. She had everything she needed back in her tent. Like a good Judean, Miri was wary of adorning herself too much. It was the gods who deserved worship: not her. She could praise the movement of the ships on the water and the countless ways a single person could walk and what would be the use of a big blue jewel perched on her finger?
She was however, extremely tired of being dragged around. She had been brought along to translate, and she would do so, but there was not much respect in the way Kesi seized her hand and pulled her towards Amenemhat. Miri herself was of no more importance than anyone else, but Ptah had created her, and Ptah, at the very least, deserved respect. “I will translate, yes,” she repeated quietly, trying not to sigh. She smiled slightly at Amenemhat, starting to ask Kesi what it was they would be buying, when a dog started barking. And did not stop.
Eyes flickering but posture still relaxed, Miri turned towards the noise. The dog was pulling its master towards the slave holding Kesi’s basket, apparently displeased with the slithering creatures within. The boy, roughly her age, was ineffective in restraining his animal. Miri glanced sideways back at Kesi, eyebrows furrowing in worry at what her companion might do to an animal—or person—who dared threaten her snakes. People were starting to stare and murmur at the disturbance.
Hoping to avoid conflict, though, small as she was, she would be little help in stopping the dog, Miri stepped forward. As she stared at the boy, the barking continued to ring in her ears, drowning out any snippet of godly wisdom. Irritating. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. “It would seem your dog does not like my friend’s basket,” she stared pointedly at the boy, hoping he would grasp the precariousness of the situation. “If you like, I could fetch some meat from that stand just there to tempt her away. I do not think anyone here would like the present scene to play out much further.”
This could not end well.
They had been touring around Judea for over a month now, and Miri was settling back into Hebrew and old customs. No more did she flinch at the sound of her native tongue, nor did she cast her eyes about for familiar faces in the colorful crowd, far away from her little seaside home as she was. It was easy to slip between languages, and translation was easy enough. Harder was the way her fellow Judeans looked at her—a young performer amongst foreigners. She knew that, to them, she was a traitor who had abandoned her family to traipse around in costumes. And Miri was, of course, overjoyed with her life. It was everything she could possibly want—a secure position from which to do the gods’ work, in the employ of a godly and powerful man. Still, she saw the flash of surprise in the eyes of the merchants when a fellow circus member spoke to her in Egyptian. The suspicion and the disappointment. How could she not? Miri prided herself on noticing just about everything. Anything could be useful for the gods.
The pocket money was another story. Miri of Lea did not much care for finery, though she knew appearances were everything in the circus and made purchases accordingly. She was not yet accustomed to the feeling of freedom she got from walking into a market and making her own choices. Her parents had certainly never given her such options. But now she could truly appreciate the beauty of a Judean market. There were colors everywhere and so much light. There was almost too much to look at, even without the constant murmuring in her ears.
And so Miri contented herself with conversing with strolling along the edges, watching everyone else. Girls were buying jewelry and scarves and silks for their homes. Everyone seemed perfectly happy to chat idly and make general merriment. The coins weighed heavily in Miri’s little bag. She had no use for scarves or gaudy jewels. She had everything she needed back in her tent. Like a good Judean, Miri was wary of adorning herself too much. It was the gods who deserved worship: not her. She could praise the movement of the ships on the water and the countless ways a single person could walk and what would be the use of a big blue jewel perched on her finger?
She was however, extremely tired of being dragged around. She had been brought along to translate, and she would do so, but there was not much respect in the way Kesi seized her hand and pulled her towards Amenemhat. Miri herself was of no more importance than anyone else, but Ptah had created her, and Ptah, at the very least, deserved respect. “I will translate, yes,” she repeated quietly, trying not to sigh. She smiled slightly at Amenemhat, starting to ask Kesi what it was they would be buying, when a dog started barking. And did not stop.
Eyes flickering but posture still relaxed, Miri turned towards the noise. The dog was pulling its master towards the slave holding Kesi’s basket, apparently displeased with the slithering creatures within. The boy, roughly her age, was ineffective in restraining his animal. Miri glanced sideways back at Kesi, eyebrows furrowing in worry at what her companion might do to an animal—or person—who dared threaten her snakes. People were starting to stare and murmur at the disturbance.
Hoping to avoid conflict, though, small as she was, she would be little help in stopping the dog, Miri stepped forward. As she stared at the boy, the barking continued to ring in her ears, drowning out any snippet of godly wisdom. Irritating. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible. “It would seem your dog does not like my friend’s basket,” she stared pointedly at the boy, hoping he would grasp the precariousness of the situation. “If you like, I could fetch some meat from that stand just there to tempt her away. I do not think anyone here would like the present scene to play out much further.”
This could not end well.
Hannah's body ached all over. If it wasn't her slim shoulders trying to balance the weight that she carried in her arms, or the small of her back attempting to keep her upright, then it was her feet. Sore and rubbed raw, she could feel the little hot spots of pain as blisters had borne upon her heels, the balls of her feet and the outer toe on either foot. The strew woven sandals that she had on her feet had had the oils that soften the reed worn bare and the material was no sharp against her soles. It rubbed harshly against her skin with every curling step. And yet, she knew she could not stop.
Her master had been angry since Ammun, when she had left a large crate of his goods to the mercy of chaotic feet and a rioting crowd. She had searched and located some of the pieces undamaged but it had been a far cry from the original horde that he had spent well earned money upon. A few lashes had been her formal punishment for the mishap, but the real trials of punishment came in the weeks that had passed since. He trusted Hannah less and worked her harder. As if by making her physically exhausted every day he could somehow ensure that she never forgot to not collect his goods under the threat of tiger mauling. Now was just such a morning.
In her arms was a heavy ceramic vase that was filled with tar oil. It was heavy, it was cumbersome, and it stretched her arms to their full length to be able to hold the bottom of it, popping them out against her shoulder blades. Her fingers were on fire from trying to grip the bottom of the container and her eyes kept having to squeeze shut against the sweat that dripped down upon her brow. She tried to blink her vision free and keep an eye on where she was going.
It was as she drew close to a mini circle of chaos where a dog was barking that she fell into trouble. Specifically, because of the canine. Whilst he was still a few feet away, Hannah felt the tell-tale tickle in her nose. She had no idea why but, around dogs, she always started to sneeze. And as she struggled against the reaction, with no hand free to stifle her nose or calm the itch in the back of her throat, Hannah was ready to sneeze and drop the very expensive and very heavy jar right there on the street.
Her sneeze was loud and it disturbed many, including her own grip, as Hannah suddenly panicked and stepped to one side and then the other and tried to reclaim her grip on the vase that she could not let fall…
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Hannah's body ached all over. If it wasn't her slim shoulders trying to balance the weight that she carried in her arms, or the small of her back attempting to keep her upright, then it was her feet. Sore and rubbed raw, she could feel the little hot spots of pain as blisters had borne upon her heels, the balls of her feet and the outer toe on either foot. The strew woven sandals that she had on her feet had had the oils that soften the reed worn bare and the material was no sharp against her soles. It rubbed harshly against her skin with every curling step. And yet, she knew she could not stop.
Her master had been angry since Ammun, when she had left a large crate of his goods to the mercy of chaotic feet and a rioting crowd. She had searched and located some of the pieces undamaged but it had been a far cry from the original horde that he had spent well earned money upon. A few lashes had been her formal punishment for the mishap, but the real trials of punishment came in the weeks that had passed since. He trusted Hannah less and worked her harder. As if by making her physically exhausted every day he could somehow ensure that she never forgot to not collect his goods under the threat of tiger mauling. Now was just such a morning.
In her arms was a heavy ceramic vase that was filled with tar oil. It was heavy, it was cumbersome, and it stretched her arms to their full length to be able to hold the bottom of it, popping them out against her shoulder blades. Her fingers were on fire from trying to grip the bottom of the container and her eyes kept having to squeeze shut against the sweat that dripped down upon her brow. She tried to blink her vision free and keep an eye on where she was going.
It was as she drew close to a mini circle of chaos where a dog was barking that she fell into trouble. Specifically, because of the canine. Whilst he was still a few feet away, Hannah felt the tell-tale tickle in her nose. She had no idea why but, around dogs, she always started to sneeze. And as she struggled against the reaction, with no hand free to stifle her nose or calm the itch in the back of her throat, Hannah was ready to sneeze and drop the very expensive and very heavy jar right there on the street.
Her sneeze was loud and it disturbed many, including her own grip, as Hannah suddenly panicked and stepped to one side and then the other and tried to reclaim her grip on the vase that she could not let fall…
Hannah's body ached all over. If it wasn't her slim shoulders trying to balance the weight that she carried in her arms, or the small of her back attempting to keep her upright, then it was her feet. Sore and rubbed raw, she could feel the little hot spots of pain as blisters had borne upon her heels, the balls of her feet and the outer toe on either foot. The strew woven sandals that she had on her feet had had the oils that soften the reed worn bare and the material was no sharp against her soles. It rubbed harshly against her skin with every curling step. And yet, she knew she could not stop.
Her master had been angry since Ammun, when she had left a large crate of his goods to the mercy of chaotic feet and a rioting crowd. She had searched and located some of the pieces undamaged but it had been a far cry from the original horde that he had spent well earned money upon. A few lashes had been her formal punishment for the mishap, but the real trials of punishment came in the weeks that had passed since. He trusted Hannah less and worked her harder. As if by making her physically exhausted every day he could somehow ensure that she never forgot to not collect his goods under the threat of tiger mauling. Now was just such a morning.
In her arms was a heavy ceramic vase that was filled with tar oil. It was heavy, it was cumbersome, and it stretched her arms to their full length to be able to hold the bottom of it, popping them out against her shoulder blades. Her fingers were on fire from trying to grip the bottom of the container and her eyes kept having to squeeze shut against the sweat that dripped down upon her brow. She tried to blink her vision free and keep an eye on where she was going.
It was as she drew close to a mini circle of chaos where a dog was barking that she fell into trouble. Specifically, because of the canine. Whilst he was still a few feet away, Hannah felt the tell-tale tickle in her nose. She had no idea why but, around dogs, she always started to sneeze. And as she struggled against the reaction, with no hand free to stifle her nose or calm the itch in the back of her throat, Hannah was ready to sneeze and drop the very expensive and very heavy jar right there on the street.
Her sneeze was loud and it disturbed many, including her own grip, as Hannah suddenly panicked and stepped to one side and then the other and tried to reclaim her grip on the vase that she could not let fall…
Honestly, Hazael had no idea what had gotten into Bracha. One moment she was fine, the next she was barking her little head off. It was if his poor dog had been stricken by some form of madness that the boy could not even begin to fathom. Not that he was overly concerned with what had set Bracha off in that moment. No, just like everyone else in the market place he wanted his dog to stop. He did not need to be perfectly sighted to see that others were beginning to stop and stare at this so-called wild beast that was apparently terrorizing some innocent slave. They were causing a scene and this was the exact opposite of what Hazael wanted.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not pull Bracha away. Every time Hazael tried to tug her back, shouting apologies all the while, she would tug again on the lead, dragging them both forward. It was some endless sick game of tug of war with no obvious reason as to why they were playing at all. “Please Bracha, leave it!” He begged his dog, unsure of what else to do while she was ignoring his commands. His dog could be a bit of a fire cracker at times as she had a mind of her own and she was not afraid to use it. However, this was completely out of character for his dog that he didn’t know what to do.
Though if Hazael had known that there were snakes in the basket, his dog’s reaction would have made a bit more sense to him. Bracha had a bit of a history with snakes and how deadly they can be. It had been a long time ago, back when Hazael was barely into his teens and Bracha had just given birth to one of her first litters. At this point, Hazael was so inexperienced with puppy-rearing that he made terrible mistakes left and right, but the worse had been that he had not ensured that his makeshift kennel was completely sealed. Through his ignorance, he had left a gap wide enough for a viper to sneak in and try to make a meal out of the pups late one night. Bracha had been the one to kill it as Hazael had found it’s body the next morning on the floor of the kennel, but she was not quick enough to spare a pup from getting bitten. Both the snake and pup were dead when Hazael found the gruesome scene the next morning.
This is why Bracha was reacting so poorly to the snakes in the basket. She had learned long ago that these slithering creatures were a threat and could not be tolerated. It was likely the memories of losing that first pup that spurred Bracha to ignore Hazael’s commands. With this odd sort of vengeance being her motive, it was unlikely that Bracha was going to be pulled off of her course without some sort of distraction, but Hazael could not do that sort of thing while he was also trying to keep his dog from attacking that basket.
It was a miracle from Yahweh himself that Miri stepped in and offered her assistance to Hazael. She didn’t need to offer twice with how quickly the boy accepted it, “Yes! Thank you! I’ll pay you back, I swear!” He hurriedly explained as he kept trying to haul Bracha away. Hazael certainly had the coin to keep his promise and likely would have handed over the money himself if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Bracha, but given that he had no hands to fetch his coin purse out, he would just have to trust that Miri had the funds to initially pay for the distraction.
From somewhere behind him, he heard a loud sneeze and the sound of creaking boards that signified that some sort of heavyweight was shifting. Daring to look behind him for a moment, Hazael was horrified to see some sort of large heavy jar, shifting rapidly back and forth, clearly ready to fall. Hazael had no idea what was in the jar, but he could tell that whatever it was, it was going to be an absolute disaster if it actually toppled over. Little did he know that it was filled with a sticky tar that would practically glue them all to the spot if the jar shattered and the substance within spread over their feet.
Instinctively knowing that this jar was something that they did not want to see shattered and being absolutely powerless to help, the frantic boy called out to the girl who had offered to help him control the dog and instead beckoned her to help the other woman instead. “The meat can wait, don’t let that jar break!” This was the typical Judean way, help others before yourself, but little did Hazael know that Miri technically wasn’t a Judean anymore. She was Egyptian now. Would she be kind enough to help Hannah when Hazael couldn’t? Or would she be more concerned with keeping the dog’s away from Kesi’s precious snakes?
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Honestly, Hazael had no idea what had gotten into Bracha. One moment she was fine, the next she was barking her little head off. It was if his poor dog had been stricken by some form of madness that the boy could not even begin to fathom. Not that he was overly concerned with what had set Bracha off in that moment. No, just like everyone else in the market place he wanted his dog to stop. He did not need to be perfectly sighted to see that others were beginning to stop and stare at this so-called wild beast that was apparently terrorizing some innocent slave. They were causing a scene and this was the exact opposite of what Hazael wanted.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not pull Bracha away. Every time Hazael tried to tug her back, shouting apologies all the while, she would tug again on the lead, dragging them both forward. It was some endless sick game of tug of war with no obvious reason as to why they were playing at all. “Please Bracha, leave it!” He begged his dog, unsure of what else to do while she was ignoring his commands. His dog could be a bit of a fire cracker at times as she had a mind of her own and she was not afraid to use it. However, this was completely out of character for his dog that he didn’t know what to do.
Though if Hazael had known that there were snakes in the basket, his dog’s reaction would have made a bit more sense to him. Bracha had a bit of a history with snakes and how deadly they can be. It had been a long time ago, back when Hazael was barely into his teens and Bracha had just given birth to one of her first litters. At this point, Hazael was so inexperienced with puppy-rearing that he made terrible mistakes left and right, but the worse had been that he had not ensured that his makeshift kennel was completely sealed. Through his ignorance, he had left a gap wide enough for a viper to sneak in and try to make a meal out of the pups late one night. Bracha had been the one to kill it as Hazael had found it’s body the next morning on the floor of the kennel, but she was not quick enough to spare a pup from getting bitten. Both the snake and pup were dead when Hazael found the gruesome scene the next morning.
This is why Bracha was reacting so poorly to the snakes in the basket. She had learned long ago that these slithering creatures were a threat and could not be tolerated. It was likely the memories of losing that first pup that spurred Bracha to ignore Hazael’s commands. With this odd sort of vengeance being her motive, it was unlikely that Bracha was going to be pulled off of her course without some sort of distraction, but Hazael could not do that sort of thing while he was also trying to keep his dog from attacking that basket.
It was a miracle from Yahweh himself that Miri stepped in and offered her assistance to Hazael. She didn’t need to offer twice with how quickly the boy accepted it, “Yes! Thank you! I’ll pay you back, I swear!” He hurriedly explained as he kept trying to haul Bracha away. Hazael certainly had the coin to keep his promise and likely would have handed over the money himself if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Bracha, but given that he had no hands to fetch his coin purse out, he would just have to trust that Miri had the funds to initially pay for the distraction.
From somewhere behind him, he heard a loud sneeze and the sound of creaking boards that signified that some sort of heavyweight was shifting. Daring to look behind him for a moment, Hazael was horrified to see some sort of large heavy jar, shifting rapidly back and forth, clearly ready to fall. Hazael had no idea what was in the jar, but he could tell that whatever it was, it was going to be an absolute disaster if it actually toppled over. Little did he know that it was filled with a sticky tar that would practically glue them all to the spot if the jar shattered and the substance within spread over their feet.
Instinctively knowing that this jar was something that they did not want to see shattered and being absolutely powerless to help, the frantic boy called out to the girl who had offered to help him control the dog and instead beckoned her to help the other woman instead. “The meat can wait, don’t let that jar break!” This was the typical Judean way, help others before yourself, but little did Hazael know that Miri technically wasn’t a Judean anymore. She was Egyptian now. Would she be kind enough to help Hannah when Hazael couldn’t? Or would she be more concerned with keeping the dog’s away from Kesi’s precious snakes?
Honestly, Hazael had no idea what had gotten into Bracha. One moment she was fine, the next she was barking her little head off. It was if his poor dog had been stricken by some form of madness that the boy could not even begin to fathom. Not that he was overly concerned with what had set Bracha off in that moment. No, just like everyone else in the market place he wanted his dog to stop. He did not need to be perfectly sighted to see that others were beginning to stop and stare at this so-called wild beast that was apparently terrorizing some innocent slave. They were causing a scene and this was the exact opposite of what Hazael wanted.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not pull Bracha away. Every time Hazael tried to tug her back, shouting apologies all the while, she would tug again on the lead, dragging them both forward. It was some endless sick game of tug of war with no obvious reason as to why they were playing at all. “Please Bracha, leave it!” He begged his dog, unsure of what else to do while she was ignoring his commands. His dog could be a bit of a fire cracker at times as she had a mind of her own and she was not afraid to use it. However, this was completely out of character for his dog that he didn’t know what to do.
Though if Hazael had known that there were snakes in the basket, his dog’s reaction would have made a bit more sense to him. Bracha had a bit of a history with snakes and how deadly they can be. It had been a long time ago, back when Hazael was barely into his teens and Bracha had just given birth to one of her first litters. At this point, Hazael was so inexperienced with puppy-rearing that he made terrible mistakes left and right, but the worse had been that he had not ensured that his makeshift kennel was completely sealed. Through his ignorance, he had left a gap wide enough for a viper to sneak in and try to make a meal out of the pups late one night. Bracha had been the one to kill it as Hazael had found it’s body the next morning on the floor of the kennel, but she was not quick enough to spare a pup from getting bitten. Both the snake and pup were dead when Hazael found the gruesome scene the next morning.
This is why Bracha was reacting so poorly to the snakes in the basket. She had learned long ago that these slithering creatures were a threat and could not be tolerated. It was likely the memories of losing that first pup that spurred Bracha to ignore Hazael’s commands. With this odd sort of vengeance being her motive, it was unlikely that Bracha was going to be pulled off of her course without some sort of distraction, but Hazael could not do that sort of thing while he was also trying to keep his dog from attacking that basket.
It was a miracle from Yahweh himself that Miri stepped in and offered her assistance to Hazael. She didn’t need to offer twice with how quickly the boy accepted it, “Yes! Thank you! I’ll pay you back, I swear!” He hurriedly explained as he kept trying to haul Bracha away. Hazael certainly had the coin to keep his promise and likely would have handed over the money himself if he wasn’t so preoccupied with Bracha, but given that he had no hands to fetch his coin purse out, he would just have to trust that Miri had the funds to initially pay for the distraction.
From somewhere behind him, he heard a loud sneeze and the sound of creaking boards that signified that some sort of heavyweight was shifting. Daring to look behind him for a moment, Hazael was horrified to see some sort of large heavy jar, shifting rapidly back and forth, clearly ready to fall. Hazael had no idea what was in the jar, but he could tell that whatever it was, it was going to be an absolute disaster if it actually toppled over. Little did he know that it was filled with a sticky tar that would practically glue them all to the spot if the jar shattered and the substance within spread over their feet.
Instinctively knowing that this jar was something that they did not want to see shattered and being absolutely powerless to help, the frantic boy called out to the girl who had offered to help him control the dog and instead beckoned her to help the other woman instead. “The meat can wait, don’t let that jar break!” This was the typical Judean way, help others before yourself, but little did Hazael know that Miri technically wasn’t a Judean anymore. She was Egyptian now. Would she be kind enough to help Hannah when Hazael couldn’t? Or would she be more concerned with keeping the dog’s away from Kesi’s precious snakes?
Kill him. The dog too. Kill them all. Make them suffer. How dare he. How dare he. Kesi was having a good time. She wanted to get her brother a present. And then suddenly a mutt was barking at her snakes.
She should let the snake bite the dog. She should watch as it withered in pain under its jaw, venom so deep within the bloodstream that it had no chance of survival. Then Kesi could watch as it moved onto it’s owner. His heart would stop, he would whither in pain. Where was your God to save you now?
But Kesi’s snakes were too well trained. There were lions and tigers at the circus, people moving to and fro. And snakes could not hear, so unless it could feel the vibrations of the dog’s barking from within the basket, she did not believe it would be bothered. There was no chance of her fantasy happening. There would be no death… at least not by the snake.
Pity. Kesi thought, as her eyes looked around. Miri talked, maybe to soothe the man, she did not quite know. Kesi could only hear a couple of words. Meat, pay, vase. Perhaps Kesi should have paid better attention when it came to learning Hebrew. But she hated Judea, and while the language was closer to Coptic than Greek was, Kesi had been more exposed to the latter having spent her childhood years in Alexandria.
She saw the vase and what looked to be a woman struggling with it. How would that help the situation? She then found the meat they were speaking about. There was a stand not far from them that was selling it. Kesi took the coin that Amenemhat gave her and made her way to it. She quickly left some there and grabbed the raw meat. That’ll get the dog to shut up and leave her snakes alone. And maybe the man with the dog would go away too.
Kesi threw the meat a distance away from the dog, watching as it went and got distracted by its new meal. Kesi then grabbed her basket, moving it away from the beast and its annoying owner.
“That settles th-” Kesi began to mutter under her breath before the meat shop owner came and started getting angry at Kesi. But once again, Kesi didn’t understand Hebrew. She heard Egyptian, and what she assumed was something racist after it. Did Kesi pay too much coin? Too little? Did he not like that Kesi didn’t talk with him? She had to get the dog away from the snakes! It’s not like she just grabbed the most expensive cut of meat.
Kesi was so over Judea. She just wanted to go home. Her eyes moved this way and that, before landing on Miri, wide-eyed and begging for help. But of course, with a woman struggling with a vase and a lost Egyptian with no idea what trouble she might have caused, a lot was being asked from Miri.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Kill him. The dog too. Kill them all. Make them suffer. How dare he. How dare he. Kesi was having a good time. She wanted to get her brother a present. And then suddenly a mutt was barking at her snakes.
She should let the snake bite the dog. She should watch as it withered in pain under its jaw, venom so deep within the bloodstream that it had no chance of survival. Then Kesi could watch as it moved onto it’s owner. His heart would stop, he would whither in pain. Where was your God to save you now?
But Kesi’s snakes were too well trained. There were lions and tigers at the circus, people moving to and fro. And snakes could not hear, so unless it could feel the vibrations of the dog’s barking from within the basket, she did not believe it would be bothered. There was no chance of her fantasy happening. There would be no death… at least not by the snake.
Pity. Kesi thought, as her eyes looked around. Miri talked, maybe to soothe the man, she did not quite know. Kesi could only hear a couple of words. Meat, pay, vase. Perhaps Kesi should have paid better attention when it came to learning Hebrew. But she hated Judea, and while the language was closer to Coptic than Greek was, Kesi had been more exposed to the latter having spent her childhood years in Alexandria.
She saw the vase and what looked to be a woman struggling with it. How would that help the situation? She then found the meat they were speaking about. There was a stand not far from them that was selling it. Kesi took the coin that Amenemhat gave her and made her way to it. She quickly left some there and grabbed the raw meat. That’ll get the dog to shut up and leave her snakes alone. And maybe the man with the dog would go away too.
Kesi threw the meat a distance away from the dog, watching as it went and got distracted by its new meal. Kesi then grabbed her basket, moving it away from the beast and its annoying owner.
“That settles th-” Kesi began to mutter under her breath before the meat shop owner came and started getting angry at Kesi. But once again, Kesi didn’t understand Hebrew. She heard Egyptian, and what she assumed was something racist after it. Did Kesi pay too much coin? Too little? Did he not like that Kesi didn’t talk with him? She had to get the dog away from the snakes! It’s not like she just grabbed the most expensive cut of meat.
Kesi was so over Judea. She just wanted to go home. Her eyes moved this way and that, before landing on Miri, wide-eyed and begging for help. But of course, with a woman struggling with a vase and a lost Egyptian with no idea what trouble she might have caused, a lot was being asked from Miri.
Kill him. The dog too. Kill them all. Make them suffer. How dare he. How dare he. Kesi was having a good time. She wanted to get her brother a present. And then suddenly a mutt was barking at her snakes.
She should let the snake bite the dog. She should watch as it withered in pain under its jaw, venom so deep within the bloodstream that it had no chance of survival. Then Kesi could watch as it moved onto it’s owner. His heart would stop, he would whither in pain. Where was your God to save you now?
But Kesi’s snakes were too well trained. There were lions and tigers at the circus, people moving to and fro. And snakes could not hear, so unless it could feel the vibrations of the dog’s barking from within the basket, she did not believe it would be bothered. There was no chance of her fantasy happening. There would be no death… at least not by the snake.
Pity. Kesi thought, as her eyes looked around. Miri talked, maybe to soothe the man, she did not quite know. Kesi could only hear a couple of words. Meat, pay, vase. Perhaps Kesi should have paid better attention when it came to learning Hebrew. But she hated Judea, and while the language was closer to Coptic than Greek was, Kesi had been more exposed to the latter having spent her childhood years in Alexandria.
She saw the vase and what looked to be a woman struggling with it. How would that help the situation? She then found the meat they were speaking about. There was a stand not far from them that was selling it. Kesi took the coin that Amenemhat gave her and made her way to it. She quickly left some there and grabbed the raw meat. That’ll get the dog to shut up and leave her snakes alone. And maybe the man with the dog would go away too.
Kesi threw the meat a distance away from the dog, watching as it went and got distracted by its new meal. Kesi then grabbed her basket, moving it away from the beast and its annoying owner.
“That settles th-” Kesi began to mutter under her breath before the meat shop owner came and started getting angry at Kesi. But once again, Kesi didn’t understand Hebrew. She heard Egyptian, and what she assumed was something racist after it. Did Kesi pay too much coin? Too little? Did he not like that Kesi didn’t talk with him? She had to get the dog away from the snakes! It’s not like she just grabbed the most expensive cut of meat.
Kesi was so over Judea. She just wanted to go home. Her eyes moved this way and that, before landing on Miri, wide-eyed and begging for help. But of course, with a woman struggling with a vase and a lost Egyptian with no idea what trouble she might have caused, a lot was being asked from Miri.
Simeon may not have been the biggest fan of Moab, but Selima certainly was. It was a city of color, and the very first trading day in Nisan was a wonderful time to visit the city. It was not often Selima had the chance to see foreigners. Occasionally she might spot a Greek, but rarely anyone beyond that kingdom. It was a unique experience, to see others from different cultures. Selima always felt pity for them, for they walked an unholy path and had not accepted Yahweh within their hearts. But beyond pity there was a… fascination. How did people who live in such sin manage to keep a smile on their face?
Beyond that, the goods were of great interest for Selima. There were spices and fruits she wouldn’t often find in the stalls of Jerusalem. And with her granddaughter growing at such a rapid pace, she was always in need of new clothing. With this logic, she was able to convince her husband to allow her this trip to the Mereth Isles. She looked at this trip with gratitude, and she would make sure she would spend her coin wisely. It would not due to spend it on silliness. Although… could one fault a grandmother for wanting to get her granddaughter at least one special item? It could be a secret between Livana and Selima. That sounded like a plan.
Upon arriving, however, she saw a bit of chaos. On one end she saw a man with a dog. The dog seemed to be barking at a basket and the woman- an obvious foreigner- seemed quite perturbed. Someone had stepped in to mediate while the woman went and dropped some money for some meat, chucking it at the dog to distract it while she retrieved whatever it was in her basket. While Selima was a bit far, she could see the merchant move to the trio, and he looked furious. He was shouting at the girl specifically, hands gesturing wildly. Selima wanted to step in and help, but there was something of more concern.
A woman seemed to be carrying a large jar. With a sneeze, she lost balance. Selima ran forward, barely able to get to the woman in time. Selima gripped the opposite end of the jar, a soft hand trying to steady the woman. “Oh my, this could have been a disaster.” Selima said, helping to support the weight. “Are you alright?” She asked her.
She had sneezed. Was she sick? It wouldn’t do to have her here if she was sick. She could spread it among the people here. Not to mention she wouldn’t be doing her best work if she was ill. Selima should help her. “Where were you taking this? I would be happy to make sure this jar arrives safely.” And if she was ill she would order her to rest. She would only cause more problems otherwise. Not… that Selima was one to talk. She had certainly worked through fevers before just to ensure her home was perfect.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Simeon may not have been the biggest fan of Moab, but Selima certainly was. It was a city of color, and the very first trading day in Nisan was a wonderful time to visit the city. It was not often Selima had the chance to see foreigners. Occasionally she might spot a Greek, but rarely anyone beyond that kingdom. It was a unique experience, to see others from different cultures. Selima always felt pity for them, for they walked an unholy path and had not accepted Yahweh within their hearts. But beyond pity there was a… fascination. How did people who live in such sin manage to keep a smile on their face?
Beyond that, the goods were of great interest for Selima. There were spices and fruits she wouldn’t often find in the stalls of Jerusalem. And with her granddaughter growing at such a rapid pace, she was always in need of new clothing. With this logic, she was able to convince her husband to allow her this trip to the Mereth Isles. She looked at this trip with gratitude, and she would make sure she would spend her coin wisely. It would not due to spend it on silliness. Although… could one fault a grandmother for wanting to get her granddaughter at least one special item? It could be a secret between Livana and Selima. That sounded like a plan.
Upon arriving, however, she saw a bit of chaos. On one end she saw a man with a dog. The dog seemed to be barking at a basket and the woman- an obvious foreigner- seemed quite perturbed. Someone had stepped in to mediate while the woman went and dropped some money for some meat, chucking it at the dog to distract it while she retrieved whatever it was in her basket. While Selima was a bit far, she could see the merchant move to the trio, and he looked furious. He was shouting at the girl specifically, hands gesturing wildly. Selima wanted to step in and help, but there was something of more concern.
A woman seemed to be carrying a large jar. With a sneeze, she lost balance. Selima ran forward, barely able to get to the woman in time. Selima gripped the opposite end of the jar, a soft hand trying to steady the woman. “Oh my, this could have been a disaster.” Selima said, helping to support the weight. “Are you alright?” She asked her.
She had sneezed. Was she sick? It wouldn’t do to have her here if she was sick. She could spread it among the people here. Not to mention she wouldn’t be doing her best work if she was ill. Selima should help her. “Where were you taking this? I would be happy to make sure this jar arrives safely.” And if she was ill she would order her to rest. She would only cause more problems otherwise. Not… that Selima was one to talk. She had certainly worked through fevers before just to ensure her home was perfect.
Simeon may not have been the biggest fan of Moab, but Selima certainly was. It was a city of color, and the very first trading day in Nisan was a wonderful time to visit the city. It was not often Selima had the chance to see foreigners. Occasionally she might spot a Greek, but rarely anyone beyond that kingdom. It was a unique experience, to see others from different cultures. Selima always felt pity for them, for they walked an unholy path and had not accepted Yahweh within their hearts. But beyond pity there was a… fascination. How did people who live in such sin manage to keep a smile on their face?
Beyond that, the goods were of great interest for Selima. There were spices and fruits she wouldn’t often find in the stalls of Jerusalem. And with her granddaughter growing at such a rapid pace, she was always in need of new clothing. With this logic, she was able to convince her husband to allow her this trip to the Mereth Isles. She looked at this trip with gratitude, and she would make sure she would spend her coin wisely. It would not due to spend it on silliness. Although… could one fault a grandmother for wanting to get her granddaughter at least one special item? It could be a secret between Livana and Selima. That sounded like a plan.
Upon arriving, however, she saw a bit of chaos. On one end she saw a man with a dog. The dog seemed to be barking at a basket and the woman- an obvious foreigner- seemed quite perturbed. Someone had stepped in to mediate while the woman went and dropped some money for some meat, chucking it at the dog to distract it while she retrieved whatever it was in her basket. While Selima was a bit far, she could see the merchant move to the trio, and he looked furious. He was shouting at the girl specifically, hands gesturing wildly. Selima wanted to step in and help, but there was something of more concern.
A woman seemed to be carrying a large jar. With a sneeze, she lost balance. Selima ran forward, barely able to get to the woman in time. Selima gripped the opposite end of the jar, a soft hand trying to steady the woman. “Oh my, this could have been a disaster.” Selima said, helping to support the weight. “Are you alright?” She asked her.
She had sneezed. Was she sick? It wouldn’t do to have her here if she was sick. She could spread it among the people here. Not to mention she wouldn’t be doing her best work if she was ill. Selima should help her. “Where were you taking this? I would be happy to make sure this jar arrives safely.” And if she was ill she would order her to rest. She would only cause more problems otherwise. Not… that Selima was one to talk. She had certainly worked through fevers before just to ensure her home was perfect.
Atalanta always loved Market Day in Moab. Ever since she had joined Planetes in his travels, they had come like clockwork every year to try their luck in the city - and they never did badly. As the Greeks loved novelties from the Southern Continent, so, too, did the Judeans and Egyptians covet Greek trinkets. Peddling products of scarcity always meant great profit - often, customers would walk away from their stall with nothing that they needed, enchanted by the idea of showing off their newly acquired imported treasures. Atalanta and Planetes, of course, were always more than happy to help them in this venture.
As the two sat in their boat, various wares on display from all corners of the Mediterranean, Atalanta could not help but marvel at the view from her seat. No matter how many times she returned to the city of Moab, the docked markets never lost their charm. It seemed, to Atalanta, as if she were sitting in the midst of a floating city - the beauty of the daytime view only paled in comparison of that at night, when the sun set over the water, slivers of light from gaps in the tethered boat stalls lighting the way until the docks were plunged into darkness and lamps were lit. While Atalanta was prone to occasional bouts of seasickness, she would always put up with it in Moab.
Their shop had, predictably, made a hefty profit in the earlier hours, and it seemed that they would only continue this trend as the day passed - though, this would not remain at the forefront of Atalanta's mind, as she was given a front-row seat to the most riveting show. One woman was holding a basket (which Atalanta quickly learned to be full of snakes), trying to save it from a dog who was clearly in control of its owner, and another woman, clearly on the brink of breaking, was carrying a vase (she was not sure of the contents), and let out a loud sneeze, almost dropping the vase in the process, if not for the help of a bystander. Atalanta almost got up from her seat as all chaos seemed ready to break loose, yet it seemed that all was resolved - that was, until the nearby butcher began to yell at another woman for taking a piece of meat to distract the dog.
Atalanta turned to look at her husband, eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "Should we do something?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Atalanta always loved Market Day in Moab. Ever since she had joined Planetes in his travels, they had come like clockwork every year to try their luck in the city - and they never did badly. As the Greeks loved novelties from the Southern Continent, so, too, did the Judeans and Egyptians covet Greek trinkets. Peddling products of scarcity always meant great profit - often, customers would walk away from their stall with nothing that they needed, enchanted by the idea of showing off their newly acquired imported treasures. Atalanta and Planetes, of course, were always more than happy to help them in this venture.
As the two sat in their boat, various wares on display from all corners of the Mediterranean, Atalanta could not help but marvel at the view from her seat. No matter how many times she returned to the city of Moab, the docked markets never lost their charm. It seemed, to Atalanta, as if she were sitting in the midst of a floating city - the beauty of the daytime view only paled in comparison of that at night, when the sun set over the water, slivers of light from gaps in the tethered boat stalls lighting the way until the docks were plunged into darkness and lamps were lit. While Atalanta was prone to occasional bouts of seasickness, she would always put up with it in Moab.
Their shop had, predictably, made a hefty profit in the earlier hours, and it seemed that they would only continue this trend as the day passed - though, this would not remain at the forefront of Atalanta's mind, as she was given a front-row seat to the most riveting show. One woman was holding a basket (which Atalanta quickly learned to be full of snakes), trying to save it from a dog who was clearly in control of its owner, and another woman, clearly on the brink of breaking, was carrying a vase (she was not sure of the contents), and let out a loud sneeze, almost dropping the vase in the process, if not for the help of a bystander. Atalanta almost got up from her seat as all chaos seemed ready to break loose, yet it seemed that all was resolved - that was, until the nearby butcher began to yell at another woman for taking a piece of meat to distract the dog.
Atalanta turned to look at her husband, eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "Should we do something?"
Atalanta always loved Market Day in Moab. Ever since she had joined Planetes in his travels, they had come like clockwork every year to try their luck in the city - and they never did badly. As the Greeks loved novelties from the Southern Continent, so, too, did the Judeans and Egyptians covet Greek trinkets. Peddling products of scarcity always meant great profit - often, customers would walk away from their stall with nothing that they needed, enchanted by the idea of showing off their newly acquired imported treasures. Atalanta and Planetes, of course, were always more than happy to help them in this venture.
As the two sat in their boat, various wares on display from all corners of the Mediterranean, Atalanta could not help but marvel at the view from her seat. No matter how many times she returned to the city of Moab, the docked markets never lost their charm. It seemed, to Atalanta, as if she were sitting in the midst of a floating city - the beauty of the daytime view only paled in comparison of that at night, when the sun set over the water, slivers of light from gaps in the tethered boat stalls lighting the way until the docks were plunged into darkness and lamps were lit. While Atalanta was prone to occasional bouts of seasickness, she would always put up with it in Moab.
Their shop had, predictably, made a hefty profit in the earlier hours, and it seemed that they would only continue this trend as the day passed - though, this would not remain at the forefront of Atalanta's mind, as she was given a front-row seat to the most riveting show. One woman was holding a basket (which Atalanta quickly learned to be full of snakes), trying to save it from a dog who was clearly in control of its owner, and another woman, clearly on the brink of breaking, was carrying a vase (she was not sure of the contents), and let out a loud sneeze, almost dropping the vase in the process, if not for the help of a bystander. Atalanta almost got up from her seat as all chaos seemed ready to break loose, yet it seemed that all was resolved - that was, until the nearby butcher began to yell at another woman for taking a piece of meat to distract the dog.
Atalanta turned to look at her husband, eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "Should we do something?"
Abir was a bit too old to be accompanying his parents on shopping trips. Especially ones that involved so much travel. However, when his daughter heard of the trip and pleaded to come, Abir couldn’t say no. His father was pleased with the situation as that meant he would not have to accompany his wife shopping as Abir could stand in his place. It was a situation that seemed to appease all parties. At the last minute, Katriel had decided to stay home, claiming to feel unwell. Abir spent the trip to Mereth Isles in pure guilt for feeling slightly relieved at her change of plans. Wasn’t he supposed to want his wife to accompany him? Weren’t they supposed to enjoy each other’s company? However, Abir knew that his mother and nine year old daughter would make for far more pleasant traveling companions. Katriel could be…well, particular.
That thought alone sent him into a state of self-depreciation and misery during their journey. He was quiet, absorbed in his own thoughts while his mother and daughter chatted away. It wasn’t until they arrived at the market that they both drew his attention again. Abir could not help but smile watching as Livana’s face lit up with excitement. It meant everything to him to see her so happy. She grabbed his hand, guiding him and his mother to look at various stalls. More than once Abir had to remind her to slow down. They had all day to shop and should not rush. Of course, they might not see it all, but it was better to look carefully at a few things than to look hastily at many. One could make a better decision after careful examination.
However, before they could get too far in their exploration, they stumbled across some activity that would have drawn his interest as a City Protector. There was some disturbance with a man, a dog, and two women, one of which was carrying a very large jar. His mother was quick to note the impending disaster and rushed forward, helping the woman with the jar. Abir, still holding his daughter’s hand, could not rush to her side. However, he followed behind quickly, hearing his mother offering to help the woman carry the jar. He smiled at her kind behavior—she was the most amazing woman.
“Livana, help your grandmother,” he whispered to his daughter. While he was on his day off, his duties always remained in the back of his mind. Abir had to see that peace would be had here. Then, he could continue about his day with his mother and daughter. While he was sure that they would like to shop to their heart’s content, Abir knew that all would feel more comfortable knowing this situation had been resolved.
“Is everything all right here?” Abir asked the man and woman in front of him. The woman was perhaps Egyptian, which might account for any misunderstanding. Perhaps she did not speak Hebrew well. His Coptic was hardly used, but he could speak enough to translate simply. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He repeated the words in Coptic just in case that might be of use.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Abir was a bit too old to be accompanying his parents on shopping trips. Especially ones that involved so much travel. However, when his daughter heard of the trip and pleaded to come, Abir couldn’t say no. His father was pleased with the situation as that meant he would not have to accompany his wife shopping as Abir could stand in his place. It was a situation that seemed to appease all parties. At the last minute, Katriel had decided to stay home, claiming to feel unwell. Abir spent the trip to Mereth Isles in pure guilt for feeling slightly relieved at her change of plans. Wasn’t he supposed to want his wife to accompany him? Weren’t they supposed to enjoy each other’s company? However, Abir knew that his mother and nine year old daughter would make for far more pleasant traveling companions. Katriel could be…well, particular.
That thought alone sent him into a state of self-depreciation and misery during their journey. He was quiet, absorbed in his own thoughts while his mother and daughter chatted away. It wasn’t until they arrived at the market that they both drew his attention again. Abir could not help but smile watching as Livana’s face lit up with excitement. It meant everything to him to see her so happy. She grabbed his hand, guiding him and his mother to look at various stalls. More than once Abir had to remind her to slow down. They had all day to shop and should not rush. Of course, they might not see it all, but it was better to look carefully at a few things than to look hastily at many. One could make a better decision after careful examination.
However, before they could get too far in their exploration, they stumbled across some activity that would have drawn his interest as a City Protector. There was some disturbance with a man, a dog, and two women, one of which was carrying a very large jar. His mother was quick to note the impending disaster and rushed forward, helping the woman with the jar. Abir, still holding his daughter’s hand, could not rush to her side. However, he followed behind quickly, hearing his mother offering to help the woman carry the jar. He smiled at her kind behavior—she was the most amazing woman.
“Livana, help your grandmother,” he whispered to his daughter. While he was on his day off, his duties always remained in the back of his mind. Abir had to see that peace would be had here. Then, he could continue about his day with his mother and daughter. While he was sure that they would like to shop to their heart’s content, Abir knew that all would feel more comfortable knowing this situation had been resolved.
“Is everything all right here?” Abir asked the man and woman in front of him. The woman was perhaps Egyptian, which might account for any misunderstanding. Perhaps she did not speak Hebrew well. His Coptic was hardly used, but he could speak enough to translate simply. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He repeated the words in Coptic just in case that might be of use.
Abir was a bit too old to be accompanying his parents on shopping trips. Especially ones that involved so much travel. However, when his daughter heard of the trip and pleaded to come, Abir couldn’t say no. His father was pleased with the situation as that meant he would not have to accompany his wife shopping as Abir could stand in his place. It was a situation that seemed to appease all parties. At the last minute, Katriel had decided to stay home, claiming to feel unwell. Abir spent the trip to Mereth Isles in pure guilt for feeling slightly relieved at her change of plans. Wasn’t he supposed to want his wife to accompany him? Weren’t they supposed to enjoy each other’s company? However, Abir knew that his mother and nine year old daughter would make for far more pleasant traveling companions. Katriel could be…well, particular.
That thought alone sent him into a state of self-depreciation and misery during their journey. He was quiet, absorbed in his own thoughts while his mother and daughter chatted away. It wasn’t until they arrived at the market that they both drew his attention again. Abir could not help but smile watching as Livana’s face lit up with excitement. It meant everything to him to see her so happy. She grabbed his hand, guiding him and his mother to look at various stalls. More than once Abir had to remind her to slow down. They had all day to shop and should not rush. Of course, they might not see it all, but it was better to look carefully at a few things than to look hastily at many. One could make a better decision after careful examination.
However, before they could get too far in their exploration, they stumbled across some activity that would have drawn his interest as a City Protector. There was some disturbance with a man, a dog, and two women, one of which was carrying a very large jar. His mother was quick to note the impending disaster and rushed forward, helping the woman with the jar. Abir, still holding his daughter’s hand, could not rush to her side. However, he followed behind quickly, hearing his mother offering to help the woman carry the jar. He smiled at her kind behavior—she was the most amazing woman.
“Livana, help your grandmother,” he whispered to his daughter. While he was on his day off, his duties always remained in the back of his mind. Abir had to see that peace would be had here. Then, he could continue about his day with his mother and daughter. While he was sure that they would like to shop to their heart’s content, Abir knew that all would feel more comfortable knowing this situation had been resolved.
“Is everything all right here?” Abir asked the man and woman in front of him. The woman was perhaps Egyptian, which might account for any misunderstanding. Perhaps she did not speak Hebrew well. His Coptic was hardly used, but he could speak enough to translate simply. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He repeated the words in Coptic just in case that might be of use.
Why was it that everyone had to be so helpless? Miri supposed the disruption of her normally calm demeanor must have been caused by being so close to her first home. Still, it seemed an unusual amount of chaos for a quaint Judean marketplace. Perhaps… well, she was with the Tempest of Set. Perhaps there was bound to be chaos wherever the circus—and Kesi in particular—went. Miri loved Set, she loved the circus, but… the thought of constant chaos was a bit exhausting.
As though the thought went directly to the gods (of course it did, Miri did have a direct link, after all), the world changed. Kesi, in uncharacteristic helpfulness, fetched meat to placate the dog. A stranger righted the falling vase. For a moment, all was well. Miri breathed out, almost smiling, annoyance levels falling, falling… It was not to be. Peace could never last in such company. Two new men joined the mix, one jabbering away in rapid Hebrew—Kesi had given him a coin too few, and without thanking him or chatting in the typical Judean way—and the other offering unnecessary help in broken Coptic. Miri glanced tiredly between the little group, trying to regain her suddenly elusive resolve.
“Is your dog alright now?” she asked, turning first to the dog’s owner to make sure he was satisfied with the outcome. She cast a wary glance towards the basket of Kesi’s snakes, not yet convinced that they would not still cause trouble. If they were to be revealed, the Judeans in the marketplace would be far from pleased. One situation at a time. A headache began to form between her eyes.
Next she turned towards the man offering help, engaging him in Hebrew, too. “Everything is alright, thank you.” Miri inclined her head towards Kesi, as well as the butcher, “There was a misunderstanding with my friend and this kind man here, but I have it under control, see?” Was that impolite? Two cultures’ worth of etiquette blended together in her overwhelmed mind, mingling with godly jeers and two languages. Easy enough to switch between them in gradual terms, but the rapid switching was making the beginnings of her headache worsen.
Miri looked properly at Kesi now, eyes almost stern as she switched to Coptic. “Do you have another coin for the butcher? He says you underpaid him.” She smiled vaguely at the man in question, asking for a moment to resolve the situation. Miri thought it best not to tell Kesi the butcher’s exact words, which included several slurs and less-than-complimentary comments. “I apologize for my companion,” she explained, switching back to Hebrew. Her head was spinning. “She did not intend to be rude, and I promise you will be paid in full. The situation with the dog needed to be righted quickly.”
The butcher, unlike the dog, was not easily placated. He turned his racist tirade on her, calling her a traitor to her people as soon as he realized she was in the company of the ‘filthy’ Egyptian. She took the rant with the same vague expression she always wore, but as it wore on her brow began to furrow, glancing at the Judean man who had offered help. Perhaps she had turned him down too quickly. “Please stop shouting,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if she had spoken at all, or if it was just another voice in her head, or if she had spoken, in which language. Miri felt faint. She didn’t like being in Judea. The butcher’s face was red. Her parents would be so disappointed… Worse, Amenemhat would be disappointed. Her own face whitened. She was a terrible translator. What if her new family left her here, a traitor to her own people, a prophet of the ‘wrong’ gods?
Miri stumbled a few steps but clenched her fists, determined to fix this. The butcher kept ranting. She would just have to take it. Better her than Kesi, anyway. Kesi might attack if she knew the cruel words the man in front of them was saying.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Why was it that everyone had to be so helpless? Miri supposed the disruption of her normally calm demeanor must have been caused by being so close to her first home. Still, it seemed an unusual amount of chaos for a quaint Judean marketplace. Perhaps… well, she was with the Tempest of Set. Perhaps there was bound to be chaos wherever the circus—and Kesi in particular—went. Miri loved Set, she loved the circus, but… the thought of constant chaos was a bit exhausting.
As though the thought went directly to the gods (of course it did, Miri did have a direct link, after all), the world changed. Kesi, in uncharacteristic helpfulness, fetched meat to placate the dog. A stranger righted the falling vase. For a moment, all was well. Miri breathed out, almost smiling, annoyance levels falling, falling… It was not to be. Peace could never last in such company. Two new men joined the mix, one jabbering away in rapid Hebrew—Kesi had given him a coin too few, and without thanking him or chatting in the typical Judean way—and the other offering unnecessary help in broken Coptic. Miri glanced tiredly between the little group, trying to regain her suddenly elusive resolve.
“Is your dog alright now?” she asked, turning first to the dog’s owner to make sure he was satisfied with the outcome. She cast a wary glance towards the basket of Kesi’s snakes, not yet convinced that they would not still cause trouble. If they were to be revealed, the Judeans in the marketplace would be far from pleased. One situation at a time. A headache began to form between her eyes.
Next she turned towards the man offering help, engaging him in Hebrew, too. “Everything is alright, thank you.” Miri inclined her head towards Kesi, as well as the butcher, “There was a misunderstanding with my friend and this kind man here, but I have it under control, see?” Was that impolite? Two cultures’ worth of etiquette blended together in her overwhelmed mind, mingling with godly jeers and two languages. Easy enough to switch between them in gradual terms, but the rapid switching was making the beginnings of her headache worsen.
Miri looked properly at Kesi now, eyes almost stern as she switched to Coptic. “Do you have another coin for the butcher? He says you underpaid him.” She smiled vaguely at the man in question, asking for a moment to resolve the situation. Miri thought it best not to tell Kesi the butcher’s exact words, which included several slurs and less-than-complimentary comments. “I apologize for my companion,” she explained, switching back to Hebrew. Her head was spinning. “She did not intend to be rude, and I promise you will be paid in full. The situation with the dog needed to be righted quickly.”
The butcher, unlike the dog, was not easily placated. He turned his racist tirade on her, calling her a traitor to her people as soon as he realized she was in the company of the ‘filthy’ Egyptian. She took the rant with the same vague expression she always wore, but as it wore on her brow began to furrow, glancing at the Judean man who had offered help. Perhaps she had turned him down too quickly. “Please stop shouting,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if she had spoken at all, or if it was just another voice in her head, or if she had spoken, in which language. Miri felt faint. She didn’t like being in Judea. The butcher’s face was red. Her parents would be so disappointed… Worse, Amenemhat would be disappointed. Her own face whitened. She was a terrible translator. What if her new family left her here, a traitor to her own people, a prophet of the ‘wrong’ gods?
Miri stumbled a few steps but clenched her fists, determined to fix this. The butcher kept ranting. She would just have to take it. Better her than Kesi, anyway. Kesi might attack if she knew the cruel words the man in front of them was saying.
Why was it that everyone had to be so helpless? Miri supposed the disruption of her normally calm demeanor must have been caused by being so close to her first home. Still, it seemed an unusual amount of chaos for a quaint Judean marketplace. Perhaps… well, she was with the Tempest of Set. Perhaps there was bound to be chaos wherever the circus—and Kesi in particular—went. Miri loved Set, she loved the circus, but… the thought of constant chaos was a bit exhausting.
As though the thought went directly to the gods (of course it did, Miri did have a direct link, after all), the world changed. Kesi, in uncharacteristic helpfulness, fetched meat to placate the dog. A stranger righted the falling vase. For a moment, all was well. Miri breathed out, almost smiling, annoyance levels falling, falling… It was not to be. Peace could never last in such company. Two new men joined the mix, one jabbering away in rapid Hebrew—Kesi had given him a coin too few, and without thanking him or chatting in the typical Judean way—and the other offering unnecessary help in broken Coptic. Miri glanced tiredly between the little group, trying to regain her suddenly elusive resolve.
“Is your dog alright now?” she asked, turning first to the dog’s owner to make sure he was satisfied with the outcome. She cast a wary glance towards the basket of Kesi’s snakes, not yet convinced that they would not still cause trouble. If they were to be revealed, the Judeans in the marketplace would be far from pleased. One situation at a time. A headache began to form between her eyes.
Next she turned towards the man offering help, engaging him in Hebrew, too. “Everything is alright, thank you.” Miri inclined her head towards Kesi, as well as the butcher, “There was a misunderstanding with my friend and this kind man here, but I have it under control, see?” Was that impolite? Two cultures’ worth of etiquette blended together in her overwhelmed mind, mingling with godly jeers and two languages. Easy enough to switch between them in gradual terms, but the rapid switching was making the beginnings of her headache worsen.
Miri looked properly at Kesi now, eyes almost stern as she switched to Coptic. “Do you have another coin for the butcher? He says you underpaid him.” She smiled vaguely at the man in question, asking for a moment to resolve the situation. Miri thought it best not to tell Kesi the butcher’s exact words, which included several slurs and less-than-complimentary comments. “I apologize for my companion,” she explained, switching back to Hebrew. Her head was spinning. “She did not intend to be rude, and I promise you will be paid in full. The situation with the dog needed to be righted quickly.”
The butcher, unlike the dog, was not easily placated. He turned his racist tirade on her, calling her a traitor to her people as soon as he realized she was in the company of the ‘filthy’ Egyptian. She took the rant with the same vague expression she always wore, but as it wore on her brow began to furrow, glancing at the Judean man who had offered help. Perhaps she had turned him down too quickly. “Please stop shouting,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if she had spoken at all, or if it was just another voice in her head, or if she had spoken, in which language. Miri felt faint. She didn’t like being in Judea. The butcher’s face was red. Her parents would be so disappointed… Worse, Amenemhat would be disappointed. Her own face whitened. She was a terrible translator. What if her new family left her here, a traitor to her own people, a prophet of the ‘wrong’ gods?
Miri stumbled a few steps but clenched her fists, determined to fix this. The butcher kept ranting. She would just have to take it. Better her than Kesi, anyway. Kesi might attack if she knew the cruel words the man in front of them was saying.
Her snakes, the sash, all of that was forgotten now that the merchant was yelling at her. Kesi was starting to see red. She struggled to keep a neutral expression, She wanted to dump her basket out onto the asshole that was screaming at them. He was a bully. Kesi hated bullies. They deserved to die. Miri told Kesi that she had underpaid the man- which Kesi doubted. But she grabbed more coin and shoved it towards him.
But that was not satisfactory enough it seems. His anger switched from Kesi to Miri. Kesi could handle being yelled at, she suffered that most of her life. She could handle the racial slurs that no doubt the Judean man probably was spewing. But Miri was family. Miri was precious. And Kesi would never let anyone harm a member of the circus, even if it was just words.
Is there anything I can do to help? The man’s Coptic was awful. It was barely recongizable. It didn’t matter anyhow. Kesi paid him no mind. He was useless unless he could get this jerk from talking to Miri. Miri, who didn’t deserve any of this. She was a good girl. This man was not.
Miri had stumbled back, her tiny hands balled in fists. And that’s when Kesi truly snapped. The child disappeared into her mind, and anger found its way to the forefront. Her eyes narrowed in dark slits. They focused on the man’s throat, his jugular. She imagined the blood being spewed everywhere, his eyes large and round as he clutched his throat before collapsing to the ground.
Kesi’s lip curled and she went to her basket. She could hear Apep within it, hissing wildly. The creature could sense the mayhem and he wanted to be a part of it. The Child had better control of the snakes, but Anger didn’t mind. She didn’t want to control the snakes, she wanted to unleash them. Apep slithered up Kesi’s arm, wrapping his tail around Kesi’s neck. His black eyes stared out to the Judeans, drawing murmurs and gasps from the crowd of onlookers. Anger didn’t care. All Anger cared about was protecting Miri and making sure that the merchant regretted everything.
That got the man’s attention. He stopped shouting at Miri and instead back at Kesi. But Kesi did not back down. She glared up at Judean, with eyes filled with dark, chaotic fury. “Don’t.” Kesi took a step forward. “Yell.” Another step. “At.” A third. “My.” Fourth. “Family.”
With each step forward the Judean took stumbling steps back. Apep’s head rose and he let out a vicious hiss. Kesi didn’t care that the man likely didn’t understand her. She didn’t care. As long as he stopped bullying Miri, one of the nicest, sweetest girls Kesi had ever met, then she didn’t care. Though she did make a note to poison his stock once the circus started moving away from Moab.
This had been a terrible trip to Judea, and Kesi had no intention of ever coming back.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Her snakes, the sash, all of that was forgotten now that the merchant was yelling at her. Kesi was starting to see red. She struggled to keep a neutral expression, She wanted to dump her basket out onto the asshole that was screaming at them. He was a bully. Kesi hated bullies. They deserved to die. Miri told Kesi that she had underpaid the man- which Kesi doubted. But she grabbed more coin and shoved it towards him.
But that was not satisfactory enough it seems. His anger switched from Kesi to Miri. Kesi could handle being yelled at, she suffered that most of her life. She could handle the racial slurs that no doubt the Judean man probably was spewing. But Miri was family. Miri was precious. And Kesi would never let anyone harm a member of the circus, even if it was just words.
Is there anything I can do to help? The man’s Coptic was awful. It was barely recongizable. It didn’t matter anyhow. Kesi paid him no mind. He was useless unless he could get this jerk from talking to Miri. Miri, who didn’t deserve any of this. She was a good girl. This man was not.
Miri had stumbled back, her tiny hands balled in fists. And that’s when Kesi truly snapped. The child disappeared into her mind, and anger found its way to the forefront. Her eyes narrowed in dark slits. They focused on the man’s throat, his jugular. She imagined the blood being spewed everywhere, his eyes large and round as he clutched his throat before collapsing to the ground.
Kesi’s lip curled and she went to her basket. She could hear Apep within it, hissing wildly. The creature could sense the mayhem and he wanted to be a part of it. The Child had better control of the snakes, but Anger didn’t mind. She didn’t want to control the snakes, she wanted to unleash them. Apep slithered up Kesi’s arm, wrapping his tail around Kesi’s neck. His black eyes stared out to the Judeans, drawing murmurs and gasps from the crowd of onlookers. Anger didn’t care. All Anger cared about was protecting Miri and making sure that the merchant regretted everything.
That got the man’s attention. He stopped shouting at Miri and instead back at Kesi. But Kesi did not back down. She glared up at Judean, with eyes filled with dark, chaotic fury. “Don’t.” Kesi took a step forward. “Yell.” Another step. “At.” A third. “My.” Fourth. “Family.”
With each step forward the Judean took stumbling steps back. Apep’s head rose and he let out a vicious hiss. Kesi didn’t care that the man likely didn’t understand her. She didn’t care. As long as he stopped bullying Miri, one of the nicest, sweetest girls Kesi had ever met, then she didn’t care. Though she did make a note to poison his stock once the circus started moving away from Moab.
This had been a terrible trip to Judea, and Kesi had no intention of ever coming back.
Her snakes, the sash, all of that was forgotten now that the merchant was yelling at her. Kesi was starting to see red. She struggled to keep a neutral expression, She wanted to dump her basket out onto the asshole that was screaming at them. He was a bully. Kesi hated bullies. They deserved to die. Miri told Kesi that she had underpaid the man- which Kesi doubted. But she grabbed more coin and shoved it towards him.
But that was not satisfactory enough it seems. His anger switched from Kesi to Miri. Kesi could handle being yelled at, she suffered that most of her life. She could handle the racial slurs that no doubt the Judean man probably was spewing. But Miri was family. Miri was precious. And Kesi would never let anyone harm a member of the circus, even if it was just words.
Is there anything I can do to help? The man’s Coptic was awful. It was barely recongizable. It didn’t matter anyhow. Kesi paid him no mind. He was useless unless he could get this jerk from talking to Miri. Miri, who didn’t deserve any of this. She was a good girl. This man was not.
Miri had stumbled back, her tiny hands balled in fists. And that’s when Kesi truly snapped. The child disappeared into her mind, and anger found its way to the forefront. Her eyes narrowed in dark slits. They focused on the man’s throat, his jugular. She imagined the blood being spewed everywhere, his eyes large and round as he clutched his throat before collapsing to the ground.
Kesi’s lip curled and she went to her basket. She could hear Apep within it, hissing wildly. The creature could sense the mayhem and he wanted to be a part of it. The Child had better control of the snakes, but Anger didn’t mind. She didn’t want to control the snakes, she wanted to unleash them. Apep slithered up Kesi’s arm, wrapping his tail around Kesi’s neck. His black eyes stared out to the Judeans, drawing murmurs and gasps from the crowd of onlookers. Anger didn’t care. All Anger cared about was protecting Miri and making sure that the merchant regretted everything.
That got the man’s attention. He stopped shouting at Miri and instead back at Kesi. But Kesi did not back down. She glared up at Judean, with eyes filled with dark, chaotic fury. “Don’t.” Kesi took a step forward. “Yell.” Another step. “At.” A third. “My.” Fourth. “Family.”
With each step forward the Judean took stumbling steps back. Apep’s head rose and he let out a vicious hiss. Kesi didn’t care that the man likely didn’t understand her. She didn’t care. As long as he stopped bullying Miri, one of the nicest, sweetest girls Kesi had ever met, then she didn’t care. Though she did make a note to poison his stock once the circus started moving away from Moab.
This had been a terrible trip to Judea, and Kesi had no intention of ever coming back.
Carefully Selima helped the woman situate the jar and take it to the correct spot. As they stepped, suddenly the load got lighter. Livana had appeared, ready and eager to help. Selima smiled brightly at her granddaughter. She was just like her father and it warmed Selima’s heart.
“There you are,” Selima had said as they had carefully put the face down. “And thank you Livia-”
The shouting had gotten louder. It was filled with racial slurs and not anything her daughter, or any Judean, should hear. “Oh my,” Selima looked over to see the merchant going towards an Egyptian and Judean. Her son was there, of course, looking as if he wanted to help. A man with a dog too was there.
The merchant had turned his attention to the Judean woman. Before Selima could react, the Egyptian had gone to some sort of basket. Suddenly, there was a snake. Selima’s eyes widened in shock. The Egyptian was stepping forward, saying something that Selima couldn’t understand.
“The filthy Egyptian cursed me! Did you hear that? She cursed me!” the merchant shouted to all that could hear. “She cursed me!”
“Liviana, my light, stay right here.” Selima smoothed her granddaughter’s hair before she moved towards the mess. A crowd was starting to form. Selima pushed past them to join her son and the others.
The snake was certainly an intimidating beast. It was large, black, and shiny and looked at the people like some sort of guard dog, ready to strike. “She was speaking in Coptic, not cursing.” Selima tried to soothe the merchant. “Why don’t we all try to calm down?”
If Simeon were here, and thank God he wasn’t, this mess would just be a disaster. But like the dog who no longer was barking, the people too needed to take a deep breath. Though Selima thought it best that the Egyptian and the Judean should leave. That might unruffle some feathers at the very least.
“Abir, my sweet, maybe it would be better to escort the Egyptians away from here,” Selima suggested quietly. Her eyes had gone to the other people that seemingly had come with them. Selima tried to keep an open mind when it came to foreigners, but not when one was wielding a snake. Who knows what else these people had? Selima didn’t want to find out.
A couple of others seemed to join behind the Judean woman and the Egyptian with the snake. It felt like a standoff. Selima cast a worried eye behind her, seeing that Livana was still safe. She was there, though her round eyes did look very alarmed. Selima put a calming hand on her son’s arm. “Perhaps we should all just take a deep breath.” Selima tried suggesting to everyone around. She gave a wary smile to the girl with the snake.
Hiss. Oh. Lovely. The girl with the snake just switched her godless gaze towards Selima. But she didn’t step forward like she had done to the merchant, so maybe that was progress?
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Carefully Selima helped the woman situate the jar and take it to the correct spot. As they stepped, suddenly the load got lighter. Livana had appeared, ready and eager to help. Selima smiled brightly at her granddaughter. She was just like her father and it warmed Selima’s heart.
“There you are,” Selima had said as they had carefully put the face down. “And thank you Livia-”
The shouting had gotten louder. It was filled with racial slurs and not anything her daughter, or any Judean, should hear. “Oh my,” Selima looked over to see the merchant going towards an Egyptian and Judean. Her son was there, of course, looking as if he wanted to help. A man with a dog too was there.
The merchant had turned his attention to the Judean woman. Before Selima could react, the Egyptian had gone to some sort of basket. Suddenly, there was a snake. Selima’s eyes widened in shock. The Egyptian was stepping forward, saying something that Selima couldn’t understand.
“The filthy Egyptian cursed me! Did you hear that? She cursed me!” the merchant shouted to all that could hear. “She cursed me!”
“Liviana, my light, stay right here.” Selima smoothed her granddaughter’s hair before she moved towards the mess. A crowd was starting to form. Selima pushed past them to join her son and the others.
The snake was certainly an intimidating beast. It was large, black, and shiny and looked at the people like some sort of guard dog, ready to strike. “She was speaking in Coptic, not cursing.” Selima tried to soothe the merchant. “Why don’t we all try to calm down?”
If Simeon were here, and thank God he wasn’t, this mess would just be a disaster. But like the dog who no longer was barking, the people too needed to take a deep breath. Though Selima thought it best that the Egyptian and the Judean should leave. That might unruffle some feathers at the very least.
“Abir, my sweet, maybe it would be better to escort the Egyptians away from here,” Selima suggested quietly. Her eyes had gone to the other people that seemingly had come with them. Selima tried to keep an open mind when it came to foreigners, but not when one was wielding a snake. Who knows what else these people had? Selima didn’t want to find out.
A couple of others seemed to join behind the Judean woman and the Egyptian with the snake. It felt like a standoff. Selima cast a worried eye behind her, seeing that Livana was still safe. She was there, though her round eyes did look very alarmed. Selima put a calming hand on her son’s arm. “Perhaps we should all just take a deep breath.” Selima tried suggesting to everyone around. She gave a wary smile to the girl with the snake.
Hiss. Oh. Lovely. The girl with the snake just switched her godless gaze towards Selima. But she didn’t step forward like she had done to the merchant, so maybe that was progress?
Carefully Selima helped the woman situate the jar and take it to the correct spot. As they stepped, suddenly the load got lighter. Livana had appeared, ready and eager to help. Selima smiled brightly at her granddaughter. She was just like her father and it warmed Selima’s heart.
“There you are,” Selima had said as they had carefully put the face down. “And thank you Livia-”
The shouting had gotten louder. It was filled with racial slurs and not anything her daughter, or any Judean, should hear. “Oh my,” Selima looked over to see the merchant going towards an Egyptian and Judean. Her son was there, of course, looking as if he wanted to help. A man with a dog too was there.
The merchant had turned his attention to the Judean woman. Before Selima could react, the Egyptian had gone to some sort of basket. Suddenly, there was a snake. Selima’s eyes widened in shock. The Egyptian was stepping forward, saying something that Selima couldn’t understand.
“The filthy Egyptian cursed me! Did you hear that? She cursed me!” the merchant shouted to all that could hear. “She cursed me!”
“Liviana, my light, stay right here.” Selima smoothed her granddaughter’s hair before she moved towards the mess. A crowd was starting to form. Selima pushed past them to join her son and the others.
The snake was certainly an intimidating beast. It was large, black, and shiny and looked at the people like some sort of guard dog, ready to strike. “She was speaking in Coptic, not cursing.” Selima tried to soothe the merchant. “Why don’t we all try to calm down?”
If Simeon were here, and thank God he wasn’t, this mess would just be a disaster. But like the dog who no longer was barking, the people too needed to take a deep breath. Though Selima thought it best that the Egyptian and the Judean should leave. That might unruffle some feathers at the very least.
“Abir, my sweet, maybe it would be better to escort the Egyptians away from here,” Selima suggested quietly. Her eyes had gone to the other people that seemingly had come with them. Selima tried to keep an open mind when it came to foreigners, but not when one was wielding a snake. Who knows what else these people had? Selima didn’t want to find out.
A couple of others seemed to join behind the Judean woman and the Egyptian with the snake. It felt like a standoff. Selima cast a worried eye behind her, seeing that Livana was still safe. She was there, though her round eyes did look very alarmed. Selima put a calming hand on her son’s arm. “Perhaps we should all just take a deep breath.” Selima tried suggesting to everyone around. She gave a wary smile to the girl with the snake.
Hiss. Oh. Lovely. The girl with the snake just switched her godless gaze towards Selima. But she didn’t step forward like she had done to the merchant, so maybe that was progress?
Azarion had no love for Judea, but he had no hate either. He’d been here for a short period of time in his past, between running from his homelands after the slaughter of his family and trying to find a new place to call home, he had tried his luck in the outskirts of Judea, but had found the people very unwelcoming to the large man from unknown lands. So he had moved on, and not long after, he had found his home in Egypt, and a few years after that, he had found his true home with Nem and the others at the circus.
Today they were here for some sort of market thing, Azarion hadn’t honestly cared enough to listen to the full thing of why they were here. He had just agreed to come along because he liked to spend time with his chosen family, even if they didn’t all like spending time with him. Azarion loved everyone of them, and he would force his presence on them whether they liked it or not.
Today he had decided to be at least sort of good, and he was wearing a shirt, something that was rare for the large tattooed man. Still, despite the fact that he was wearing a lot more clothing than usual, he was being stared at. Something that he was used to, he didn’t even notice it any more. But people certainly noticed him, his height, his build and his long and wild hair and beard were more than enough to make him a focal point for most.
Add in the three hyenas that were following him. Asharru, his pack leader, the alpha of the alphas, was walking to his right, though slightly behind him. She maybe the alpha out of the real hyenas, but Azarion always taught them one way or another, that he was the alpha of them all. It was how he controlled them, he was stronger and bigger and... well maybe smarter.
Kikuid was to his direct left, the hyena sticking a little closer to Azarion’s side than Asharru was. He was a bit younger, one of his newer animals, he was still smaller than the others and as such, he felt more reliant on Azaarion to protect him. Beside Kikuid was the younger hyenas father, Sin-Nasir, walking confidently beside his son.
The crowds were nearly splitting for him, quickly trying to back away from him as if he was going to attack them at any moment, or that his hyenas might.
When he spotted his family, he noticed that they were seemingly in a tense situation with some of the locals. Azarion smiled. Oh how he hoped there would be conflict. The bit of excitement rise in Azarion lead to his hyenas getting a little more excited too. They spent so much time with him, they could feed off his energies.
Asharru let out a little noise, sounding as if she was laughing at the prospect of a fight. The crowds seemed to back a little further away at the strange noise from the foreign animal.
He walked up, stopping himself behind Kesi and Miri, towering over both of the women by a lot. He had a huge grin on his face, though it didn’t seem overly friendly.
His accent didn’t match the language he spoke, the Coptic almost sounding odd from the man from Lands Afar, though he spoke it fluently in his deep voice.
“Is there an issue here, sisters?” He asked, referring to Miri and Kesi as his siblings as he liked to do. His fellow circus members were his chosen siblings, though most of them didn’t know he had killed his actual siblings as a young boy.
His hyenas sat themselves down on the ground, their oddly intelligent gazes staring at the people who seemed to be facing off with Miri and Kesi.
He knew what the animals wished for, they wished for blood. And while he did too, he wasn’t dumb enough to think that if this turned to violence, they wouldn’t be extremely outnumbered.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Azarion had no love for Judea, but he had no hate either. He’d been here for a short period of time in his past, between running from his homelands after the slaughter of his family and trying to find a new place to call home, he had tried his luck in the outskirts of Judea, but had found the people very unwelcoming to the large man from unknown lands. So he had moved on, and not long after, he had found his home in Egypt, and a few years after that, he had found his true home with Nem and the others at the circus.
Today they were here for some sort of market thing, Azarion hadn’t honestly cared enough to listen to the full thing of why they were here. He had just agreed to come along because he liked to spend time with his chosen family, even if they didn’t all like spending time with him. Azarion loved everyone of them, and he would force his presence on them whether they liked it or not.
Today he had decided to be at least sort of good, and he was wearing a shirt, something that was rare for the large tattooed man. Still, despite the fact that he was wearing a lot more clothing than usual, he was being stared at. Something that he was used to, he didn’t even notice it any more. But people certainly noticed him, his height, his build and his long and wild hair and beard were more than enough to make him a focal point for most.
Add in the three hyenas that were following him. Asharru, his pack leader, the alpha of the alphas, was walking to his right, though slightly behind him. She maybe the alpha out of the real hyenas, but Azarion always taught them one way or another, that he was the alpha of them all. It was how he controlled them, he was stronger and bigger and... well maybe smarter.
Kikuid was to his direct left, the hyena sticking a little closer to Azarion’s side than Asharru was. He was a bit younger, one of his newer animals, he was still smaller than the others and as such, he felt more reliant on Azaarion to protect him. Beside Kikuid was the younger hyenas father, Sin-Nasir, walking confidently beside his son.
The crowds were nearly splitting for him, quickly trying to back away from him as if he was going to attack them at any moment, or that his hyenas might.
When he spotted his family, he noticed that they were seemingly in a tense situation with some of the locals. Azarion smiled. Oh how he hoped there would be conflict. The bit of excitement rise in Azarion lead to his hyenas getting a little more excited too. They spent so much time with him, they could feed off his energies.
Asharru let out a little noise, sounding as if she was laughing at the prospect of a fight. The crowds seemed to back a little further away at the strange noise from the foreign animal.
He walked up, stopping himself behind Kesi and Miri, towering over both of the women by a lot. He had a huge grin on his face, though it didn’t seem overly friendly.
His accent didn’t match the language he spoke, the Coptic almost sounding odd from the man from Lands Afar, though he spoke it fluently in his deep voice.
“Is there an issue here, sisters?” He asked, referring to Miri and Kesi as his siblings as he liked to do. His fellow circus members were his chosen siblings, though most of them didn’t know he had killed his actual siblings as a young boy.
His hyenas sat themselves down on the ground, their oddly intelligent gazes staring at the people who seemed to be facing off with Miri and Kesi.
He knew what the animals wished for, they wished for blood. And while he did too, he wasn’t dumb enough to think that if this turned to violence, they wouldn’t be extremely outnumbered.
Azarion had no love for Judea, but he had no hate either. He’d been here for a short period of time in his past, between running from his homelands after the slaughter of his family and trying to find a new place to call home, he had tried his luck in the outskirts of Judea, but had found the people very unwelcoming to the large man from unknown lands. So he had moved on, and not long after, he had found his home in Egypt, and a few years after that, he had found his true home with Nem and the others at the circus.
Today they were here for some sort of market thing, Azarion hadn’t honestly cared enough to listen to the full thing of why they were here. He had just agreed to come along because he liked to spend time with his chosen family, even if they didn’t all like spending time with him. Azarion loved everyone of them, and he would force his presence on them whether they liked it or not.
Today he had decided to be at least sort of good, and he was wearing a shirt, something that was rare for the large tattooed man. Still, despite the fact that he was wearing a lot more clothing than usual, he was being stared at. Something that he was used to, he didn’t even notice it any more. But people certainly noticed him, his height, his build and his long and wild hair and beard were more than enough to make him a focal point for most.
Add in the three hyenas that were following him. Asharru, his pack leader, the alpha of the alphas, was walking to his right, though slightly behind him. She maybe the alpha out of the real hyenas, but Azarion always taught them one way or another, that he was the alpha of them all. It was how he controlled them, he was stronger and bigger and... well maybe smarter.
Kikuid was to his direct left, the hyena sticking a little closer to Azarion’s side than Asharru was. He was a bit younger, one of his newer animals, he was still smaller than the others and as such, he felt more reliant on Azaarion to protect him. Beside Kikuid was the younger hyenas father, Sin-Nasir, walking confidently beside his son.
The crowds were nearly splitting for him, quickly trying to back away from him as if he was going to attack them at any moment, or that his hyenas might.
When he spotted his family, he noticed that they were seemingly in a tense situation with some of the locals. Azarion smiled. Oh how he hoped there would be conflict. The bit of excitement rise in Azarion lead to his hyenas getting a little more excited too. They spent so much time with him, they could feed off his energies.
Asharru let out a little noise, sounding as if she was laughing at the prospect of a fight. The crowds seemed to back a little further away at the strange noise from the foreign animal.
He walked up, stopping himself behind Kesi and Miri, towering over both of the women by a lot. He had a huge grin on his face, though it didn’t seem overly friendly.
His accent didn’t match the language he spoke, the Coptic almost sounding odd from the man from Lands Afar, though he spoke it fluently in his deep voice.
“Is there an issue here, sisters?” He asked, referring to Miri and Kesi as his siblings as he liked to do. His fellow circus members were his chosen siblings, though most of them didn’t know he had killed his actual siblings as a young boy.
His hyenas sat themselves down on the ground, their oddly intelligent gazes staring at the people who seemed to be facing off with Miri and Kesi.
He knew what the animals wished for, they wished for blood. And while he did too, he wasn’t dumb enough to think that if this turned to violence, they wouldn’t be extremely outnumbered.
The only thing Feiyan absolutely loathed about Judea was that she had to wear clothes. She was most comfortable in the nude and her current lover ... a wealthy Judean jeweler called Chaim ... liked her that way in the privacy of his house or her tent. When he took her out in public, though, he insisted that she dress like the locals in long loose robes that were rather difficult to walk in when one was accustomed to wearing nothing but jewelry. Even the sandals restricted her natural foot movements. Chaim had provided her with an entire wardrobe made of the finest materials, but their sumptuousness didn’t make them comfortable.
He had chosen her clothing himself for their outing to the market, but had insisted that she leave her long raven hair loose and her face uncovered. Usually, she wore a scarf that hid her unusual features, but today when foreigners were welcome in his homeland, it seemed that he wanted to show off her exotic beauty. Chaim was insanely rich and could pretty much do whatever he pleased, including walking around with a woman who was three decades his junior on his arm.
It had been his wealth that had drawn her to him. Feiyan didn’t think he was particularly handsome, but he had showered her with expensive gifts after each show and had won her favor. He was only a temporary diversion, no matter his own thoughts on the matter. When the circus moved on, so would she. It was like that in every place they performed in … charm a local, milk him for all he was worth, and then forget about him as soon as he was out of sight.
The two of them moved from boat to boat, perusing the merchandise on display. Chaim bought Feiyan every item that caught her interest, whether she truly wanted it or not. Servants followed behind them carrying all the purchases. When they reached the boat that sold his own wares, he presented her with beautiful chains made of gold links and precious gems that wrapped around every part of her body. He had designed it himself, taking her measurements while she slept so they would fit perfectly. She couldn’t try them on right away, of course, but he made her promise to wear them for him tonight, as well as during her circus act.
While they were there, a client stepped aboard who wished for a custom design. Chaim stayed to handle the order and told Feiyan to go exploring on her own. He handed her a heavy bag full of coins and sent a servant with her that could translate for her. The young acrobat would never admit it, but she would rather shop alone than with him. By herself, she could turn on the charm and get fabulous discounts, as well as pilfering a few things while the boat owners were dazzled by her beauty. She had the money to pay whatever price they asked, but it was so much more fun to haggle and steal. It gave her a thrill that only performing daring acrobatic feats and orgasms could compare to.
Feiyan was considering how to make off with a large ornate vase without paying for it when she heard some man yelling obscenities. As soon as the shopkeepers turned their heads to see what was going on, she quickly slipped the vase inside one of the bags her translator was carrying and then maneuvered herself into a position where she could see what was happening.
Of course Kesi would be in the middle of it, Apep slithering along her arm and around her neck. Miri was with her and facing them were a few angry Judeans including the one who was yelling at them. As she looked on, Azarion joined them and Feiyan decided to give them her support too. They were her family as much as Lihua was and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to them. There must have been some kind of misunderstanding.
Ordering the servant to stay where he was, she sauntered over, swinging her hips seductively. What must she look like … a gorgeous exotic young woman dressed in the height of Judean fashion that spoke of wealth and privilege joining the Egyptians? She gave the disgruntled merchant a sultry smile and whispered under her breath to Kesi, Miri, and Azarion: “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do to help?” Sex appeal could be powerful, and Feiyan possessed that in spades.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The only thing Feiyan absolutely loathed about Judea was that she had to wear clothes. She was most comfortable in the nude and her current lover ... a wealthy Judean jeweler called Chaim ... liked her that way in the privacy of his house or her tent. When he took her out in public, though, he insisted that she dress like the locals in long loose robes that were rather difficult to walk in when one was accustomed to wearing nothing but jewelry. Even the sandals restricted her natural foot movements. Chaim had provided her with an entire wardrobe made of the finest materials, but their sumptuousness didn’t make them comfortable.
He had chosen her clothing himself for their outing to the market, but had insisted that she leave her long raven hair loose and her face uncovered. Usually, she wore a scarf that hid her unusual features, but today when foreigners were welcome in his homeland, it seemed that he wanted to show off her exotic beauty. Chaim was insanely rich and could pretty much do whatever he pleased, including walking around with a woman who was three decades his junior on his arm.
It had been his wealth that had drawn her to him. Feiyan didn’t think he was particularly handsome, but he had showered her with expensive gifts after each show and had won her favor. He was only a temporary diversion, no matter his own thoughts on the matter. When the circus moved on, so would she. It was like that in every place they performed in … charm a local, milk him for all he was worth, and then forget about him as soon as he was out of sight.
The two of them moved from boat to boat, perusing the merchandise on display. Chaim bought Feiyan every item that caught her interest, whether she truly wanted it or not. Servants followed behind them carrying all the purchases. When they reached the boat that sold his own wares, he presented her with beautiful chains made of gold links and precious gems that wrapped around every part of her body. He had designed it himself, taking her measurements while she slept so they would fit perfectly. She couldn’t try them on right away, of course, but he made her promise to wear them for him tonight, as well as during her circus act.
While they were there, a client stepped aboard who wished for a custom design. Chaim stayed to handle the order and told Feiyan to go exploring on her own. He handed her a heavy bag full of coins and sent a servant with her that could translate for her. The young acrobat would never admit it, but she would rather shop alone than with him. By herself, she could turn on the charm and get fabulous discounts, as well as pilfering a few things while the boat owners were dazzled by her beauty. She had the money to pay whatever price they asked, but it was so much more fun to haggle and steal. It gave her a thrill that only performing daring acrobatic feats and orgasms could compare to.
Feiyan was considering how to make off with a large ornate vase without paying for it when she heard some man yelling obscenities. As soon as the shopkeepers turned their heads to see what was going on, she quickly slipped the vase inside one of the bags her translator was carrying and then maneuvered herself into a position where she could see what was happening.
Of course Kesi would be in the middle of it, Apep slithering along her arm and around her neck. Miri was with her and facing them were a few angry Judeans including the one who was yelling at them. As she looked on, Azarion joined them and Feiyan decided to give them her support too. They were her family as much as Lihua was and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to them. There must have been some kind of misunderstanding.
Ordering the servant to stay where he was, she sauntered over, swinging her hips seductively. What must she look like … a gorgeous exotic young woman dressed in the height of Judean fashion that spoke of wealth and privilege joining the Egyptians? She gave the disgruntled merchant a sultry smile and whispered under her breath to Kesi, Miri, and Azarion: “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do to help?” Sex appeal could be powerful, and Feiyan possessed that in spades.
The only thing Feiyan absolutely loathed about Judea was that she had to wear clothes. She was most comfortable in the nude and her current lover ... a wealthy Judean jeweler called Chaim ... liked her that way in the privacy of his house or her tent. When he took her out in public, though, he insisted that she dress like the locals in long loose robes that were rather difficult to walk in when one was accustomed to wearing nothing but jewelry. Even the sandals restricted her natural foot movements. Chaim had provided her with an entire wardrobe made of the finest materials, but their sumptuousness didn’t make them comfortable.
He had chosen her clothing himself for their outing to the market, but had insisted that she leave her long raven hair loose and her face uncovered. Usually, she wore a scarf that hid her unusual features, but today when foreigners were welcome in his homeland, it seemed that he wanted to show off her exotic beauty. Chaim was insanely rich and could pretty much do whatever he pleased, including walking around with a woman who was three decades his junior on his arm.
It had been his wealth that had drawn her to him. Feiyan didn’t think he was particularly handsome, but he had showered her with expensive gifts after each show and had won her favor. He was only a temporary diversion, no matter his own thoughts on the matter. When the circus moved on, so would she. It was like that in every place they performed in … charm a local, milk him for all he was worth, and then forget about him as soon as he was out of sight.
The two of them moved from boat to boat, perusing the merchandise on display. Chaim bought Feiyan every item that caught her interest, whether she truly wanted it or not. Servants followed behind them carrying all the purchases. When they reached the boat that sold his own wares, he presented her with beautiful chains made of gold links and precious gems that wrapped around every part of her body. He had designed it himself, taking her measurements while she slept so they would fit perfectly. She couldn’t try them on right away, of course, but he made her promise to wear them for him tonight, as well as during her circus act.
While they were there, a client stepped aboard who wished for a custom design. Chaim stayed to handle the order and told Feiyan to go exploring on her own. He handed her a heavy bag full of coins and sent a servant with her that could translate for her. The young acrobat would never admit it, but she would rather shop alone than with him. By herself, she could turn on the charm and get fabulous discounts, as well as pilfering a few things while the boat owners were dazzled by her beauty. She had the money to pay whatever price they asked, but it was so much more fun to haggle and steal. It gave her a thrill that only performing daring acrobatic feats and orgasms could compare to.
Feiyan was considering how to make off with a large ornate vase without paying for it when she heard some man yelling obscenities. As soon as the shopkeepers turned their heads to see what was going on, she quickly slipped the vase inside one of the bags her translator was carrying and then maneuvered herself into a position where she could see what was happening.
Of course Kesi would be in the middle of it, Apep slithering along her arm and around her neck. Miri was with her and facing them were a few angry Judeans including the one who was yelling at them. As she looked on, Azarion joined them and Feiyan decided to give them her support too. They were her family as much as Lihua was and she wasn’t about to let anything happen to them. There must have been some kind of misunderstanding.
Ordering the servant to stay where he was, she sauntered over, swinging her hips seductively. What must she look like … a gorgeous exotic young woman dressed in the height of Judean fashion that spoke of wealth and privilege joining the Egyptians? She gave the disgruntled merchant a sultry smile and whispered under her breath to Kesi, Miri, and Azarion: “What’s going on? Is there anything I can do to help?” Sex appeal could be powerful, and Feiyan possessed that in spades.
