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Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with that. It got her to be on the ship instead of back in Edwa where she would be tried and executed for the murder of her husband. But this was not all that Akila wanted to be. She desired to be something more. She desired the freedom that she had felt when she murdered Moses, watching as he choked on his own blood just as he choked her when she was but a small child. She desired the freedom she had felt when she managed to get to the coast and found the roaming band of pirates, convincing them to allow her on their ship. She desired the freedom she had felt when the ocean breeze first kissed her face, and the rocking of the ship lulled her to sleep.
And being the captain’s whore was the same as being Moses’s wife… only by a different name.
But Akila was not the type to give in to fate. She made her own path through the darkness and came out stronger than ever. Now she was already whispering in the crew’s ears. The captain is inept. He’s greedy. He’ll lead us to ruin, not fortune. This especially worked on Khalid, with ideas already ruminating of killing the man. Every day he bed with Akila was another day closer she got to twisting his mind, controlling him and the other men on this crew. Akila would be free once she was at the ship’s helm. And she’d use anyone to achieve just that.
These thoughts came to the forefront each time she was in Judea. Akila hated Judea. A girl who lusted for freedom, these lands were anything but that. Akila would be dressed prudishly, forced to cover her body for the sake of not bringing unnecessary trouble. The people were racist and rude, and it took all of her willpower not to punch them in the face. And behaving wasn’t something Akila wanted to do… so more often than not when in Judea she was kept on the ship, turning the thing she loved into a mobile prison.
Oh, she couldn’t wait until he was dead.
Sore and tired from her captain’s sex, and with a throat aching from the singing she had done prior, Akila stole some of the wine they had got in Taengea and made her way off the boat. It was dark out, and most people were home in their beds where they did stupid prayers to a god that would do nothing for them. Akila hung around on the docks, balancing on the edge as she wobbled back and forth drinking the wine that she had taken. And despite the soft pain, she still sang, the words slurred, and yet the tone still lovely.
“Sing with me a song of silence and blood.
The rain falls but can’t wash away the mud.
Within my violent heart dwells,
Madness and pride, can no one hear your cries?”
One foot in front of the other, the young girl nearly lost her balance, free arm making circles as she wildly collected herself as to not fall in the ocean. Her eyes glinted with the madness she sung about, taking another swig of her alcohol before continuing on up and down the docks. Distracted by her own music, she almost missed a man that was still out on this dark, lonely night.
Akila waved the stranger over. “Mmm, commear!” she said to the stranger, words clearly heavy on her tongue. If he did draw closer, Akila would shove the wine at him. Being alone was too calm, being drunk with someone else meant there was fun to be had.
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Jul 24, 2020 16:05:12 GMT
Posted In Almost Free on Jul 24, 2020 16:05:12 GMT
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Akila was a whore.
Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with that. It got her to be on the ship instead of back in Edwa where she would be tried and executed for the murder of her husband. But this was not all that Akila wanted to be. She desired to be something more. She desired the freedom that she had felt when she murdered Moses, watching as he choked on his own blood just as he choked her when she was but a small child. She desired the freedom she had felt when she managed to get to the coast and found the roaming band of pirates, convincing them to allow her on their ship. She desired the freedom she had felt when the ocean breeze first kissed her face, and the rocking of the ship lulled her to sleep.
And being the captain’s whore was the same as being Moses’s wife… only by a different name.
But Akila was not the type to give in to fate. She made her own path through the darkness and came out stronger than ever. Now she was already whispering in the crew’s ears. The captain is inept. He’s greedy. He’ll lead us to ruin, not fortune. This especially worked on Khalid, with ideas already ruminating of killing the man. Every day he bed with Akila was another day closer she got to twisting his mind, controlling him and the other men on this crew. Akila would be free once she was at the ship’s helm. And she’d use anyone to achieve just that.
These thoughts came to the forefront each time she was in Judea. Akila hated Judea. A girl who lusted for freedom, these lands were anything but that. Akila would be dressed prudishly, forced to cover her body for the sake of not bringing unnecessary trouble. The people were racist and rude, and it took all of her willpower not to punch them in the face. And behaving wasn’t something Akila wanted to do… so more often than not when in Judea she was kept on the ship, turning the thing she loved into a mobile prison.
Oh, she couldn’t wait until he was dead.
Sore and tired from her captain’s sex, and with a throat aching from the singing she had done prior, Akila stole some of the wine they had got in Taengea and made her way off the boat. It was dark out, and most people were home in their beds where they did stupid prayers to a god that would do nothing for them. Akila hung around on the docks, balancing on the edge as she wobbled back and forth drinking the wine that she had taken. And despite the soft pain, she still sang, the words slurred, and yet the tone still lovely.
“Sing with me a song of silence and blood.
The rain falls but can’t wash away the mud.
Within my violent heart dwells,
Madness and pride, can no one hear your cries?”
One foot in front of the other, the young girl nearly lost her balance, free arm making circles as she wildly collected herself as to not fall in the ocean. Her eyes glinted with the madness she sung about, taking another swig of her alcohol before continuing on up and down the docks. Distracted by her own music, she almost missed a man that was still out on this dark, lonely night.
Akila waved the stranger over. “Mmm, commear!” she said to the stranger, words clearly heavy on her tongue. If he did draw closer, Akila would shove the wine at him. Being alone was too calm, being drunk with someone else meant there was fun to be had.
Akila was a whore.
Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with that. It got her to be on the ship instead of back in Edwa where she would be tried and executed for the murder of her husband. But this was not all that Akila wanted to be. She desired to be something more. She desired the freedom that she had felt when she murdered Moses, watching as he choked on his own blood just as he choked her when she was but a small child. She desired the freedom she had felt when she managed to get to the coast and found the roaming band of pirates, convincing them to allow her on their ship. She desired the freedom she had felt when the ocean breeze first kissed her face, and the rocking of the ship lulled her to sleep.
And being the captain’s whore was the same as being Moses’s wife… only by a different name.
But Akila was not the type to give in to fate. She made her own path through the darkness and came out stronger than ever. Now she was already whispering in the crew’s ears. The captain is inept. He’s greedy. He’ll lead us to ruin, not fortune. This especially worked on Khalid, with ideas already ruminating of killing the man. Every day he bed with Akila was another day closer she got to twisting his mind, controlling him and the other men on this crew. Akila would be free once she was at the ship’s helm. And she’d use anyone to achieve just that.
These thoughts came to the forefront each time she was in Judea. Akila hated Judea. A girl who lusted for freedom, these lands were anything but that. Akila would be dressed prudishly, forced to cover her body for the sake of not bringing unnecessary trouble. The people were racist and rude, and it took all of her willpower not to punch them in the face. And behaving wasn’t something Akila wanted to do… so more often than not when in Judea she was kept on the ship, turning the thing she loved into a mobile prison.
Oh, she couldn’t wait until he was dead.
Sore and tired from her captain’s sex, and with a throat aching from the singing she had done prior, Akila stole some of the wine they had got in Taengea and made her way off the boat. It was dark out, and most people were home in their beds where they did stupid prayers to a god that would do nothing for them. Akila hung around on the docks, balancing on the edge as she wobbled back and forth drinking the wine that she had taken. And despite the soft pain, she still sang, the words slurred, and yet the tone still lovely.
“Sing with me a song of silence and blood.
The rain falls but can’t wash away the mud.
Within my violent heart dwells,
Madness and pride, can no one hear your cries?”
One foot in front of the other, the young girl nearly lost her balance, free arm making circles as she wildly collected herself as to not fall in the ocean. Her eyes glinted with the madness she sung about, taking another swig of her alcohol before continuing on up and down the docks. Distracted by her own music, she almost missed a man that was still out on this dark, lonely night.
Akila waved the stranger over. “Mmm, commear!” she said to the stranger, words clearly heavy on her tongue. If he did draw closer, Akila would shove the wine at him. Being alone was too calm, being drunk with someone else meant there was fun to be had.
At nearly seventeen, Zein was finally growing into his body. He had left Israel over a year ago now and was performing nearly daily with a traveling troupe that was fine. They weren’t filled with people of particular talent, but they seemed to fit what Judea was interested in. Not so much what Zein was interested in, however. He had already spent half of his life performing on the streets of Judea – he knew that he was not meant to stay there. Yet, in Judea he still was. It was a frustrating conundrum, but Zein didn’t yet feel he had enough experience or the know how to leave Judea on his own. Besides, he had precious little understanding of the outside world. His only education had come from the few years he lived with his aunt and the rest from years on the street with Yosef.
At the thought of his old friend, Zein found his eyes misting suddenly, stupidly. The loss was still fresh, but he was loath to show any feelings, especially in public. And the troupe was still public enough. Even though he had been with them for awhile now, he hadn’t made any close friends. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to. His ultimate goal was still to leave.
As they were done for the evening, he left his perch, wandering out of the camp. If tears were going to come, he certainly didn’t want any of them to see. Wandering the streets cleared his head a bit and Zein felt his emotions receding somewhat, so at least he was no longer on the verge of tears. Rather than go back, he continued to wander, not really paying too much attention to where he was going. It felt good to walk, even as night was falling.
Somehow, he made his way to the docks, looking out at the water that led to anywhere but here. To leave the shores of Judea would be wonderful, he thought. But where would he go? What would he do? Could he continue to perform and make a living? Yosef had said there were people who appreciated the performing arts in a way that most Judeans would never know. Zein wanted to find those people. Perhaps with them he could feel at home.
It was a melancholy kind of night, he realized, now that he was out alone on the docks. He wasn’t prone to feel sorry for himself—not that he was at the moment. He just wasn’t sure what in store in his future. All he knew was that it involved getting out of here. His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of someone singing, slurred words and all. Zein recognized that type of speech, wondering if he ought to leave, but the tone of the song drew him in, as well as curiosity to meet this woman, whoever she was.
He didn’t have long to wait, spotting her in the darkness, nearly falling into the water on several occasions. Zein rather hoped he didn’t, for he wasn’t a strong swimmer and he didn’t wish to rescue her. It was more the fear of that possibility that drew him into her, though upon approach he had to admit that he wasn’t disappointed. She was beautiful, despite all of the drink in her.
“Lovely song, miss,” he couldn’t help himself, first offering charm when he should have been checking to see if she was all right. If there was one thing his brief time in the troupe had taught him, it was that he liked women. Years of performing on the street had left him with muscles and those were beginning to really fill in as his body transformed from youth to man. He had realized that women had seemed to take a particular notice.
“Are you all right?” Zein asked, finally getting around to manners. “Do you need help getting home?”
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At nearly seventeen, Zein was finally growing into his body. He had left Israel over a year ago now and was performing nearly daily with a traveling troupe that was fine. They weren’t filled with people of particular talent, but they seemed to fit what Judea was interested in. Not so much what Zein was interested in, however. He had already spent half of his life performing on the streets of Judea – he knew that he was not meant to stay there. Yet, in Judea he still was. It was a frustrating conundrum, but Zein didn’t yet feel he had enough experience or the know how to leave Judea on his own. Besides, he had precious little understanding of the outside world. His only education had come from the few years he lived with his aunt and the rest from years on the street with Yosef.
At the thought of his old friend, Zein found his eyes misting suddenly, stupidly. The loss was still fresh, but he was loath to show any feelings, especially in public. And the troupe was still public enough. Even though he had been with them for awhile now, he hadn’t made any close friends. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to. His ultimate goal was still to leave.
As they were done for the evening, he left his perch, wandering out of the camp. If tears were going to come, he certainly didn’t want any of them to see. Wandering the streets cleared his head a bit and Zein felt his emotions receding somewhat, so at least he was no longer on the verge of tears. Rather than go back, he continued to wander, not really paying too much attention to where he was going. It felt good to walk, even as night was falling.
Somehow, he made his way to the docks, looking out at the water that led to anywhere but here. To leave the shores of Judea would be wonderful, he thought. But where would he go? What would he do? Could he continue to perform and make a living? Yosef had said there were people who appreciated the performing arts in a way that most Judeans would never know. Zein wanted to find those people. Perhaps with them he could feel at home.
It was a melancholy kind of night, he realized, now that he was out alone on the docks. He wasn’t prone to feel sorry for himself—not that he was at the moment. He just wasn’t sure what in store in his future. All he knew was that it involved getting out of here. His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of someone singing, slurred words and all. Zein recognized that type of speech, wondering if he ought to leave, but the tone of the song drew him in, as well as curiosity to meet this woman, whoever she was.
He didn’t have long to wait, spotting her in the darkness, nearly falling into the water on several occasions. Zein rather hoped he didn’t, for he wasn’t a strong swimmer and he didn’t wish to rescue her. It was more the fear of that possibility that drew him into her, though upon approach he had to admit that he wasn’t disappointed. She was beautiful, despite all of the drink in her.
“Lovely song, miss,” he couldn’t help himself, first offering charm when he should have been checking to see if she was all right. If there was one thing his brief time in the troupe had taught him, it was that he liked women. Years of performing on the street had left him with muscles and those were beginning to really fill in as his body transformed from youth to man. He had realized that women had seemed to take a particular notice.
“Are you all right?” Zein asked, finally getting around to manners. “Do you need help getting home?”
At nearly seventeen, Zein was finally growing into his body. He had left Israel over a year ago now and was performing nearly daily with a traveling troupe that was fine. They weren’t filled with people of particular talent, but they seemed to fit what Judea was interested in. Not so much what Zein was interested in, however. He had already spent half of his life performing on the streets of Judea – he knew that he was not meant to stay there. Yet, in Judea he still was. It was a frustrating conundrum, but Zein didn’t yet feel he had enough experience or the know how to leave Judea on his own. Besides, he had precious little understanding of the outside world. His only education had come from the few years he lived with his aunt and the rest from years on the street with Yosef.
At the thought of his old friend, Zein found his eyes misting suddenly, stupidly. The loss was still fresh, but he was loath to show any feelings, especially in public. And the troupe was still public enough. Even though he had been with them for awhile now, he hadn’t made any close friends. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to. His ultimate goal was still to leave.
As they were done for the evening, he left his perch, wandering out of the camp. If tears were going to come, he certainly didn’t want any of them to see. Wandering the streets cleared his head a bit and Zein felt his emotions receding somewhat, so at least he was no longer on the verge of tears. Rather than go back, he continued to wander, not really paying too much attention to where he was going. It felt good to walk, even as night was falling.
Somehow, he made his way to the docks, looking out at the water that led to anywhere but here. To leave the shores of Judea would be wonderful, he thought. But where would he go? What would he do? Could he continue to perform and make a living? Yosef had said there were people who appreciated the performing arts in a way that most Judeans would never know. Zein wanted to find those people. Perhaps with them he could feel at home.
It was a melancholy kind of night, he realized, now that he was out alone on the docks. He wasn’t prone to feel sorry for himself—not that he was at the moment. He just wasn’t sure what in store in his future. All he knew was that it involved getting out of here. His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of someone singing, slurred words and all. Zein recognized that type of speech, wondering if he ought to leave, but the tone of the song drew him in, as well as curiosity to meet this woman, whoever she was.
He didn’t have long to wait, spotting her in the darkness, nearly falling into the water on several occasions. Zein rather hoped he didn’t, for he wasn’t a strong swimmer and he didn’t wish to rescue her. It was more the fear of that possibility that drew him into her, though upon approach he had to admit that he wasn’t disappointed. She was beautiful, despite all of the drink in her.
“Lovely song, miss,” he couldn’t help himself, first offering charm when he should have been checking to see if she was all right. If there was one thing his brief time in the troupe had taught him, it was that he liked women. Years of performing on the street had left him with muscles and those were beginning to really fill in as his body transformed from youth to man. He had realized that women had seemed to take a particular notice.
“Are you all right?” Zein asked, finally getting around to manners. “Do you need help getting home?”
Do you need help getting home?
Why was it that men always tried to save the woman? Fuck anyone who thought they could save her. She didn’t god damn need anyone’s help. Akila was her own woman, one that could do whatever it is she god damned wanted.
Besides, Akila’s home was the sea. Unless he was referring to the captain’s bed, and that was certainly not anywhere Akila wanted to be right now. He was probably fast asleep anyway. These were the moments that Akila could shelter herself away, in the comfort of night.
The girl shoved the wine to the man’s chest. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” The words were slurred, but her lip still curled in obvious annoyance. “Drink. Not often I share.”
Akila hopped from the side of the docks and just spun around, staring up at the night sky as she did. She was itchy. She wanted to do something. Fight, maybe. Fuck. Drink more. Something. And right now a random Judean is who she had for company.
Judean… Akila’s eyes bounced back to the man. Akila wasn’t quite as conservatively dressed as the women were expected to be. With it being night, and the fact that she was basically prisoner on the ship during the day, Akila hadn’t bothered to change her attire. There was no reason when she wouldn’t typically be seen.
She poked her finger straight into the man’s chest. “Are you Judean?” He looked it, and he was understanding the slurred, heavily accented Judean. But this man was already weird. From her experience, Judeans were racist and didn’t much like women who weren’t dressed the way they were expected to be dressed. In fact, she wasn’t even certain if women were liked. Judeans were… odd. Akila didn’t much like them aside from the fact that they carried coin. That made them at least slightly better than Bedoans. Slightly.
“You don’t act Judean.” Akila squinted at the man. But they were in Isreal, and he didn’t speak with an accent… and he looked like a Judean.
Akila liked the man. The fact that he wasn’t blabbering on about how her soul won’t be saved and being ridiculed by her dress made the man instantly more tolerable than any other Judean she had ever met. Plus… Akila was drunk. She liked people more when she was drunk. Sober Akilia was just irritated by the world.
Because the world fucking sucked.
Akila tilted her head once more, her eyes raking him up and down as if sizing him up. He was muscled, extremely slow, and his hands told a story like so many do. They worked, and worked hard. They look strong, yet worn and dirtied. He worked with them a lot, this much was clear. Dark eyes flickered back up to his. “I got more wine on the ship.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Do you want more?” Wasn’t her wine, she didn’t give a crap. As long as she was sneaky, it would be fine.
Anything to keep the stranger near. Despite his… offering to help her, when she clearly didn’t need it, he caught her attention. Now, for the night, it was all his.
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Do you need help getting home?
Why was it that men always tried to save the woman? Fuck anyone who thought they could save her. She didn’t god damn need anyone’s help. Akila was her own woman, one that could do whatever it is she god damned wanted.
Besides, Akila’s home was the sea. Unless he was referring to the captain’s bed, and that was certainly not anywhere Akila wanted to be right now. He was probably fast asleep anyway. These were the moments that Akila could shelter herself away, in the comfort of night.
The girl shoved the wine to the man’s chest. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” The words were slurred, but her lip still curled in obvious annoyance. “Drink. Not often I share.”
Akila hopped from the side of the docks and just spun around, staring up at the night sky as she did. She was itchy. She wanted to do something. Fight, maybe. Fuck. Drink more. Something. And right now a random Judean is who she had for company.
Judean… Akila’s eyes bounced back to the man. Akila wasn’t quite as conservatively dressed as the women were expected to be. With it being night, and the fact that she was basically prisoner on the ship during the day, Akila hadn’t bothered to change her attire. There was no reason when she wouldn’t typically be seen.
She poked her finger straight into the man’s chest. “Are you Judean?” He looked it, and he was understanding the slurred, heavily accented Judean. But this man was already weird. From her experience, Judeans were racist and didn’t much like women who weren’t dressed the way they were expected to be dressed. In fact, she wasn’t even certain if women were liked. Judeans were… odd. Akila didn’t much like them aside from the fact that they carried coin. That made them at least slightly better than Bedoans. Slightly.
“You don’t act Judean.” Akila squinted at the man. But they were in Isreal, and he didn’t speak with an accent… and he looked like a Judean.
Akila liked the man. The fact that he wasn’t blabbering on about how her soul won’t be saved and being ridiculed by her dress made the man instantly more tolerable than any other Judean she had ever met. Plus… Akila was drunk. She liked people more when she was drunk. Sober Akilia was just irritated by the world.
Because the world fucking sucked.
Akila tilted her head once more, her eyes raking him up and down as if sizing him up. He was muscled, extremely slow, and his hands told a story like so many do. They worked, and worked hard. They look strong, yet worn and dirtied. He worked with them a lot, this much was clear. Dark eyes flickered back up to his. “I got more wine on the ship.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Do you want more?” Wasn’t her wine, she didn’t give a crap. As long as she was sneaky, it would be fine.
Anything to keep the stranger near. Despite his… offering to help her, when she clearly didn’t need it, he caught her attention. Now, for the night, it was all his.
Do you need help getting home?
Why was it that men always tried to save the woman? Fuck anyone who thought they could save her. She didn’t god damn need anyone’s help. Akila was her own woman, one that could do whatever it is she god damned wanted.
Besides, Akila’s home was the sea. Unless he was referring to the captain’s bed, and that was certainly not anywhere Akila wanted to be right now. He was probably fast asleep anyway. These were the moments that Akila could shelter herself away, in the comfort of night.
The girl shoved the wine to the man’s chest. “I don’t need anyone’s help.” The words were slurred, but her lip still curled in obvious annoyance. “Drink. Not often I share.”
Akila hopped from the side of the docks and just spun around, staring up at the night sky as she did. She was itchy. She wanted to do something. Fight, maybe. Fuck. Drink more. Something. And right now a random Judean is who she had for company.
Judean… Akila’s eyes bounced back to the man. Akila wasn’t quite as conservatively dressed as the women were expected to be. With it being night, and the fact that she was basically prisoner on the ship during the day, Akila hadn’t bothered to change her attire. There was no reason when she wouldn’t typically be seen.
She poked her finger straight into the man’s chest. “Are you Judean?” He looked it, and he was understanding the slurred, heavily accented Judean. But this man was already weird. From her experience, Judeans were racist and didn’t much like women who weren’t dressed the way they were expected to be dressed. In fact, she wasn’t even certain if women were liked. Judeans were… odd. Akila didn’t much like them aside from the fact that they carried coin. That made them at least slightly better than Bedoans. Slightly.
“You don’t act Judean.” Akila squinted at the man. But they were in Isreal, and he didn’t speak with an accent… and he looked like a Judean.
Akila liked the man. The fact that he wasn’t blabbering on about how her soul won’t be saved and being ridiculed by her dress made the man instantly more tolerable than any other Judean she had ever met. Plus… Akila was drunk. She liked people more when she was drunk. Sober Akilia was just irritated by the world.
Because the world fucking sucked.
Akila tilted her head once more, her eyes raking him up and down as if sizing him up. He was muscled, extremely slow, and his hands told a story like so many do. They worked, and worked hard. They look strong, yet worn and dirtied. He worked with them a lot, this much was clear. Dark eyes flickered back up to his. “I got more wine on the ship.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Do you want more?” Wasn’t her wine, she didn’t give a crap. As long as she was sneaky, it would be fine.
Anything to keep the stranger near. Despite his… offering to help her, when she clearly didn’t need it, he caught her attention. Now, for the night, it was all his.
The last thing Zein really wanted to do was walk a drunk girl home – really, he’d rather have a drink of whatever she was having. However, he offered because he felt that was what someone with manners would have done. Maybe this girl expected manners, or at least appreciated them? Zein wasn’t sure. He was raised on the streets—he didn’t have manners. Or at least, not the type that most people expected in Judea.
Zein saw just how wrong he was when she shoved her bottle into his chest a moment later. While he was startled by her sudden offer of drink, he wasn’t about to turn down a free drink. All the better that she didn’t share often. That made this feel…special? This was not special, but Zein took the bottle from her anyway, taking a long swig, feeling the bitterness of the wine in the back of his throat. He felt a flush rush to his face, but it was enjoyable. It wasn’t often he drank—not enough coin was the chief reason. The fact that Judean society was so strict was the other. He was already on the fringes; there was no reason for him to be drunk on the streets and punished for it. He wished more than anything he could leave this place.
He still held the bottle in his hands as he watched the girl spun around. He wondered about her—what had led her to this place. She certainly wasn’t Judean; he probably should have caught on to that sooner. Did she live here though? Or was she just traveling through? Either way, he didn’t mind looking at her for she was dressed in a way that was most pleasing and certainly unlike most women around here.
“Yes,” Zein responded simply, though he wished he was lying. How nice it would be to not be Judean. Judea may have been where he was born, but Zein was determined not to make it his homeland. It pleased him slightly to hear her say that he didn’t act Judean. There was precious little wine left in the bottle and she hadn’t gestured that she wanted it back, so he took another swig, finishing it off in an attempt to forget he really was from Judea.
“I was born here, but I don’t belong here,” he added, a bit looser with the alcohol in him. He might not have admitted that openly to just anyone, but clearly this girl had no great love for Judea either. The wine was working and Zein forgot how much he really did enjoy it. It was so nice to just let go once in awhile. So often he had been concerned for his survival that he forgot what it was like to have a little fun.
His brows raised when she mentioned a ship. He was more intrigued than ever. “Let’s go see this ship,” Zein said, shrugging. Oh, what the hell. He was intrigued. “It seems you are out of wine,” he added, waving the empty bottle around to demonstrate the lack of liquid left inside. He probably shouldn’t drink any more, but wouldn’t pass up the chance for a free drink and a night with a very pretty girl. As she turned away, Zein had an inward chuckle, for he supposed he was escorting her home after all.
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The last thing Zein really wanted to do was walk a drunk girl home – really, he’d rather have a drink of whatever she was having. However, he offered because he felt that was what someone with manners would have done. Maybe this girl expected manners, or at least appreciated them? Zein wasn’t sure. He was raised on the streets—he didn’t have manners. Or at least, not the type that most people expected in Judea.
Zein saw just how wrong he was when she shoved her bottle into his chest a moment later. While he was startled by her sudden offer of drink, he wasn’t about to turn down a free drink. All the better that she didn’t share often. That made this feel…special? This was not special, but Zein took the bottle from her anyway, taking a long swig, feeling the bitterness of the wine in the back of his throat. He felt a flush rush to his face, but it was enjoyable. It wasn’t often he drank—not enough coin was the chief reason. The fact that Judean society was so strict was the other. He was already on the fringes; there was no reason for him to be drunk on the streets and punished for it. He wished more than anything he could leave this place.
He still held the bottle in his hands as he watched the girl spun around. He wondered about her—what had led her to this place. She certainly wasn’t Judean; he probably should have caught on to that sooner. Did she live here though? Or was she just traveling through? Either way, he didn’t mind looking at her for she was dressed in a way that was most pleasing and certainly unlike most women around here.
“Yes,” Zein responded simply, though he wished he was lying. How nice it would be to not be Judean. Judea may have been where he was born, but Zein was determined not to make it his homeland. It pleased him slightly to hear her say that he didn’t act Judean. There was precious little wine left in the bottle and she hadn’t gestured that she wanted it back, so he took another swig, finishing it off in an attempt to forget he really was from Judea.
“I was born here, but I don’t belong here,” he added, a bit looser with the alcohol in him. He might not have admitted that openly to just anyone, but clearly this girl had no great love for Judea either. The wine was working and Zein forgot how much he really did enjoy it. It was so nice to just let go once in awhile. So often he had been concerned for his survival that he forgot what it was like to have a little fun.
His brows raised when she mentioned a ship. He was more intrigued than ever. “Let’s go see this ship,” Zein said, shrugging. Oh, what the hell. He was intrigued. “It seems you are out of wine,” he added, waving the empty bottle around to demonstrate the lack of liquid left inside. He probably shouldn’t drink any more, but wouldn’t pass up the chance for a free drink and a night with a very pretty girl. As she turned away, Zein had an inward chuckle, for he supposed he was escorting her home after all.
The last thing Zein really wanted to do was walk a drunk girl home – really, he’d rather have a drink of whatever she was having. However, he offered because he felt that was what someone with manners would have done. Maybe this girl expected manners, or at least appreciated them? Zein wasn’t sure. He was raised on the streets—he didn’t have manners. Or at least, not the type that most people expected in Judea.
Zein saw just how wrong he was when she shoved her bottle into his chest a moment later. While he was startled by her sudden offer of drink, he wasn’t about to turn down a free drink. All the better that she didn’t share often. That made this feel…special? This was not special, but Zein took the bottle from her anyway, taking a long swig, feeling the bitterness of the wine in the back of his throat. He felt a flush rush to his face, but it was enjoyable. It wasn’t often he drank—not enough coin was the chief reason. The fact that Judean society was so strict was the other. He was already on the fringes; there was no reason for him to be drunk on the streets and punished for it. He wished more than anything he could leave this place.
He still held the bottle in his hands as he watched the girl spun around. He wondered about her—what had led her to this place. She certainly wasn’t Judean; he probably should have caught on to that sooner. Did she live here though? Or was she just traveling through? Either way, he didn’t mind looking at her for she was dressed in a way that was most pleasing and certainly unlike most women around here.
“Yes,” Zein responded simply, though he wished he was lying. How nice it would be to not be Judean. Judea may have been where he was born, but Zein was determined not to make it his homeland. It pleased him slightly to hear her say that he didn’t act Judean. There was precious little wine left in the bottle and she hadn’t gestured that she wanted it back, so he took another swig, finishing it off in an attempt to forget he really was from Judea.
“I was born here, but I don’t belong here,” he added, a bit looser with the alcohol in him. He might not have admitted that openly to just anyone, but clearly this girl had no great love for Judea either. The wine was working and Zein forgot how much he really did enjoy it. It was so nice to just let go once in awhile. So often he had been concerned for his survival that he forgot what it was like to have a little fun.
His brows raised when she mentioned a ship. He was more intrigued than ever. “Let’s go see this ship,” Zein said, shrugging. Oh, what the hell. He was intrigued. “It seems you are out of wine,” he added, waving the empty bottle around to demonstrate the lack of liquid left inside. He probably shouldn’t drink any more, but wouldn’t pass up the chance for a free drink and a night with a very pretty girl. As she turned away, Zein had an inward chuckle, for he supposed he was escorting her home after all.
I was born here, but I don’t belong here.
How many times had Akila heard that living on the sea? She was part of a crew of all Egyptians, but none identified with the sands they once called home. Akila never understood that mentality, though. She loved the wild nature of the waves as much as she loved the brutal heat of the sands. But she didn’t try to belong to either. To belong somewhere means that there is someone or something that owns you. Whether it’s a man that claims to be your husband or a society with expectations forced upon you, you are owned. Akila, however, refused to be that way. So those who lament not belonging she had no pity for. Akila belonged nowhere and to no one, free as the ocean current and desert wind.
Well… almost.
While she was a whore she couldn’t truly be free. The captain saw her as his, whether it was true or not. But that won’t be forever. She was her own, and one day when he choked on his own blood he’d realize that.
But right now Akila was far too drunk to care. She stumbled back towards the ship, bare feet dancing across the wood, creaking with every step. She turned to the Judean, “Shh,” She whispered. Tip toe, tip toe.
She could hear the soft rumbling of snores below the deck. These were men that were used to each other’s sounds and the rocking of the ocean waves thus could sleep through much of anything. Still, Akila made sure to be as silent as possible as she made her ways lower than lower still to the cargo located at the bottom of the deck.
Never steal from a thief- but she was part of this crew. That meant this was hers’s right? The wine won’t be missed, collateral for a long journey at sea. She winked at the random Judean waving the newly filled jug, before tilting her chin back towards the top deck. Tip toe, tip toe.
One day this would be Akila’s. One day she wouldn’t sneak around the crew, stealing from the hold. One day she’d be killing people for doing that, or chopping off their hand, or throwing them off of her ship. Her ship. Her crew. Her cargo. All this will be her’s and only then would she truly be free.
But until then, there were luxuries that Akila could enjoy. She had a knack for escaping trouble that she caused, and ability to twist the minds of men by a few carefully placed words and stolen gazes. All this meant that she had no worry bringing a random Judean aboard the ship, stealing alcohol meant for others, and instead could enjoy the fun of it all. Reaching the top deck Akila took another hearty swig before passing it back to the Judean.
“If you don’t belong here,” Akila finally spoke, her voice still quiet to not alert the men below the deck. She went over to the edge of the ship, leading on the rail looking towards the water. “Leave.” Her words were simple, a mix of a lack of fluency in Hebrew, her drunken state, and Akila’s gruff manner. “Ain’t hard.”
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Aug 14, 2020 13:17:53 GMT
Posted In Almost Free on Aug 14, 2020 13:17:53 GMT
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I was born here, but I don’t belong here.
How many times had Akila heard that living on the sea? She was part of a crew of all Egyptians, but none identified with the sands they once called home. Akila never understood that mentality, though. She loved the wild nature of the waves as much as she loved the brutal heat of the sands. But she didn’t try to belong to either. To belong somewhere means that there is someone or something that owns you. Whether it’s a man that claims to be your husband or a society with expectations forced upon you, you are owned. Akila, however, refused to be that way. So those who lament not belonging she had no pity for. Akila belonged nowhere and to no one, free as the ocean current and desert wind.
Well… almost.
While she was a whore she couldn’t truly be free. The captain saw her as his, whether it was true or not. But that won’t be forever. She was her own, and one day when he choked on his own blood he’d realize that.
But right now Akila was far too drunk to care. She stumbled back towards the ship, bare feet dancing across the wood, creaking with every step. She turned to the Judean, “Shh,” She whispered. Tip toe, tip toe.
She could hear the soft rumbling of snores below the deck. These were men that were used to each other’s sounds and the rocking of the ocean waves thus could sleep through much of anything. Still, Akila made sure to be as silent as possible as she made her ways lower than lower still to the cargo located at the bottom of the deck.
Never steal from a thief- but she was part of this crew. That meant this was hers’s right? The wine won’t be missed, collateral for a long journey at sea. She winked at the random Judean waving the newly filled jug, before tilting her chin back towards the top deck. Tip toe, tip toe.
One day this would be Akila’s. One day she wouldn’t sneak around the crew, stealing from the hold. One day she’d be killing people for doing that, or chopping off their hand, or throwing them off of her ship. Her ship. Her crew. Her cargo. All this will be her’s and only then would she truly be free.
But until then, there were luxuries that Akila could enjoy. She had a knack for escaping trouble that she caused, and ability to twist the minds of men by a few carefully placed words and stolen gazes. All this meant that she had no worry bringing a random Judean aboard the ship, stealing alcohol meant for others, and instead could enjoy the fun of it all. Reaching the top deck Akila took another hearty swig before passing it back to the Judean.
“If you don’t belong here,” Akila finally spoke, her voice still quiet to not alert the men below the deck. She went over to the edge of the ship, leading on the rail looking towards the water. “Leave.” Her words were simple, a mix of a lack of fluency in Hebrew, her drunken state, and Akila’s gruff manner. “Ain’t hard.”
I was born here, but I don’t belong here.
How many times had Akila heard that living on the sea? She was part of a crew of all Egyptians, but none identified with the sands they once called home. Akila never understood that mentality, though. She loved the wild nature of the waves as much as she loved the brutal heat of the sands. But she didn’t try to belong to either. To belong somewhere means that there is someone or something that owns you. Whether it’s a man that claims to be your husband or a society with expectations forced upon you, you are owned. Akila, however, refused to be that way. So those who lament not belonging she had no pity for. Akila belonged nowhere and to no one, free as the ocean current and desert wind.
Well… almost.
While she was a whore she couldn’t truly be free. The captain saw her as his, whether it was true or not. But that won’t be forever. She was her own, and one day when he choked on his own blood he’d realize that.
But right now Akila was far too drunk to care. She stumbled back towards the ship, bare feet dancing across the wood, creaking with every step. She turned to the Judean, “Shh,” She whispered. Tip toe, tip toe.
She could hear the soft rumbling of snores below the deck. These were men that were used to each other’s sounds and the rocking of the ocean waves thus could sleep through much of anything. Still, Akila made sure to be as silent as possible as she made her ways lower than lower still to the cargo located at the bottom of the deck.
Never steal from a thief- but she was part of this crew. That meant this was hers’s right? The wine won’t be missed, collateral for a long journey at sea. She winked at the random Judean waving the newly filled jug, before tilting her chin back towards the top deck. Tip toe, tip toe.
One day this would be Akila’s. One day she wouldn’t sneak around the crew, stealing from the hold. One day she’d be killing people for doing that, or chopping off their hand, or throwing them off of her ship. Her ship. Her crew. Her cargo. All this will be her’s and only then would she truly be free.
But until then, there were luxuries that Akila could enjoy. She had a knack for escaping trouble that she caused, and ability to twist the minds of men by a few carefully placed words and stolen gazes. All this meant that she had no worry bringing a random Judean aboard the ship, stealing alcohol meant for others, and instead could enjoy the fun of it all. Reaching the top deck Akila took another hearty swig before passing it back to the Judean.
“If you don’t belong here,” Akila finally spoke, her voice still quiet to not alert the men below the deck. She went over to the edge of the ship, leading on the rail looking towards the water. “Leave.” Her words were simple, a mix of a lack of fluency in Hebrew, her drunken state, and Akila’s gruff manner. “Ain’t hard.”
Well this night was turning out like nothing he had expected. Not that he’d had any expectations, but following a drunk girl onto her ship to find more things to drink was certainly not what he planned to do. He was warm, slightly fuzzy from the wine, but still in complete control of himself. Zein was not the most experienced with drinking—for he lived in Judea after all—but he hadn’t had enough to be drunk, let alone close to the same level as this girl….the girl whose name he didn’t even know. They were going to have to fix that at some point, he supposed. For now, he followed, for she was intent upon sneaking on to her own ship, though she was doing quite a horrible job of it. Every board seemed to creak, Zein cringing at the sound. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be caught with this young woman aboard the ship when he most definitely was the stranger. There was no telling what type of ship this was and Zein wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Years of performing acrobatics on the streets kept him light on his feet and Zein kept an eye out on for a place to hide should he need to make a quick escape. Of course, the best escape was off the boat, but there were plenty of hidey-holes for him to stow away until he could get off. Though that probably wouldn’t help if the girl blabbed about his presence to the others. Zein wasn’t that worried, however. He could handle anything that came his way—he always had. This was just present a more interesting challenge should he need to escape.
He needn’t have thought of an escape plan it seemed, for the girl had returned alone and with wine. Zein wouldn’t say no to the free drink, but he would be careful to keep his wits about him. This was still an unfamiliar situation and he at least wanted to make a dignified escape if he had to. He accepted the proffered bottle, taking a swig from it, letting the liquid warm him up from head to toe as it entered his body. This was nice stuff…better than anything he had ever stolen. Of course, people didn’t usually keep the real nice stuff where thieves might get to it. And Zein wasn’t overly ambitious in that sense to try and get something worth more. He could get drunk just as easily on the cheap stuff for far less risk.
The two moved towards the rail, Zein finding himself unsteady under the rocking of the ship. He’d never been on a ship before. This was an uncomfortable feeling. Her Hebrew was a bit rough, but mostly understandable. Zein wished he knew more Coptic – Yosef had taught him some, but half of it was swear words and the other half were just random words, hardly enough to put a real sentence together.
“Easy for you to say,” Zein responded, shrugging. What he wouldn’t give to leave. “You have a ship. You can go anywhere. I don’t have more than two coins to my name.” It wasn’t a complaint. It was a simple fact. Zein stuck to performing because that was what he was good at. It provided a small income, but most of that went to food or to the troupe for performing with them or for supplies. His savings were small and hard to grow. To make it on his own…well in many ways he had no idea where to begin.
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Well this night was turning out like nothing he had expected. Not that he’d had any expectations, but following a drunk girl onto her ship to find more things to drink was certainly not what he planned to do. He was warm, slightly fuzzy from the wine, but still in complete control of himself. Zein was not the most experienced with drinking—for he lived in Judea after all—but he hadn’t had enough to be drunk, let alone close to the same level as this girl….the girl whose name he didn’t even know. They were going to have to fix that at some point, he supposed. For now, he followed, for she was intent upon sneaking on to her own ship, though she was doing quite a horrible job of it. Every board seemed to creak, Zein cringing at the sound. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be caught with this young woman aboard the ship when he most definitely was the stranger. There was no telling what type of ship this was and Zein wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Years of performing acrobatics on the streets kept him light on his feet and Zein kept an eye out on for a place to hide should he need to make a quick escape. Of course, the best escape was off the boat, but there were plenty of hidey-holes for him to stow away until he could get off. Though that probably wouldn’t help if the girl blabbed about his presence to the others. Zein wasn’t that worried, however. He could handle anything that came his way—he always had. This was just present a more interesting challenge should he need to escape.
He needn’t have thought of an escape plan it seemed, for the girl had returned alone and with wine. Zein wouldn’t say no to the free drink, but he would be careful to keep his wits about him. This was still an unfamiliar situation and he at least wanted to make a dignified escape if he had to. He accepted the proffered bottle, taking a swig from it, letting the liquid warm him up from head to toe as it entered his body. This was nice stuff…better than anything he had ever stolen. Of course, people didn’t usually keep the real nice stuff where thieves might get to it. And Zein wasn’t overly ambitious in that sense to try and get something worth more. He could get drunk just as easily on the cheap stuff for far less risk.
The two moved towards the rail, Zein finding himself unsteady under the rocking of the ship. He’d never been on a ship before. This was an uncomfortable feeling. Her Hebrew was a bit rough, but mostly understandable. Zein wished he knew more Coptic – Yosef had taught him some, but half of it was swear words and the other half were just random words, hardly enough to put a real sentence together.
“Easy for you to say,” Zein responded, shrugging. What he wouldn’t give to leave. “You have a ship. You can go anywhere. I don’t have more than two coins to my name.” It wasn’t a complaint. It was a simple fact. Zein stuck to performing because that was what he was good at. It provided a small income, but most of that went to food or to the troupe for performing with them or for supplies. His savings were small and hard to grow. To make it on his own…well in many ways he had no idea where to begin.
Well this night was turning out like nothing he had expected. Not that he’d had any expectations, but following a drunk girl onto her ship to find more things to drink was certainly not what he planned to do. He was warm, slightly fuzzy from the wine, but still in complete control of himself. Zein was not the most experienced with drinking—for he lived in Judea after all—but he hadn’t had enough to be drunk, let alone close to the same level as this girl….the girl whose name he didn’t even know. They were going to have to fix that at some point, he supposed. For now, he followed, for she was intent upon sneaking on to her own ship, though she was doing quite a horrible job of it. Every board seemed to creak, Zein cringing at the sound. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be caught with this young woman aboard the ship when he most definitely was the stranger. There was no telling what type of ship this was and Zein wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Years of performing acrobatics on the streets kept him light on his feet and Zein kept an eye out on for a place to hide should he need to make a quick escape. Of course, the best escape was off the boat, but there were plenty of hidey-holes for him to stow away until he could get off. Though that probably wouldn’t help if the girl blabbed about his presence to the others. Zein wasn’t that worried, however. He could handle anything that came his way—he always had. This was just present a more interesting challenge should he need to escape.
He needn’t have thought of an escape plan it seemed, for the girl had returned alone and with wine. Zein wouldn’t say no to the free drink, but he would be careful to keep his wits about him. This was still an unfamiliar situation and he at least wanted to make a dignified escape if he had to. He accepted the proffered bottle, taking a swig from it, letting the liquid warm him up from head to toe as it entered his body. This was nice stuff…better than anything he had ever stolen. Of course, people didn’t usually keep the real nice stuff where thieves might get to it. And Zein wasn’t overly ambitious in that sense to try and get something worth more. He could get drunk just as easily on the cheap stuff for far less risk.
The two moved towards the rail, Zein finding himself unsteady under the rocking of the ship. He’d never been on a ship before. This was an uncomfortable feeling. Her Hebrew was a bit rough, but mostly understandable. Zein wished he knew more Coptic – Yosef had taught him some, but half of it was swear words and the other half were just random words, hardly enough to put a real sentence together.
“Easy for you to say,” Zein responded, shrugging. What he wouldn’t give to leave. “You have a ship. You can go anywhere. I don’t have more than two coins to my name.” It wasn’t a complaint. It was a simple fact. Zein stuck to performing because that was what he was good at. It provided a small income, but most of that went to food or to the troupe for performing with them or for supplies. His savings were small and hard to grow. To make it on his own…well in many ways he had no idea where to begin.
All Akila was hearing was whining. You have a ship. Fuck, if this was her ship would she be stumbling around drunk off her ass sneaking more wine? No. She’d be in the captain’s quarters drinking her fill, having the time of her sinful life while pious little Judeans slept like good little ones wasting their life away to be boring.
But what she hated more was excuses. She was married once, trapped in Edwa. Then she slit the man’s throat, took what he had, and made her way to the docks. Was her life perfect? No. But it would be once another man bled.
So Akila laughed at his feeble excuses. They were pathetic. “It is easy for me. I did it. I left.” She rolled her eyes at the man. “You wanna leave, you find a way to leave. You don’t wait. Do you really want to leave? Then leave. Only thing stopin’ you is you.”
Akila wasn’t one to give free advice. Fuck that. Maybe she was feeling generous today. Maybe the alcohol was getting to her. It didn’t matter much. She was in a giving mood so why not go for it? “Stowaway. Steal. Kill. I dunno. The people who want to get out, get out. They don’t wait for a God that’s never gonna show up to point them where to go. Make your own damn path and don’t rely on no one but yourself.”
She took another drink and she really started feeling it. She didn’t know what was rocking more, the boat, or herself. She shoved the wine at him for good. “Yous pretty.” She slurred, pointing at him. “Use that. Or muscles. Boats need hands. This boat needs hands.” She pointed at the deck. “Last one died.” He met an unfortunate end with an arrow through his throat. He should have listened when they yelled duck. Dumbass.
Akila leaned against the rail and got another good look at the Judean. He really didn’t belong did he? Most would be completely appalled by a woman, unhooded, wearing clothes that were far too revealing. Let alone drunk. But here he was, sneaking aboard a pirate’s ship of all places, making conversation and drinking wine in the dead of night. He would be so interesting if he were anywhere other than the most boring place on the planet. Akila almost wondered how he got this way. Didn’t these people stick together? They had giant families and lived and died together? How’d he get so weird that he was talking to Akila instead of sleeping in some warm bed so he could get up early for some morning prayer or whatever they did to worship?
Let alone, perhaps the most unusual of all was that he was talking to an Egyptian. The amount of racism in Judea annoyed Akila. They were all holier than thou and belittled people for worshiping gods that actually existed. Not that… Akila worshiped anyone. But still, she was allowed to be pissed. “You’re weird.” She repeated again.
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All Akila was hearing was whining. You have a ship. Fuck, if this was her ship would she be stumbling around drunk off her ass sneaking more wine? No. She’d be in the captain’s quarters drinking her fill, having the time of her sinful life while pious little Judeans slept like good little ones wasting their life away to be boring.
But what she hated more was excuses. She was married once, trapped in Edwa. Then she slit the man’s throat, took what he had, and made her way to the docks. Was her life perfect? No. But it would be once another man bled.
So Akila laughed at his feeble excuses. They were pathetic. “It is easy for me. I did it. I left.” She rolled her eyes at the man. “You wanna leave, you find a way to leave. You don’t wait. Do you really want to leave? Then leave. Only thing stopin’ you is you.”
Akila wasn’t one to give free advice. Fuck that. Maybe she was feeling generous today. Maybe the alcohol was getting to her. It didn’t matter much. She was in a giving mood so why not go for it? “Stowaway. Steal. Kill. I dunno. The people who want to get out, get out. They don’t wait for a God that’s never gonna show up to point them where to go. Make your own damn path and don’t rely on no one but yourself.”
She took another drink and she really started feeling it. She didn’t know what was rocking more, the boat, or herself. She shoved the wine at him for good. “Yous pretty.” She slurred, pointing at him. “Use that. Or muscles. Boats need hands. This boat needs hands.” She pointed at the deck. “Last one died.” He met an unfortunate end with an arrow through his throat. He should have listened when they yelled duck. Dumbass.
Akila leaned against the rail and got another good look at the Judean. He really didn’t belong did he? Most would be completely appalled by a woman, unhooded, wearing clothes that were far too revealing. Let alone drunk. But here he was, sneaking aboard a pirate’s ship of all places, making conversation and drinking wine in the dead of night. He would be so interesting if he were anywhere other than the most boring place on the planet. Akila almost wondered how he got this way. Didn’t these people stick together? They had giant families and lived and died together? How’d he get so weird that he was talking to Akila instead of sleeping in some warm bed so he could get up early for some morning prayer or whatever they did to worship?
Let alone, perhaps the most unusual of all was that he was talking to an Egyptian. The amount of racism in Judea annoyed Akila. They were all holier than thou and belittled people for worshiping gods that actually existed. Not that… Akila worshiped anyone. But still, she was allowed to be pissed. “You’re weird.” She repeated again.
All Akila was hearing was whining. You have a ship. Fuck, if this was her ship would she be stumbling around drunk off her ass sneaking more wine? No. She’d be in the captain’s quarters drinking her fill, having the time of her sinful life while pious little Judeans slept like good little ones wasting their life away to be boring.
But what she hated more was excuses. She was married once, trapped in Edwa. Then she slit the man’s throat, took what he had, and made her way to the docks. Was her life perfect? No. But it would be once another man bled.
So Akila laughed at his feeble excuses. They were pathetic. “It is easy for me. I did it. I left.” She rolled her eyes at the man. “You wanna leave, you find a way to leave. You don’t wait. Do you really want to leave? Then leave. Only thing stopin’ you is you.”
Akila wasn’t one to give free advice. Fuck that. Maybe she was feeling generous today. Maybe the alcohol was getting to her. It didn’t matter much. She was in a giving mood so why not go for it? “Stowaway. Steal. Kill. I dunno. The people who want to get out, get out. They don’t wait for a God that’s never gonna show up to point them where to go. Make your own damn path and don’t rely on no one but yourself.”
She took another drink and she really started feeling it. She didn’t know what was rocking more, the boat, or herself. She shoved the wine at him for good. “Yous pretty.” She slurred, pointing at him. “Use that. Or muscles. Boats need hands. This boat needs hands.” She pointed at the deck. “Last one died.” He met an unfortunate end with an arrow through his throat. He should have listened when they yelled duck. Dumbass.
Akila leaned against the rail and got another good look at the Judean. He really didn’t belong did he? Most would be completely appalled by a woman, unhooded, wearing clothes that were far too revealing. Let alone drunk. But here he was, sneaking aboard a pirate’s ship of all places, making conversation and drinking wine in the dead of night. He would be so interesting if he were anywhere other than the most boring place on the planet. Akila almost wondered how he got this way. Didn’t these people stick together? They had giant families and lived and died together? How’d he get so weird that he was talking to Akila instead of sleeping in some warm bed so he could get up early for some morning prayer or whatever they did to worship?
Let alone, perhaps the most unusual of all was that he was talking to an Egyptian. The amount of racism in Judea annoyed Akila. They were all holier than thou and belittled people for worshiping gods that actually existed. Not that… Akila worshiped anyone. But still, she was allowed to be pissed. “You’re weird.” She repeated again.
She laughed at him, causing Zein to examine his companion more thoughtfully. She had been though things in life—same as him, but different. She hadn’t fought for her life on the streets of Judea, but Zein could tell that she had fought for her life just as hard, if not harder. She was a fighter, that much was clear. Zein didn’t know how he felt about her advice, however. Sure, he could just leave, but how was he going to get anywhere else? And how was he going to leave his cousin behind?
In many ways, Zein was hung up on his cousin, Tamar. How could he leave her behind in Judea? She was his only true family and she was no happier than he. Her mother was the only thing keeping her here. Zein thought she would be happier elsewhere, with him. But twice he had asked her to leave and twice she had said no. She wasn’t willing to leave her mother and siblings to be left alone with her father. Zein understood that. His uncle was the reason he had left. Perhaps he was a coward for not staying and defending his cousins, but he did not have the benefit of being a blood relation that sometimes protected them. No, to his uncle, Zein was an urchin boy who was born from sin and should be punished for it. There was nothing that could save him.
The girl was continuing on, giving him advice. He wasn’t sure if she was usually so talkative or if the drink was loosening her tongue. Zein guessed it was some of the latter, given her slurred words. He was enjoying the proffered wine, but hadn’t had quite the head start that she’d had. Still, he was feeling freer in this moment, relaxed just enough to take her suggestion seriously. She was right. Judeans were too pious. Zein had long since given up on the thought of a God, singular or plural. He had made his way long enough without divine help and wasn’t waiting around for it. Unlike most Judeans who were too afraid to move without praying. What use was that? They would move whether some god willed it or not. His new companion was right.
Suddenly, she was shoving her wine at him and Zein took a hold of it so it wouldn’t be dropped into the harbor. She was rocking a bit more than necessary given the waves were not very high and they were docked. He wondered briefly if he should get her some water, but dismissed the thought as he wasn’t about to go sneaking around on this boat without her and she was in no state to sneak anymore. So instead, he just accepted the wine with a nod and a sip.
“I juggle,” he said, countering her suggestion. She was right—he had used his looks to get money. Now that he was less of a scrawny youth than he had been, he was attracting the kind of attention that led to money. Her veiled offer to have him join this boat was appealing, but he knew nothing of the sea and wasn’t willing to leave his props behind. They were his livelihood. He could juggle anywhere. Perhaps even Egypt.
“You’re weird too,” he grinned, taking a sip of the wine. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. I like it. Women here are…boring. You’re not.”
She’d given him a lot to think about. Perhaps he really could leave Judea. It wouldn’t be hard. He could work on a boat in exchange for passage to Egypt. Or anywhere. Zein knew nothing of the world—he had only left his home city for the first time a few months ago. There was so much more for him to learn.
“You’re right. I will go. Soon. There’s something here I have to do first.” Again, he thought of his cousin. He could not leave her yet. Nor could he leave his juggling equipment behind. There were things he still needed to do.
“Tell me about Egypt,” he asked, wanting to know more of what his future could be. Judeans never had much good to say about Egypt, but to Zein that wasn’t a bad thing. He wanted to learn more.
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Sept 20, 2020 16:19:51 GMT
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She laughed at him, causing Zein to examine his companion more thoughtfully. She had been though things in life—same as him, but different. She hadn’t fought for her life on the streets of Judea, but Zein could tell that she had fought for her life just as hard, if not harder. She was a fighter, that much was clear. Zein didn’t know how he felt about her advice, however. Sure, he could just leave, but how was he going to get anywhere else? And how was he going to leave his cousin behind?
In many ways, Zein was hung up on his cousin, Tamar. How could he leave her behind in Judea? She was his only true family and she was no happier than he. Her mother was the only thing keeping her here. Zein thought she would be happier elsewhere, with him. But twice he had asked her to leave and twice she had said no. She wasn’t willing to leave her mother and siblings to be left alone with her father. Zein understood that. His uncle was the reason he had left. Perhaps he was a coward for not staying and defending his cousins, but he did not have the benefit of being a blood relation that sometimes protected them. No, to his uncle, Zein was an urchin boy who was born from sin and should be punished for it. There was nothing that could save him.
The girl was continuing on, giving him advice. He wasn’t sure if she was usually so talkative or if the drink was loosening her tongue. Zein guessed it was some of the latter, given her slurred words. He was enjoying the proffered wine, but hadn’t had quite the head start that she’d had. Still, he was feeling freer in this moment, relaxed just enough to take her suggestion seriously. She was right. Judeans were too pious. Zein had long since given up on the thought of a God, singular or plural. He had made his way long enough without divine help and wasn’t waiting around for it. Unlike most Judeans who were too afraid to move without praying. What use was that? They would move whether some god willed it or not. His new companion was right.
Suddenly, she was shoving her wine at him and Zein took a hold of it so it wouldn’t be dropped into the harbor. She was rocking a bit more than necessary given the waves were not very high and they were docked. He wondered briefly if he should get her some water, but dismissed the thought as he wasn’t about to go sneaking around on this boat without her and she was in no state to sneak anymore. So instead, he just accepted the wine with a nod and a sip.
“I juggle,” he said, countering her suggestion. She was right—he had used his looks to get money. Now that he was less of a scrawny youth than he had been, he was attracting the kind of attention that led to money. Her veiled offer to have him join this boat was appealing, but he knew nothing of the sea and wasn’t willing to leave his props behind. They were his livelihood. He could juggle anywhere. Perhaps even Egypt.
“You’re weird too,” he grinned, taking a sip of the wine. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. I like it. Women here are…boring. You’re not.”
She’d given him a lot to think about. Perhaps he really could leave Judea. It wouldn’t be hard. He could work on a boat in exchange for passage to Egypt. Or anywhere. Zein knew nothing of the world—he had only left his home city for the first time a few months ago. There was so much more for him to learn.
“You’re right. I will go. Soon. There’s something here I have to do first.” Again, he thought of his cousin. He could not leave her yet. Nor could he leave his juggling equipment behind. There were things he still needed to do.
“Tell me about Egypt,” he asked, wanting to know more of what his future could be. Judeans never had much good to say about Egypt, but to Zein that wasn’t a bad thing. He wanted to learn more.
She laughed at him, causing Zein to examine his companion more thoughtfully. She had been though things in life—same as him, but different. She hadn’t fought for her life on the streets of Judea, but Zein could tell that she had fought for her life just as hard, if not harder. She was a fighter, that much was clear. Zein didn’t know how he felt about her advice, however. Sure, he could just leave, but how was he going to get anywhere else? And how was he going to leave his cousin behind?
In many ways, Zein was hung up on his cousin, Tamar. How could he leave her behind in Judea? She was his only true family and she was no happier than he. Her mother was the only thing keeping her here. Zein thought she would be happier elsewhere, with him. But twice he had asked her to leave and twice she had said no. She wasn’t willing to leave her mother and siblings to be left alone with her father. Zein understood that. His uncle was the reason he had left. Perhaps he was a coward for not staying and defending his cousins, but he did not have the benefit of being a blood relation that sometimes protected them. No, to his uncle, Zein was an urchin boy who was born from sin and should be punished for it. There was nothing that could save him.
The girl was continuing on, giving him advice. He wasn’t sure if she was usually so talkative or if the drink was loosening her tongue. Zein guessed it was some of the latter, given her slurred words. He was enjoying the proffered wine, but hadn’t had quite the head start that she’d had. Still, he was feeling freer in this moment, relaxed just enough to take her suggestion seriously. She was right. Judeans were too pious. Zein had long since given up on the thought of a God, singular or plural. He had made his way long enough without divine help and wasn’t waiting around for it. Unlike most Judeans who were too afraid to move without praying. What use was that? They would move whether some god willed it or not. His new companion was right.
Suddenly, she was shoving her wine at him and Zein took a hold of it so it wouldn’t be dropped into the harbor. She was rocking a bit more than necessary given the waves were not very high and they were docked. He wondered briefly if he should get her some water, but dismissed the thought as he wasn’t about to go sneaking around on this boat without her and she was in no state to sneak anymore. So instead, he just accepted the wine with a nod and a sip.
“I juggle,” he said, countering her suggestion. She was right—he had used his looks to get money. Now that he was less of a scrawny youth than he had been, he was attracting the kind of attention that led to money. Her veiled offer to have him join this boat was appealing, but he knew nothing of the sea and wasn’t willing to leave his props behind. They were his livelihood. He could juggle anywhere. Perhaps even Egypt.
“You’re weird too,” he grinned, taking a sip of the wine. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. I like it. Women here are…boring. You’re not.”
She’d given him a lot to think about. Perhaps he really could leave Judea. It wouldn’t be hard. He could work on a boat in exchange for passage to Egypt. Or anywhere. Zein knew nothing of the world—he had only left his home city for the first time a few months ago. There was so much more for him to learn.
“You’re right. I will go. Soon. There’s something here I have to do first.” Again, he thought of his cousin. He could not leave her yet. Nor could he leave his juggling equipment behind. There were things he still needed to do.
“Tell me about Egypt,” he asked, wanting to know more of what his future could be. Judeans never had much good to say about Egypt, but to Zein that wasn’t a bad thing. He wanted to learn more.
I juggle.
What the fuck why was that important? I juggle? Who the hell juggles? Why would you even juggle? What a weird thing to even do. “Oh excuse me. You juggle. You got it all figured out then.” Akila said in her typical brash, sarcastic manner. She never was one to filter her words- especially when she was swimming so deep in alcohol that she was nearly drowning. She was going to have a great morning, that was for sure.
Her companion continued. He talked about women in Judea. Akila snorted when he called them boring. That was the understatement of the year. Akila had met stone walls with more personality than the women here. Akila hated Judea and everything there was to do with it. At least for the first time, she had something that resembled an interesting conversation, and even then she wasn’t sure if this was just her drunken mind playing tricks on her. Maybe this guy didn’t even exist?
Oh, well. At least her mind thought he was handsome to look at. When he wasn’t swirling.
Tell me about Egypt.
“It’s hot.” If Isreal was hot, Egypt was way hotter. “There’s sand everywhere. Burns your feet. They say it lights a fire underneath it to make you run faster.” Run from what? The monsters in the night? The evils in the darkness?
What did he want? A sales pitch? Should Akila start talking about Edwa? How every man was corrupt. How children starved on the streets or were sold by their parents so they could feed their hungry mouths. In fact, slavery wasn’t even the worst option in Edwa. Slaves got to eat, otherwise, it was a waste of money. Did this man want to hear about that?
Or did he want the pretty part of Egypt? No one cares about that part. Let’s talk about Cairo and Thebes and how big those cities are. Look at Alexandria and all its influence from the Greeks! Oh, how magnificent the Pyramids are, and look at those beautiful temples! Akila wasn’t going to paint a pretty picture.
But as much as there were things she hated, she did love Egypt for one thing. “It’s free. You ain’t on your knees praying all day. Everyone’s there havin’ their own lives. Sure, there’s nobles. Not like Greece though, with legions of people serving them. Sure, there’s a Pharoah. Most people won’t even see him. People live their own lives, do what they want.” Akila went from a bride to a pirate. No one told her what to do. She did what she wanted and made her own way. “Wanna know what Egypt is like? Think of Judea. Egypt is everything Judea isn’t.”
If that wasn’t a sales pitch. Akila should be in charge of marketing. Come to Egypt: It’s not Judea. Who needed whoring herself on a pirate ship? Ah, who was she kidding? It was fun. And it’ll be better once the captain was dead. “Did I mention its hot?”
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Sept 20, 2020 21:42:35 GMT
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I juggle.
What the fuck why was that important? I juggle? Who the hell juggles? Why would you even juggle? What a weird thing to even do. “Oh excuse me. You juggle. You got it all figured out then.” Akila said in her typical brash, sarcastic manner. She never was one to filter her words- especially when she was swimming so deep in alcohol that she was nearly drowning. She was going to have a great morning, that was for sure.
Her companion continued. He talked about women in Judea. Akila snorted when he called them boring. That was the understatement of the year. Akila had met stone walls with more personality than the women here. Akila hated Judea and everything there was to do with it. At least for the first time, she had something that resembled an interesting conversation, and even then she wasn’t sure if this was just her drunken mind playing tricks on her. Maybe this guy didn’t even exist?
Oh, well. At least her mind thought he was handsome to look at. When he wasn’t swirling.
Tell me about Egypt.
“It’s hot.” If Isreal was hot, Egypt was way hotter. “There’s sand everywhere. Burns your feet. They say it lights a fire underneath it to make you run faster.” Run from what? The monsters in the night? The evils in the darkness?
What did he want? A sales pitch? Should Akila start talking about Edwa? How every man was corrupt. How children starved on the streets or were sold by their parents so they could feed their hungry mouths. In fact, slavery wasn’t even the worst option in Edwa. Slaves got to eat, otherwise, it was a waste of money. Did this man want to hear about that?
Or did he want the pretty part of Egypt? No one cares about that part. Let’s talk about Cairo and Thebes and how big those cities are. Look at Alexandria and all its influence from the Greeks! Oh, how magnificent the Pyramids are, and look at those beautiful temples! Akila wasn’t going to paint a pretty picture.
But as much as there were things she hated, she did love Egypt for one thing. “It’s free. You ain’t on your knees praying all day. Everyone’s there havin’ their own lives. Sure, there’s nobles. Not like Greece though, with legions of people serving them. Sure, there’s a Pharoah. Most people won’t even see him. People live their own lives, do what they want.” Akila went from a bride to a pirate. No one told her what to do. She did what she wanted and made her own way. “Wanna know what Egypt is like? Think of Judea. Egypt is everything Judea isn’t.”
If that wasn’t a sales pitch. Akila should be in charge of marketing. Come to Egypt: It’s not Judea. Who needed whoring herself on a pirate ship? Ah, who was she kidding? It was fun. And it’ll be better once the captain was dead. “Did I mention its hot?”
I juggle.
What the fuck why was that important? I juggle? Who the hell juggles? Why would you even juggle? What a weird thing to even do. “Oh excuse me. You juggle. You got it all figured out then.” Akila said in her typical brash, sarcastic manner. She never was one to filter her words- especially when she was swimming so deep in alcohol that she was nearly drowning. She was going to have a great morning, that was for sure.
Her companion continued. He talked about women in Judea. Akila snorted when he called them boring. That was the understatement of the year. Akila had met stone walls with more personality than the women here. Akila hated Judea and everything there was to do with it. At least for the first time, she had something that resembled an interesting conversation, and even then she wasn’t sure if this was just her drunken mind playing tricks on her. Maybe this guy didn’t even exist?
Oh, well. At least her mind thought he was handsome to look at. When he wasn’t swirling.
Tell me about Egypt.
“It’s hot.” If Isreal was hot, Egypt was way hotter. “There’s sand everywhere. Burns your feet. They say it lights a fire underneath it to make you run faster.” Run from what? The monsters in the night? The evils in the darkness?
What did he want? A sales pitch? Should Akila start talking about Edwa? How every man was corrupt. How children starved on the streets or were sold by their parents so they could feed their hungry mouths. In fact, slavery wasn’t even the worst option in Edwa. Slaves got to eat, otherwise, it was a waste of money. Did this man want to hear about that?
Or did he want the pretty part of Egypt? No one cares about that part. Let’s talk about Cairo and Thebes and how big those cities are. Look at Alexandria and all its influence from the Greeks! Oh, how magnificent the Pyramids are, and look at those beautiful temples! Akila wasn’t going to paint a pretty picture.
But as much as there were things she hated, she did love Egypt for one thing. “It’s free. You ain’t on your knees praying all day. Everyone’s there havin’ their own lives. Sure, there’s nobles. Not like Greece though, with legions of people serving them. Sure, there’s a Pharoah. Most people won’t even see him. People live their own lives, do what they want.” Akila went from a bride to a pirate. No one told her what to do. She did what she wanted and made her own way. “Wanna know what Egypt is like? Think of Judea. Egypt is everything Judea isn’t.”
If that wasn’t a sales pitch. Akila should be in charge of marketing. Come to Egypt: It’s not Judea. Who needed whoring herself on a pirate ship? Ah, who was she kidding? It was fun. And it’ll be better once the captain was dead. “Did I mention its hot?”
Zein nearly spit out the wine he was drinking, a laugh making it’s way up his throat at her retort. He was not accustomed to having too many conversations with people. It was all about the performances for him and fortunately, Zein didn’t have to talk to impress people. He could juggle and that was enough to attract an audience. The only people he had actual conversations with was Yosef and sometimes Tamar when he saw her. After Yosef had died and Zein left to travel with the performing troupe, his conversations had dropped. So, he hadn’t really done a great job of explaining himself when he said that he juggled. He certainly hadn’t meant that he had anything figured out. Just that juggling was how he made money. He didn’t need to use his body in the ways that she was suggesting.
Zein felt like he ought to explain himself a bit more, but his quiet laughter took away his words. She was funny, this one. And interesting. Not in that way, but just in the sense that she was unlike most women he had met. Although Zein had expanded his horizons some by traveling out of Israel, he still had not left Judea. People in Judea were mostly the same. They were boring. They were ordered. They were stifling. Although he did not laugh for long, he could tell that it would not be worth his time to explain anything to the girl. She was already well into her drink. Zein was becoming more used to being around drunk people, but it was still a rare sight in Judea. His companion drank more than anyone he had ever seen before.
She explained Egypt to him, though it was not what Zein was expecting to hear….actually perhaps it was giving their level of competence in each other’s languages. Then, she began to say the things that were really interesting to him. Zein had always heard that Egypt was a place of great freedoms, but it was never spoken with a positive sense in Judea. Most Judeans hated everything about Egypt, believing that it was only a necessary trading partner. If there was somewhere more practical for them to do business with, then it would be done.
Egypt was described as a land of sins in Judea, but to Zein it felt like the closest he would ever get to heaven. He wanted to go there. It was the thing he wanted most in life. Well, to leave and to prosper as a famous performer. He could never do the latter in Judea, however. It was only in Egypt would his dreams begin to come true.
“Sounds wonderful to me,” he finally said, taking time to let her words sink in. Although she probably didn’t think much of what she had to say, Zein thought that going to a place that was everything Judea was not sounded pretty perfect to him. There would be only one regret that he had about leaving…his cousin. Maybe if he could just convince her to come with him. She had said no before, but maybe she would finally change her mind. He had to try. Zein couldn’t really leave Judea knowing that he hadn’t done everything in his power to convince her to come with him.
“Hot don’t bother me,” he added, like it mattered. Suddenly he asked, “Does your ship take passengers? Girl passengers too?” He would work if that’s what it took, but Tamar knew nothing of this life. Maybe he could find a way to pay for her through his work. Maybe if he never slept and worked twice as hard. Would they both be able to escape this land?
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Sept 30, 2020 2:15:24 GMT
Posted In Almost Free on Sept 30, 2020 2:15:24 GMT
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Zein nearly spit out the wine he was drinking, a laugh making it’s way up his throat at her retort. He was not accustomed to having too many conversations with people. It was all about the performances for him and fortunately, Zein didn’t have to talk to impress people. He could juggle and that was enough to attract an audience. The only people he had actual conversations with was Yosef and sometimes Tamar when he saw her. After Yosef had died and Zein left to travel with the performing troupe, his conversations had dropped. So, he hadn’t really done a great job of explaining himself when he said that he juggled. He certainly hadn’t meant that he had anything figured out. Just that juggling was how he made money. He didn’t need to use his body in the ways that she was suggesting.
Zein felt like he ought to explain himself a bit more, but his quiet laughter took away his words. She was funny, this one. And interesting. Not in that way, but just in the sense that she was unlike most women he had met. Although Zein had expanded his horizons some by traveling out of Israel, he still had not left Judea. People in Judea were mostly the same. They were boring. They were ordered. They were stifling. Although he did not laugh for long, he could tell that it would not be worth his time to explain anything to the girl. She was already well into her drink. Zein was becoming more used to being around drunk people, but it was still a rare sight in Judea. His companion drank more than anyone he had ever seen before.
She explained Egypt to him, though it was not what Zein was expecting to hear….actually perhaps it was giving their level of competence in each other’s languages. Then, she began to say the things that were really interesting to him. Zein had always heard that Egypt was a place of great freedoms, but it was never spoken with a positive sense in Judea. Most Judeans hated everything about Egypt, believing that it was only a necessary trading partner. If there was somewhere more practical for them to do business with, then it would be done.
Egypt was described as a land of sins in Judea, but to Zein it felt like the closest he would ever get to heaven. He wanted to go there. It was the thing he wanted most in life. Well, to leave and to prosper as a famous performer. He could never do the latter in Judea, however. It was only in Egypt would his dreams begin to come true.
“Sounds wonderful to me,” he finally said, taking time to let her words sink in. Although she probably didn’t think much of what she had to say, Zein thought that going to a place that was everything Judea was not sounded pretty perfect to him. There would be only one regret that he had about leaving…his cousin. Maybe if he could just convince her to come with him. She had said no before, but maybe she would finally change her mind. He had to try. Zein couldn’t really leave Judea knowing that he hadn’t done everything in his power to convince her to come with him.
“Hot don’t bother me,” he added, like it mattered. Suddenly he asked, “Does your ship take passengers? Girl passengers too?” He would work if that’s what it took, but Tamar knew nothing of this life. Maybe he could find a way to pay for her through his work. Maybe if he never slept and worked twice as hard. Would they both be able to escape this land?
Zein nearly spit out the wine he was drinking, a laugh making it’s way up his throat at her retort. He was not accustomed to having too many conversations with people. It was all about the performances for him and fortunately, Zein didn’t have to talk to impress people. He could juggle and that was enough to attract an audience. The only people he had actual conversations with was Yosef and sometimes Tamar when he saw her. After Yosef had died and Zein left to travel with the performing troupe, his conversations had dropped. So, he hadn’t really done a great job of explaining himself when he said that he juggled. He certainly hadn’t meant that he had anything figured out. Just that juggling was how he made money. He didn’t need to use his body in the ways that she was suggesting.
Zein felt like he ought to explain himself a bit more, but his quiet laughter took away his words. She was funny, this one. And interesting. Not in that way, but just in the sense that she was unlike most women he had met. Although Zein had expanded his horizons some by traveling out of Israel, he still had not left Judea. People in Judea were mostly the same. They were boring. They were ordered. They were stifling. Although he did not laugh for long, he could tell that it would not be worth his time to explain anything to the girl. She was already well into her drink. Zein was becoming more used to being around drunk people, but it was still a rare sight in Judea. His companion drank more than anyone he had ever seen before.
She explained Egypt to him, though it was not what Zein was expecting to hear….actually perhaps it was giving their level of competence in each other’s languages. Then, she began to say the things that were really interesting to him. Zein had always heard that Egypt was a place of great freedoms, but it was never spoken with a positive sense in Judea. Most Judeans hated everything about Egypt, believing that it was only a necessary trading partner. If there was somewhere more practical for them to do business with, then it would be done.
Egypt was described as a land of sins in Judea, but to Zein it felt like the closest he would ever get to heaven. He wanted to go there. It was the thing he wanted most in life. Well, to leave and to prosper as a famous performer. He could never do the latter in Judea, however. It was only in Egypt would his dreams begin to come true.
“Sounds wonderful to me,” he finally said, taking time to let her words sink in. Although she probably didn’t think much of what she had to say, Zein thought that going to a place that was everything Judea was not sounded pretty perfect to him. There would be only one regret that he had about leaving…his cousin. Maybe if he could just convince her to come with him. She had said no before, but maybe she would finally change her mind. He had to try. Zein couldn’t really leave Judea knowing that he hadn’t done everything in his power to convince her to come with him.
“Hot don’t bother me,” he added, like it mattered. Suddenly he asked, “Does your ship take passengers? Girl passengers too?” He would work if that’s what it took, but Tamar knew nothing of this life. Maybe he could find a way to pay for her through his work. Maybe if he never slept and worked twice as hard. Would they both be able to escape this land?
He laughed. When he laughed Akila laughed. She was that type of drunk where she just wanted to laugh. She was in a good mood, perhaps for the first time, in Judea. Which, well, was fortunate for him. Akila wasn’t a very nice person to be around when she wasn’t happy.
Suddenly Akila felt really dizzy. She blinked and decided the best thing to do was sit. It probably looked odd, the girl suddenly just sitting on the floor, but then again, Akila was a really odd girl so that didn’t matter to her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the swirling guy from her position below. Right. Focus. Sharpen your mind, Akila!
“Passengers?” She shook her head so that she could try to recollect her thoughts. That just made her dizzier. Every time she moved, it was like she was in slow motion. The world took a bit to catch up to her. “Uh, yeah. Money. With money you can get whatever you want.” Until someone stole it or killed you for it. But she wouldn’t add that.
“You wanna run to Egypt?” That would be fun. Akila wouldn’t blame him for wanting to run to Egypt. Look at this place. Akila had to basically drink herself under to have a semblance of fun. Gods what would his life be if he stayed here? Rubbing his sore knees from spending so much of his time praying? Marrying the driest girl in the world, and putting the juggling equipment away to, she didn’t know, farm or something? What is it that Judean men did? Not fight, that much she knew. Any time Akila and her crew got in trouble in Judea, it was with the newly arrived Greek soldiers. Which- to be fair, was annoying. She had to deal with Greeks enough when they went there. She didn’t want to deal with them in Judea now. Come fucking on.
But none of that mattered now. She tilted her head at him. Girl passengers? Did he have a lover? Oh, how scandalous! “It’s not far to get to Egypt on a ship. Just pay your way on and you’ll be allowed.” Probably. Depending on her captain’s mood. But Akila liked him. She’d make sure her captain was in a good mood. She was feeling generous, this Judean was lucky. But also she was interested in how Judeans would fair in sinful Egypt. She’d look forward to meeting him again in Egypt just to see what he was up to. Would it be worth it for him?
“We’re leaving in two days.” She added, because that was important information. Unlike him being okay with the heat. She didn’t much care whether or not he could handle it. She was just saying Egypt was hot. That’s it. “So make up your mind them. One time only offer.” Because Akila was sure as fuck going to forget him the moment they left Judea’s port unless he and that random girl he was talking about made it aboard the ship.
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He laughed. When he laughed Akila laughed. She was that type of drunk where she just wanted to laugh. She was in a good mood, perhaps for the first time, in Judea. Which, well, was fortunate for him. Akila wasn’t a very nice person to be around when she wasn’t happy.
Suddenly Akila felt really dizzy. She blinked and decided the best thing to do was sit. It probably looked odd, the girl suddenly just sitting on the floor, but then again, Akila was a really odd girl so that didn’t matter to her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the swirling guy from her position below. Right. Focus. Sharpen your mind, Akila!
“Passengers?” She shook her head so that she could try to recollect her thoughts. That just made her dizzier. Every time she moved, it was like she was in slow motion. The world took a bit to catch up to her. “Uh, yeah. Money. With money you can get whatever you want.” Until someone stole it or killed you for it. But she wouldn’t add that.
“You wanna run to Egypt?” That would be fun. Akila wouldn’t blame him for wanting to run to Egypt. Look at this place. Akila had to basically drink herself under to have a semblance of fun. Gods what would his life be if he stayed here? Rubbing his sore knees from spending so much of his time praying? Marrying the driest girl in the world, and putting the juggling equipment away to, she didn’t know, farm or something? What is it that Judean men did? Not fight, that much she knew. Any time Akila and her crew got in trouble in Judea, it was with the newly arrived Greek soldiers. Which- to be fair, was annoying. She had to deal with Greeks enough when they went there. She didn’t want to deal with them in Judea now. Come fucking on.
But none of that mattered now. She tilted her head at him. Girl passengers? Did he have a lover? Oh, how scandalous! “It’s not far to get to Egypt on a ship. Just pay your way on and you’ll be allowed.” Probably. Depending on her captain’s mood. But Akila liked him. She’d make sure her captain was in a good mood. She was feeling generous, this Judean was lucky. But also she was interested in how Judeans would fair in sinful Egypt. She’d look forward to meeting him again in Egypt just to see what he was up to. Would it be worth it for him?
“We’re leaving in two days.” She added, because that was important information. Unlike him being okay with the heat. She didn’t much care whether or not he could handle it. She was just saying Egypt was hot. That’s it. “So make up your mind them. One time only offer.” Because Akila was sure as fuck going to forget him the moment they left Judea’s port unless he and that random girl he was talking about made it aboard the ship.
He laughed. When he laughed Akila laughed. She was that type of drunk where she just wanted to laugh. She was in a good mood, perhaps for the first time, in Judea. Which, well, was fortunate for him. Akila wasn’t a very nice person to be around when she wasn’t happy.
Suddenly Akila felt really dizzy. She blinked and decided the best thing to do was sit. It probably looked odd, the girl suddenly just sitting on the floor, but then again, Akila was a really odd girl so that didn’t matter to her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the swirling guy from her position below. Right. Focus. Sharpen your mind, Akila!
“Passengers?” She shook her head so that she could try to recollect her thoughts. That just made her dizzier. Every time she moved, it was like she was in slow motion. The world took a bit to catch up to her. “Uh, yeah. Money. With money you can get whatever you want.” Until someone stole it or killed you for it. But she wouldn’t add that.
“You wanna run to Egypt?” That would be fun. Akila wouldn’t blame him for wanting to run to Egypt. Look at this place. Akila had to basically drink herself under to have a semblance of fun. Gods what would his life be if he stayed here? Rubbing his sore knees from spending so much of his time praying? Marrying the driest girl in the world, and putting the juggling equipment away to, she didn’t know, farm or something? What is it that Judean men did? Not fight, that much she knew. Any time Akila and her crew got in trouble in Judea, it was with the newly arrived Greek soldiers. Which- to be fair, was annoying. She had to deal with Greeks enough when they went there. She didn’t want to deal with them in Judea now. Come fucking on.
But none of that mattered now. She tilted her head at him. Girl passengers? Did he have a lover? Oh, how scandalous! “It’s not far to get to Egypt on a ship. Just pay your way on and you’ll be allowed.” Probably. Depending on her captain’s mood. But Akila liked him. She’d make sure her captain was in a good mood. She was feeling generous, this Judean was lucky. But also she was interested in how Judeans would fair in sinful Egypt. She’d look forward to meeting him again in Egypt just to see what he was up to. Would it be worth it for him?
“We’re leaving in two days.” She added, because that was important information. Unlike him being okay with the heat. She didn’t much care whether or not he could handle it. She was just saying Egypt was hot. That’s it. “So make up your mind them. One time only offer.” Because Akila was sure as fuck going to forget him the moment they left Judea’s port unless he and that random girl he was talking about made it aboard the ship.
Although they both seemed to be having a good time, Zein was very careful about how much alcohol he was consuming. This girl had already drank an unsafe amount. He wasn’t judging—he didn’t care. What he did care about was having to jump off this boat to rescue her if she fell into the water. Zein couldn’t swim. But he would feel awfully guilty letting her drown right in front of him. He didn’t want to drink so much that he forgot the fact that he couldn’t swim and follow her nor so much that he couldn’t alert someone to what had happened were she to fall. There were many situations in which he did not want to be too drunk for and they all seemed to be occurring now.
He was very glad to see her take a seat on the floor, for that meant it would be harder for her to fall over. Zein took a seat next to her, so he wasn’t towering above her and because standing on the boat was beginning to make him feel a little sick. He was not sure that he was going to like a journey for any period of time on a ship. Not if this was what it felt like. The rocking motion of the waves was anything but soothing.
She proceeded to tell him how he might become a passenger, which was disappointing to Zein. He might have had enough money to scrape by for himself. Depending on the cost, of course. But would he have enough for Tamar? That was unlikely. He would have to cram in a dozen more performances and there wouldn’t be time for that. Not if she was leaving in a few days. Plus, he still had to convince Tamar. And he had tried before with no success. How could he rush this process?
“How much?” he asked, prying for more details. It wasn’t enough to say money. He had to know specifics. Zein did not just have money floating around to be used for anything he wanted. He worked hard to make little. Perhaps some of his troupe would give him a loan. Zein could make up a reason why he would need it. They wouldn’t ever find him in Egypt. For all that they were their own little oddities in Judea, they would never pursue him to Egypt. Even if it was over some coin.
“Two days,” he repeated, the timeline seeming even shorter than he thought. Could he do this? He was sitting there doing so much thinking that he almost forgot where he was. There was so much to do in just two days.
“Well, thanks for the offer,” he said, draining what was left of the wine bottle. He was tempted to throw it overboard, but didn’t want to make any of her crew suspicious in case they saw it floating there later. He would dispose of it somewhere else. “I hope we will see each other again in two days. My name’s Zein by the way.” They had gone through so much of the conversation without knowing each other’s identities that perhaps it didn’t matter, but he wanted her to remember him when he showed up again. He also didn’t want to sound a fool asking for just a girl on this ship. Zein didn’t want to give the wrong impression….well, a more wrong impression. He was pretty sure that he was already very unusual.
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Oct 27, 2020 19:21:32 GMT
Posted In Almost Free on Oct 27, 2020 19:21:32 GMT
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Although they both seemed to be having a good time, Zein was very careful about how much alcohol he was consuming. This girl had already drank an unsafe amount. He wasn’t judging—he didn’t care. What he did care about was having to jump off this boat to rescue her if she fell into the water. Zein couldn’t swim. But he would feel awfully guilty letting her drown right in front of him. He didn’t want to drink so much that he forgot the fact that he couldn’t swim and follow her nor so much that he couldn’t alert someone to what had happened were she to fall. There were many situations in which he did not want to be too drunk for and they all seemed to be occurring now.
He was very glad to see her take a seat on the floor, for that meant it would be harder for her to fall over. Zein took a seat next to her, so he wasn’t towering above her and because standing on the boat was beginning to make him feel a little sick. He was not sure that he was going to like a journey for any period of time on a ship. Not if this was what it felt like. The rocking motion of the waves was anything but soothing.
She proceeded to tell him how he might become a passenger, which was disappointing to Zein. He might have had enough money to scrape by for himself. Depending on the cost, of course. But would he have enough for Tamar? That was unlikely. He would have to cram in a dozen more performances and there wouldn’t be time for that. Not if she was leaving in a few days. Plus, he still had to convince Tamar. And he had tried before with no success. How could he rush this process?
“How much?” he asked, prying for more details. It wasn’t enough to say money. He had to know specifics. Zein did not just have money floating around to be used for anything he wanted. He worked hard to make little. Perhaps some of his troupe would give him a loan. Zein could make up a reason why he would need it. They wouldn’t ever find him in Egypt. For all that they were their own little oddities in Judea, they would never pursue him to Egypt. Even if it was over some coin.
“Two days,” he repeated, the timeline seeming even shorter than he thought. Could he do this? He was sitting there doing so much thinking that he almost forgot where he was. There was so much to do in just two days.
“Well, thanks for the offer,” he said, draining what was left of the wine bottle. He was tempted to throw it overboard, but didn’t want to make any of her crew suspicious in case they saw it floating there later. He would dispose of it somewhere else. “I hope we will see each other again in two days. My name’s Zein by the way.” They had gone through so much of the conversation without knowing each other’s identities that perhaps it didn’t matter, but he wanted her to remember him when he showed up again. He also didn’t want to sound a fool asking for just a girl on this ship. Zein didn’t want to give the wrong impression….well, a more wrong impression. He was pretty sure that he was already very unusual.
Although they both seemed to be having a good time, Zein was very careful about how much alcohol he was consuming. This girl had already drank an unsafe amount. He wasn’t judging—he didn’t care. What he did care about was having to jump off this boat to rescue her if she fell into the water. Zein couldn’t swim. But he would feel awfully guilty letting her drown right in front of him. He didn’t want to drink so much that he forgot the fact that he couldn’t swim and follow her nor so much that he couldn’t alert someone to what had happened were she to fall. There were many situations in which he did not want to be too drunk for and they all seemed to be occurring now.
He was very glad to see her take a seat on the floor, for that meant it would be harder for her to fall over. Zein took a seat next to her, so he wasn’t towering above her and because standing on the boat was beginning to make him feel a little sick. He was not sure that he was going to like a journey for any period of time on a ship. Not if this was what it felt like. The rocking motion of the waves was anything but soothing.
She proceeded to tell him how he might become a passenger, which was disappointing to Zein. He might have had enough money to scrape by for himself. Depending on the cost, of course. But would he have enough for Tamar? That was unlikely. He would have to cram in a dozen more performances and there wouldn’t be time for that. Not if she was leaving in a few days. Plus, he still had to convince Tamar. And he had tried before with no success. How could he rush this process?
“How much?” he asked, prying for more details. It wasn’t enough to say money. He had to know specifics. Zein did not just have money floating around to be used for anything he wanted. He worked hard to make little. Perhaps some of his troupe would give him a loan. Zein could make up a reason why he would need it. They wouldn’t ever find him in Egypt. For all that they were their own little oddities in Judea, they would never pursue him to Egypt. Even if it was over some coin.
“Two days,” he repeated, the timeline seeming even shorter than he thought. Could he do this? He was sitting there doing so much thinking that he almost forgot where he was. There was so much to do in just two days.
“Well, thanks for the offer,” he said, draining what was left of the wine bottle. He was tempted to throw it overboard, but didn’t want to make any of her crew suspicious in case they saw it floating there later. He would dispose of it somewhere else. “I hope we will see each other again in two days. My name’s Zein by the way.” They had gone through so much of the conversation without knowing each other’s identities that perhaps it didn’t matter, but he wanted her to remember him when he showed up again. He also didn’t want to sound a fool asking for just a girl on this ship. Zein didn’t want to give the wrong impression….well, a more wrong impression. He was pretty sure that he was already very unusual.
Akila was fairly far gone at this point. Every time her head turned, the world took a second to follow. It was a fairly funny feeling, really. It was like she was faster than the world. Ha, being drunk in Judea was great. It was the only way to enjoy this stupid fucking Kingdom with its stupid fucking rules.
He was still talking, asking specifics. How much? It’s not like pirates often took passengers unless it was to sell them. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Akila was so good with her mouth (with words and by other means,) this man wouldn’t be stepping foot on this deck again. Her captain would cage him and sell him to the highest bidder.
But perhaps God did exist for this man. Because Akila was far more wasted than she was in a very a long time. The more drunk Akila got, the more… patient she got. Akila would have told him to fuck off if she was sober. She would have glared at him like she did most other Judeans and risk getting herself stoned or what have you because of how fucking sinful she was. This man wouldn’t have been worth Akila’s time… if she was sober.
But he was pretty to look at. Akila liked pretty things. The men on her ship were so ugly. Khalid was a looker, but everyone else made Akila’s eyes want to bleed. Especially the captain with his lazy fat gut and his ugly mug that Akila just wanted to drive her knife through. Honestly, scarring it would probably make it look better. It’d be a distraction from the hideous monstrosity behind it.
She couldn’t wait until he died.
She desired freedom, much like the Judean. And this was the final piece of luck that this man had today. Akila was trapped all of her life, much like this man. But she was tantalizingly close. She could see the wheels turning in Khalid’s mind. Bit by bit, day by day, the unrest that this ship had was beginning to unfold. All by Akila’s whispers, her ideas, and… her captain being a fucking dickwad.
The Judean was trapped and desired freedom; Akila was trapped and would kill (and has killed) for it. So it was a mercy that Akila was showing him, one that was rare from such a girl, by giving him a chance to board this ship.
Plus, he was pretty.
Girl or not, Akila would try to fuck him like she fucked the other men on the ship. She could join too if she wanted. Akila didn’t give a shit. But that was a conversation for another night. The man needed to get the money first… which he’d kindly hand to Akila, and Akila would certainly keep as a backup if her captain needed a little convincing. And if he didn’t… well, a broker’s fee seemed fair. Akila wasn’t a saint after all. She was just a drunk. Besides, he had to pay for that bottle of wine one way or another. That was what a proper man did, after all.
Akila named a number, and as she did, she moved from a sitting position to a laying position on the deck. She watched as the stars swirled above the night sky. She hated this kingdom, but at least their stars looked the same. “Akila.” She introduced herself, not moving to look at the man as he was going away. “Two days. We ain’t waiting.” She called out to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ late, boy.”
Zein was almost free. Akila was… envious.
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Akila was fairly far gone at this point. Every time her head turned, the world took a second to follow. It was a fairly funny feeling, really. It was like she was faster than the world. Ha, being drunk in Judea was great. It was the only way to enjoy this stupid fucking Kingdom with its stupid fucking rules.
He was still talking, asking specifics. How much? It’s not like pirates often took passengers unless it was to sell them. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Akila was so good with her mouth (with words and by other means,) this man wouldn’t be stepping foot on this deck again. Her captain would cage him and sell him to the highest bidder.
But perhaps God did exist for this man. Because Akila was far more wasted than she was in a very a long time. The more drunk Akila got, the more… patient she got. Akila would have told him to fuck off if she was sober. She would have glared at him like she did most other Judeans and risk getting herself stoned or what have you because of how fucking sinful she was. This man wouldn’t have been worth Akila’s time… if she was sober.
But he was pretty to look at. Akila liked pretty things. The men on her ship were so ugly. Khalid was a looker, but everyone else made Akila’s eyes want to bleed. Especially the captain with his lazy fat gut and his ugly mug that Akila just wanted to drive her knife through. Honestly, scarring it would probably make it look better. It’d be a distraction from the hideous monstrosity behind it.
She couldn’t wait until he died.
She desired freedom, much like the Judean. And this was the final piece of luck that this man had today. Akila was trapped all of her life, much like this man. But she was tantalizingly close. She could see the wheels turning in Khalid’s mind. Bit by bit, day by day, the unrest that this ship had was beginning to unfold. All by Akila’s whispers, her ideas, and… her captain being a fucking dickwad.
The Judean was trapped and desired freedom; Akila was trapped and would kill (and has killed) for it. So it was a mercy that Akila was showing him, one that was rare from such a girl, by giving him a chance to board this ship.
Plus, he was pretty.
Girl or not, Akila would try to fuck him like she fucked the other men on the ship. She could join too if she wanted. Akila didn’t give a shit. But that was a conversation for another night. The man needed to get the money first… which he’d kindly hand to Akila, and Akila would certainly keep as a backup if her captain needed a little convincing. And if he didn’t… well, a broker’s fee seemed fair. Akila wasn’t a saint after all. She was just a drunk. Besides, he had to pay for that bottle of wine one way or another. That was what a proper man did, after all.
Akila named a number, and as she did, she moved from a sitting position to a laying position on the deck. She watched as the stars swirled above the night sky. She hated this kingdom, but at least their stars looked the same. “Akila.” She introduced herself, not moving to look at the man as he was going away. “Two days. We ain’t waiting.” She called out to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ late, boy.”
Zein was almost free. Akila was… envious.
Akila was fairly far gone at this point. Every time her head turned, the world took a second to follow. It was a fairly funny feeling, really. It was like she was faster than the world. Ha, being drunk in Judea was great. It was the only way to enjoy this stupid fucking Kingdom with its stupid fucking rules.
He was still talking, asking specifics. How much? It’s not like pirates often took passengers unless it was to sell them. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Akila was so good with her mouth (with words and by other means,) this man wouldn’t be stepping foot on this deck again. Her captain would cage him and sell him to the highest bidder.
But perhaps God did exist for this man. Because Akila was far more wasted than she was in a very a long time. The more drunk Akila got, the more… patient she got. Akila would have told him to fuck off if she was sober. She would have glared at him like she did most other Judeans and risk getting herself stoned or what have you because of how fucking sinful she was. This man wouldn’t have been worth Akila’s time… if she was sober.
But he was pretty to look at. Akila liked pretty things. The men on her ship were so ugly. Khalid was a looker, but everyone else made Akila’s eyes want to bleed. Especially the captain with his lazy fat gut and his ugly mug that Akila just wanted to drive her knife through. Honestly, scarring it would probably make it look better. It’d be a distraction from the hideous monstrosity behind it.
She couldn’t wait until he died.
She desired freedom, much like the Judean. And this was the final piece of luck that this man had today. Akila was trapped all of her life, much like this man. But she was tantalizingly close. She could see the wheels turning in Khalid’s mind. Bit by bit, day by day, the unrest that this ship had was beginning to unfold. All by Akila’s whispers, her ideas, and… her captain being a fucking dickwad.
The Judean was trapped and desired freedom; Akila was trapped and would kill (and has killed) for it. So it was a mercy that Akila was showing him, one that was rare from such a girl, by giving him a chance to board this ship.
Plus, he was pretty.
Girl or not, Akila would try to fuck him like she fucked the other men on the ship. She could join too if she wanted. Akila didn’t give a shit. But that was a conversation for another night. The man needed to get the money first… which he’d kindly hand to Akila, and Akila would certainly keep as a backup if her captain needed a little convincing. And if he didn’t… well, a broker’s fee seemed fair. Akila wasn’t a saint after all. She was just a drunk. Besides, he had to pay for that bottle of wine one way or another. That was what a proper man did, after all.
Akila named a number, and as she did, she moved from a sitting position to a laying position on the deck. She watched as the stars swirled above the night sky. She hated this kingdom, but at least their stars looked the same. “Akila.” She introduced herself, not moving to look at the man as he was going away. “Two days. We ain’t waiting.” She called out to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ late, boy.”