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Tonight was the first time Amenemhat had the pleasure of calling himself that. Admittedly, it was as a substitute, not quite taking up the mantle in earnest. But, that would no longer be the casr after today. He wore his mask on his right shoulder, tying it about his flesh. The whirl of black and blue body paint was beginning to fade all throughout his body, his features in full exposure. He reveled in the beating of his heart, the hot blood that coursed through his veins at the resounding applause of a show that sought to be the first of new life brought to a circus brought to its knees. For years, Amenemhat was relegated to a position of mediocrity, his talents never quite taken to full use and he never understood why.
Why would Somgi of Cairo intentionally damage his circus by keeping himself in the position of ringmaster? It was foolish, it was dangerous, and it was no longer an issue. With full confidence in his sister, he'd thrown himself into his show, brought out the Absconce of Pandemonium that utilized a technique in lighting of his own creation. Some might call it magic, with how the flame danced and the performers were shown in a prominent light against the darkness of the tent. But, it wasn't. He reveled when he'd taken his final bow, when he'd thrown his arms around the shoulders of the Liu twins. He'd pressed his lips to the younger sister's temple, showing the camaraderie between the members of the circus as they made their last hurrah.
United, we are a force to be reckoned with. I will turn all of us into stars again, he assured himself, as he wrapped Delia in his embrace. He grinned at Lapis before following to embrace her in turn. He shouted out his thanks to the audience, a bow of reprise before he stepped off. The performers still had their duties. They'd lure the crowds out of the tent and to the circus grounds. Fire eaters, sword swallowers, jugglers and concessions would lead the charge on the attentions of the crowd. But, Amenemhat had more pressing matters to deal with. By now, his father should be dead. He didn't know how quickly his sister had succeeded in her venture, but he was eager to find out.
The whores were long gone and far from the main tent, there was relative quiet. The stillness in it of itself was telling, for often enough he'd hear the voice of Somgi of Cairo, talking to himself or some prostitute. The man liked to count his money and his good fortunes, his laziness and general disregard for the circus a stain upon the good name. Crowds didn't like him, they came for the performers. But tonight, a true ringmaster had guided an astounded crowd through a performance.
"Father?" he called out, loud enough for anyone to hear if they happened to escape his notice. He'd be exceedingly careful, cast the blame to circumstance and ill fortunes. At last, Somgi of Cairo had reached his comeuppance and no one would miss him so long as foul play was not expected. Or rather... most wouldn't. He would smooth over the dregs of resistance to his rise to power. Now that Somgi was dead, there was no room for debate on the matter. Whispers and rumours would be quelled and the improvements would speak for themselves.
"Kesi?" he called out after, much lower as he finally raised the tarp and saw the sight for himself. Quickly, he stepped inside, and in his features, once no one could see, was the undisguised glee of seeing the corpse of Somgi of Cairo on the floor. He'd collapsed in an awkward position, his knees tucked back and his legs out at awkward angle. Drool pooled on the floor and his body was motionless. Amenemhat did not speak any further. Instead, he pulled his sister into his embrace, his fingers brushing into the woman's hair as he breathed into her ear,
"Well done."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Ringmaster.
Tonight was the first time Amenemhat had the pleasure of calling himself that. Admittedly, it was as a substitute, not quite taking up the mantle in earnest. But, that would no longer be the casr after today. He wore his mask on his right shoulder, tying it about his flesh. The whirl of black and blue body paint was beginning to fade all throughout his body, his features in full exposure. He reveled in the beating of his heart, the hot blood that coursed through his veins at the resounding applause of a show that sought to be the first of new life brought to a circus brought to its knees. For years, Amenemhat was relegated to a position of mediocrity, his talents never quite taken to full use and he never understood why.
Why would Somgi of Cairo intentionally damage his circus by keeping himself in the position of ringmaster? It was foolish, it was dangerous, and it was no longer an issue. With full confidence in his sister, he'd thrown himself into his show, brought out the Absconce of Pandemonium that utilized a technique in lighting of his own creation. Some might call it magic, with how the flame danced and the performers were shown in a prominent light against the darkness of the tent. But, it wasn't. He reveled when he'd taken his final bow, when he'd thrown his arms around the shoulders of the Liu twins. He'd pressed his lips to the younger sister's temple, showing the camaraderie between the members of the circus as they made their last hurrah.
United, we are a force to be reckoned with. I will turn all of us into stars again, he assured himself, as he wrapped Delia in his embrace. He grinned at Lapis before following to embrace her in turn. He shouted out his thanks to the audience, a bow of reprise before he stepped off. The performers still had their duties. They'd lure the crowds out of the tent and to the circus grounds. Fire eaters, sword swallowers, jugglers and concessions would lead the charge on the attentions of the crowd. But, Amenemhat had more pressing matters to deal with. By now, his father should be dead. He didn't know how quickly his sister had succeeded in her venture, but he was eager to find out.
The whores were long gone and far from the main tent, there was relative quiet. The stillness in it of itself was telling, for often enough he'd hear the voice of Somgi of Cairo, talking to himself or some prostitute. The man liked to count his money and his good fortunes, his laziness and general disregard for the circus a stain upon the good name. Crowds didn't like him, they came for the performers. But tonight, a true ringmaster had guided an astounded crowd through a performance.
"Father?" he called out, loud enough for anyone to hear if they happened to escape his notice. He'd be exceedingly careful, cast the blame to circumstance and ill fortunes. At last, Somgi of Cairo had reached his comeuppance and no one would miss him so long as foul play was not expected. Or rather... most wouldn't. He would smooth over the dregs of resistance to his rise to power. Now that Somgi was dead, there was no room for debate on the matter. Whispers and rumours would be quelled and the improvements would speak for themselves.
"Kesi?" he called out after, much lower as he finally raised the tarp and saw the sight for himself. Quickly, he stepped inside, and in his features, once no one could see, was the undisguised glee of seeing the corpse of Somgi of Cairo on the floor. He'd collapsed in an awkward position, his knees tucked back and his legs out at awkward angle. Drool pooled on the floor and his body was motionless. Amenemhat did not speak any further. Instead, he pulled his sister into his embrace, his fingers brushing into the woman's hair as he breathed into her ear,
"Well done."
Ringmaster.
Tonight was the first time Amenemhat had the pleasure of calling himself that. Admittedly, it was as a substitute, not quite taking up the mantle in earnest. But, that would no longer be the casr after today. He wore his mask on his right shoulder, tying it about his flesh. The whirl of black and blue body paint was beginning to fade all throughout his body, his features in full exposure. He reveled in the beating of his heart, the hot blood that coursed through his veins at the resounding applause of a show that sought to be the first of new life brought to a circus brought to its knees. For years, Amenemhat was relegated to a position of mediocrity, his talents never quite taken to full use and he never understood why.
Why would Somgi of Cairo intentionally damage his circus by keeping himself in the position of ringmaster? It was foolish, it was dangerous, and it was no longer an issue. With full confidence in his sister, he'd thrown himself into his show, brought out the Absconce of Pandemonium that utilized a technique in lighting of his own creation. Some might call it magic, with how the flame danced and the performers were shown in a prominent light against the darkness of the tent. But, it wasn't. He reveled when he'd taken his final bow, when he'd thrown his arms around the shoulders of the Liu twins. He'd pressed his lips to the younger sister's temple, showing the camaraderie between the members of the circus as they made their last hurrah.
United, we are a force to be reckoned with. I will turn all of us into stars again, he assured himself, as he wrapped Delia in his embrace. He grinned at Lapis before following to embrace her in turn. He shouted out his thanks to the audience, a bow of reprise before he stepped off. The performers still had their duties. They'd lure the crowds out of the tent and to the circus grounds. Fire eaters, sword swallowers, jugglers and concessions would lead the charge on the attentions of the crowd. But, Amenemhat had more pressing matters to deal with. By now, his father should be dead. He didn't know how quickly his sister had succeeded in her venture, but he was eager to find out.
The whores were long gone and far from the main tent, there was relative quiet. The stillness in it of itself was telling, for often enough he'd hear the voice of Somgi of Cairo, talking to himself or some prostitute. The man liked to count his money and his good fortunes, his laziness and general disregard for the circus a stain upon the good name. Crowds didn't like him, they came for the performers. But tonight, a true ringmaster had guided an astounded crowd through a performance.
"Father?" he called out, loud enough for anyone to hear if they happened to escape his notice. He'd be exceedingly careful, cast the blame to circumstance and ill fortunes. At last, Somgi of Cairo had reached his comeuppance and no one would miss him so long as foul play was not expected. Or rather... most wouldn't. He would smooth over the dregs of resistance to his rise to power. Now that Somgi was dead, there was no room for debate on the matter. Whispers and rumours would be quelled and the improvements would speak for themselves.
"Kesi?" he called out after, much lower as he finally raised the tarp and saw the sight for himself. Quickly, he stepped inside, and in his features, once no one could see, was the undisguised glee of seeing the corpse of Somgi of Cairo on the floor. He'd collapsed in an awkward position, his knees tucked back and his legs out at awkward angle. Drool pooled on the floor and his body was motionless. Amenemhat did not speak any further. Instead, he pulled his sister into his embrace, his fingers brushing into the woman's hair as he breathed into her ear,
"Well done."
Well done.
That’s all Kesi had ever wanted. She wanted acknowledgment for all that she did. She worked harder than anyone and got none of the glory. And yet even in his last words he only tried to put her down. Her love is a lie. And what would he know of love? Even when he was dying, he stubbornly refused to even note it was Kesi who did it. It was her skills that brought his end. It was her.
And only her.
Kesi was still not calm. She was a whirl of emotions shifting every second. She was sad, happy, annoyed, disgusted, joyous, proud…
Angry.
This was new. Never before was this reflection out. Anger. Did the child ever anger? She might get annoyed, she might throw tantrums, but she didn’t necessarily feel true anger. When the defender came out the first time Somgi had his way, she didn’t feel angry. No, it wasn’t until this night did she feel the true white-hot rage. And with this new shard came a new form of insanity. One that lusted to kill more than any of the others could. One who would look back on this day and only regret that Somgi could not have felt more pain before he died. One who wished that his blood could have been spilled, his entrails left for the vultures to pick at.
A whole new type of insanity. One that didn’t feel sadness or joy. All Kesi could feel was anger, hate, and… love for one man.
The girl clung onto her brother, burying her face in his shoulder to mask the giggles just pouring out of her lips. She was shaking. Her stomach ached from laughing so much. But she couldn’t stop. This was all Kesi had ever dreamed of. This evening wasn’t an ending- but a beginning. She was finally, after all these years, truly Kesi of the Tempest of Set. And this body, this first body, would be a sacrifice to Amenemhat and the chaos god himself. For the two blessed her with the ability to kill. They made her this way.
It was an odd dichotomy of laughter and tears. They would not stop falling, but the laughter wouldn’t stop spilling. When she finally pulled away she looked at her brother, with a crazed gleam in her eye, and a maniac smile splashed across her face.
“He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!” Kesi said giddily. “I did it! Me!” The person he never believed in, never noticed, never cared. Kesi wasn’t weak. She was strong, stronger than the pathetic man crumbled on the ground. She had a fire that could never be put out. And she will never allow herself to be abused like she was ever again. This anger within her would be used for the brother. The one that she loved.
“His dying words,” Kesi’s eyes narrowed. “Was that my love was a lie. But it’s not a lie, brother. I told him I loved you. And I do. More than anything Nem. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll kill anyone for you. I love you, brother. So his words, like everything else he did, are wasted.” and yet deep down there was a tiny part of her that was bothered. Not Anger, she was more annoyed than anything. A tinier part. The child perhaps? Or something, or someone, else. It didn’t matter much.
Once more the swirling in her brain, the clawing, the fighting wouldn’t end. Kesi took a step back to rub her temple. Shut it, she snapped in her mind. Fucking be quiet. She needed to think. She needed to concentrate. She needed…
To make sure this would be perfect for her brother. No mistakes. He gave her the acknowledgment that Kesi so desperately desired. He loved her, protected her when she was scared and hurt. He gave her purpose when she was otherwise useless. Kesi was like a puppy right now. Her imaginary tail was wagging rapidly, and she looked up at her brother, her master, just waiting for his next command. The game wasn’t over yet. And Kesi was absolutely excited to keep playing.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Well done.
That’s all Kesi had ever wanted. She wanted acknowledgment for all that she did. She worked harder than anyone and got none of the glory. And yet even in his last words he only tried to put her down. Her love is a lie. And what would he know of love? Even when he was dying, he stubbornly refused to even note it was Kesi who did it. It was her skills that brought his end. It was her.
And only her.
Kesi was still not calm. She was a whirl of emotions shifting every second. She was sad, happy, annoyed, disgusted, joyous, proud…
Angry.
This was new. Never before was this reflection out. Anger. Did the child ever anger? She might get annoyed, she might throw tantrums, but she didn’t necessarily feel true anger. When the defender came out the first time Somgi had his way, she didn’t feel angry. No, it wasn’t until this night did she feel the true white-hot rage. And with this new shard came a new form of insanity. One that lusted to kill more than any of the others could. One who would look back on this day and only regret that Somgi could not have felt more pain before he died. One who wished that his blood could have been spilled, his entrails left for the vultures to pick at.
A whole new type of insanity. One that didn’t feel sadness or joy. All Kesi could feel was anger, hate, and… love for one man.
The girl clung onto her brother, burying her face in his shoulder to mask the giggles just pouring out of her lips. She was shaking. Her stomach ached from laughing so much. But she couldn’t stop. This was all Kesi had ever dreamed of. This evening wasn’t an ending- but a beginning. She was finally, after all these years, truly Kesi of the Tempest of Set. And this body, this first body, would be a sacrifice to Amenemhat and the chaos god himself. For the two blessed her with the ability to kill. They made her this way.
It was an odd dichotomy of laughter and tears. They would not stop falling, but the laughter wouldn’t stop spilling. When she finally pulled away she looked at her brother, with a crazed gleam in her eye, and a maniac smile splashed across her face.
“He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!” Kesi said giddily. “I did it! Me!” The person he never believed in, never noticed, never cared. Kesi wasn’t weak. She was strong, stronger than the pathetic man crumbled on the ground. She had a fire that could never be put out. And she will never allow herself to be abused like she was ever again. This anger within her would be used for the brother. The one that she loved.
“His dying words,” Kesi’s eyes narrowed. “Was that my love was a lie. But it’s not a lie, brother. I told him I loved you. And I do. More than anything Nem. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll kill anyone for you. I love you, brother. So his words, like everything else he did, are wasted.” and yet deep down there was a tiny part of her that was bothered. Not Anger, she was more annoyed than anything. A tinier part. The child perhaps? Or something, or someone, else. It didn’t matter much.
Once more the swirling in her brain, the clawing, the fighting wouldn’t end. Kesi took a step back to rub her temple. Shut it, she snapped in her mind. Fucking be quiet. She needed to think. She needed to concentrate. She needed…
To make sure this would be perfect for her brother. No mistakes. He gave her the acknowledgment that Kesi so desperately desired. He loved her, protected her when she was scared and hurt. He gave her purpose when she was otherwise useless. Kesi was like a puppy right now. Her imaginary tail was wagging rapidly, and she looked up at her brother, her master, just waiting for his next command. The game wasn’t over yet. And Kesi was absolutely excited to keep playing.
Well done.
That’s all Kesi had ever wanted. She wanted acknowledgment for all that she did. She worked harder than anyone and got none of the glory. And yet even in his last words he only tried to put her down. Her love is a lie. And what would he know of love? Even when he was dying, he stubbornly refused to even note it was Kesi who did it. It was her skills that brought his end. It was her.
And only her.
Kesi was still not calm. She was a whirl of emotions shifting every second. She was sad, happy, annoyed, disgusted, joyous, proud…
Angry.
This was new. Never before was this reflection out. Anger. Did the child ever anger? She might get annoyed, she might throw tantrums, but she didn’t necessarily feel true anger. When the defender came out the first time Somgi had his way, she didn’t feel angry. No, it wasn’t until this night did she feel the true white-hot rage. And with this new shard came a new form of insanity. One that lusted to kill more than any of the others could. One who would look back on this day and only regret that Somgi could not have felt more pain before he died. One who wished that his blood could have been spilled, his entrails left for the vultures to pick at.
A whole new type of insanity. One that didn’t feel sadness or joy. All Kesi could feel was anger, hate, and… love for one man.
The girl clung onto her brother, burying her face in his shoulder to mask the giggles just pouring out of her lips. She was shaking. Her stomach ached from laughing so much. But she couldn’t stop. This was all Kesi had ever dreamed of. This evening wasn’t an ending- but a beginning. She was finally, after all these years, truly Kesi of the Tempest of Set. And this body, this first body, would be a sacrifice to Amenemhat and the chaos god himself. For the two blessed her with the ability to kill. They made her this way.
It was an odd dichotomy of laughter and tears. They would not stop falling, but the laughter wouldn’t stop spilling. When she finally pulled away she looked at her brother, with a crazed gleam in her eye, and a maniac smile splashed across her face.
“He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!” Kesi said giddily. “I did it! Me!” The person he never believed in, never noticed, never cared. Kesi wasn’t weak. She was strong, stronger than the pathetic man crumbled on the ground. She had a fire that could never be put out. And she will never allow herself to be abused like she was ever again. This anger within her would be used for the brother. The one that she loved.
“His dying words,” Kesi’s eyes narrowed. “Was that my love was a lie. But it’s not a lie, brother. I told him I loved you. And I do. More than anything Nem. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll kill anyone for you. I love you, brother. So his words, like everything else he did, are wasted.” and yet deep down there was a tiny part of her that was bothered. Not Anger, she was more annoyed than anything. A tinier part. The child perhaps? Or something, or someone, else. It didn’t matter much.
Once more the swirling in her brain, the clawing, the fighting wouldn’t end. Kesi took a step back to rub her temple. Shut it, she snapped in her mind. Fucking be quiet. She needed to think. She needed to concentrate. She needed…
To make sure this would be perfect for her brother. No mistakes. He gave her the acknowledgment that Kesi so desperately desired. He loved her, protected her when she was scared and hurt. He gave her purpose when she was otherwise useless. Kesi was like a puppy right now. Her imaginary tail was wagging rapidly, and she looked up at her brother, her master, just waiting for his next command. The game wasn’t over yet. And Kesi was absolutely excited to keep playing.
"He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!"
The giddiness in Kesi's voice seemed a powerful catharsis, at last unleashed in the moment of execution. Surely, it'd been building, and building, as the plot that they laid out came to fruition. Amenemhat wondered just how intently Kesi created this particular poison, how much she'd obsessed over it as she plotted the death of their father. Then, all at once, he must've fallen dead, and the sort of delight could only be seen now in the midst of her anger, in the admission of things she'd kept secret from even Amenemhat himself. He'd never knwon that she'd been raped and the fact of it scratched bile at the back of his throat.
Nem tried to keep the logic in Somgi's death. The necessity of it. The idea of his father's death being anything but a logical step forward for the circus separated himself from it. It allowed him to revel in the prosperity of the Tempest of Set and properly hide the glee he took from it from his people. He fantasized about the admission, the slow somberness that would take over his features, the grief that would 'unmask' the heir and make him more relatable to those that would grieve over the ringmaster. Amenemhat, however, in the presence of only his sister, of the girl who faced the greatest hatred and the highest scrutiny from Somgi...
The grin that caught upon his features did not wane. He felt the tear roll down from his left eye. It splashed over the tarp that prevented the invasion of sand into the tents. He felt the welling laughter wanting to break free. But before he did, he pulled his sister into his embrace. He pressed his mouth against her shoulder before the laughter emerged at last. Burgeoning, it muffled against Kesi's shoulders until his teeth marked her flesh to stop the sound. He pulled back from her as he listened to her words, watched the narrowing of her eyes.
"His dying words..."
"My love was a lie..."
Her love? The sibling connection between them was a false one, a facsimile of relation that was carefully cultivated. Was there more to it? Or in the moments leading into his death, did Somgi of Cairo intend to admit that truth to her? It was laughable, to break Layla's illusions by throwing her daughter into oblivion. Amenemhat, unlike his father, would never willingly shatter this perception. He pulled his sister into his embrace, nodding in acknowledgement of her words, her admission, the waste that was Somgi's attempts to ruin everything...
"It was wasted. Somgi of Cairo is..."
He pulled back and turned away to face the inert corpse of Somgi of Cairo. He turned the corpse over with his foot, treating it as the disgusting object that it was. He truly was dead, unable to move, with no signs of blood or struggle. Moisture clung to the ground, a string of spittle connecting the ground to his mouth as he turned it until it broke over and Somgi lay on his back, the echo of his last mockery written upon his features. Even in death, his lips were curved into a cruel sort of smirk.
"Disgusting," he began, letting his fingertips trail along his sister's shoulder before he added,
"No one will hurt you as he did, ever again. I'm sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. I didn't know."
It was hollow at best, a weak excuse for his numerous failures that would not be repeated in the midst of his ascension.
"We need to inform the circus of his death."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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"He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!"
The giddiness in Kesi's voice seemed a powerful catharsis, at last unleashed in the moment of execution. Surely, it'd been building, and building, as the plot that they laid out came to fruition. Amenemhat wondered just how intently Kesi created this particular poison, how much she'd obsessed over it as she plotted the death of their father. Then, all at once, he must've fallen dead, and the sort of delight could only be seen now in the midst of her anger, in the admission of things she'd kept secret from even Amenemhat himself. He'd never knwon that she'd been raped and the fact of it scratched bile at the back of his throat.
Nem tried to keep the logic in Somgi's death. The necessity of it. The idea of his father's death being anything but a logical step forward for the circus separated himself from it. It allowed him to revel in the prosperity of the Tempest of Set and properly hide the glee he took from it from his people. He fantasized about the admission, the slow somberness that would take over his features, the grief that would 'unmask' the heir and make him more relatable to those that would grieve over the ringmaster. Amenemhat, however, in the presence of only his sister, of the girl who faced the greatest hatred and the highest scrutiny from Somgi...
The grin that caught upon his features did not wane. He felt the tear roll down from his left eye. It splashed over the tarp that prevented the invasion of sand into the tents. He felt the welling laughter wanting to break free. But before he did, he pulled his sister into his embrace. He pressed his mouth against her shoulder before the laughter emerged at last. Burgeoning, it muffled against Kesi's shoulders until his teeth marked her flesh to stop the sound. He pulled back from her as he listened to her words, watched the narrowing of her eyes.
"His dying words..."
"My love was a lie..."
Her love? The sibling connection between them was a false one, a facsimile of relation that was carefully cultivated. Was there more to it? Or in the moments leading into his death, did Somgi of Cairo intend to admit that truth to her? It was laughable, to break Layla's illusions by throwing her daughter into oblivion. Amenemhat, unlike his father, would never willingly shatter this perception. He pulled his sister into his embrace, nodding in acknowledgement of her words, her admission, the waste that was Somgi's attempts to ruin everything...
"It was wasted. Somgi of Cairo is..."
He pulled back and turned away to face the inert corpse of Somgi of Cairo. He turned the corpse over with his foot, treating it as the disgusting object that it was. He truly was dead, unable to move, with no signs of blood or struggle. Moisture clung to the ground, a string of spittle connecting the ground to his mouth as he turned it until it broke over and Somgi lay on his back, the echo of his last mockery written upon his features. Even in death, his lips were curved into a cruel sort of smirk.
"Disgusting," he began, letting his fingertips trail along his sister's shoulder before he added,
"No one will hurt you as he did, ever again. I'm sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. I didn't know."
It was hollow at best, a weak excuse for his numerous failures that would not be repeated in the midst of his ascension.
"We need to inform the circus of his death."
"He beat me, he raped, and I killed him!"
The giddiness in Kesi's voice seemed a powerful catharsis, at last unleashed in the moment of execution. Surely, it'd been building, and building, as the plot that they laid out came to fruition. Amenemhat wondered just how intently Kesi created this particular poison, how much she'd obsessed over it as she plotted the death of their father. Then, all at once, he must've fallen dead, and the sort of delight could only be seen now in the midst of her anger, in the admission of things she'd kept secret from even Amenemhat himself. He'd never knwon that she'd been raped and the fact of it scratched bile at the back of his throat.
Nem tried to keep the logic in Somgi's death. The necessity of it. The idea of his father's death being anything but a logical step forward for the circus separated himself from it. It allowed him to revel in the prosperity of the Tempest of Set and properly hide the glee he took from it from his people. He fantasized about the admission, the slow somberness that would take over his features, the grief that would 'unmask' the heir and make him more relatable to those that would grieve over the ringmaster. Amenemhat, however, in the presence of only his sister, of the girl who faced the greatest hatred and the highest scrutiny from Somgi...
The grin that caught upon his features did not wane. He felt the tear roll down from his left eye. It splashed over the tarp that prevented the invasion of sand into the tents. He felt the welling laughter wanting to break free. But before he did, he pulled his sister into his embrace. He pressed his mouth against her shoulder before the laughter emerged at last. Burgeoning, it muffled against Kesi's shoulders until his teeth marked her flesh to stop the sound. He pulled back from her as he listened to her words, watched the narrowing of her eyes.
"His dying words..."
"My love was a lie..."
Her love? The sibling connection between them was a false one, a facsimile of relation that was carefully cultivated. Was there more to it? Or in the moments leading into his death, did Somgi of Cairo intend to admit that truth to her? It was laughable, to break Layla's illusions by throwing her daughter into oblivion. Amenemhat, unlike his father, would never willingly shatter this perception. He pulled his sister into his embrace, nodding in acknowledgement of her words, her admission, the waste that was Somgi's attempts to ruin everything...
"It was wasted. Somgi of Cairo is..."
He pulled back and turned away to face the inert corpse of Somgi of Cairo. He turned the corpse over with his foot, treating it as the disgusting object that it was. He truly was dead, unable to move, with no signs of blood or struggle. Moisture clung to the ground, a string of spittle connecting the ground to his mouth as he turned it until it broke over and Somgi lay on his back, the echo of his last mockery written upon his features. Even in death, his lips were curved into a cruel sort of smirk.
"Disgusting," he began, letting his fingertips trail along his sister's shoulder before he added,
"No one will hurt you as he did, ever again. I'm sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. I didn't know."
It was hollow at best, a weak excuse for his numerous failures that would not be repeated in the midst of his ascension.
"We need to inform the circus of his death."
The anger, the hatred was subsiding. It was over. It was done. Shows over, curtains closed, time to clean up. The fighting that was going on in Kesi’s mind was subsiding, and normalcy was returning. All at once she looked at her brother with the wide, childlike wonderment that was so typical of Kesi. Her gaze followed him to the corpse.
Somgi of Cairo was dead.
She would never be able to think it enough. He was dead. Gone. Nothing. He would go to the scales of Anubis and suffer, for his heart would be heavy enough the scales themselves may break. Her papa was gone. There was only mama and big brother left.
No one will hurt you as he did ever again.
Nem was right. No one will hurt Kesi like that again. No one will pin the girl beneath them. No one will shove her into a coffin. No one will be little her, treat her like a slave, make her into nothing. No one, not one person in this world, would do that ever again.
I’m sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. Did he have to protect her? He did so often when they were children. He would shield her from the worst blows Somgi would try to bring on her. But Kesi hated it every time Nem did it. It was the worst torture imaginable. She’d rather be stuffed in the coffin and buried underneath the scorching sand alive then Nem to weather one hit.
“You didn’t have to protect me.” The words came out so simply, so innocently. Eyes shifted from her dead father back to her brother. She spoke as if stating a simple fact. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. “You get hurt when you protect me. I can do it by myself now. You… you taught me now.”
No one will hurt Kesi, Nem, her mother, or the circus ever again. Now Kesi knew what she was capable of. The man that lied on the floor beneath them was rendered useless (more so than he already was) by Kesi’s own hand. It is this hand that will continue to serve the circus and bring it to greater heights, all in the direction of its new ringmaster. And it was also this hand that would protect herself. Kesi survived true terrors, and from the darkness, she rose stronger than ever before. And now there was no familial obligation or a weak need for praise from a father who never cared. Now her mind could be focused on one thing and one thing only: Her brother and his every desire.
And this was what love was. This is how she knew it wasn’t a lie. Kesi would kill again, happily, for Amenemhat. If he wished her to strike down their mother that both loved so dearly: She would. If he wished for Kesi to slit her own throat, to bleed out onto the altar of Set and sacrifice herself for the circus: She would. If he wished her to fall to her knees in reverence to him: She would. Amenemhat of Alexandria was her brother, her ringmaster, her love, and her God. And there was nothing she would not do for him now.
But between the two of them now, there was time. There was time for Kesi to not only prove her worship of her brother but her love as well. Nothing was between the pair now. She served only one man for now and forever. “How do you suggest we do this brother? Should I fetch someone privately? Rekhmire? Delia? Or do you want me to gather the circus? What do you need of me, ringmaster?” Ringmaster. Kesi wanted to be the first to call him that. Ringmaster… exactly what he was destined to be.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The anger, the hatred was subsiding. It was over. It was done. Shows over, curtains closed, time to clean up. The fighting that was going on in Kesi’s mind was subsiding, and normalcy was returning. All at once she looked at her brother with the wide, childlike wonderment that was so typical of Kesi. Her gaze followed him to the corpse.
Somgi of Cairo was dead.
She would never be able to think it enough. He was dead. Gone. Nothing. He would go to the scales of Anubis and suffer, for his heart would be heavy enough the scales themselves may break. Her papa was gone. There was only mama and big brother left.
No one will hurt you as he did ever again.
Nem was right. No one will hurt Kesi like that again. No one will pin the girl beneath them. No one will shove her into a coffin. No one will be little her, treat her like a slave, make her into nothing. No one, not one person in this world, would do that ever again.
I’m sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. Did he have to protect her? He did so often when they were children. He would shield her from the worst blows Somgi would try to bring on her. But Kesi hated it every time Nem did it. It was the worst torture imaginable. She’d rather be stuffed in the coffin and buried underneath the scorching sand alive then Nem to weather one hit.
“You didn’t have to protect me.” The words came out so simply, so innocently. Eyes shifted from her dead father back to her brother. She spoke as if stating a simple fact. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. “You get hurt when you protect me. I can do it by myself now. You… you taught me now.”
No one will hurt Kesi, Nem, her mother, or the circus ever again. Now Kesi knew what she was capable of. The man that lied on the floor beneath them was rendered useless (more so than he already was) by Kesi’s own hand. It is this hand that will continue to serve the circus and bring it to greater heights, all in the direction of its new ringmaster. And it was also this hand that would protect herself. Kesi survived true terrors, and from the darkness, she rose stronger than ever before. And now there was no familial obligation or a weak need for praise from a father who never cared. Now her mind could be focused on one thing and one thing only: Her brother and his every desire.
And this was what love was. This is how she knew it wasn’t a lie. Kesi would kill again, happily, for Amenemhat. If he wished her to strike down their mother that both loved so dearly: She would. If he wished for Kesi to slit her own throat, to bleed out onto the altar of Set and sacrifice herself for the circus: She would. If he wished her to fall to her knees in reverence to him: She would. Amenemhat of Alexandria was her brother, her ringmaster, her love, and her God. And there was nothing she would not do for him now.
But between the two of them now, there was time. There was time for Kesi to not only prove her worship of her brother but her love as well. Nothing was between the pair now. She served only one man for now and forever. “How do you suggest we do this brother? Should I fetch someone privately? Rekhmire? Delia? Or do you want me to gather the circus? What do you need of me, ringmaster?” Ringmaster. Kesi wanted to be the first to call him that. Ringmaster… exactly what he was destined to be.
The anger, the hatred was subsiding. It was over. It was done. Shows over, curtains closed, time to clean up. The fighting that was going on in Kesi’s mind was subsiding, and normalcy was returning. All at once she looked at her brother with the wide, childlike wonderment that was so typical of Kesi. Her gaze followed him to the corpse.
Somgi of Cairo was dead.
She would never be able to think it enough. He was dead. Gone. Nothing. He would go to the scales of Anubis and suffer, for his heart would be heavy enough the scales themselves may break. Her papa was gone. There was only mama and big brother left.
No one will hurt you as he did ever again.
Nem was right. No one will hurt Kesi like that again. No one will pin the girl beneath them. No one will shove her into a coffin. No one will be little her, treat her like a slave, make her into nothing. No one, not one person in this world, would do that ever again.
I’m sorry, sister, for not protecting you as I should have. Did he have to protect her? He did so often when they were children. He would shield her from the worst blows Somgi would try to bring on her. But Kesi hated it every time Nem did it. It was the worst torture imaginable. She’d rather be stuffed in the coffin and buried underneath the scorching sand alive then Nem to weather one hit.
“You didn’t have to protect me.” The words came out so simply, so innocently. Eyes shifted from her dead father back to her brother. She spoke as if stating a simple fact. The sky is blue. The sun is hot. “You get hurt when you protect me. I can do it by myself now. You… you taught me now.”
No one will hurt Kesi, Nem, her mother, or the circus ever again. Now Kesi knew what she was capable of. The man that lied on the floor beneath them was rendered useless (more so than he already was) by Kesi’s own hand. It is this hand that will continue to serve the circus and bring it to greater heights, all in the direction of its new ringmaster. And it was also this hand that would protect herself. Kesi survived true terrors, and from the darkness, she rose stronger than ever before. And now there was no familial obligation or a weak need for praise from a father who never cared. Now her mind could be focused on one thing and one thing only: Her brother and his every desire.
And this was what love was. This is how she knew it wasn’t a lie. Kesi would kill again, happily, for Amenemhat. If he wished her to strike down their mother that both loved so dearly: She would. If he wished for Kesi to slit her own throat, to bleed out onto the altar of Set and sacrifice herself for the circus: She would. If he wished her to fall to her knees in reverence to him: She would. Amenemhat of Alexandria was her brother, her ringmaster, her love, and her God. And there was nothing she would not do for him now.
But between the two of them now, there was time. There was time for Kesi to not only prove her worship of her brother but her love as well. Nothing was between the pair now. She served only one man for now and forever. “How do you suggest we do this brother? Should I fetch someone privately? Rekhmire? Delia? Or do you want me to gather the circus? What do you need of me, ringmaster?” Ringmaster. Kesi wanted to be the first to call him that. Ringmaster… exactly what he was destined to be.
Somgi had come to blows upon Kesi more times than Amenemhat could reasonably count or, truly, know. He was sent away on menial tasks, just as she was, denied the opportunity to show himself in the capacity of leadership. All of Nem's life, he seemed relegated to a lesser position, given the resources for his inevitable ascent to the reigns of power, but not fed with the proper knowledge when in the moment. Do this, boy. Find your way back. Work and find purpose in it. Hollow platitudes intermingled with, sometimes, genuine articles of truth. He'd learned at Somgi's heel the necessity for pruning the circus of what made it weaker, of imbibing it with only what made it stronger.
Amenemhat learned the value of his slaves, that in their lives existed the potential for more. But, never did he relish in Somgi's wisdom, for it was polluted with false equivalencies and hypocrisies that forced his hand into action. Or rather, Kesi's. In Amenemhat's liberation and rise to power, Kesi gained a catharsis, and the opportunity to grow past similar, but so very different restrictions placed upon her as they were upon Nem himself. They'd move on, together, towards the future that was rife with limitless potential.
"You didn't have to protect me."
Yes, I did.
He knew it immediately, but didn't answer right away. Amenemhat wasn't the man to interject. He listened fully to what his sister told him, the sort of innocence spilling into her words that brought the sensation of spoken facts. But, she was wrong. If Amenemhat hadn't stepped in to shield her, she might've been permanently damaged, or worse yet, triggered into a regression that might've led to her death by Somgi's own hands. Already, their father was wary of Kesi, of the madness that seemed to dwell within her. The treatment that Nem had given her was a dark indulgence, Somgi's plan to bathe his son in the sort of ruthless, twisted sadism that would serve him in the future.
It was that same sadism that urged him to laugh at the man's demise.
He's dead... He's really fucking dead.
He was elated, ecstatic, he felt the liberation set fire to his nerves, course adrenaline and satisfaction through every ending as the tears fell down his cheeks. Somgi of Cairo would not be missed, but his death created the tearful liberation of a son and daughter so severely limited by his existence. It created the opportunity for everything that the man touched to be restored to normalcy and for the aged words of Amenhotep of Momborah to emerge and for his legacy to return to the forefront.
"Our grandfather would be proud, sister, that you sent his son to Anubis. I'm proud," he added, letting his fingertips trail along her jawline. A kiss pressed to the girl's forehead before he pulled back. She'd feel moisture, the catharsis of Nem's freedom from being pushed down and constricted all of his life, well upon the crown of her head. He pulled away, taking two paces over towards the 'wall' of the tent as he stared into the void of tapestry.
"It's so simple..." he murmured, the words without destination. He was distracted by the sudden utterance of ringmaster from the girl's lips. Yes, it was what he was.
But not yet.
Ringmaster.
It was his destiny, and nothing stood in his way.
Ringmaster.
His greatest ambition, his innate urge to make his grandfather proud finally laid out for him to make real.
Ringmaster.
His sole purpose in life, finally brought to fruition.
The only obstacle left was ensuring that the circus' inner circle did not interfere in his claiming his birthright. Sudden authority spilled into his tone, a nuanced intonation that spilled over, for now, the somberness he'd place within it once there were witnesses.
"We need the inner circle to join us. Bring me Delia and Rekhmire. They are needed more than anyone else. Find Lapis, as well. But, keep the number small. We need not disrupt too much of the circus with this. Somgi of Cairo's death, surely, won't be mourned by too many. Letting those closest to him see him one last time before..."
This man does not belong in the tomb with my grandfather and our departed family.
"We'll throw him in the river with weight on his wrists and ankles. He'll rot in the depths of the river and no one will know who he was."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Somgi had come to blows upon Kesi more times than Amenemhat could reasonably count or, truly, know. He was sent away on menial tasks, just as she was, denied the opportunity to show himself in the capacity of leadership. All of Nem's life, he seemed relegated to a lesser position, given the resources for his inevitable ascent to the reigns of power, but not fed with the proper knowledge when in the moment. Do this, boy. Find your way back. Work and find purpose in it. Hollow platitudes intermingled with, sometimes, genuine articles of truth. He'd learned at Somgi's heel the necessity for pruning the circus of what made it weaker, of imbibing it with only what made it stronger.
Amenemhat learned the value of his slaves, that in their lives existed the potential for more. But, never did he relish in Somgi's wisdom, for it was polluted with false equivalencies and hypocrisies that forced his hand into action. Or rather, Kesi's. In Amenemhat's liberation and rise to power, Kesi gained a catharsis, and the opportunity to grow past similar, but so very different restrictions placed upon her as they were upon Nem himself. They'd move on, together, towards the future that was rife with limitless potential.
"You didn't have to protect me."
Yes, I did.
He knew it immediately, but didn't answer right away. Amenemhat wasn't the man to interject. He listened fully to what his sister told him, the sort of innocence spilling into her words that brought the sensation of spoken facts. But, she was wrong. If Amenemhat hadn't stepped in to shield her, she might've been permanently damaged, or worse yet, triggered into a regression that might've led to her death by Somgi's own hands. Already, their father was wary of Kesi, of the madness that seemed to dwell within her. The treatment that Nem had given her was a dark indulgence, Somgi's plan to bathe his son in the sort of ruthless, twisted sadism that would serve him in the future.
It was that same sadism that urged him to laugh at the man's demise.
He's dead... He's really fucking dead.
He was elated, ecstatic, he felt the liberation set fire to his nerves, course adrenaline and satisfaction through every ending as the tears fell down his cheeks. Somgi of Cairo would not be missed, but his death created the tearful liberation of a son and daughter so severely limited by his existence. It created the opportunity for everything that the man touched to be restored to normalcy and for the aged words of Amenhotep of Momborah to emerge and for his legacy to return to the forefront.
"Our grandfather would be proud, sister, that you sent his son to Anubis. I'm proud," he added, letting his fingertips trail along her jawline. A kiss pressed to the girl's forehead before he pulled back. She'd feel moisture, the catharsis of Nem's freedom from being pushed down and constricted all of his life, well upon the crown of her head. He pulled away, taking two paces over towards the 'wall' of the tent as he stared into the void of tapestry.
"It's so simple..." he murmured, the words without destination. He was distracted by the sudden utterance of ringmaster from the girl's lips. Yes, it was what he was.
But not yet.
Ringmaster.
It was his destiny, and nothing stood in his way.
Ringmaster.
His greatest ambition, his innate urge to make his grandfather proud finally laid out for him to make real.
Ringmaster.
His sole purpose in life, finally brought to fruition.
The only obstacle left was ensuring that the circus' inner circle did not interfere in his claiming his birthright. Sudden authority spilled into his tone, a nuanced intonation that spilled over, for now, the somberness he'd place within it once there were witnesses.
"We need the inner circle to join us. Bring me Delia and Rekhmire. They are needed more than anyone else. Find Lapis, as well. But, keep the number small. We need not disrupt too much of the circus with this. Somgi of Cairo's death, surely, won't be mourned by too many. Letting those closest to him see him one last time before..."
This man does not belong in the tomb with my grandfather and our departed family.
"We'll throw him in the river with weight on his wrists and ankles. He'll rot in the depths of the river and no one will know who he was."
Somgi had come to blows upon Kesi more times than Amenemhat could reasonably count or, truly, know. He was sent away on menial tasks, just as she was, denied the opportunity to show himself in the capacity of leadership. All of Nem's life, he seemed relegated to a lesser position, given the resources for his inevitable ascent to the reigns of power, but not fed with the proper knowledge when in the moment. Do this, boy. Find your way back. Work and find purpose in it. Hollow platitudes intermingled with, sometimes, genuine articles of truth. He'd learned at Somgi's heel the necessity for pruning the circus of what made it weaker, of imbibing it with only what made it stronger.
Amenemhat learned the value of his slaves, that in their lives existed the potential for more. But, never did he relish in Somgi's wisdom, for it was polluted with false equivalencies and hypocrisies that forced his hand into action. Or rather, Kesi's. In Amenemhat's liberation and rise to power, Kesi gained a catharsis, and the opportunity to grow past similar, but so very different restrictions placed upon her as they were upon Nem himself. They'd move on, together, towards the future that was rife with limitless potential.
"You didn't have to protect me."
Yes, I did.
He knew it immediately, but didn't answer right away. Amenemhat wasn't the man to interject. He listened fully to what his sister told him, the sort of innocence spilling into her words that brought the sensation of spoken facts. But, she was wrong. If Amenemhat hadn't stepped in to shield her, she might've been permanently damaged, or worse yet, triggered into a regression that might've led to her death by Somgi's own hands. Already, their father was wary of Kesi, of the madness that seemed to dwell within her. The treatment that Nem had given her was a dark indulgence, Somgi's plan to bathe his son in the sort of ruthless, twisted sadism that would serve him in the future.
It was that same sadism that urged him to laugh at the man's demise.
He's dead... He's really fucking dead.
He was elated, ecstatic, he felt the liberation set fire to his nerves, course adrenaline and satisfaction through every ending as the tears fell down his cheeks. Somgi of Cairo would not be missed, but his death created the tearful liberation of a son and daughter so severely limited by his existence. It created the opportunity for everything that the man touched to be restored to normalcy and for the aged words of Amenhotep of Momborah to emerge and for his legacy to return to the forefront.
"Our grandfather would be proud, sister, that you sent his son to Anubis. I'm proud," he added, letting his fingertips trail along her jawline. A kiss pressed to the girl's forehead before he pulled back. She'd feel moisture, the catharsis of Nem's freedom from being pushed down and constricted all of his life, well upon the crown of her head. He pulled away, taking two paces over towards the 'wall' of the tent as he stared into the void of tapestry.
"It's so simple..." he murmured, the words without destination. He was distracted by the sudden utterance of ringmaster from the girl's lips. Yes, it was what he was.
But not yet.
Ringmaster.
It was his destiny, and nothing stood in his way.
Ringmaster.
His greatest ambition, his innate urge to make his grandfather proud finally laid out for him to make real.
Ringmaster.
His sole purpose in life, finally brought to fruition.
The only obstacle left was ensuring that the circus' inner circle did not interfere in his claiming his birthright. Sudden authority spilled into his tone, a nuanced intonation that spilled over, for now, the somberness he'd place within it once there were witnesses.
"We need the inner circle to join us. Bring me Delia and Rekhmire. They are needed more than anyone else. Find Lapis, as well. But, keep the number small. We need not disrupt too much of the circus with this. Somgi of Cairo's death, surely, won't be mourned by too many. Letting those closest to him see him one last time before..."
This man does not belong in the tomb with my grandfather and our departed family.
"We'll throw him in the river with weight on his wrists and ankles. He'll rot in the depths of the river and no one will know who he was."
Only with weights on his wrists and ankles? Kesi wanted to put him in a coffin, just as he did to her. The prison that he kept her in would be forever his. The river, though, was perfect. It was the Nile that stole her memory so long ago. A cursed river, one that didn’t give life-like people worshiped it to do. It took instead, stealing from Kesi and leaving her a confused child in a mad world. It was that curse that Somgi deserved. They were Set, cutting up Osiris and tossing him into the Nile so that he could never again rise. Not that, of course, Kesi had fear of papa rising. Anubis would see his heart and destroy the man who tortured her for so many years.
Kesi glanced at papa once more. It would almost be sad seeing him lay brokenly like this. He didn’t look like a man that was capable of causing so much pain. He didn’t look like a man that was filled with anger and spite. He… looked pitiful. He was a shell. He was… nothing.
It would almost be sad, except for the fact that Kesi was filled with so much joy.
“Okay, big brother!” Kesi said brightly before quickly leaving the tent. Her eyes traveled this way and that. There weren’t many people around. They were probably still working on breaking down the show. Perfect. While the circus was busy she would be able to pull away the two most important people: Delia and Rekhmire. Kesi supposed Lapis would also need to know, but she was the person that Kesi was most suspicious of. She was glad that Nem never mentioned her. Lapis’s relationship with her papa was weird. She really liked him. Kesi didn’t want to be the one to tell her that Somgi was dead. That… might go over terribly. And even if she loved trouble, that was too much for one night.
Kesi found Delia and Rekhmire both near the main tent. Rekhmire looked like he just got finished patching someone up. Was there an accident? Perhaps. Kesi wished she could have saw it. But accidents happened often enough that it probably wouldn’t have actually interested Kesi. Being a circus performer wasn’t always glitz and glamor.
Kesi approached Delia, giving a wary eye to Rekhmire. She still didn’t like the guy. He was serious and cranky and boring. Delia was nice and loving and really, really good to be around. But Kesi did realize the importance of those two right now. Especially because the Ringmaster requested them. “You two are needed in the Ringmaster’s tent.” Kesi said mostly to Delia, but casting the glance to Rekhmire.
It wouldn’t be unusual Kesi being the one sent out to fetch people. Her father used her all the time. But discretion was still important. So Kesi didn’t have her usual bubbly way about her. She wasn’t loud or talkative or anything like that. She saw the task, completed it, and then turned on her heel to lead them back to the tent.
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Only with weights on his wrists and ankles? Kesi wanted to put him in a coffin, just as he did to her. The prison that he kept her in would be forever his. The river, though, was perfect. It was the Nile that stole her memory so long ago. A cursed river, one that didn’t give life-like people worshiped it to do. It took instead, stealing from Kesi and leaving her a confused child in a mad world. It was that curse that Somgi deserved. They were Set, cutting up Osiris and tossing him into the Nile so that he could never again rise. Not that, of course, Kesi had fear of papa rising. Anubis would see his heart and destroy the man who tortured her for so many years.
Kesi glanced at papa once more. It would almost be sad seeing him lay brokenly like this. He didn’t look like a man that was capable of causing so much pain. He didn’t look like a man that was filled with anger and spite. He… looked pitiful. He was a shell. He was… nothing.
It would almost be sad, except for the fact that Kesi was filled with so much joy.
“Okay, big brother!” Kesi said brightly before quickly leaving the tent. Her eyes traveled this way and that. There weren’t many people around. They were probably still working on breaking down the show. Perfect. While the circus was busy she would be able to pull away the two most important people: Delia and Rekhmire. Kesi supposed Lapis would also need to know, but she was the person that Kesi was most suspicious of. She was glad that Nem never mentioned her. Lapis’s relationship with her papa was weird. She really liked him. Kesi didn’t want to be the one to tell her that Somgi was dead. That… might go over terribly. And even if she loved trouble, that was too much for one night.
Kesi found Delia and Rekhmire both near the main tent. Rekhmire looked like he just got finished patching someone up. Was there an accident? Perhaps. Kesi wished she could have saw it. But accidents happened often enough that it probably wouldn’t have actually interested Kesi. Being a circus performer wasn’t always glitz and glamor.
Kesi approached Delia, giving a wary eye to Rekhmire. She still didn’t like the guy. He was serious and cranky and boring. Delia was nice and loving and really, really good to be around. But Kesi did realize the importance of those two right now. Especially because the Ringmaster requested them. “You two are needed in the Ringmaster’s tent.” Kesi said mostly to Delia, but casting the glance to Rekhmire.
It wouldn’t be unusual Kesi being the one sent out to fetch people. Her father used her all the time. But discretion was still important. So Kesi didn’t have her usual bubbly way about her. She wasn’t loud or talkative or anything like that. She saw the task, completed it, and then turned on her heel to lead them back to the tent.
Only with weights on his wrists and ankles? Kesi wanted to put him in a coffin, just as he did to her. The prison that he kept her in would be forever his. The river, though, was perfect. It was the Nile that stole her memory so long ago. A cursed river, one that didn’t give life-like people worshiped it to do. It took instead, stealing from Kesi and leaving her a confused child in a mad world. It was that curse that Somgi deserved. They were Set, cutting up Osiris and tossing him into the Nile so that he could never again rise. Not that, of course, Kesi had fear of papa rising. Anubis would see his heart and destroy the man who tortured her for so many years.
Kesi glanced at papa once more. It would almost be sad seeing him lay brokenly like this. He didn’t look like a man that was capable of causing so much pain. He didn’t look like a man that was filled with anger and spite. He… looked pitiful. He was a shell. He was… nothing.
It would almost be sad, except for the fact that Kesi was filled with so much joy.
“Okay, big brother!” Kesi said brightly before quickly leaving the tent. Her eyes traveled this way and that. There weren’t many people around. They were probably still working on breaking down the show. Perfect. While the circus was busy she would be able to pull away the two most important people: Delia and Rekhmire. Kesi supposed Lapis would also need to know, but she was the person that Kesi was most suspicious of. She was glad that Nem never mentioned her. Lapis’s relationship with her papa was weird. She really liked him. Kesi didn’t want to be the one to tell her that Somgi was dead. That… might go over terribly. And even if she loved trouble, that was too much for one night.
Kesi found Delia and Rekhmire both near the main tent. Rekhmire looked like he just got finished patching someone up. Was there an accident? Perhaps. Kesi wished she could have saw it. But accidents happened often enough that it probably wouldn’t have actually interested Kesi. Being a circus performer wasn’t always glitz and glamor.
Kesi approached Delia, giving a wary eye to Rekhmire. She still didn’t like the guy. He was serious and cranky and boring. Delia was nice and loving and really, really good to be around. But Kesi did realize the importance of those two right now. Especially because the Ringmaster requested them. “You two are needed in the Ringmaster’s tent.” Kesi said mostly to Delia, but casting the glance to Rekhmire.
It wouldn’t be unusual Kesi being the one sent out to fetch people. Her father used her all the time. But discretion was still important. So Kesi didn’t have her usual bubbly way about her. She wasn’t loud or talkative or anything like that. She saw the task, completed it, and then turned on her heel to lead them back to the tent.
Delia was discussing a younger performer’s accident with @rekhmire when Kesi found them. “I think he needs to be retrained. He shouldn’t have had that sort of accident,” she stated tartly, annoyed with whoever had been injured. It’d obviously been a stupid accident, whatever had happened. “That or we feed him to the cats.” She smirked, chuckling softly under her breath. Of course, she was joking. Mostly.
Kesi distracted her from her thoughts, of watching whoever had injured themselves being eaten by the cats the circus kept, and she grumbled. “What’s Somgi want now,” under her breath as she followed after Kesi, never once checking behind her to see if Rekhmire was coming too.
She appeared disgruntled at being summoned so soon after a show; she’d enjoyed watching Amenemhat take the stage, had relished in the idea that eventually the man would rise to power. There were whispers among the performers of leaving—of rebelling, quiet whispers that Delia worked to control. To quell.
Delia could list grievance after grievance against Somgi and the list would go for miles, perhaps be never-ending, except it eventually had to end. Eventually, he had to die. Nobody lived forever, after all. The disgruntled expression left her features as she entered the tent after Kesi, searching it for Somgi. She was expecting him to be lounging, waiting to bark some absurd order or request to her…
But there was silence where usually there would be none. Somgi was a hedonistic man, always overindulging, always moving, never slowing down to consider what his actions were doing—or if he did, he simply did not care.
Her gaze found the man’s body, and she hummed softly, tilting her head as she studied the awkward way he had fallen, the drool pooled under his head. “I won’t miss him, he wasn’t very good at his job.” she eventually stated, her gaze scanning past Kesi to focus on Amenemhat.
She did not look upon him with suspicion, nor did she turn her gaze to Kesi with suspicion. Instead, Delia reached to tousle Kesi’s hair, “We’re better off without him.” She sounded quite certain, as she settled an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders.
“So, we tell the circus it was an overdose?” It would be an easy cover; believable and for all Delia knew, true.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Delia was discussing a younger performer’s accident with @rekhmire when Kesi found them. “I think he needs to be retrained. He shouldn’t have had that sort of accident,” she stated tartly, annoyed with whoever had been injured. It’d obviously been a stupid accident, whatever had happened. “That or we feed him to the cats.” She smirked, chuckling softly under her breath. Of course, she was joking. Mostly.
Kesi distracted her from her thoughts, of watching whoever had injured themselves being eaten by the cats the circus kept, and she grumbled. “What’s Somgi want now,” under her breath as she followed after Kesi, never once checking behind her to see if Rekhmire was coming too.
She appeared disgruntled at being summoned so soon after a show; she’d enjoyed watching Amenemhat take the stage, had relished in the idea that eventually the man would rise to power. There were whispers among the performers of leaving—of rebelling, quiet whispers that Delia worked to control. To quell.
Delia could list grievance after grievance against Somgi and the list would go for miles, perhaps be never-ending, except it eventually had to end. Eventually, he had to die. Nobody lived forever, after all. The disgruntled expression left her features as she entered the tent after Kesi, searching it for Somgi. She was expecting him to be lounging, waiting to bark some absurd order or request to her…
But there was silence where usually there would be none. Somgi was a hedonistic man, always overindulging, always moving, never slowing down to consider what his actions were doing—or if he did, he simply did not care.
Her gaze found the man’s body, and she hummed softly, tilting her head as she studied the awkward way he had fallen, the drool pooled under his head. “I won’t miss him, he wasn’t very good at his job.” she eventually stated, her gaze scanning past Kesi to focus on Amenemhat.
She did not look upon him with suspicion, nor did she turn her gaze to Kesi with suspicion. Instead, Delia reached to tousle Kesi’s hair, “We’re better off without him.” She sounded quite certain, as she settled an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders.
“So, we tell the circus it was an overdose?” It would be an easy cover; believable and for all Delia knew, true.
Delia was discussing a younger performer’s accident with @rekhmire when Kesi found them. “I think he needs to be retrained. He shouldn’t have had that sort of accident,” she stated tartly, annoyed with whoever had been injured. It’d obviously been a stupid accident, whatever had happened. “That or we feed him to the cats.” She smirked, chuckling softly under her breath. Of course, she was joking. Mostly.
Kesi distracted her from her thoughts, of watching whoever had injured themselves being eaten by the cats the circus kept, and she grumbled. “What’s Somgi want now,” under her breath as she followed after Kesi, never once checking behind her to see if Rekhmire was coming too.
She appeared disgruntled at being summoned so soon after a show; she’d enjoyed watching Amenemhat take the stage, had relished in the idea that eventually the man would rise to power. There were whispers among the performers of leaving—of rebelling, quiet whispers that Delia worked to control. To quell.
Delia could list grievance after grievance against Somgi and the list would go for miles, perhaps be never-ending, except it eventually had to end. Eventually, he had to die. Nobody lived forever, after all. The disgruntled expression left her features as she entered the tent after Kesi, searching it for Somgi. She was expecting him to be lounging, waiting to bark some absurd order or request to her…
But there was silence where usually there would be none. Somgi was a hedonistic man, always overindulging, always moving, never slowing down to consider what his actions were doing—or if he did, he simply did not care.
Her gaze found the man’s body, and she hummed softly, tilting her head as she studied the awkward way he had fallen, the drool pooled under his head. “I won’t miss him, he wasn’t very good at his job.” she eventually stated, her gaze scanning past Kesi to focus on Amenemhat.
She did not look upon him with suspicion, nor did she turn her gaze to Kesi with suspicion. Instead, Delia reached to tousle Kesi’s hair, “We’re better off without him.” She sounded quite certain, as she settled an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders.
“So, we tell the circus it was an overdose?” It would be an easy cover; believable and for all Delia knew, true.