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Some people said that answers could be found in the bottom of a bottle, but what did some people know?
Xanthippe found most people knew very little; they pretended to understand a lot more than they did. She understood things better than most. Xanthippe knew secrets only the gods knew, and she hadn’t come across them through some bogus spiritual journey or fasting or taking drugs or any of that nonsense. They whispered their secrets directly in her ears and trusted her to keep them safe. And for the most part, the young handmaid did that job very well. There was little cause to think she would betray them. But there was always the temptation, the dangerous thought of ‘what if’…
It was Lord Fotios who had initially warned her against imbibing too heavily in alcohol. He knew how much she… struggled to keep herself under control, to keep the gods in her head and not speak their words to the ignorant fools around them. Her Lordship could understand, but most… couldn’t. They would think her mad, ostracize her from the world she’d worked so hard to inhabit. She had to keep her secrets very well, or she would be out on her own, and it was not a good idea for Xanthippe to be on her own. Not for long.
Though, there were times she had to be alone, time she spent mostly among the wilds of Taengea when the whispers in her head turned to screams, and she could hardly hear her own voice any more. There was a feral thing in Xanthippe, a feral thing that could only be tamed by hunting, even if the prey to be found in the woods was not exactly what she really wanted. Perhaps it was Artemis’s influence that soothed her soul with the thrill of the chase, or perhaps it was Hades, pleased to welcome new subjects to his realm.
Or perhaps it was just her. She always knew she was different.
She was here now under the pretense of one of those forays into the wilderness, having told her lord she needed the time to clear her head and slipping from the Leventi Manor not ten minutes past their conversation. Instead of heading straight for the woods, however, she decided to come down to the port, to one of the dirty taverns that lined its front. She wasn’t sure what drove her here; whether it was an innate desire to lose some of the inhibitions that so constantly held her back or whether it was just curiosity for something that had always been forbidden. Whatever it was, she had been unable to ignore the call, and so she sat, heavily cloaked, in the corner of some decrepit establishment with rats skittering across the floor, and downed flagon after flagon of cheap ale.
She should’ve started slow, she realized that now as she looked around the room with clouded eyes. Were things supposed to spin like this? Conversations distort in such an odd way? She suddenly understood why it was that Lord Fotios had warned her away from drinking, but it was too late now. Perhaps she ought to leave before things got out of control.
You mean, before things get too interesting?
Stay, Xanthippe. Relax. You are always so hard on yourself.
None of these people mean anything. Who would even miss them if something happened?
I… what?
Shaking her head to (unsuccessfully) clear it, Xanthippe wobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on the table. Okay, yeah, this probably hadn’t been a good idea. They might be right on the sea, but she was pretty sure the floor wasn’t supposed to move.
And was it just her, or were those men in the corner looking at her funny? No, it had to be her imagination. She was just being paranoid.
Right?
There’s a fine line between paranoia and sense, Xanthippe.
But which one is it?
Hold your knife, just in case.
Yes, good idea. Xanthippe gripped the hilt of her dagger through the black fabric of her chiton, stealing periodic glances at the men as she made her dogged way toward the exit. Too bad for her that she missed a tipped over chair.
Tripping and falling flat on her face right in front of a foreign-looking woman, she wasn’t sure whether she ought to curse or apologize. “Oops,” was all she managed, topping her brilliant statement off with a borderline hysterical giggle.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Some people said that answers could be found in the bottom of a bottle, but what did some people know?
Xanthippe found most people knew very little; they pretended to understand a lot more than they did. She understood things better than most. Xanthippe knew secrets only the gods knew, and she hadn’t come across them through some bogus spiritual journey or fasting or taking drugs or any of that nonsense. They whispered their secrets directly in her ears and trusted her to keep them safe. And for the most part, the young handmaid did that job very well. There was little cause to think she would betray them. But there was always the temptation, the dangerous thought of ‘what if’…
It was Lord Fotios who had initially warned her against imbibing too heavily in alcohol. He knew how much she… struggled to keep herself under control, to keep the gods in her head and not speak their words to the ignorant fools around them. Her Lordship could understand, but most… couldn’t. They would think her mad, ostracize her from the world she’d worked so hard to inhabit. She had to keep her secrets very well, or she would be out on her own, and it was not a good idea for Xanthippe to be on her own. Not for long.
Though, there were times she had to be alone, time she spent mostly among the wilds of Taengea when the whispers in her head turned to screams, and she could hardly hear her own voice any more. There was a feral thing in Xanthippe, a feral thing that could only be tamed by hunting, even if the prey to be found in the woods was not exactly what she really wanted. Perhaps it was Artemis’s influence that soothed her soul with the thrill of the chase, or perhaps it was Hades, pleased to welcome new subjects to his realm.
Or perhaps it was just her. She always knew she was different.
She was here now under the pretense of one of those forays into the wilderness, having told her lord she needed the time to clear her head and slipping from the Leventi Manor not ten minutes past their conversation. Instead of heading straight for the woods, however, she decided to come down to the port, to one of the dirty taverns that lined its front. She wasn’t sure what drove her here; whether it was an innate desire to lose some of the inhibitions that so constantly held her back or whether it was just curiosity for something that had always been forbidden. Whatever it was, she had been unable to ignore the call, and so she sat, heavily cloaked, in the corner of some decrepit establishment with rats skittering across the floor, and downed flagon after flagon of cheap ale.
She should’ve started slow, she realized that now as she looked around the room with clouded eyes. Were things supposed to spin like this? Conversations distort in such an odd way? She suddenly understood why it was that Lord Fotios had warned her away from drinking, but it was too late now. Perhaps she ought to leave before things got out of control.
You mean, before things get too interesting?
Stay, Xanthippe. Relax. You are always so hard on yourself.
None of these people mean anything. Who would even miss them if something happened?
I… what?
Shaking her head to (unsuccessfully) clear it, Xanthippe wobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on the table. Okay, yeah, this probably hadn’t been a good idea. They might be right on the sea, but she was pretty sure the floor wasn’t supposed to move.
And was it just her, or were those men in the corner looking at her funny? No, it had to be her imagination. She was just being paranoid.
Right?
There’s a fine line between paranoia and sense, Xanthippe.
But which one is it?
Hold your knife, just in case.
Yes, good idea. Xanthippe gripped the hilt of her dagger through the black fabric of her chiton, stealing periodic glances at the men as she made her dogged way toward the exit. Too bad for her that she missed a tipped over chair.
Tripping and falling flat on her face right in front of a foreign-looking woman, she wasn’t sure whether she ought to curse or apologize. “Oops,” was all she managed, topping her brilliant statement off with a borderline hysterical giggle.
Some people said that answers could be found in the bottom of a bottle, but what did some people know?
Xanthippe found most people knew very little; they pretended to understand a lot more than they did. She understood things better than most. Xanthippe knew secrets only the gods knew, and she hadn’t come across them through some bogus spiritual journey or fasting or taking drugs or any of that nonsense. They whispered their secrets directly in her ears and trusted her to keep them safe. And for the most part, the young handmaid did that job very well. There was little cause to think she would betray them. But there was always the temptation, the dangerous thought of ‘what if’…
It was Lord Fotios who had initially warned her against imbibing too heavily in alcohol. He knew how much she… struggled to keep herself under control, to keep the gods in her head and not speak their words to the ignorant fools around them. Her Lordship could understand, but most… couldn’t. They would think her mad, ostracize her from the world she’d worked so hard to inhabit. She had to keep her secrets very well, or she would be out on her own, and it was not a good idea for Xanthippe to be on her own. Not for long.
Though, there were times she had to be alone, time she spent mostly among the wilds of Taengea when the whispers in her head turned to screams, and she could hardly hear her own voice any more. There was a feral thing in Xanthippe, a feral thing that could only be tamed by hunting, even if the prey to be found in the woods was not exactly what she really wanted. Perhaps it was Artemis’s influence that soothed her soul with the thrill of the chase, or perhaps it was Hades, pleased to welcome new subjects to his realm.
Or perhaps it was just her. She always knew she was different.
She was here now under the pretense of one of those forays into the wilderness, having told her lord she needed the time to clear her head and slipping from the Leventi Manor not ten minutes past their conversation. Instead of heading straight for the woods, however, she decided to come down to the port, to one of the dirty taverns that lined its front. She wasn’t sure what drove her here; whether it was an innate desire to lose some of the inhibitions that so constantly held her back or whether it was just curiosity for something that had always been forbidden. Whatever it was, she had been unable to ignore the call, and so she sat, heavily cloaked, in the corner of some decrepit establishment with rats skittering across the floor, and downed flagon after flagon of cheap ale.
She should’ve started slow, she realized that now as she looked around the room with clouded eyes. Were things supposed to spin like this? Conversations distort in such an odd way? She suddenly understood why it was that Lord Fotios had warned her away from drinking, but it was too late now. Perhaps she ought to leave before things got out of control.
You mean, before things get too interesting?
Stay, Xanthippe. Relax. You are always so hard on yourself.
None of these people mean anything. Who would even miss them if something happened?
I… what?
Shaking her head to (unsuccessfully) clear it, Xanthippe wobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on the table. Okay, yeah, this probably hadn’t been a good idea. They might be right on the sea, but she was pretty sure the floor wasn’t supposed to move.
And was it just her, or were those men in the corner looking at her funny? No, it had to be her imagination. She was just being paranoid.
Right?
There’s a fine line between paranoia and sense, Xanthippe.
But which one is it?
Hold your knife, just in case.
Yes, good idea. Xanthippe gripped the hilt of her dagger through the black fabric of her chiton, stealing periodic glances at the men as she made her dogged way toward the exit. Too bad for her that she missed a tipped over chair.
Tripping and falling flat on her face right in front of a foreign-looking woman, she wasn’t sure whether she ought to curse or apologize. “Oops,” was all she managed, topping her brilliant statement off with a borderline hysterical giggle.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Akila was more annoyed that she was typically on this night. It wasn’t the rats that pittered around the joint. It wasn’t the people, each shadier than the next, and willing to slice your throat for nothing more than a flagon of shit ale. It wasn’t even the stench of sweat from disgusting people or stale drink spilled in front of their ratty peplos. Something about tonight was… off.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. Pitter patter.
Akila couldn’t quite place it. There was an imbalance. Something deviated from the norm. There was a sense of unease that crawled underneath her skin, like a nest of spiders moving underneath her flesh. Why was she so fucking pissed off today? Typically her emotions had a logical root, but this evening nothing felt logical.
It was the exact type of evening Akila lived for.
Squeak, squeak, squeaaaak!
Akila brought her foot back and kicked it forward when the rat scurried across her feet. The creature went flying before it smashed against the wall next to two men. Ah, maybe that was why she was pissed off. Their gazes had been bouncing around the tavern since the moment the two arrived, eyeing up different women not like they were a piece of meat to have fun with but… something else entirely. This was a shitty tavern in a shitty part of Vasiliadon, which meant the clientele was certainly not of the blue-collar variety. Thieves? No, if you were looking to make a quick buck, this wasn’t the type of tavern you’d look for. Serial killers? They don’t normally travel in packs, nor was that a logical assumption to make.
Slavers?
That felt the most likely. Idiot women would sometimes run away from their homes, angry at their daddy, and feel the need to rebel. Showing up at a bar alone was a great way to get yourself taken. And as far as Akila could see, aside from the grimy whores that were wandering around the tavern, shaking their tits at anyone looking for a quick lay there were only two lone females. Akila, an Egyptian with a scowl so deep her face was likely permanently set that way… and a woman dressed in a black chiton. Of the two, she wasn’t at all surprised that their eyes went towards the blond. The way she swayed made it evident that she was further along with her drinks than Akila.
Did she notice too? She had lifted herself from her chair, glancing at the men periodically. Akila caught the glimmer of something shiny. Was that… a hilt? The pirate propped her elbow on the table, putting her chin on her folded hands. Now she was interested. The men had stood too, making their way towards the woman.
Crash!
She fell to the floor right beside Akila. The shadow of the table now overtop of the woman darkened the red shade of her drunken face. Giggles spilled from the girl’s lips. Akila raised a scarred brow to her. “Might want to get up. Ain’t easy to fight from the ground.” Akila’s own hand lowered to her khopesh. She wasn’t about to defend a stranger, but she would punish the idiot who thought this was a two for one deal.
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Check out their information page here.
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Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Akila was more annoyed that she was typically on this night. It wasn’t the rats that pittered around the joint. It wasn’t the people, each shadier than the next, and willing to slice your throat for nothing more than a flagon of shit ale. It wasn’t even the stench of sweat from disgusting people or stale drink spilled in front of their ratty peplos. Something about tonight was… off.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. Pitter patter.
Akila couldn’t quite place it. There was an imbalance. Something deviated from the norm. There was a sense of unease that crawled underneath her skin, like a nest of spiders moving underneath her flesh. Why was she so fucking pissed off today? Typically her emotions had a logical root, but this evening nothing felt logical.
It was the exact type of evening Akila lived for.
Squeak, squeak, squeaaaak!
Akila brought her foot back and kicked it forward when the rat scurried across her feet. The creature went flying before it smashed against the wall next to two men. Ah, maybe that was why she was pissed off. Their gazes had been bouncing around the tavern since the moment the two arrived, eyeing up different women not like they were a piece of meat to have fun with but… something else entirely. This was a shitty tavern in a shitty part of Vasiliadon, which meant the clientele was certainly not of the blue-collar variety. Thieves? No, if you were looking to make a quick buck, this wasn’t the type of tavern you’d look for. Serial killers? They don’t normally travel in packs, nor was that a logical assumption to make.
Slavers?
That felt the most likely. Idiot women would sometimes run away from their homes, angry at their daddy, and feel the need to rebel. Showing up at a bar alone was a great way to get yourself taken. And as far as Akila could see, aside from the grimy whores that were wandering around the tavern, shaking their tits at anyone looking for a quick lay there were only two lone females. Akila, an Egyptian with a scowl so deep her face was likely permanently set that way… and a woman dressed in a black chiton. Of the two, she wasn’t at all surprised that their eyes went towards the blond. The way she swayed made it evident that she was further along with her drinks than Akila.
Did she notice too? She had lifted herself from her chair, glancing at the men periodically. Akila caught the glimmer of something shiny. Was that… a hilt? The pirate propped her elbow on the table, putting her chin on her folded hands. Now she was interested. The men had stood too, making their way towards the woman.
Crash!
She fell to the floor right beside Akila. The shadow of the table now overtop of the woman darkened the red shade of her drunken face. Giggles spilled from the girl’s lips. Akila raised a scarred brow to her. “Might want to get up. Ain’t easy to fight from the ground.” Akila’s own hand lowered to her khopesh. She wasn’t about to defend a stranger, but she would punish the idiot who thought this was a two for one deal.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Akila was more annoyed that she was typically on this night. It wasn’t the rats that pittered around the joint. It wasn’t the people, each shadier than the next, and willing to slice your throat for nothing more than a flagon of shit ale. It wasn’t even the stench of sweat from disgusting people or stale drink spilled in front of their ratty peplos. Something about tonight was… off.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. Pitter patter.
Akila couldn’t quite place it. There was an imbalance. Something deviated from the norm. There was a sense of unease that crawled underneath her skin, like a nest of spiders moving underneath her flesh. Why was she so fucking pissed off today? Typically her emotions had a logical root, but this evening nothing felt logical.
It was the exact type of evening Akila lived for.
Squeak, squeak, squeaaaak!
Akila brought her foot back and kicked it forward when the rat scurried across her feet. The creature went flying before it smashed against the wall next to two men. Ah, maybe that was why she was pissed off. Their gazes had been bouncing around the tavern since the moment the two arrived, eyeing up different women not like they were a piece of meat to have fun with but… something else entirely. This was a shitty tavern in a shitty part of Vasiliadon, which meant the clientele was certainly not of the blue-collar variety. Thieves? No, if you were looking to make a quick buck, this wasn’t the type of tavern you’d look for. Serial killers? They don’t normally travel in packs, nor was that a logical assumption to make.
Slavers?
That felt the most likely. Idiot women would sometimes run away from their homes, angry at their daddy, and feel the need to rebel. Showing up at a bar alone was a great way to get yourself taken. And as far as Akila could see, aside from the grimy whores that were wandering around the tavern, shaking their tits at anyone looking for a quick lay there were only two lone females. Akila, an Egyptian with a scowl so deep her face was likely permanently set that way… and a woman dressed in a black chiton. Of the two, she wasn’t at all surprised that their eyes went towards the blond. The way she swayed made it evident that she was further along with her drinks than Akila.
Did she notice too? She had lifted herself from her chair, glancing at the men periodically. Akila caught the glimmer of something shiny. Was that… a hilt? The pirate propped her elbow on the table, putting her chin on her folded hands. Now she was interested. The men had stood too, making their way towards the woman.
Crash!
She fell to the floor right beside Akila. The shadow of the table now overtop of the woman darkened the red shade of her drunken face. Giggles spilled from the girl’s lips. Akila raised a scarred brow to her. “Might want to get up. Ain’t easy to fight from the ground.” Akila’s own hand lowered to her khopesh. She wasn’t about to defend a stranger, but she would punish the idiot who thought this was a two for one deal.
There was a voice above her, one that was telling her to get up, that she couldn’t fight from the ground, and it took Xanthippe a long moment to realize that voice was outside her head and not in it. Fight? Who said anything about a fight? Blinking slowly, she looked up, only to see the men she had been eyeing advancing on her and whoever that voice belonged to. Oh. Maybe there was going to be a fight.
Get up, you damned fool!
Get up, get up, get up!
Stay down. Let them return you to us.
Run! Run as fast as you can!
You shouldn’t have left the manor. This is what happens when you lie.
“Shut up!!!” Xanthippe screamed, covering her ears as the clamor of voices in her head practically deafened her. She hadn’t even realized she had spoken aloud until she noticed that most of the eyes in the tavern were now on her, returning their stares with a fierce glare of her own. “Wha’ th’ fuck do you think you’re all staring at?!” she shouted in a slurred voice, unsteadily climbing to her feet. Pulling the knife from under her chiton, she brandished it first at the men who advanced on her, then waved it at the table of people next to her who couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. “I know how t’ use this, y’know!”
It might have been comical, if it wasn’t for the insanity that peered through her crystalline eyes.
Xanthippe looked over at the woman beside her, the one she assumed must have told her to regain her feet. She, too, was reaching for a weapon, and for a moment, Xan backed away from her with her own knife held in front of her. Did this stranger mean to attack her too? Would she have to fight off the entire tavern? Was this how she went out?
No. The other woman wasn’t threatening her, she was staring coldly at the men from the corner, the ones who came closer, even as the handmaid railed at the other patrons. There was something dark in their gaze, a sinister promise that made Xanthippe’s skin crawl. What did these strangers want with her or the woman beside her? Was it violence they had in mind? Theft? Rape? Whatever it was, she doubted they understood what exactly they had in her grasp. If Xanthippe crossed the River Styx because of some incident in a tavern, she could damn well guarantee that she wouldn’t be crossing alone.
“I’m only goin’ t’ warn you once,” she slurred to the men, once more holding her dagger in their direction. “Leave now. Or you won’t be leavin’ at’all.”
A sling of laughter and guffaws met her statement, the slavers towering over the diminutive figure who threatened them so boldly. “Put yer knife down, sweetheart, and this will be a lot easier on all o’ us,” the apparent leader of the group attempted to placate her, a cruel gleam sparkling in his eye as a sickening smile spread across his face. “Got a big mouth for such a little thing. Won’t do ye no good.”
Xanthippe was used to being underestimated because of her size and her gender, and so his words simply rolled off her. An answering smile formed in her own expression, shaking her head slowly back and forth. Little did he know the mistake he was about to make. “Well. I warned you.”
And that’s when the little seaside establishment erupted into total chaos.
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Check out their information page here.
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There was a voice above her, one that was telling her to get up, that she couldn’t fight from the ground, and it took Xanthippe a long moment to realize that voice was outside her head and not in it. Fight? Who said anything about a fight? Blinking slowly, she looked up, only to see the men she had been eyeing advancing on her and whoever that voice belonged to. Oh. Maybe there was going to be a fight.
Get up, you damned fool!
Get up, get up, get up!
Stay down. Let them return you to us.
Run! Run as fast as you can!
You shouldn’t have left the manor. This is what happens when you lie.
“Shut up!!!” Xanthippe screamed, covering her ears as the clamor of voices in her head practically deafened her. She hadn’t even realized she had spoken aloud until she noticed that most of the eyes in the tavern were now on her, returning their stares with a fierce glare of her own. “Wha’ th’ fuck do you think you’re all staring at?!” she shouted in a slurred voice, unsteadily climbing to her feet. Pulling the knife from under her chiton, she brandished it first at the men who advanced on her, then waved it at the table of people next to her who couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. “I know how t’ use this, y’know!”
It might have been comical, if it wasn’t for the insanity that peered through her crystalline eyes.
Xanthippe looked over at the woman beside her, the one she assumed must have told her to regain her feet. She, too, was reaching for a weapon, and for a moment, Xan backed away from her with her own knife held in front of her. Did this stranger mean to attack her too? Would she have to fight off the entire tavern? Was this how she went out?
No. The other woman wasn’t threatening her, she was staring coldly at the men from the corner, the ones who came closer, even as the handmaid railed at the other patrons. There was something dark in their gaze, a sinister promise that made Xanthippe’s skin crawl. What did these strangers want with her or the woman beside her? Was it violence they had in mind? Theft? Rape? Whatever it was, she doubted they understood what exactly they had in her grasp. If Xanthippe crossed the River Styx because of some incident in a tavern, she could damn well guarantee that she wouldn’t be crossing alone.
“I’m only goin’ t’ warn you once,” she slurred to the men, once more holding her dagger in their direction. “Leave now. Or you won’t be leavin’ at’all.”
A sling of laughter and guffaws met her statement, the slavers towering over the diminutive figure who threatened them so boldly. “Put yer knife down, sweetheart, and this will be a lot easier on all o’ us,” the apparent leader of the group attempted to placate her, a cruel gleam sparkling in his eye as a sickening smile spread across his face. “Got a big mouth for such a little thing. Won’t do ye no good.”
Xanthippe was used to being underestimated because of her size and her gender, and so his words simply rolled off her. An answering smile formed in her own expression, shaking her head slowly back and forth. Little did he know the mistake he was about to make. “Well. I warned you.”
And that’s when the little seaside establishment erupted into total chaos.
There was a voice above her, one that was telling her to get up, that she couldn’t fight from the ground, and it took Xanthippe a long moment to realize that voice was outside her head and not in it. Fight? Who said anything about a fight? Blinking slowly, she looked up, only to see the men she had been eyeing advancing on her and whoever that voice belonged to. Oh. Maybe there was going to be a fight.
Get up, you damned fool!
Get up, get up, get up!
Stay down. Let them return you to us.
Run! Run as fast as you can!
You shouldn’t have left the manor. This is what happens when you lie.
“Shut up!!!” Xanthippe screamed, covering her ears as the clamor of voices in her head practically deafened her. She hadn’t even realized she had spoken aloud until she noticed that most of the eyes in the tavern were now on her, returning their stares with a fierce glare of her own. “Wha’ th’ fuck do you think you’re all staring at?!” she shouted in a slurred voice, unsteadily climbing to her feet. Pulling the knife from under her chiton, she brandished it first at the men who advanced on her, then waved it at the table of people next to her who couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. “I know how t’ use this, y’know!”
It might have been comical, if it wasn’t for the insanity that peered through her crystalline eyes.
Xanthippe looked over at the woman beside her, the one she assumed must have told her to regain her feet. She, too, was reaching for a weapon, and for a moment, Xan backed away from her with her own knife held in front of her. Did this stranger mean to attack her too? Would she have to fight off the entire tavern? Was this how she went out?
No. The other woman wasn’t threatening her, she was staring coldly at the men from the corner, the ones who came closer, even as the handmaid railed at the other patrons. There was something dark in their gaze, a sinister promise that made Xanthippe’s skin crawl. What did these strangers want with her or the woman beside her? Was it violence they had in mind? Theft? Rape? Whatever it was, she doubted they understood what exactly they had in her grasp. If Xanthippe crossed the River Styx because of some incident in a tavern, she could damn well guarantee that she wouldn’t be crossing alone.
“I’m only goin’ t’ warn you once,” she slurred to the men, once more holding her dagger in their direction. “Leave now. Or you won’t be leavin’ at’all.”
A sling of laughter and guffaws met her statement, the slavers towering over the diminutive figure who threatened them so boldly. “Put yer knife down, sweetheart, and this will be a lot easier on all o’ us,” the apparent leader of the group attempted to placate her, a cruel gleam sparkling in his eye as a sickening smile spread across his face. “Got a big mouth for such a little thing. Won’t do ye no good.”
Xanthippe was used to being underestimated because of her size and her gender, and so his words simply rolled off her. An answering smile formed in her own expression, shaking her head slowly back and forth. Little did he know the mistake he was about to make. “Well. I warned you.”
And that’s when the little seaside establishment erupted into total chaos.
Akila wasn’t quite sure what she expected. A little girl struggling in the grasp of two big men, maybe? But when she had covered her ears and screamed Akila knew… that what was about to happen would be well worth the watch. What was she screaming at? Her drunken thoughts? Hallucinations? Voices in her head? How Akila hoped it was one of the latter. Crazy people meant trouble, and trouble was something that the pirate thrived on.
And it was those eyes, filled to the brim with insanity, that confirmed it for Akila. This was going to be a show. The men both lurched towards the woman and first blood was spilled. But it was not of the small girl, the insane look still in her eye. It was the man who had the crimson liquid sliding to the floor from the blade the woman in black held. Akila’s eye tore away just in time for someone approaching her. Her khopesh swung out and rammed into the man’s gut. She leveraged the hilt both to help her to her feet and to shove it further in, before ripping it to the side guts tumbling to the floor.
It was a fucking madhouse. Everyone was fighting everyone. A few ran out to escape the carnage, though none would be stupid enough to call guards. If there was one common enemy among everyone in the tavern: It was them. Swords were drawn, people were tackled into tables and chairs smashed into them. To think one drunk girl and two idiot men caused this.
Akila slashed her khopesh across another man’s throat just another shoved a dagger into her leg. Asshole. She shoved him off stumbling into another group fighting. But after the shouts and the screams, and the cries there was…
Silence. Akila’s chest heaved up and down as it worked to catch her breath. She pulled her khopesh out of the last man and as his body landed with a thump she looked around. It was significantly emptier. Many people ran scared, and those that remained… well, a trip to Anubis with them. (Or was it Hades?) There was one person left, the girl in black. Akila didn’t move to attack her though. Instead, she went to the bar, slight limp to her leg with the dagger still lodged into it, and grabbed one of the surviving amphorae.
“On the house.” She grunted, pouring the girl a cup before taking a swig from the vessel herself. What a fucking maniac this woman was. She was exactly Akila’s type of woman. Finally, she gave a good look at the girl, beyond her black chiton. Her muscles were lean and strong, hidden beneath soft well cared for skin masking the fighter inside. The girl was a conundrum, much as Akila was. She was beautiful and alluring, but clearly there was something hidden beneath, evident now by the corpses that surrounded the pair and the blood that caked them.
Akila smirked, dark gaze calmly looking around as she took one last drink. “Best be out before the guards show up.”
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Akila wasn’t quite sure what she expected. A little girl struggling in the grasp of two big men, maybe? But when she had covered her ears and screamed Akila knew… that what was about to happen would be well worth the watch. What was she screaming at? Her drunken thoughts? Hallucinations? Voices in her head? How Akila hoped it was one of the latter. Crazy people meant trouble, and trouble was something that the pirate thrived on.
And it was those eyes, filled to the brim with insanity, that confirmed it for Akila. This was going to be a show. The men both lurched towards the woman and first blood was spilled. But it was not of the small girl, the insane look still in her eye. It was the man who had the crimson liquid sliding to the floor from the blade the woman in black held. Akila’s eye tore away just in time for someone approaching her. Her khopesh swung out and rammed into the man’s gut. She leveraged the hilt both to help her to her feet and to shove it further in, before ripping it to the side guts tumbling to the floor.
It was a fucking madhouse. Everyone was fighting everyone. A few ran out to escape the carnage, though none would be stupid enough to call guards. If there was one common enemy among everyone in the tavern: It was them. Swords were drawn, people were tackled into tables and chairs smashed into them. To think one drunk girl and two idiot men caused this.
Akila slashed her khopesh across another man’s throat just another shoved a dagger into her leg. Asshole. She shoved him off stumbling into another group fighting. But after the shouts and the screams, and the cries there was…
Silence. Akila’s chest heaved up and down as it worked to catch her breath. She pulled her khopesh out of the last man and as his body landed with a thump she looked around. It was significantly emptier. Many people ran scared, and those that remained… well, a trip to Anubis with them. (Or was it Hades?) There was one person left, the girl in black. Akila didn’t move to attack her though. Instead, she went to the bar, slight limp to her leg with the dagger still lodged into it, and grabbed one of the surviving amphorae.
“On the house.” She grunted, pouring the girl a cup before taking a swig from the vessel herself. What a fucking maniac this woman was. She was exactly Akila’s type of woman. Finally, she gave a good look at the girl, beyond her black chiton. Her muscles were lean and strong, hidden beneath soft well cared for skin masking the fighter inside. The girl was a conundrum, much as Akila was. She was beautiful and alluring, but clearly there was something hidden beneath, evident now by the corpses that surrounded the pair and the blood that caked them.
Akila smirked, dark gaze calmly looking around as she took one last drink. “Best be out before the guards show up.”
Akila wasn’t quite sure what she expected. A little girl struggling in the grasp of two big men, maybe? But when she had covered her ears and screamed Akila knew… that what was about to happen would be well worth the watch. What was she screaming at? Her drunken thoughts? Hallucinations? Voices in her head? How Akila hoped it was one of the latter. Crazy people meant trouble, and trouble was something that the pirate thrived on.
And it was those eyes, filled to the brim with insanity, that confirmed it for Akila. This was going to be a show. The men both lurched towards the woman and first blood was spilled. But it was not of the small girl, the insane look still in her eye. It was the man who had the crimson liquid sliding to the floor from the blade the woman in black held. Akila’s eye tore away just in time for someone approaching her. Her khopesh swung out and rammed into the man’s gut. She leveraged the hilt both to help her to her feet and to shove it further in, before ripping it to the side guts tumbling to the floor.
It was a fucking madhouse. Everyone was fighting everyone. A few ran out to escape the carnage, though none would be stupid enough to call guards. If there was one common enemy among everyone in the tavern: It was them. Swords were drawn, people were tackled into tables and chairs smashed into them. To think one drunk girl and two idiot men caused this.
Akila slashed her khopesh across another man’s throat just another shoved a dagger into her leg. Asshole. She shoved him off stumbling into another group fighting. But after the shouts and the screams, and the cries there was…
Silence. Akila’s chest heaved up and down as it worked to catch her breath. She pulled her khopesh out of the last man and as his body landed with a thump she looked around. It was significantly emptier. Many people ran scared, and those that remained… well, a trip to Anubis with them. (Or was it Hades?) There was one person left, the girl in black. Akila didn’t move to attack her though. Instead, she went to the bar, slight limp to her leg with the dagger still lodged into it, and grabbed one of the surviving amphorae.
“On the house.” She grunted, pouring the girl a cup before taking a swig from the vessel herself. What a fucking maniac this woman was. She was exactly Akila’s type of woman. Finally, she gave a good look at the girl, beyond her black chiton. Her muscles were lean and strong, hidden beneath soft well cared for skin masking the fighter inside. The girl was a conundrum, much as Akila was. She was beautiful and alluring, but clearly there was something hidden beneath, evident now by the corpses that surrounded the pair and the blood that caked them.
Akila smirked, dark gaze calmly looking around as she took one last drink. “Best be out before the guards show up.”
The two men ran for her, and it was as if time itself slowed down. The knife was in Xanthippe’s fist, blurred vision solidifying into crystal clarity as the first of the pair lunged at her.
Strike to the right.
She did as she was bid, the blade ramming up beneath his ribs while empty blue eyes coldly stared.
Push up.
A chilling smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Xanthippe shoved the blade upward and into his heart. The slaver’s mouth opened as if in surprise, blood spilling from his lips in a confused and clotted waterfall. Her smile only widened at the sight, twisting her knife in response until the man collapsed under his own weight. Pulling her dagger free, she turned to face the other—the look on his face akin to doubt at the sight he just witnessed.
“I told you y’wouldn’t be leaving here,” she said with a shrug, the other slaver looking between her and his dead comrade as he took one stumbling step back. “Now, now, you think you can jus’ run?” Xanthippe tsked, shaking her head as she took an unhurried step forward. “And here I thought we were gonna have a good time.”
Grab his chiton.
Her hand reached out to snatch the front of his gown, pulling him forward. To his credit, the slaver recovered quickly, grabbing her wrist with one hand and bunching her square in the jaw with the other. What he didn’t expect, however, was the speediness of her own recovery. The woman didn’t even make a sound when his fist connected, moving her face with the punch to minimize its impact. Spitting blood off to the side, she turned back to him with a sanguine smile.
“It’s always more fun when someone fights back, don’t you think?” she asked, her tone politely conversational, as if they were speaking of nothing more pressing than the color of the sky outside. “More exciting too.”
Go for his throat. Talking too long gives him the advantage, not you.
It wasn’t often that the handmaid was able to indulge in her darker side, the side his lordship insist she keep hidden at all costs. It wasn’t… normal for a person to be like her, especially a woman, and if others knew what she was capable of, she wouldn’t be suffered to live for very long. Aside from a few outbursts in her youth, the disappearances of several family pets, and a number of bruised servants, Xanthippe had kept herself fairly well under control. But in a situation like this, where it was quite literally fight or die… she wasn’t about to hold back. Drunk or not, she would be making it out of here alive.
The alcohol actually seemed to help her to a certain extent; it gave her even less reason to hold back—her own punch landing and watching with glee as his head snapped back. She used that moment to strike out with her dagger, slashing the front of his throat and grinning at the spray of blood that soaked her and her quarry through. Releasing his clothing and pushing him away, it didn’t take long for him to crumble to the ground with a few strangled gasps. Xanthippe watched him die with a sort of grim satisfaction, uselessly wiping the blade of her dagger against the hopelessly ruined fabric of her chiton.
It was only then that Xan recognized the madness around her, ducking a thrown chair as the tavern erupted into an all-out brawl. Since none seemed to be coming for her, she stood and watched for a few moments, the grunts and squeals of pain adding a discordant note to the chaotic symphony. It was beautiful, she thought, just the sort of music she loved to play. And as the next man pushed his way toward her, she grabbed his outstretched hand, bending one of his fingers back until it cracked and he screamed.
“Not very nice to attack a woman,” she scolded him as she shoved her knife in his eye, his next scream outdoing his last. Pushing in further and twisting until he went silent, she grinned. The man fell in front of her, and using her foot as leverage, she managed to pull her blade from the socket of his eye.
Sheathing it, she noticed the rest of the building had gone quiet, its denizens either dead or fled except for the foreign woman who had spoken to her initially. Xanthippe eyed her warily, sure there was about to be another fight, but to her surprise, the stranger offered her a drink instead. Well, then. Apparently, she wasn’t the only woman here with a flair for the macabre.
“Thank you,” she said, raising the glass in benediction before taking a rather long swallow. “And yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want t’be here when they show up.”
Peering around the edge of the bar, she noticed a door leading out the rear and nodded toward it. “Come on, we should head out th’back.” Hiccuping softly, she took another swallow before placing her flagon back on the bar and gesturing for the woman to follow her. “Les’go.”
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The two men ran for her, and it was as if time itself slowed down. The knife was in Xanthippe’s fist, blurred vision solidifying into crystal clarity as the first of the pair lunged at her.
Strike to the right.
She did as she was bid, the blade ramming up beneath his ribs while empty blue eyes coldly stared.
Push up.
A chilling smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Xanthippe shoved the blade upward and into his heart. The slaver’s mouth opened as if in surprise, blood spilling from his lips in a confused and clotted waterfall. Her smile only widened at the sight, twisting her knife in response until the man collapsed under his own weight. Pulling her dagger free, she turned to face the other—the look on his face akin to doubt at the sight he just witnessed.
“I told you y’wouldn’t be leaving here,” she said with a shrug, the other slaver looking between her and his dead comrade as he took one stumbling step back. “Now, now, you think you can jus’ run?” Xanthippe tsked, shaking her head as she took an unhurried step forward. “And here I thought we were gonna have a good time.”
Grab his chiton.
Her hand reached out to snatch the front of his gown, pulling him forward. To his credit, the slaver recovered quickly, grabbing her wrist with one hand and bunching her square in the jaw with the other. What he didn’t expect, however, was the speediness of her own recovery. The woman didn’t even make a sound when his fist connected, moving her face with the punch to minimize its impact. Spitting blood off to the side, she turned back to him with a sanguine smile.
“It’s always more fun when someone fights back, don’t you think?” she asked, her tone politely conversational, as if they were speaking of nothing more pressing than the color of the sky outside. “More exciting too.”
Go for his throat. Talking too long gives him the advantage, not you.
It wasn’t often that the handmaid was able to indulge in her darker side, the side his lordship insist she keep hidden at all costs. It wasn’t… normal for a person to be like her, especially a woman, and if others knew what she was capable of, she wouldn’t be suffered to live for very long. Aside from a few outbursts in her youth, the disappearances of several family pets, and a number of bruised servants, Xanthippe had kept herself fairly well under control. But in a situation like this, where it was quite literally fight or die… she wasn’t about to hold back. Drunk or not, she would be making it out of here alive.
The alcohol actually seemed to help her to a certain extent; it gave her even less reason to hold back—her own punch landing and watching with glee as his head snapped back. She used that moment to strike out with her dagger, slashing the front of his throat and grinning at the spray of blood that soaked her and her quarry through. Releasing his clothing and pushing him away, it didn’t take long for him to crumble to the ground with a few strangled gasps. Xanthippe watched him die with a sort of grim satisfaction, uselessly wiping the blade of her dagger against the hopelessly ruined fabric of her chiton.
It was only then that Xan recognized the madness around her, ducking a thrown chair as the tavern erupted into an all-out brawl. Since none seemed to be coming for her, she stood and watched for a few moments, the grunts and squeals of pain adding a discordant note to the chaotic symphony. It was beautiful, she thought, just the sort of music she loved to play. And as the next man pushed his way toward her, she grabbed his outstretched hand, bending one of his fingers back until it cracked and he screamed.
“Not very nice to attack a woman,” she scolded him as she shoved her knife in his eye, his next scream outdoing his last. Pushing in further and twisting until he went silent, she grinned. The man fell in front of her, and using her foot as leverage, she managed to pull her blade from the socket of his eye.
Sheathing it, she noticed the rest of the building had gone quiet, its denizens either dead or fled except for the foreign woman who had spoken to her initially. Xanthippe eyed her warily, sure there was about to be another fight, but to her surprise, the stranger offered her a drink instead. Well, then. Apparently, she wasn’t the only woman here with a flair for the macabre.
“Thank you,” she said, raising the glass in benediction before taking a rather long swallow. “And yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want t’be here when they show up.”
Peering around the edge of the bar, she noticed a door leading out the rear and nodded toward it. “Come on, we should head out th’back.” Hiccuping softly, she took another swallow before placing her flagon back on the bar and gesturing for the woman to follow her. “Les’go.”
The two men ran for her, and it was as if time itself slowed down. The knife was in Xanthippe’s fist, blurred vision solidifying into crystal clarity as the first of the pair lunged at her.
Strike to the right.
She did as she was bid, the blade ramming up beneath his ribs while empty blue eyes coldly stared.
Push up.
A chilling smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Xanthippe shoved the blade upward and into his heart. The slaver’s mouth opened as if in surprise, blood spilling from his lips in a confused and clotted waterfall. Her smile only widened at the sight, twisting her knife in response until the man collapsed under his own weight. Pulling her dagger free, she turned to face the other—the look on his face akin to doubt at the sight he just witnessed.
“I told you y’wouldn’t be leaving here,” she said with a shrug, the other slaver looking between her and his dead comrade as he took one stumbling step back. “Now, now, you think you can jus’ run?” Xanthippe tsked, shaking her head as she took an unhurried step forward. “And here I thought we were gonna have a good time.”
Grab his chiton.
Her hand reached out to snatch the front of his gown, pulling him forward. To his credit, the slaver recovered quickly, grabbing her wrist with one hand and bunching her square in the jaw with the other. What he didn’t expect, however, was the speediness of her own recovery. The woman didn’t even make a sound when his fist connected, moving her face with the punch to minimize its impact. Spitting blood off to the side, she turned back to him with a sanguine smile.
“It’s always more fun when someone fights back, don’t you think?” she asked, her tone politely conversational, as if they were speaking of nothing more pressing than the color of the sky outside. “More exciting too.”
Go for his throat. Talking too long gives him the advantage, not you.
It wasn’t often that the handmaid was able to indulge in her darker side, the side his lordship insist she keep hidden at all costs. It wasn’t… normal for a person to be like her, especially a woman, and if others knew what she was capable of, she wouldn’t be suffered to live for very long. Aside from a few outbursts in her youth, the disappearances of several family pets, and a number of bruised servants, Xanthippe had kept herself fairly well under control. But in a situation like this, where it was quite literally fight or die… she wasn’t about to hold back. Drunk or not, she would be making it out of here alive.
The alcohol actually seemed to help her to a certain extent; it gave her even less reason to hold back—her own punch landing and watching with glee as his head snapped back. She used that moment to strike out with her dagger, slashing the front of his throat and grinning at the spray of blood that soaked her and her quarry through. Releasing his clothing and pushing him away, it didn’t take long for him to crumble to the ground with a few strangled gasps. Xanthippe watched him die with a sort of grim satisfaction, uselessly wiping the blade of her dagger against the hopelessly ruined fabric of her chiton.
It was only then that Xan recognized the madness around her, ducking a thrown chair as the tavern erupted into an all-out brawl. Since none seemed to be coming for her, she stood and watched for a few moments, the grunts and squeals of pain adding a discordant note to the chaotic symphony. It was beautiful, she thought, just the sort of music she loved to play. And as the next man pushed his way toward her, she grabbed his outstretched hand, bending one of his fingers back until it cracked and he screamed.
“Not very nice to attack a woman,” she scolded him as she shoved her knife in his eye, his next scream outdoing his last. Pushing in further and twisting until he went silent, she grinned. The man fell in front of her, and using her foot as leverage, she managed to pull her blade from the socket of his eye.
Sheathing it, she noticed the rest of the building had gone quiet, its denizens either dead or fled except for the foreign woman who had spoken to her initially. Xanthippe eyed her warily, sure there was about to be another fight, but to her surprise, the stranger offered her a drink instead. Well, then. Apparently, she wasn’t the only woman here with a flair for the macabre.
“Thank you,” she said, raising the glass in benediction before taking a rather long swallow. “And yeah, you’re right. I don’t really want t’be here when they show up.”
Peering around the edge of the bar, she noticed a door leading out the rear and nodded toward it. “Come on, we should head out th’back.” Hiccuping softly, she took another swallow before placing her flagon back on the bar and gesturing for the woman to follow her. “Les’go.”
Taengea was a fucking weird place. It was Akila’s favorite of the Greek kingdoms. It was no Egypt- nor would it ever be, but it was still interesting. The people were looser in Taengea, more willing to drink and have fun. The people were more attractive, able to catch Akila’s eye from time to time.
Never did she think she’d be in a bar fight massacre. One, Akila thought to note, she didn’t start. She was a witness to the insanity. She sat back drinking and suddenly through a marriage of chaos and shadows, death was brought down upon a tiny, shitty little tavern. It was a sight to behold, a random act that Akila felt lucky and amused to have witnessed. Death for death’s sake was pointless, but when it just happened and there was no choice but to partake… Akila was more than happy to give in to her more violent tendencies.
With one last swig of her drink, she left out the back and into the darkness with the strange woman. One would probably think Akila was insane to just be leaving with the woman who in part was responsible for the death that they were leaving behind. Trust a girl who clearly knew her way around a knife? What the hell was her past that led her to know such things? And maybe if Akila was the curious type she’d ask.
But Akila just gutted people in that tavern. With a past like Akila’s, there were stories better left unsaid. From Child of the Sands to Songstress of the Sea, what happened during these formative years were worse than nightmares. And Akila didn’t much care to hear what desensitized this woman to violence and macabre. No, instead Akila was much more interested in the present. Who was she now?
But one thing the girl did, before the death and the gore, was really driving Akila’s interest. So as they escaped into the back, away from a scene that neither would want to be caught anywhere close to it, she finally spoke. “You screamed.”
Shut up! The girl had screamed at nothing. No one had talked to her at that point. Her hands covered her ears. It was the very first thing Akila noticed. Easily it could be the confusion of intoxication, the way the girl slurred made it evident that she had far too much to drink. But Akila hoped it wasn’t. Oh how she hoped the girl was insane. Insanity was so much fun. The way their mind worked, the unpredictable nature of it, the thoughts and emotions that made little to no sense… Akila loved witnessing that. It was those that were insane that found themselves making their own path. Those that were sane so often settled into what society deemed was correct. But crazies could never be what society wants them to be. They were outcasts, freaks, and if they were to survive they had to do it in their own way.
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Taengea was a fucking weird place. It was Akila’s favorite of the Greek kingdoms. It was no Egypt- nor would it ever be, but it was still interesting. The people were looser in Taengea, more willing to drink and have fun. The people were more attractive, able to catch Akila’s eye from time to time.
Never did she think she’d be in a bar fight massacre. One, Akila thought to note, she didn’t start. She was a witness to the insanity. She sat back drinking and suddenly through a marriage of chaos and shadows, death was brought down upon a tiny, shitty little tavern. It was a sight to behold, a random act that Akila felt lucky and amused to have witnessed. Death for death’s sake was pointless, but when it just happened and there was no choice but to partake… Akila was more than happy to give in to her more violent tendencies.
With one last swig of her drink, she left out the back and into the darkness with the strange woman. One would probably think Akila was insane to just be leaving with the woman who in part was responsible for the death that they were leaving behind. Trust a girl who clearly knew her way around a knife? What the hell was her past that led her to know such things? And maybe if Akila was the curious type she’d ask.
But Akila just gutted people in that tavern. With a past like Akila’s, there were stories better left unsaid. From Child of the Sands to Songstress of the Sea, what happened during these formative years were worse than nightmares. And Akila didn’t much care to hear what desensitized this woman to violence and macabre. No, instead Akila was much more interested in the present. Who was she now?
But one thing the girl did, before the death and the gore, was really driving Akila’s interest. So as they escaped into the back, away from a scene that neither would want to be caught anywhere close to it, she finally spoke. “You screamed.”
Shut up! The girl had screamed at nothing. No one had talked to her at that point. Her hands covered her ears. It was the very first thing Akila noticed. Easily it could be the confusion of intoxication, the way the girl slurred made it evident that she had far too much to drink. But Akila hoped it wasn’t. Oh how she hoped the girl was insane. Insanity was so much fun. The way their mind worked, the unpredictable nature of it, the thoughts and emotions that made little to no sense… Akila loved witnessing that. It was those that were insane that found themselves making their own path. Those that were sane so often settled into what society deemed was correct. But crazies could never be what society wants them to be. They were outcasts, freaks, and if they were to survive they had to do it in their own way.
Taengea was a fucking weird place. It was Akila’s favorite of the Greek kingdoms. It was no Egypt- nor would it ever be, but it was still interesting. The people were looser in Taengea, more willing to drink and have fun. The people were more attractive, able to catch Akila’s eye from time to time.
Never did she think she’d be in a bar fight massacre. One, Akila thought to note, she didn’t start. She was a witness to the insanity. She sat back drinking and suddenly through a marriage of chaos and shadows, death was brought down upon a tiny, shitty little tavern. It was a sight to behold, a random act that Akila felt lucky and amused to have witnessed. Death for death’s sake was pointless, but when it just happened and there was no choice but to partake… Akila was more than happy to give in to her more violent tendencies.
With one last swig of her drink, she left out the back and into the darkness with the strange woman. One would probably think Akila was insane to just be leaving with the woman who in part was responsible for the death that they were leaving behind. Trust a girl who clearly knew her way around a knife? What the hell was her past that led her to know such things? And maybe if Akila was the curious type she’d ask.
But Akila just gutted people in that tavern. With a past like Akila’s, there were stories better left unsaid. From Child of the Sands to Songstress of the Sea, what happened during these formative years were worse than nightmares. And Akila didn’t much care to hear what desensitized this woman to violence and macabre. No, instead Akila was much more interested in the present. Who was she now?
But one thing the girl did, before the death and the gore, was really driving Akila’s interest. So as they escaped into the back, away from a scene that neither would want to be caught anywhere close to it, she finally spoke. “You screamed.”
Shut up! The girl had screamed at nothing. No one had talked to her at that point. Her hands covered her ears. It was the very first thing Akila noticed. Easily it could be the confusion of intoxication, the way the girl slurred made it evident that she had far too much to drink. But Akila hoped it wasn’t. Oh how she hoped the girl was insane. Insanity was so much fun. The way their mind worked, the unpredictable nature of it, the thoughts and emotions that made little to no sense… Akila loved witnessing that. It was those that were insane that found themselves making their own path. Those that were sane so often settled into what society deemed was correct. But crazies could never be what society wants them to be. They were outcasts, freaks, and if they were to survive they had to do it in their own way.
There was a blessed quiet in her head now that blood had been spilled, the constant chatter that clouded her thoughts silent in a way that only happened with violence. It was one of the things that drew her to such dark ends; afterward, she was in control of her own head, its only resident as the gods sat content in the bloodthirst she had quenched. It was a heady rush, to occupy her head alone, to think with clarity and hear the echo of her own thoughts, rather than the chaos of a hundred others’.
But this woman interrupted that quiet, her seemingly offhand comment catching Xanthippe off guard. Freezing where she stood, her eyes hardened as she stared at the foreigner, gaze narrowing with defensive suspicion. What did she think she knew?
“A lot of people screamed,” Xan replied, her voice curt and tone short. How could she have noticed that brief slip in the midst of the rest of the chaos? This was why Lord Fotios warned her against imbibing to excess, that she was bound to lose control. And she had, for a moment, but that moment was all that was needed.
Would she now need to kill this woman too? To keep her silence?
This was a mistake, a big mistake. This was what she got for lying, for going behind his lordship’s back. She never should have come here, or at least should have left when the men started advancing on her. She should have gone to the woods like she said she was, chased deer and elk through the trees until she couldn’t run any more. Instead, here she was, having to hope this woman didn’t really hear what she thought she heard.
‘Shut up. You screamed shut up.’
Of course, this stranger wasn’t going to give up so easily, Xanthippe’s face going blank as she stared at her. “It was loud,” was her wooden response, gaze unblinking as it met the other’s. “I couldn’t think.”
That wasn’t even a lie; it had been loud, just in her own head, not outside of it. But she couldn’t say that, now could she? All of Lord Fotios’s worst predictions would come true. This woman would know she was different, would convince others of it. They would hunt her down back alleys the way she hunted in the forest, chasing her and cornering her until there was no choice left…
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She would silence this woman before she would ever let such a thing spread. She would not lose the life she had been fortunate to win.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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There was a blessed quiet in her head now that blood had been spilled, the constant chatter that clouded her thoughts silent in a way that only happened with violence. It was one of the things that drew her to such dark ends; afterward, she was in control of her own head, its only resident as the gods sat content in the bloodthirst she had quenched. It was a heady rush, to occupy her head alone, to think with clarity and hear the echo of her own thoughts, rather than the chaos of a hundred others’.
But this woman interrupted that quiet, her seemingly offhand comment catching Xanthippe off guard. Freezing where she stood, her eyes hardened as she stared at the foreigner, gaze narrowing with defensive suspicion. What did she think she knew?
“A lot of people screamed,” Xan replied, her voice curt and tone short. How could she have noticed that brief slip in the midst of the rest of the chaos? This was why Lord Fotios warned her against imbibing to excess, that she was bound to lose control. And she had, for a moment, but that moment was all that was needed.
Would she now need to kill this woman too? To keep her silence?
This was a mistake, a big mistake. This was what she got for lying, for going behind his lordship’s back. She never should have come here, or at least should have left when the men started advancing on her. She should have gone to the woods like she said she was, chased deer and elk through the trees until she couldn’t run any more. Instead, here she was, having to hope this woman didn’t really hear what she thought she heard.
‘Shut up. You screamed shut up.’
Of course, this stranger wasn’t going to give up so easily, Xanthippe’s face going blank as she stared at her. “It was loud,” was her wooden response, gaze unblinking as it met the other’s. “I couldn’t think.”
That wasn’t even a lie; it had been loud, just in her own head, not outside of it. But she couldn’t say that, now could she? All of Lord Fotios’s worst predictions would come true. This woman would know she was different, would convince others of it. They would hunt her down back alleys the way she hunted in the forest, chasing her and cornering her until there was no choice left…
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She would silence this woman before she would ever let such a thing spread. She would not lose the life she had been fortunate to win.
There was a blessed quiet in her head now that blood had been spilled, the constant chatter that clouded her thoughts silent in a way that only happened with violence. It was one of the things that drew her to such dark ends; afterward, she was in control of her own head, its only resident as the gods sat content in the bloodthirst she had quenched. It was a heady rush, to occupy her head alone, to think with clarity and hear the echo of her own thoughts, rather than the chaos of a hundred others’.
But this woman interrupted that quiet, her seemingly offhand comment catching Xanthippe off guard. Freezing where she stood, her eyes hardened as she stared at the foreigner, gaze narrowing with defensive suspicion. What did she think she knew?
“A lot of people screamed,” Xan replied, her voice curt and tone short. How could she have noticed that brief slip in the midst of the rest of the chaos? This was why Lord Fotios warned her against imbibing to excess, that she was bound to lose control. And she had, for a moment, but that moment was all that was needed.
Would she now need to kill this woman too? To keep her silence?
This was a mistake, a big mistake. This was what she got for lying, for going behind his lordship’s back. She never should have come here, or at least should have left when the men started advancing on her. She should have gone to the woods like she said she was, chased deer and elk through the trees until she couldn’t run any more. Instead, here she was, having to hope this woman didn’t really hear what she thought she heard.
‘Shut up. You screamed shut up.’
Of course, this stranger wasn’t going to give up so easily, Xanthippe’s face going blank as she stared at her. “It was loud,” was her wooden response, gaze unblinking as it met the other’s. “I couldn’t think.”
That wasn’t even a lie; it had been loud, just in her own head, not outside of it. But she couldn’t say that, now could she? All of Lord Fotios’s worst predictions would come true. This woman would know she was different, would convince others of it. They would hunt her down back alleys the way she hunted in the forest, chasing her and cornering her until there was no choice left…
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She would silence this woman before she would ever let such a thing spread. She would not lose the life she had been fortunate to win.
The woman had stopped, frozen in place with narrowed eyes. Such a simple question got an instant reaction, how cute. Clearly Akila had gotten under the stranger’s skin. Oooh, fun. Akila did enjoy toying with people, seeing how their minds worked. Sometimes they could do the most entertaining of things if she just said the right trigger words.
But this woman was dangerous. She was like Akila, a killer with no conscious. She likely saw the blood being spilled and thrived in it. She may not have started the battle, but she certainly put an end to it.
What was she thinking of Akila, she wondered? Did she think to fight her too? It would be interesting to see which of the two would win. It would, however, also be a waste. If Akila was attacked she would not end until the woman’s corpse was on the ground, nor judging by the display at the tavern did Akila think this woman would hold back. With forces that these two possessed, it would be a shame to prematurely put an end to it. They could do so many fun things… just not together.
“Riiiight,” Akila did not buy her excuse. Maybe if it came without such a defensive reaction she may have. The woman was drunk after all. But Akila at the very least won’t press on it. That was the best this woman was going to get from Akila. She’s fucking welcome.
It didn’t much matter, there were more pressing concerns at hand. “How quickly do you think the guards will get there? We should get cleaned and look more… presentable. Should we run into any.” Steal a chiton, find a water bucket. Fighting was not clean. They were a mixture of sweat and blood and probably still had bits of guts that had splashed onto them. They could just escape, but that was a lot of traveling when they instead could find a chiton hanging on a line and perhaps a run in the ocean? Hopefully, there were no sharks around.
Or they could split off. Akila had no intention of protecting the woman, nor did she assume the other would do the same to her. But she was interested to see the different nuances this temporary companion of her had. What other secret triggers could Akila say to get her on edge? She was probably one of the most interesting people she had met in Greece thus far. Well, her and Lukos, but Lukos was more of an annoyance than an interest. He took a special kind of patience.
“‘Less you like the blood. Will say, I think the color suits you quite well, lady. Though got a bit in your hair. Might make it crust up a tad.” At least the black chiton covered most of it. Was that why she wore black? So many questions! Akilia was too curious and she was almost never curious.
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The woman had stopped, frozen in place with narrowed eyes. Such a simple question got an instant reaction, how cute. Clearly Akila had gotten under the stranger’s skin. Oooh, fun. Akila did enjoy toying with people, seeing how their minds worked. Sometimes they could do the most entertaining of things if she just said the right trigger words.
But this woman was dangerous. She was like Akila, a killer with no conscious. She likely saw the blood being spilled and thrived in it. She may not have started the battle, but she certainly put an end to it.
What was she thinking of Akila, she wondered? Did she think to fight her too? It would be interesting to see which of the two would win. It would, however, also be a waste. If Akila was attacked she would not end until the woman’s corpse was on the ground, nor judging by the display at the tavern did Akila think this woman would hold back. With forces that these two possessed, it would be a shame to prematurely put an end to it. They could do so many fun things… just not together.
“Riiiight,” Akila did not buy her excuse. Maybe if it came without such a defensive reaction she may have. The woman was drunk after all. But Akila at the very least won’t press on it. That was the best this woman was going to get from Akila. She’s fucking welcome.
It didn’t much matter, there were more pressing concerns at hand. “How quickly do you think the guards will get there? We should get cleaned and look more… presentable. Should we run into any.” Steal a chiton, find a water bucket. Fighting was not clean. They were a mixture of sweat and blood and probably still had bits of guts that had splashed onto them. They could just escape, but that was a lot of traveling when they instead could find a chiton hanging on a line and perhaps a run in the ocean? Hopefully, there were no sharks around.
Or they could split off. Akila had no intention of protecting the woman, nor did she assume the other would do the same to her. But she was interested to see the different nuances this temporary companion of her had. What other secret triggers could Akila say to get her on edge? She was probably one of the most interesting people she had met in Greece thus far. Well, her and Lukos, but Lukos was more of an annoyance than an interest. He took a special kind of patience.
“‘Less you like the blood. Will say, I think the color suits you quite well, lady. Though got a bit in your hair. Might make it crust up a tad.” At least the black chiton covered most of it. Was that why she wore black? So many questions! Akilia was too curious and she was almost never curious.
The woman had stopped, frozen in place with narrowed eyes. Such a simple question got an instant reaction, how cute. Clearly Akila had gotten under the stranger’s skin. Oooh, fun. Akila did enjoy toying with people, seeing how their minds worked. Sometimes they could do the most entertaining of things if she just said the right trigger words.
But this woman was dangerous. She was like Akila, a killer with no conscious. She likely saw the blood being spilled and thrived in it. She may not have started the battle, but she certainly put an end to it.
What was she thinking of Akila, she wondered? Did she think to fight her too? It would be interesting to see which of the two would win. It would, however, also be a waste. If Akila was attacked she would not end until the woman’s corpse was on the ground, nor judging by the display at the tavern did Akila think this woman would hold back. With forces that these two possessed, it would be a shame to prematurely put an end to it. They could do so many fun things… just not together.
“Riiiight,” Akila did not buy her excuse. Maybe if it came without such a defensive reaction she may have. The woman was drunk after all. But Akila at the very least won’t press on it. That was the best this woman was going to get from Akila. She’s fucking welcome.
It didn’t much matter, there were more pressing concerns at hand. “How quickly do you think the guards will get there? We should get cleaned and look more… presentable. Should we run into any.” Steal a chiton, find a water bucket. Fighting was not clean. They were a mixture of sweat and blood and probably still had bits of guts that had splashed onto them. They could just escape, but that was a lot of traveling when they instead could find a chiton hanging on a line and perhaps a run in the ocean? Hopefully, there were no sharks around.
Or they could split off. Akila had no intention of protecting the woman, nor did she assume the other would do the same to her. But she was interested to see the different nuances this temporary companion of her had. What other secret triggers could Akila say to get her on edge? She was probably one of the most interesting people she had met in Greece thus far. Well, her and Lukos, but Lukos was more of an annoyance than an interest. He took a special kind of patience.
“‘Less you like the blood. Will say, I think the color suits you quite well, lady. Though got a bit in your hair. Might make it crust up a tad.” At least the black chiton covered most of it. Was that why she wore black? So many questions! Akilia was too curious and she was almost never curious.
The woman seemed to drop it, much to Xanthippe’s relief. While she still seemed skeptical, at least she wasn’t probing any further, and for that, Xan thought, she would let her live. But, with that, she also did not intend to let her out of her sight, not until she was sure the stranger would not get her into more trouble. That was the practical thing to do, after all. She had to make sure this woman wouldn’t repeat the things she saw.
She doubted she would, as Xanthippe hadn’t been the only one swinging a blade in there. Would this foreigner incriminate herself for the chance to incriminate her? That didn’t seem very logical, and she found most people operated under at least some form of logic. But there were others that didn’t, and just to be safe, she needed to ensure this woman wasn’t one of them.
How quickly do you think the guards will get there?
“I’m not sure,” she replied, shaking her head. “Many of those that fled were undoubtedly not… upstanding members of society, and I don’t think they would run for the law. But they’re bound to hear of it eventually. Tavern brawls are one thing, but what happened in there wasn’t normal, I’d say. Two women cutting down a swathe of men is bound to attract attention. You’re right, we should clean up.”
Looking down at herself, it was only then she realized just how messy she was, blood dark against the black fabric of her chiton. Her arms were streaked with it, and the stranger was right, her hair was too. If anyone saw them like this, it would raise suspicion immediately, and that was the last thing Xanthippe needed. Sighing in frustration, she shook her head again. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have just left when she had the chance. What if this all got back to Lord Fotios? Would he cast her out before anyone else had the chance?
No, she couldn’t think that way. They would get out of this, and everything would be fine. No one would ever be the wiser.
“I don’t… I don’t have any extra clothes,” she added as an afterthought, a frown creasing her brow. “And I don’t think we can just run around the docks naked without drawing even more attention.” Nor would she simply jump in the nearby water, either; Xanthippe couldn’t swim, and she didn’t intend to drown today. “I suppose we can take some, but I don’t know how we can get there first without anyone seeing us.”
She was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought this out, that she was now stuck with all of these consequences from what had been such a thoughtless action. Stupid, stupid, stupid. While she was glad to not have the gods berating her for once, still quiet in the afterglow of the bloodletting, she could still berate herself. And this had been very stupid.
“Do you have any ideas? I don’t think we have much time to decide.”
As she spoke, she moved, walking further down the darkness of the alley where they found themselves. Even torn with indecision, she knew they couldn’t stay here to talk. Untangling her hair where blood clotted in the golden locks, Xanthippe pulled a face. But neither could they go where they would be seen…
Hopefully, this stranger had more experience with such things than she did. While Xanthippe was not one prone to panic, this… this might push her past that edge.
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The woman seemed to drop it, much to Xanthippe’s relief. While she still seemed skeptical, at least she wasn’t probing any further, and for that, Xan thought, she would let her live. But, with that, she also did not intend to let her out of her sight, not until she was sure the stranger would not get her into more trouble. That was the practical thing to do, after all. She had to make sure this woman wouldn’t repeat the things she saw.
She doubted she would, as Xanthippe hadn’t been the only one swinging a blade in there. Would this foreigner incriminate herself for the chance to incriminate her? That didn’t seem very logical, and she found most people operated under at least some form of logic. But there were others that didn’t, and just to be safe, she needed to ensure this woman wasn’t one of them.
How quickly do you think the guards will get there?
“I’m not sure,” she replied, shaking her head. “Many of those that fled were undoubtedly not… upstanding members of society, and I don’t think they would run for the law. But they’re bound to hear of it eventually. Tavern brawls are one thing, but what happened in there wasn’t normal, I’d say. Two women cutting down a swathe of men is bound to attract attention. You’re right, we should clean up.”
Looking down at herself, it was only then she realized just how messy she was, blood dark against the black fabric of her chiton. Her arms were streaked with it, and the stranger was right, her hair was too. If anyone saw them like this, it would raise suspicion immediately, and that was the last thing Xanthippe needed. Sighing in frustration, she shook her head again. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have just left when she had the chance. What if this all got back to Lord Fotios? Would he cast her out before anyone else had the chance?
No, she couldn’t think that way. They would get out of this, and everything would be fine. No one would ever be the wiser.
“I don’t… I don’t have any extra clothes,” she added as an afterthought, a frown creasing her brow. “And I don’t think we can just run around the docks naked without drawing even more attention.” Nor would she simply jump in the nearby water, either; Xanthippe couldn’t swim, and she didn’t intend to drown today. “I suppose we can take some, but I don’t know how we can get there first without anyone seeing us.”
She was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought this out, that she was now stuck with all of these consequences from what had been such a thoughtless action. Stupid, stupid, stupid. While she was glad to not have the gods berating her for once, still quiet in the afterglow of the bloodletting, she could still berate herself. And this had been very stupid.
“Do you have any ideas? I don’t think we have much time to decide.”
As she spoke, she moved, walking further down the darkness of the alley where they found themselves. Even torn with indecision, she knew they couldn’t stay here to talk. Untangling her hair where blood clotted in the golden locks, Xanthippe pulled a face. But neither could they go where they would be seen…
Hopefully, this stranger had more experience with such things than she did. While Xanthippe was not one prone to panic, this… this might push her past that edge.
The woman seemed to drop it, much to Xanthippe’s relief. While she still seemed skeptical, at least she wasn’t probing any further, and for that, Xan thought, she would let her live. But, with that, she also did not intend to let her out of her sight, not until she was sure the stranger would not get her into more trouble. That was the practical thing to do, after all. She had to make sure this woman wouldn’t repeat the things she saw.
She doubted she would, as Xanthippe hadn’t been the only one swinging a blade in there. Would this foreigner incriminate herself for the chance to incriminate her? That didn’t seem very logical, and she found most people operated under at least some form of logic. But there were others that didn’t, and just to be safe, she needed to ensure this woman wasn’t one of them.
How quickly do you think the guards will get there?
“I’m not sure,” she replied, shaking her head. “Many of those that fled were undoubtedly not… upstanding members of society, and I don’t think they would run for the law. But they’re bound to hear of it eventually. Tavern brawls are one thing, but what happened in there wasn’t normal, I’d say. Two women cutting down a swathe of men is bound to attract attention. You’re right, we should clean up.”
Looking down at herself, it was only then she realized just how messy she was, blood dark against the black fabric of her chiton. Her arms were streaked with it, and the stranger was right, her hair was too. If anyone saw them like this, it would raise suspicion immediately, and that was the last thing Xanthippe needed. Sighing in frustration, she shook her head again. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have just left when she had the chance. What if this all got back to Lord Fotios? Would he cast her out before anyone else had the chance?
No, she couldn’t think that way. They would get out of this, and everything would be fine. No one would ever be the wiser.
“I don’t… I don’t have any extra clothes,” she added as an afterthought, a frown creasing her brow. “And I don’t think we can just run around the docks naked without drawing even more attention.” Nor would she simply jump in the nearby water, either; Xanthippe couldn’t swim, and she didn’t intend to drown today. “I suppose we can take some, but I don’t know how we can get there first without anyone seeing us.”
She was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought this out, that she was now stuck with all of these consequences from what had been such a thoughtless action. Stupid, stupid, stupid. While she was glad to not have the gods berating her for once, still quiet in the afterglow of the bloodletting, she could still berate herself. And this had been very stupid.
“Do you have any ideas? I don’t think we have much time to decide.”
As she spoke, she moved, walking further down the darkness of the alley where they found themselves. Even torn with indecision, she knew they couldn’t stay here to talk. Untangling her hair where blood clotted in the golden locks, Xanthippe pulled a face. But neither could they go where they would be seen…
Hopefully, this stranger had more experience with such things than she did. While Xanthippe was not one prone to panic, this… this might push her past that edge.
This one was so interesting. She cut down men like they were nothing. She killed indiscriminately. She walked away from the scene without the smallest bit of guilt. And yet when the solution to their bloodied clothes was right in front of them, Akila could not help but grow even more curious about this girl. To Akila the solution was obvious, but not to her? When you commit one crime, why stop? If they didn’t have a change of clothes… why not steal them?
Akila’s eyes scanned the area. Most of what surrounded them were more taverns and boats. But this was the Port of Vasiliadon. Akila’s boat might be anchored offshore, but that didn’t mean every boat was. And more importantly- not all their goods were either. They just needed to find the right crate.
“That one,” Akila said quietly to her companion. “I saw those workers with the tailor when I was in the agora earlier. I’m willing to bet there are some finished works in that crate. Something we could change into.”
They had the cover of darkness. The docks were mostly empty at this time in the evening too. There were only two workers by the crate. The shipment probably came in late, and they were waiting for sailors to return to their boats to load it up. Hmm…
The two could easily kill the men. But leaving more bodies just made the problem messier. The tavern were criminals and the ladies were defending themselves. These men were ‘innocents’ and their slaughter would likely cause a much louder stir. Akila didn’t want to deal with that nuisance.
Though if this woman wanted to kill them, then by all means. Akila would step back and allow her to take the heat for everything that went down tonight, and slip away before anyone ever notices her. But Akila found this woman at least somewhat entertaining, so a part of her would be disappointed if that was how this night ended. She’d get over it by the time she got to her boat, but the disappointment would be there for a least… half an hour. Maybe less. Depends on if she gets distracted on the way.
Right. So if killing was off the table, at least for Akila, there had to be something else that could draw the men away. Something that would leave the crate-free for one of them to steal a pair of chitons and be on their way. Something… hm.
“Scare them off.” Akila murmured under her breath. The two men looked fairly scrawny, and with it being so dark outside with only a few dim torches to light the area, anything could happen. A wicked smile appeared on Akila’s face. She loved scaring people- especially Greeks. They were so superstitious. It was fun. “Got any bright ideas to scare them?” She asked, turning her gaze to her blond companion. Akila hoped that she found this as fun as she thought it would be.
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This one was so interesting. She cut down men like they were nothing. She killed indiscriminately. She walked away from the scene without the smallest bit of guilt. And yet when the solution to their bloodied clothes was right in front of them, Akila could not help but grow even more curious about this girl. To Akila the solution was obvious, but not to her? When you commit one crime, why stop? If they didn’t have a change of clothes… why not steal them?
Akila’s eyes scanned the area. Most of what surrounded them were more taverns and boats. But this was the Port of Vasiliadon. Akila’s boat might be anchored offshore, but that didn’t mean every boat was. And more importantly- not all their goods were either. They just needed to find the right crate.
“That one,” Akila said quietly to her companion. “I saw those workers with the tailor when I was in the agora earlier. I’m willing to bet there are some finished works in that crate. Something we could change into.”
They had the cover of darkness. The docks were mostly empty at this time in the evening too. There were only two workers by the crate. The shipment probably came in late, and they were waiting for sailors to return to their boats to load it up. Hmm…
The two could easily kill the men. But leaving more bodies just made the problem messier. The tavern were criminals and the ladies were defending themselves. These men were ‘innocents’ and their slaughter would likely cause a much louder stir. Akila didn’t want to deal with that nuisance.
Though if this woman wanted to kill them, then by all means. Akila would step back and allow her to take the heat for everything that went down tonight, and slip away before anyone ever notices her. But Akila found this woman at least somewhat entertaining, so a part of her would be disappointed if that was how this night ended. She’d get over it by the time she got to her boat, but the disappointment would be there for a least… half an hour. Maybe less. Depends on if she gets distracted on the way.
Right. So if killing was off the table, at least for Akila, there had to be something else that could draw the men away. Something that would leave the crate-free for one of them to steal a pair of chitons and be on their way. Something… hm.
“Scare them off.” Akila murmured under her breath. The two men looked fairly scrawny, and with it being so dark outside with only a few dim torches to light the area, anything could happen. A wicked smile appeared on Akila’s face. She loved scaring people- especially Greeks. They were so superstitious. It was fun. “Got any bright ideas to scare them?” She asked, turning her gaze to her blond companion. Akila hoped that she found this as fun as she thought it would be.
This one was so interesting. She cut down men like they were nothing. She killed indiscriminately. She walked away from the scene without the smallest bit of guilt. And yet when the solution to their bloodied clothes was right in front of them, Akila could not help but grow even more curious about this girl. To Akila the solution was obvious, but not to her? When you commit one crime, why stop? If they didn’t have a change of clothes… why not steal them?
Akila’s eyes scanned the area. Most of what surrounded them were more taverns and boats. But this was the Port of Vasiliadon. Akila’s boat might be anchored offshore, but that didn’t mean every boat was. And more importantly- not all their goods were either. They just needed to find the right crate.
“That one,” Akila said quietly to her companion. “I saw those workers with the tailor when I was in the agora earlier. I’m willing to bet there are some finished works in that crate. Something we could change into.”
They had the cover of darkness. The docks were mostly empty at this time in the evening too. There were only two workers by the crate. The shipment probably came in late, and they were waiting for sailors to return to their boats to load it up. Hmm…
The two could easily kill the men. But leaving more bodies just made the problem messier. The tavern were criminals and the ladies were defending themselves. These men were ‘innocents’ and their slaughter would likely cause a much louder stir. Akila didn’t want to deal with that nuisance.
Though if this woman wanted to kill them, then by all means. Akila would step back and allow her to take the heat for everything that went down tonight, and slip away before anyone ever notices her. But Akila found this woman at least somewhat entertaining, so a part of her would be disappointed if that was how this night ended. She’d get over it by the time she got to her boat, but the disappointment would be there for a least… half an hour. Maybe less. Depends on if she gets distracted on the way.
Right. So if killing was off the table, at least for Akila, there had to be something else that could draw the men away. Something that would leave the crate-free for one of them to steal a pair of chitons and be on their way. Something… hm.
“Scare them off.” Akila murmured under her breath. The two men looked fairly scrawny, and with it being so dark outside with only a few dim torches to light the area, anything could happen. A wicked smile appeared on Akila’s face. She loved scaring people- especially Greeks. They were so superstitious. It was fun. “Got any bright ideas to scare them?” She asked, turning her gaze to her blond companion. Akila hoped that she found this as fun as she thought it would be.
Luckily for them both, her companion seemed to already have half a plan, nodding to two dockworkers she had seen talking to a tailor in the market. Chances were, they had clothing, or at least fabric. In a pinch, they could wrap a bolt or two around themselves and claim poverty if anyone asked. Though, with the newness of such fabric, would that be believed? The darkness was their friend in this instance, she thought, nodding idly in agreement. Yes, there was their mark. Now, how to reach it…
‘Scare them off,’ the foreign woman suggested, and Xanthippe nodded again. Yes, that was best. Much as she would have loved to just slit their throats and kick them into the harbor, they had already left a blood trail in their wake. To leave more would just be reckless now; what if these men had connections? What if they would be missed? No, they had to be smarter about this. A diversion was their best tactic.
The other asked if she had any ideas, and Xan was quiet for a several moments as she thought on their options. A muted blue gaze raked their surroundings, settling on the flickering torches with a grim sort of smile. “I say we create a more pressing problem,” she murmured, firelight reflecting in her gaze as she moved to commandeer one of them. Lighted brand held fast in her fingers, she nodded her head in the direction of a small boat, one on the end of the dock closest to them.
“We’ll have to be fast,” she said as she started moving in that direction, ducking back into an alley as a horse trotted by. “With flame in our hands, we can no longer take advantage of shadow. I’ll set the fire and start a ruckus, you grab the crate, and we run.” She didn’t even wait to see if the woman would answer; she could only trust she would follow the plan. They didn’t have the luxury of a lengthy debate—they had to act, and fast. If they didn’t take advantage of the opportunity while they had it, it would pass them by.
Xanthippe was quick and silent as she rushed along the dock, doing her best to shield the light of the flame until she reached her destination. Quickly glancing around her to ensure no one was watching, she jumped from the dock to board the boat. Holding the torch out from her, she let the flame lick at the sail, a slow smile curling her lips as the fabric caught fire. Tossing the still flaming piece of wood into the water, she hopped back off the boat and scrambled onto the dock. It was only the grace of the gods that no one had noticed her yet, melting back with a shout of, “Fire! The ship’s on fire!”
Her gaze flicked to her companion with a small nod. As the denizens of the port flocked to the spectacle, Xanthippe retreated among and through them, hoping only that the other woman would fulfill her end of the plan without a hitch.
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Luckily for them both, her companion seemed to already have half a plan, nodding to two dockworkers she had seen talking to a tailor in the market. Chances were, they had clothing, or at least fabric. In a pinch, they could wrap a bolt or two around themselves and claim poverty if anyone asked. Though, with the newness of such fabric, would that be believed? The darkness was their friend in this instance, she thought, nodding idly in agreement. Yes, there was their mark. Now, how to reach it…
‘Scare them off,’ the foreign woman suggested, and Xanthippe nodded again. Yes, that was best. Much as she would have loved to just slit their throats and kick them into the harbor, they had already left a blood trail in their wake. To leave more would just be reckless now; what if these men had connections? What if they would be missed? No, they had to be smarter about this. A diversion was their best tactic.
The other asked if she had any ideas, and Xan was quiet for a several moments as she thought on their options. A muted blue gaze raked their surroundings, settling on the flickering torches with a grim sort of smile. “I say we create a more pressing problem,” she murmured, firelight reflecting in her gaze as she moved to commandeer one of them. Lighted brand held fast in her fingers, she nodded her head in the direction of a small boat, one on the end of the dock closest to them.
“We’ll have to be fast,” she said as she started moving in that direction, ducking back into an alley as a horse trotted by. “With flame in our hands, we can no longer take advantage of shadow. I’ll set the fire and start a ruckus, you grab the crate, and we run.” She didn’t even wait to see if the woman would answer; she could only trust she would follow the plan. They didn’t have the luxury of a lengthy debate—they had to act, and fast. If they didn’t take advantage of the opportunity while they had it, it would pass them by.
Xanthippe was quick and silent as she rushed along the dock, doing her best to shield the light of the flame until she reached her destination. Quickly glancing around her to ensure no one was watching, she jumped from the dock to board the boat. Holding the torch out from her, she let the flame lick at the sail, a slow smile curling her lips as the fabric caught fire. Tossing the still flaming piece of wood into the water, she hopped back off the boat and scrambled onto the dock. It was only the grace of the gods that no one had noticed her yet, melting back with a shout of, “Fire! The ship’s on fire!”
Her gaze flicked to her companion with a small nod. As the denizens of the port flocked to the spectacle, Xanthippe retreated among and through them, hoping only that the other woman would fulfill her end of the plan without a hitch.
Luckily for them both, her companion seemed to already have half a plan, nodding to two dockworkers she had seen talking to a tailor in the market. Chances were, they had clothing, or at least fabric. In a pinch, they could wrap a bolt or two around themselves and claim poverty if anyone asked. Though, with the newness of such fabric, would that be believed? The darkness was their friend in this instance, she thought, nodding idly in agreement. Yes, there was their mark. Now, how to reach it…
‘Scare them off,’ the foreign woman suggested, and Xanthippe nodded again. Yes, that was best. Much as she would have loved to just slit their throats and kick them into the harbor, they had already left a blood trail in their wake. To leave more would just be reckless now; what if these men had connections? What if they would be missed? No, they had to be smarter about this. A diversion was their best tactic.
The other asked if she had any ideas, and Xan was quiet for a several moments as she thought on their options. A muted blue gaze raked their surroundings, settling on the flickering torches with a grim sort of smile. “I say we create a more pressing problem,” she murmured, firelight reflecting in her gaze as she moved to commandeer one of them. Lighted brand held fast in her fingers, she nodded her head in the direction of a small boat, one on the end of the dock closest to them.
“We’ll have to be fast,” she said as she started moving in that direction, ducking back into an alley as a horse trotted by. “With flame in our hands, we can no longer take advantage of shadow. I’ll set the fire and start a ruckus, you grab the crate, and we run.” She didn’t even wait to see if the woman would answer; she could only trust she would follow the plan. They didn’t have the luxury of a lengthy debate—they had to act, and fast. If they didn’t take advantage of the opportunity while they had it, it would pass them by.
Xanthippe was quick and silent as she rushed along the dock, doing her best to shield the light of the flame until she reached her destination. Quickly glancing around her to ensure no one was watching, she jumped from the dock to board the boat. Holding the torch out from her, she let the flame lick at the sail, a slow smile curling her lips as the fabric caught fire. Tossing the still flaming piece of wood into the water, she hopped back off the boat and scrambled onto the dock. It was only the grace of the gods that no one had noticed her yet, melting back with a shout of, “Fire! The ship’s on fire!”
Her gaze flicked to her companion with a small nod. As the denizens of the port flocked to the spectacle, Xanthippe retreated among and through them, hoping only that the other woman would fulfill her end of the plan without a hitch.
I say we create a more pressing problem.
Akila loved the way this girl thought. It seemed she didn’t just have a proclivity for murder. Fire. Now the girl was really speaking her language. There was something beautiful about fire. It had a hunger that could never be sated. The red and amber danced in the light in such a mystifying way that no human could truly replicate it. And much like Akila, it could never truly be tamed. One might think it possible, controlling the flame, but the danger it possessed never ceased. Only waiting for its opportunity to bite…
An eager smile played on Akila's lips as the woman explained her intentions. Her eyes glint mischievously with each word that the stranger said. Yes, a more pressing problem indeed. That would certainly give them a good scare. But they would have to be quick, and Akila would have to be silent.
She didn’t wait for confirmation from Akila before heading off towards her target. Akila didn’t hesitate, as she quietly crept forward towards the crate. She tried to stick towards the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to break towards it. Any moment now…
Fire! The ship’s on fire! The girl’s voice rang out from the darkness. The sailor’s glanced over as the flame licked the sail. They both jumped, running towards the boat. It was then Akila moved from the shadows, grabbing the crate.
Why is it so heavy?! Akila thought to herself as she lifted it. It was just clothes, wasn’t it? Akila had no time to ponder, as she ran away from her spot. Feet pounded the ground as she took off as fast as she could, returning to where the woman and she had split, hidden in the ally.
Akila unsheathed her khopesh once again, using it as a crowbar to lift the top. She saw cloth at the top. She sifted through it, picking a chiton that would work for her. And then her hand ran into something else.
Oh, what is this? Akila sifted through the clothes and found… Opium. Jackpot. And I thought she was just an innocent old lady. Clearly the old tailor had more to her story than she let on. Akila’s mind was reeling, wondering what else she could do with this sudden bounty. Eyes flickered when she heard footsteps. Akila gripped the hilt tightly before she realized it was the woman again.
“Look what we got here.” Akila tossed her a chiton followed by some opium. “This night keeps getting more and more interesting.” Drunk and the girl was already so much fun, Akila wondered what she would be like when she was high.
But they weren’t necessarily safe yet. They got the clothes, but they still needed to get the blood off and get far enough away with their new treasure. Akila’s treasure. “We should keep moving.” She said quietly, scanning the area again.
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I say we create a more pressing problem.
Akila loved the way this girl thought. It seemed she didn’t just have a proclivity for murder. Fire. Now the girl was really speaking her language. There was something beautiful about fire. It had a hunger that could never be sated. The red and amber danced in the light in such a mystifying way that no human could truly replicate it. And much like Akila, it could never truly be tamed. One might think it possible, controlling the flame, but the danger it possessed never ceased. Only waiting for its opportunity to bite…
An eager smile played on Akila's lips as the woman explained her intentions. Her eyes glint mischievously with each word that the stranger said. Yes, a more pressing problem indeed. That would certainly give them a good scare. But they would have to be quick, and Akila would have to be silent.
She didn’t wait for confirmation from Akila before heading off towards her target. Akila didn’t hesitate, as she quietly crept forward towards the crate. She tried to stick towards the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to break towards it. Any moment now…
Fire! The ship’s on fire! The girl’s voice rang out from the darkness. The sailor’s glanced over as the flame licked the sail. They both jumped, running towards the boat. It was then Akila moved from the shadows, grabbing the crate.
Why is it so heavy?! Akila thought to herself as she lifted it. It was just clothes, wasn’t it? Akila had no time to ponder, as she ran away from her spot. Feet pounded the ground as she took off as fast as she could, returning to where the woman and she had split, hidden in the ally.
Akila unsheathed her khopesh once again, using it as a crowbar to lift the top. She saw cloth at the top. She sifted through it, picking a chiton that would work for her. And then her hand ran into something else.
Oh, what is this? Akila sifted through the clothes and found… Opium. Jackpot. And I thought she was just an innocent old lady. Clearly the old tailor had more to her story than she let on. Akila’s mind was reeling, wondering what else she could do with this sudden bounty. Eyes flickered when she heard footsteps. Akila gripped the hilt tightly before she realized it was the woman again.
“Look what we got here.” Akila tossed her a chiton followed by some opium. “This night keeps getting more and more interesting.” Drunk and the girl was already so much fun, Akila wondered what she would be like when she was high.
But they weren’t necessarily safe yet. They got the clothes, but they still needed to get the blood off and get far enough away with their new treasure. Akila’s treasure. “We should keep moving.” She said quietly, scanning the area again.
I say we create a more pressing problem.
Akila loved the way this girl thought. It seemed she didn’t just have a proclivity for murder. Fire. Now the girl was really speaking her language. There was something beautiful about fire. It had a hunger that could never be sated. The red and amber danced in the light in such a mystifying way that no human could truly replicate it. And much like Akila, it could never truly be tamed. One might think it possible, controlling the flame, but the danger it possessed never ceased. Only waiting for its opportunity to bite…
An eager smile played on Akila's lips as the woman explained her intentions. Her eyes glint mischievously with each word that the stranger said. Yes, a more pressing problem indeed. That would certainly give them a good scare. But they would have to be quick, and Akila would have to be silent.
She didn’t wait for confirmation from Akila before heading off towards her target. Akila didn’t hesitate, as she quietly crept forward towards the crate. She tried to stick towards the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to break towards it. Any moment now…
Fire! The ship’s on fire! The girl’s voice rang out from the darkness. The sailor’s glanced over as the flame licked the sail. They both jumped, running towards the boat. It was then Akila moved from the shadows, grabbing the crate.
Why is it so heavy?! Akila thought to herself as she lifted it. It was just clothes, wasn’t it? Akila had no time to ponder, as she ran away from her spot. Feet pounded the ground as she took off as fast as she could, returning to where the woman and she had split, hidden in the ally.
Akila unsheathed her khopesh once again, using it as a crowbar to lift the top. She saw cloth at the top. She sifted through it, picking a chiton that would work for her. And then her hand ran into something else.
Oh, what is this? Akila sifted through the clothes and found… Opium. Jackpot. And I thought she was just an innocent old lady. Clearly the old tailor had more to her story than she let on. Akila’s mind was reeling, wondering what else she could do with this sudden bounty. Eyes flickered when she heard footsteps. Akila gripped the hilt tightly before she realized it was the woman again.
“Look what we got here.” Akila tossed her a chiton followed by some opium. “This night keeps getting more and more interesting.” Drunk and the girl was already so much fun, Akila wondered what she would be like when she was high.
But they weren’t necessarily safe yet. They got the clothes, but they still needed to get the blood off and get far enough away with their new treasure. Akila’s treasure. “We should keep moving.” She said quietly, scanning the area again.
There was a certain thrill to abandoning the reserve that normally held her in check, giving herself over to the urges that plagued her day after day. Still, the gods remained silent after her slaughter in the tavern, and that quiet continued as she set the small boat ablaze. It was a different kind of silence though… not simply sated, but approving. It was as if they knew her potential and were happy to see her achieving it, a secret pride sitting within the young woman’s breast as she slipped from the sudden crowd thronging the street and back to her companion.
Xanthippe caught the chiton tossed at her, looking over with detached bemusement at the woman’s bounty. Opium. Fascinating. Was the tailor simply fronting for drug smuggling or did they have a habit of their own? Oh well, it didn’t matter to her. They had the clothes they needed, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. They needed to get out of here.
This night keeps getting more and more interesting.
That was for sure. This was certainly one of the more ‘interesting’ nights Xan had in a while, and it still remained to be seen if that was a good thing or a bad one. While it thrilled her to give in to the darker side she kept in such careful check, she was worried what the consequences might be, especially if they were caught. What if Lord Fotios cast her out on the street? How well would she fare without him? He had warned her again and again how careful she must be, and yet here she was, blatantly defying that rule…
No. That was a problem for later. She needed to focus on the matter at hand.
‘We should keep moving.’
“Yes,” Xanthippe agreed with a nod. “But we should change first. Bloody and hauling a crate? We already risk too much attention, as it is.”
Without waiting to see if her companion agreed, the handmaid peeled away her ruined clothing, dropping it to the dirty ground of the alley without a second thought. She couldn’t just carry it with her; if they were caught and she had bloody clothes in her possession, that would raise just as much suspicion as wearing them. Nor did she care if the other woman saw her nude; she had already witnessed her killing, how much more intimate could they really become?
Pulling the new chiton over her head, Xan used a dry bit of the soiled one to wipe any remaining clots of blood from her face and arms. Her hair was likely hopeless at this point; a proper bath was probably the only thing that would cleanse it. Nonetheless, she raked the tangles from it with her fingers and tied it off in a quick knot—the style would disguise it, at least, and the darkness would do the rest. Now, all that remained was to get away from the docks without being caught.
“Where are you staying?” she asked the other woman, turning her back both for modesty’s sake and to keep a look out for any sign of others heading their way. “Perhaps we can go there and ride out the night. I… cannot bring you back to my home.” She offered no explanation as to why, but it was clearly not a point where she was willing to bend. “We need somewhere secure to hide until this dies down.”
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There was a certain thrill to abandoning the reserve that normally held her in check, giving herself over to the urges that plagued her day after day. Still, the gods remained silent after her slaughter in the tavern, and that quiet continued as she set the small boat ablaze. It was a different kind of silence though… not simply sated, but approving. It was as if they knew her potential and were happy to see her achieving it, a secret pride sitting within the young woman’s breast as she slipped from the sudden crowd thronging the street and back to her companion.
Xanthippe caught the chiton tossed at her, looking over with detached bemusement at the woman’s bounty. Opium. Fascinating. Was the tailor simply fronting for drug smuggling or did they have a habit of their own? Oh well, it didn’t matter to her. They had the clothes they needed, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. They needed to get out of here.
This night keeps getting more and more interesting.
That was for sure. This was certainly one of the more ‘interesting’ nights Xan had in a while, and it still remained to be seen if that was a good thing or a bad one. While it thrilled her to give in to the darker side she kept in such careful check, she was worried what the consequences might be, especially if they were caught. What if Lord Fotios cast her out on the street? How well would she fare without him? He had warned her again and again how careful she must be, and yet here she was, blatantly defying that rule…
No. That was a problem for later. She needed to focus on the matter at hand.
‘We should keep moving.’
“Yes,” Xanthippe agreed with a nod. “But we should change first. Bloody and hauling a crate? We already risk too much attention, as it is.”
Without waiting to see if her companion agreed, the handmaid peeled away her ruined clothing, dropping it to the dirty ground of the alley without a second thought. She couldn’t just carry it with her; if they were caught and she had bloody clothes in her possession, that would raise just as much suspicion as wearing them. Nor did she care if the other woman saw her nude; she had already witnessed her killing, how much more intimate could they really become?
Pulling the new chiton over her head, Xan used a dry bit of the soiled one to wipe any remaining clots of blood from her face and arms. Her hair was likely hopeless at this point; a proper bath was probably the only thing that would cleanse it. Nonetheless, she raked the tangles from it with her fingers and tied it off in a quick knot—the style would disguise it, at least, and the darkness would do the rest. Now, all that remained was to get away from the docks without being caught.
“Where are you staying?” she asked the other woman, turning her back both for modesty’s sake and to keep a look out for any sign of others heading their way. “Perhaps we can go there and ride out the night. I… cannot bring you back to my home.” She offered no explanation as to why, but it was clearly not a point where she was willing to bend. “We need somewhere secure to hide until this dies down.”
There was a certain thrill to abandoning the reserve that normally held her in check, giving herself over to the urges that plagued her day after day. Still, the gods remained silent after her slaughter in the tavern, and that quiet continued as she set the small boat ablaze. It was a different kind of silence though… not simply sated, but approving. It was as if they knew her potential and were happy to see her achieving it, a secret pride sitting within the young woman’s breast as she slipped from the sudden crowd thronging the street and back to her companion.
Xanthippe caught the chiton tossed at her, looking over with detached bemusement at the woman’s bounty. Opium. Fascinating. Was the tailor simply fronting for drug smuggling or did they have a habit of their own? Oh well, it didn’t matter to her. They had the clothes they needed, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. They needed to get out of here.
This night keeps getting more and more interesting.
That was for sure. This was certainly one of the more ‘interesting’ nights Xan had in a while, and it still remained to be seen if that was a good thing or a bad one. While it thrilled her to give in to the darker side she kept in such careful check, she was worried what the consequences might be, especially if they were caught. What if Lord Fotios cast her out on the street? How well would she fare without him? He had warned her again and again how careful she must be, and yet here she was, blatantly defying that rule…
No. That was a problem for later. She needed to focus on the matter at hand.
‘We should keep moving.’
“Yes,” Xanthippe agreed with a nod. “But we should change first. Bloody and hauling a crate? We already risk too much attention, as it is.”
Without waiting to see if her companion agreed, the handmaid peeled away her ruined clothing, dropping it to the dirty ground of the alley without a second thought. She couldn’t just carry it with her; if they were caught and she had bloody clothes in her possession, that would raise just as much suspicion as wearing them. Nor did she care if the other woman saw her nude; she had already witnessed her killing, how much more intimate could they really become?
Pulling the new chiton over her head, Xan used a dry bit of the soiled one to wipe any remaining clots of blood from her face and arms. Her hair was likely hopeless at this point; a proper bath was probably the only thing that would cleanse it. Nonetheless, she raked the tangles from it with her fingers and tied it off in a quick knot—the style would disguise it, at least, and the darkness would do the rest. Now, all that remained was to get away from the docks without being caught.
“Where are you staying?” she asked the other woman, turning her back both for modesty’s sake and to keep a look out for any sign of others heading their way. “Perhaps we can go there and ride out the night. I… cannot bring you back to my home.” She offered no explanation as to why, but it was clearly not a point where she was willing to bend. “We need somewhere secure to hide until this dies down.”
Yeah, I’d bang her. Akila let out a low whistle at the girl. Even in the darkness she could see her curves and that ass. If she was this crazy out of the bed Akila wondered what she would be like in bed. Not that this was the moment to fantasize that.
After Akila had done her staring she blinked and peeled off her own clothes. It was a shame, she quite liked what she was wearing. It hugged her quite well. Oh well, this… chiton would do. She was right. They shouldn’t be bloody and hauling a crate.
Where are you staying? Oh my, my was she trying to get in the pirate’s bed? The minx. In all seriousness, Akila wanted to ask why not her place, but judging by her tone she didn’t believe that Akila would be afforded that answer. It wasn’t worth the argument. It was better to get off the streets. So, Akila merely smirked at the woman, “Hope you don’t get seasick.”
The Port of Vasiliadon was a small port, the smallest of the Greek kingdoms. They would have to travel to get to Akila’s ship, but at least it wouldn’t be far. And they would be safe once they made it there. They just would have to make it there. With the crate. Because fuck if Akila was going to leave the opium there out in the open.
She gripped the crate once again, it now lighter with the chitons that were emptied from it. Eyes swept the alley. Akila then walked swiftly and confidently back through it, away from the docks they just previously at. She just had to look like she belonged and no one would give her second glances right? Sticking to the shadows also helped.
The moment the two of them officially got out of the docks Akila relaxed- somewhat, at least. They were mostly in the clear. But she still kept sharp, never knowing when someone might round the corner. Akila didn’t much feel like spending the night in a jail cell in Taengea. It just seemed like a hassle.
Finally though, her eyes fell on her ship. It was just off the coast, a bit off from other ships that were visiting Taengea for a longer period of time. “That one,” she tilted her chin towards it, leading the stranger towards it. Once on her ship, she dropped the crate. One of her men went towards it confused at first from some of the left over cloth, before looking excited at the treasures within.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Akila rolled her eye at him. “Go put it with the rest.” And with a nod he did. Akila cracked her neck before leaning on the rail. Finally she got another good look of the girl. “The name’s Akila.” She realized they never exchanged names. How odd, considering they just killed with each other. You would think that would have been shared at least. “Welcome aboard.”
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Yeah, I’d bang her. Akila let out a low whistle at the girl. Even in the darkness she could see her curves and that ass. If she was this crazy out of the bed Akila wondered what she would be like in bed. Not that this was the moment to fantasize that.
After Akila had done her staring she blinked and peeled off her own clothes. It was a shame, she quite liked what she was wearing. It hugged her quite well. Oh well, this… chiton would do. She was right. They shouldn’t be bloody and hauling a crate.
Where are you staying? Oh my, my was she trying to get in the pirate’s bed? The minx. In all seriousness, Akila wanted to ask why not her place, but judging by her tone she didn’t believe that Akila would be afforded that answer. It wasn’t worth the argument. It was better to get off the streets. So, Akila merely smirked at the woman, “Hope you don’t get seasick.”
The Port of Vasiliadon was a small port, the smallest of the Greek kingdoms. They would have to travel to get to Akila’s ship, but at least it wouldn’t be far. And they would be safe once they made it there. They just would have to make it there. With the crate. Because fuck if Akila was going to leave the opium there out in the open.
She gripped the crate once again, it now lighter with the chitons that were emptied from it. Eyes swept the alley. Akila then walked swiftly and confidently back through it, away from the docks they just previously at. She just had to look like she belonged and no one would give her second glances right? Sticking to the shadows also helped.
The moment the two of them officially got out of the docks Akila relaxed- somewhat, at least. They were mostly in the clear. But she still kept sharp, never knowing when someone might round the corner. Akila didn’t much feel like spending the night in a jail cell in Taengea. It just seemed like a hassle.
Finally though, her eyes fell on her ship. It was just off the coast, a bit off from other ships that were visiting Taengea for a longer period of time. “That one,” she tilted her chin towards it, leading the stranger towards it. Once on her ship, she dropped the crate. One of her men went towards it confused at first from some of the left over cloth, before looking excited at the treasures within.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Akila rolled her eye at him. “Go put it with the rest.” And with a nod he did. Akila cracked her neck before leaning on the rail. Finally she got another good look of the girl. “The name’s Akila.” She realized they never exchanged names. How odd, considering they just killed with each other. You would think that would have been shared at least. “Welcome aboard.”
Yeah, I’d bang her. Akila let out a low whistle at the girl. Even in the darkness she could see her curves and that ass. If she was this crazy out of the bed Akila wondered what she would be like in bed. Not that this was the moment to fantasize that.
After Akila had done her staring she blinked and peeled off her own clothes. It was a shame, she quite liked what she was wearing. It hugged her quite well. Oh well, this… chiton would do. She was right. They shouldn’t be bloody and hauling a crate.
Where are you staying? Oh my, my was she trying to get in the pirate’s bed? The minx. In all seriousness, Akila wanted to ask why not her place, but judging by her tone she didn’t believe that Akila would be afforded that answer. It wasn’t worth the argument. It was better to get off the streets. So, Akila merely smirked at the woman, “Hope you don’t get seasick.”
The Port of Vasiliadon was a small port, the smallest of the Greek kingdoms. They would have to travel to get to Akila’s ship, but at least it wouldn’t be far. And they would be safe once they made it there. They just would have to make it there. With the crate. Because fuck if Akila was going to leave the opium there out in the open.
She gripped the crate once again, it now lighter with the chitons that were emptied from it. Eyes swept the alley. Akila then walked swiftly and confidently back through it, away from the docks they just previously at. She just had to look like she belonged and no one would give her second glances right? Sticking to the shadows also helped.
The moment the two of them officially got out of the docks Akila relaxed- somewhat, at least. They were mostly in the clear. But she still kept sharp, never knowing when someone might round the corner. Akila didn’t much feel like spending the night in a jail cell in Taengea. It just seemed like a hassle.
Finally though, her eyes fell on her ship. It was just off the coast, a bit off from other ships that were visiting Taengea for a longer period of time. “That one,” she tilted her chin towards it, leading the stranger towards it. Once on her ship, she dropped the crate. One of her men went towards it confused at first from some of the left over cloth, before looking excited at the treasures within.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Akila rolled her eye at him. “Go put it with the rest.” And with a nod he did. Akila cracked her neck before leaning on the rail. Finally she got another good look of the girl. “The name’s Akila.” She realized they never exchanged names. How odd, considering they just killed with each other. You would think that would have been shared at least. “Welcome aboard.”
Xanthippe was silent and contemplative as she followed the other woman along the docks, pressing herself to walls where she could and ducking out of the way of torches and lanterns. It was nothing short of remarkable that they crossed the distance unmolested, but still the handmaid worried that they weren’t through with the oddness of the evening yet. What if this stranger was leading her straight into a trap? What if this was all some elaborate ruse designed to test her? What if this woman was with the men at the tavern, and this had all been an act?
No. She was being paranoid again. If this was a trap, it was an impossibly intricate one. How could any of this have been foreseen?
Still, she was hesitant when they stopped in front of a ship, looking between it, the woman, and the water surrounding them. It was one thing to hop onto a small vessel, set it alight, and hop right back off, but to stay on one? Xanthippe didn’t like boats. She never had. What was to stop this stranger from cutting them loose and sailing off with her in the night? What if she pushed her overboard? She couldn’t swim, and if they were far enough from the shore, there was no hope of her forcing her way to safety. What if they sank, and she drowned? Would their ill-won amity last, and the other woman come to her rescue? Somehow, she doubted it.
What choice do you have?
Oh, now you speak up again, hm?
You are sure to be caught if you don’t seek safety.
But how safe am I, really?
No one ever truly is. But you have a better chance right now on that ship than on land.
Xan supposed the gods were right, though she knew they often led her astray. What if this was a test on their part, just to see what she would do? Releasing a frustrated sigh, she swallowed her fear and stepped onboard, putting an unearned amount of trust in this stranger who had just watched her kill. What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this again? Maybe she should just get off now and run…
The woman spoke, interrupting the girl’s inner panic. Turning back to her with a smooth face that betrayed none of the turmoil within, she listened as the stranger introduced herself as Akila. Oh, yes, they hadn’t said their names, had they? It hadn’t really seemed important at the time. Xanthippe found names rarely were.
“Ophelia,” she lied about her own; in case this woman did still have ill intent, she didn’t want to give away her true name. Things might be too easy to trace then, even if she was just a servant in a noble household. But who knew? Xanthippe kept enough secrets of her own that telling too many truths could burn her in the end…
“Is this… where you live?” she asked, glancing around her at the bustle of activity, the man Akila had addressed carrying off the crate they’d brought on board. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t take you for a sailor.”
Then again, what did a sailor really look like? Xanthippe supposed it was just because Akila was a woman that she hadn’t anticipated it, and how fair was that? There was plenty about Xan herself that wasn’t very feminine, and obviously this Akila was not, either. She had not even flinched in the tavern, drawing out her weapon like one born to it. The theft, the arson, running from the authorities; obviously, this woman did not live on the right side of the law, and it didn’t take long for her to figure out Akila was probably not just a sailor. Mercenary, maybe, or pirate, and again, Xanthippe wondered at her wisdom in placing herself in this woman’s hands.
“Where did you come from?” While her tone was kept carefully neutral, there was some suspicion lingering in the back of her azure gaze. “You’re not Greek, obviously, though you speak very well. What brought you here?”
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Xanthippe was silent and contemplative as she followed the other woman along the docks, pressing herself to walls where she could and ducking out of the way of torches and lanterns. It was nothing short of remarkable that they crossed the distance unmolested, but still the handmaid worried that they weren’t through with the oddness of the evening yet. What if this stranger was leading her straight into a trap? What if this was all some elaborate ruse designed to test her? What if this woman was with the men at the tavern, and this had all been an act?
No. She was being paranoid again. If this was a trap, it was an impossibly intricate one. How could any of this have been foreseen?
Still, she was hesitant when they stopped in front of a ship, looking between it, the woman, and the water surrounding them. It was one thing to hop onto a small vessel, set it alight, and hop right back off, but to stay on one? Xanthippe didn’t like boats. She never had. What was to stop this stranger from cutting them loose and sailing off with her in the night? What if she pushed her overboard? She couldn’t swim, and if they were far enough from the shore, there was no hope of her forcing her way to safety. What if they sank, and she drowned? Would their ill-won amity last, and the other woman come to her rescue? Somehow, she doubted it.
What choice do you have?
Oh, now you speak up again, hm?
You are sure to be caught if you don’t seek safety.
But how safe am I, really?
No one ever truly is. But you have a better chance right now on that ship than on land.
Xan supposed the gods were right, though she knew they often led her astray. What if this was a test on their part, just to see what she would do? Releasing a frustrated sigh, she swallowed her fear and stepped onboard, putting an unearned amount of trust in this stranger who had just watched her kill. What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this again? Maybe she should just get off now and run…
The woman spoke, interrupting the girl’s inner panic. Turning back to her with a smooth face that betrayed none of the turmoil within, she listened as the stranger introduced herself as Akila. Oh, yes, they hadn’t said their names, had they? It hadn’t really seemed important at the time. Xanthippe found names rarely were.
“Ophelia,” she lied about her own; in case this woman did still have ill intent, she didn’t want to give away her true name. Things might be too easy to trace then, even if she was just a servant in a noble household. But who knew? Xanthippe kept enough secrets of her own that telling too many truths could burn her in the end…
“Is this… where you live?” she asked, glancing around her at the bustle of activity, the man Akila had addressed carrying off the crate they’d brought on board. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t take you for a sailor.”
Then again, what did a sailor really look like? Xanthippe supposed it was just because Akila was a woman that she hadn’t anticipated it, and how fair was that? There was plenty about Xan herself that wasn’t very feminine, and obviously this Akila was not, either. She had not even flinched in the tavern, drawing out her weapon like one born to it. The theft, the arson, running from the authorities; obviously, this woman did not live on the right side of the law, and it didn’t take long for her to figure out Akila was probably not just a sailor. Mercenary, maybe, or pirate, and again, Xanthippe wondered at her wisdom in placing herself in this woman’s hands.
“Where did you come from?” While her tone was kept carefully neutral, there was some suspicion lingering in the back of her azure gaze. “You’re not Greek, obviously, though you speak very well. What brought you here?”
Xanthippe was silent and contemplative as she followed the other woman along the docks, pressing herself to walls where she could and ducking out of the way of torches and lanterns. It was nothing short of remarkable that they crossed the distance unmolested, but still the handmaid worried that they weren’t through with the oddness of the evening yet. What if this stranger was leading her straight into a trap? What if this was all some elaborate ruse designed to test her? What if this woman was with the men at the tavern, and this had all been an act?
No. She was being paranoid again. If this was a trap, it was an impossibly intricate one. How could any of this have been foreseen?
Still, she was hesitant when they stopped in front of a ship, looking between it, the woman, and the water surrounding them. It was one thing to hop onto a small vessel, set it alight, and hop right back off, but to stay on one? Xanthippe didn’t like boats. She never had. What was to stop this stranger from cutting them loose and sailing off with her in the night? What if she pushed her overboard? She couldn’t swim, and if they were far enough from the shore, there was no hope of her forcing her way to safety. What if they sank, and she drowned? Would their ill-won amity last, and the other woman come to her rescue? Somehow, she doubted it.
What choice do you have?
Oh, now you speak up again, hm?
You are sure to be caught if you don’t seek safety.
But how safe am I, really?
No one ever truly is. But you have a better chance right now on that ship than on land.
Xan supposed the gods were right, though she knew they often led her astray. What if this was a test on their part, just to see what she would do? Releasing a frustrated sigh, she swallowed her fear and stepped onboard, putting an unearned amount of trust in this stranger who had just watched her kill. What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this again? Maybe she should just get off now and run…
The woman spoke, interrupting the girl’s inner panic. Turning back to her with a smooth face that betrayed none of the turmoil within, she listened as the stranger introduced herself as Akila. Oh, yes, they hadn’t said their names, had they? It hadn’t really seemed important at the time. Xanthippe found names rarely were.
“Ophelia,” she lied about her own; in case this woman did still have ill intent, she didn’t want to give away her true name. Things might be too easy to trace then, even if she was just a servant in a noble household. But who knew? Xanthippe kept enough secrets of her own that telling too many truths could burn her in the end…
“Is this… where you live?” she asked, glancing around her at the bustle of activity, the man Akila had addressed carrying off the crate they’d brought on board. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t take you for a sailor.”
Then again, what did a sailor really look like? Xanthippe supposed it was just because Akila was a woman that she hadn’t anticipated it, and how fair was that? There was plenty about Xan herself that wasn’t very feminine, and obviously this Akila was not, either. She had not even flinched in the tavern, drawing out her weapon like one born to it. The theft, the arson, running from the authorities; obviously, this woman did not live on the right side of the law, and it didn’t take long for her to figure out Akila was probably not just a sailor. Mercenary, maybe, or pirate, and again, Xanthippe wondered at her wisdom in placing herself in this woman’s hands.
“Where did you come from?” While her tone was kept carefully neutral, there was some suspicion lingering in the back of her azure gaze. “You’re not Greek, obviously, though you speak very well. What brought you here?”
