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"I don't understand why my presence is needed right now," Nefertaari said to her father, her gaze narrowed slightly in vexation. They sat in a private room within one of Mansa's higher-end establishments, sharing dinner with one of the city's officials.
She was grateful that Onuphrious allowed her to join him on his travels finally, and she loved travelling lands near and far with her father. Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked, Nef had a deeply rooted wanderlust. Being forced to remain somewhere she had no desire to be only made her feel caged, and this little gathering over food and drink was stifling.
Onuphrious continued talking to the official, almost entirely disregarding his daughter's protests. As he gestured emphatically, Neferaari stood from her seat and slipped quietly out of the room. She waited just outside to make sure her absence hadn't been noticed before she exited the tavern.
The arid Egyptian night cooled her skin, a welcome relief to the innards of the busy tavern. A gentle, warm breeze shifted her satin dress. Her dark gaze swept the thoroughfare thoughtfully. She moved quietly, turning down the first alleyway she encountered. It was quieter, less traveled, and far more peaceful than the street.
At sixteen and not even five feet tall, Nefertaari appeared almost childlike as she wandered, running her fingers alongside the wall of a building. She hummed quietly under her breath. Though she seemed to pay little mind to her surroundings and moved with a lack of urgency, the youth was, in fact, quite alert.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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"I don't understand why my presence is needed right now," Nefertaari said to her father, her gaze narrowed slightly in vexation. They sat in a private room within one of Mansa's higher-end establishments, sharing dinner with one of the city's officials.
She was grateful that Onuphrious allowed her to join him on his travels finally, and she loved travelling lands near and far with her father. Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked, Nef had a deeply rooted wanderlust. Being forced to remain somewhere she had no desire to be only made her feel caged, and this little gathering over food and drink was stifling.
Onuphrious continued talking to the official, almost entirely disregarding his daughter's protests. As he gestured emphatically, Neferaari stood from her seat and slipped quietly out of the room. She waited just outside to make sure her absence hadn't been noticed before she exited the tavern.
The arid Egyptian night cooled her skin, a welcome relief to the innards of the busy tavern. A gentle, warm breeze shifted her satin dress. Her dark gaze swept the thoroughfare thoughtfully. She moved quietly, turning down the first alleyway she encountered. It was quieter, less traveled, and far more peaceful than the street.
At sixteen and not even five feet tall, Nefertaari appeared almost childlike as she wandered, running her fingers alongside the wall of a building. She hummed quietly under her breath. Though she seemed to pay little mind to her surroundings and moved with a lack of urgency, the youth was, in fact, quite alert.
"I don't understand why my presence is needed right now," Nefertaari said to her father, her gaze narrowed slightly in vexation. They sat in a private room within one of Mansa's higher-end establishments, sharing dinner with one of the city's officials.
She was grateful that Onuphrious allowed her to join him on his travels finally, and she loved travelling lands near and far with her father. Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone that asked, Nef had a deeply rooted wanderlust. Being forced to remain somewhere she had no desire to be only made her feel caged, and this little gathering over food and drink was stifling.
Onuphrious continued talking to the official, almost entirely disregarding his daughter's protests. As he gestured emphatically, Neferaari stood from her seat and slipped quietly out of the room. She waited just outside to make sure her absence hadn't been noticed before she exited the tavern.
The arid Egyptian night cooled her skin, a welcome relief to the innards of the busy tavern. A gentle, warm breeze shifted her satin dress. Her dark gaze swept the thoroughfare thoughtfully. She moved quietly, turning down the first alleyway she encountered. It was quieter, less traveled, and far more peaceful than the street.
At sixteen and not even five feet tall, Nefertaari appeared almost childlike as she wandered, running her fingers alongside the wall of a building. She hummed quietly under her breath. Though she seemed to pay little mind to her surroundings and moved with a lack of urgency, the youth was, in fact, quite alert.
With wineskin that he emptied right then and there at his hand, and a proud spread to his face, Damocles, barely clothed and laced with sweat, strutted across the streets of Mansa, that odd, little city that, for all intents and purposes, should not have been as fun or amusing as it had been. Being far more pleasurable than any establishment of those sands snakes had any right to be, the massive man devilishly smirked to himself and recalled just what he had been up to for more than a couple of hours before, tangling himself against the bronze flesh and passionate touch of those venomous Egyptian women whom had kept him company not long ago. A bit more arrogant than he ought to show, he made no effort in hiding his self-pride in his latest showing of prowess, recalling how, all at once, he made three of those ardent women cry out so loudly with salacious intent behind their throaty moans that they had rolled their eyes to the back of their heads and scratched him noticeably across his massive, muscle-laden chest. Gods, five of the six he had laid with went so far so as to not charge him for the fun.
Maybe, Egypt wasn’t that bad as his fellow Greeks often thought…
Yet, for now, he was famished. Hours of vigorous, albeit not necessarily work-related, activity had caused him to develop quite the hunger, and not of the type for flesh. He craved food, or at least anything that resembled food. Thus, with his merry strut, standing out due to his colossal size, lighter Grecian complexion, luminous silver eyes and his massive, impressive build, given how that dark-haired militant had been muscled like a maiden’s worst wanton fantasy. He knew that he would not be particularly welcomed in the place, but there was a hope that, at least, his money would be welcomed. Regardless of his ethnicity, coin was coin after all. Or so he thought, for even though he knew no Coptic, and therefore had to gesture towards the beer he wanted, the barkeep nodded in opposition and denied Damocles his drink. The rudeness! No wonder the two countries had been at war so long! These snake rats were so irritating…even if their womenfolk had been quite enjoyable however.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Deleted
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With wineskin that he emptied right then and there at his hand, and a proud spread to his face, Damocles, barely clothed and laced with sweat, strutted across the streets of Mansa, that odd, little city that, for all intents and purposes, should not have been as fun or amusing as it had been. Being far more pleasurable than any establishment of those sands snakes had any right to be, the massive man devilishly smirked to himself and recalled just what he had been up to for more than a couple of hours before, tangling himself against the bronze flesh and passionate touch of those venomous Egyptian women whom had kept him company not long ago. A bit more arrogant than he ought to show, he made no effort in hiding his self-pride in his latest showing of prowess, recalling how, all at once, he made three of those ardent women cry out so loudly with salacious intent behind their throaty moans that they had rolled their eyes to the back of their heads and scratched him noticeably across his massive, muscle-laden chest. Gods, five of the six he had laid with went so far so as to not charge him for the fun.
Maybe, Egypt wasn’t that bad as his fellow Greeks often thought…
Yet, for now, he was famished. Hours of vigorous, albeit not necessarily work-related, activity had caused him to develop quite the hunger, and not of the type for flesh. He craved food, or at least anything that resembled food. Thus, with his merry strut, standing out due to his colossal size, lighter Grecian complexion, luminous silver eyes and his massive, impressive build, given how that dark-haired militant had been muscled like a maiden’s worst wanton fantasy. He knew that he would not be particularly welcomed in the place, but there was a hope that, at least, his money would be welcomed. Regardless of his ethnicity, coin was coin after all. Or so he thought, for even though he knew no Coptic, and therefore had to gesture towards the beer he wanted, the barkeep nodded in opposition and denied Damocles his drink. The rudeness! No wonder the two countries had been at war so long! These snake rats were so irritating…even if their womenfolk had been quite enjoyable however.
With wineskin that he emptied right then and there at his hand, and a proud spread to his face, Damocles, barely clothed and laced with sweat, strutted across the streets of Mansa, that odd, little city that, for all intents and purposes, should not have been as fun or amusing as it had been. Being far more pleasurable than any establishment of those sands snakes had any right to be, the massive man devilishly smirked to himself and recalled just what he had been up to for more than a couple of hours before, tangling himself against the bronze flesh and passionate touch of those venomous Egyptian women whom had kept him company not long ago. A bit more arrogant than he ought to show, he made no effort in hiding his self-pride in his latest showing of prowess, recalling how, all at once, he made three of those ardent women cry out so loudly with salacious intent behind their throaty moans that they had rolled their eyes to the back of their heads and scratched him noticeably across his massive, muscle-laden chest. Gods, five of the six he had laid with went so far so as to not charge him for the fun.
Maybe, Egypt wasn’t that bad as his fellow Greeks often thought…
Yet, for now, he was famished. Hours of vigorous, albeit not necessarily work-related, activity had caused him to develop quite the hunger, and not of the type for flesh. He craved food, or at least anything that resembled food. Thus, with his merry strut, standing out due to his colossal size, lighter Grecian complexion, luminous silver eyes and his massive, impressive build, given how that dark-haired militant had been muscled like a maiden’s worst wanton fantasy. He knew that he would not be particularly welcomed in the place, but there was a hope that, at least, his money would be welcomed. Regardless of his ethnicity, coin was coin after all. Or so he thought, for even though he knew no Coptic, and therefore had to gesture towards the beer he wanted, the barkeep nodded in opposition and denied Damocles his drink. The rudeness! No wonder the two countries had been at war so long! These snake rats were so irritating…even if their womenfolk had been quite enjoyable however.
Some time passed before Nefertaari made he way back to the restaurant, and she passed by the barkeep just as he denied Damocles a beer. A dark brow arched upward, and she barked something in Coptic at him. The beer was drawn a moment later as she drew up alongside the Grecian.
“It might do you well to pick up our language,” the young woman said slowly, methodically. Her Greek wasn’t by any means perfect, but she appeared to be somewhat familiar with the language. It happened, considering all the time she spent at her father’s side. Thinking of him made the young woman glance toward the fancier, private rooms, as if she expected to see Horus himself walk into sight.
When she was sure no one was about to step out of that room in search for her, she drew herself up on a stool alongside the militant. Though really it looked more as if the tiny youth was climbing up the stool. To the barkeep, she said, “Another.”
It was rare for Nefertaari to be denied something she desired, and it appeared no different as she sat there beside the man. Her nostrils flared, as if she could smell the women on him. The smell of sex was common no matter where you went. When she returned her attention to Damocles, she cracked a paper-thin smile.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
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Some time passed before Nefertaari made he way back to the restaurant, and she passed by the barkeep just as he denied Damocles a beer. A dark brow arched upward, and she barked something in Coptic at him. The beer was drawn a moment later as she drew up alongside the Grecian.
“It might do you well to pick up our language,” the young woman said slowly, methodically. Her Greek wasn’t by any means perfect, but she appeared to be somewhat familiar with the language. It happened, considering all the time she spent at her father’s side. Thinking of him made the young woman glance toward the fancier, private rooms, as if she expected to see Horus himself walk into sight.
When she was sure no one was about to step out of that room in search for her, she drew herself up on a stool alongside the militant. Though really it looked more as if the tiny youth was climbing up the stool. To the barkeep, she said, “Another.”
It was rare for Nefertaari to be denied something she desired, and it appeared no different as she sat there beside the man. Her nostrils flared, as if she could smell the women on him. The smell of sex was common no matter where you went. When she returned her attention to Damocles, she cracked a paper-thin smile.
Some time passed before Nefertaari made he way back to the restaurant, and she passed by the barkeep just as he denied Damocles a beer. A dark brow arched upward, and she barked something in Coptic at him. The beer was drawn a moment later as she drew up alongside the Grecian.
“It might do you well to pick up our language,” the young woman said slowly, methodically. Her Greek wasn’t by any means perfect, but she appeared to be somewhat familiar with the language. It happened, considering all the time she spent at her father’s side. Thinking of him made the young woman glance toward the fancier, private rooms, as if she expected to see Horus himself walk into sight.
When she was sure no one was about to step out of that room in search for her, she drew herself up on a stool alongside the militant. Though really it looked more as if the tiny youth was climbing up the stool. To the barkeep, she said, “Another.”
It was rare for Nefertaari to be denied something she desired, and it appeared no different as she sat there beside the man. Her nostrils flared, as if she could smell the women on him. The smell of sex was common no matter where you went. When she returned her attention to Damocles, she cracked a paper-thin smile.