Khufu didn’t spend a lot of time worshipping Gods, he did believe and he did his duty as any good Egyptian would, but he wasn’t the most devout of men. But this, this was a celebration he could get behind. Being drunk from sun up to sun down? That was his sort of celebration. He had offered to hire someone to watch the kids if his wife wanted to join him in the celebration, not knowing if she would take him up on that or not. He had at least put the offer out there, and given her the money and information for who he trusted to watch them in case she decided she wanted to spend the entire day drunk with him.

In his younger years, he would get drunk and he would find himself with a woman or two, but now happily married and completely happy with his wife, that part would be left out. Even at his drunkest, he had never lost enough of his senses to ever cheat on his wife. He might flirt a bit, maybe, but it would never make it further than that.

And so upon rising just before the sun, he dressed himself in his finest shendyt and belt, and he poured himself a cup of wine, getting an early start on the celebration. He finished a couple cups of wine before he decided to leave the house and see if he could find himself some company for the day. His wife would find him if she awoke and decided she did want to join him.

Throughout the day he had wandered, drinking as much as possible and visiting some of the not so nice members of society that he sometimes called friends. Well, maybe not friends, but definitely acquaintances.

Now, it was getting closer to sunset, and so he had made his way slowly down to the Nile where he knew that people would begin to slowly gather, to complete the last part of the celebration. There was still awhile before sunset, but he thought if he got much more drunk before getting to the Nile, he likely wouldn’t make it that far.

It had probably taken him longer than it needed to for him to get there, but in his intoxicated state, walking was proving to be a more difficult task than usual.

But he had made it, and now, with an amphora of wine in one hand, and a cup in the other, he sat himself down at the bank of the Nile, planning on calling that spot home until it was time to take a dip into the river itself.

He poured some of the wine into his cup, only spilling a little over the side, he set the amphora beside him and took a drink from the cup, spilling some down his chin. When he’d finished taking his drink, he looked around, trying to see through blurred vision and determine if he could see anyone he knew.

No one was exempt from worshiping the gods. Not even young women who preferred to stay within the relative safety of the house. Nenet didn’t fear crocodiles. She didn’t really like talking to people. She sloshed her way along the riverbank, running the palm of one hand over the reeds that were still sticking up, those lucky ones that hadn’t been trampled. There were no crocodiles or snakes here. There weren’t even hippos. Too many people and too much movement disturbed the animals, sending them further up and down the Nile so that they could sunbathe in peace.

Golden snake bands wound their way up her arms, glinting in the failing, brilliant orange rays of the sun. She stopped to take a deep draft of her wine and to do a tiny little dance to the flutes and lyres and drums that wafted over the crowd. “W-whoop-ps!” she giggled to herself as one foot tangled over another. Aaaaaand down she went. Wine would have been all over her but the cup she’d held was empty at the moment.

With a drunken sigh of contentment, Nenet closed her kohl rimmed eyes against the sun, resting for the moment. Light shone red and warm through her eyelids. Grass prickled beneath her. A shadow passed overhead and she blinked, squinted, then held up a hand to block the sun. She watched a crane sailing across the sky on great white wings, its long neck stretched in a sort of graceful arch. This was beautiful. If you could ignore all the drunk people staggering around. She’d been groped by no less than five people already and had learned that she might as well smack them because the minister involved with taxes wasn’t going to remember three seconds from then anyway.

Another shadow fell over her and she found herself looking up the skirt of a servant. Nenet closed her eyes again and felt her cup leave her hand. The servant poured more wine and returned it to her grasp. Oh joy. More wine...she slowly sat up, staring out at the water where sunlight glittered, blinding and glorious. Then vaguely, she realized she was sitting near someone.

Looking over at Khufu, she blinked him into focus. “Ah HA!” she pointed a long, thin finger at him, pulling her legs up to her chest, her kalasiris being stretched a bit. “B-book th-thief.” For some reason, when she was drunk, her stutter, while still present, was a whole lot less. Not that she noticed. If she had, it might have gotten worse again with the anxiety of it.

“W-worsh-sh-ippppping! TH-THEEEE G-G-GODDDDDDESSSSSS I S-S-SSEEEEEEE,” she sang in time with the music flitting over their heads. And then she giggled, finding something in what she’d said funny. Precisely what was humorous was a total mystery.

The younger of the Hei Haikaddad’s girls had been preparing herself weeks in advance for the Tekh festival, both mentally and physically. It was not a new experience to her, and for that reason she had been making a list in her head of the things she would need to do in order to be ready. The money had been a good start for that, though there a few months ago when she had been considering the type of clothing she wanted to wear she never would've considered clothes this decadent as a possibility for herself or her sister, but nevertheless the money had been there for the both of them.

She wasn’t too certain where it had been coming from, only that it was there indeed, and that she and her sister might as well get some use out of it if their benefactor was going to give them the opportunity, and besides that she was much too concerned that her beloved clothes, the ones she already owned, the two special network outfits and the countless amount of kalasiris hidden within her wardrobe.

Now she matched down to the jewels with her sister, a fact that had Sameera recalling briefly a few outfits the pair had worn as children. She’d put on the outfit, plus the accessories, with her sister, at what felt like the second she had woken up that morning, just a few minutes before she’d started drinking, as required for the Tekh festival. She did adore the chance to feel closer with the goddess Hathor, though in her heart she still had a preference for Thoth. She disliked the loss of control from the alcohol though, as it had a tendency to make her perform in a manner that was much unlike anything she usually did.

She considered an earlier Tekh festival as she sipped on the first drink of the day, remembering how her outfit for that day had sparkled, but remembering less and less of what had happened after then, but afterwards everybody had heard a rather embarrassing story from when her father had still been alive, and Sameera had apparently jammed a pen into his hand hard enough to draw blood. That was what the rumors said, anyways, and she only knew from the story her mother told that the only stains on her father’s hands that day were the stains of ink, not blood. Still, having such an embarrassing story spread was not something she wanted to repeat, and she was determined that during this Tekh festival she would not spread any secrets at all, not hers or the ones her sister had confided in her. Safiya would have her head, she was certain, if she told the one she had promised to keep, and so she had it set that she would attempt not to say a single word throughout the festival.

Nenet had to have done it at some point, Sameera thought, her head already slightly muddled. She considered the difficulty of such a thing, but then again, as far as she knew Nenet wasn’t usually stumbling around as intoxicated as the goddess Hathor would want them to be on that day. She’d gone to some event or other without speaking, when she was younger and the adults were the ones speaking. She took another gulp of her drink, then headed to write things down. The second her scribbles started to make no sense to her was the second that she would head to the Tekh festival, but there was always a period where she felt as though Thoth himself was writing out of her hands. Sure, later she would always look back and wish she could remain that inspired, but drink was expensive.

And besides that, the previously mentioned money was much better spent on clothes, anyways. She enjoyed the linen, it had a luxurious feel and she could imagine it slipping off of her shoulders as she entered the river. She tried to capture the imagination of the thought down into the ink, hoping to use it for a later scene or perhaps to give anybody who dared read it an idea of her state of mind. She tried to connect the hope of Hathor’s honor with her own reservations about losing control as well, but she lost the thought, frustratingly enough. She might as well be rambling drunk right now, but she was hesitant to do so in front of others. The words swam before her eyes, now, and she knew she would be heading down to the Nile and removing her kalasiris before the whole crowd, not to say that eyes would be on her. Hathor, if they wouldn’t be on Safiya or perhaps even one of the others. The Isazari girls, perhaps, or even one of the Sheifas. Maybe the lower classes would astound with their beauty or rowdy ways. Sameera nearly slipped as she stood up, checking that her kalasiris was still on. If she showed up naked, what would be the point of the disrobing?

She had seen Safiya earlier that day, when they were both wearing their clothes, and adored the way they had looked the same. She admired her hours-older sister more than she cared to admit to anyone but her, and she smiled softly when recalling moments from her childhood that had been shared with her sister. So many, it seemed, and rightfully so, she would say. Twins, tied up in the same thing. She couldn’t imagine what her mother and father must’ve thought upon seeing the pair for the first time, what shock her mother must have experienced upon realizing that, after one child, she wasn’t done. That was her, Sameera the surprise, unexpected only in birth, forever making predictable and reserved choices with a few exceptions.

She stumbled out and down to the Nile, wondering how many people would attend, or how many people wouldn’t feel as intoxicated enough as they should be until just a few short minutes before sundown. She also pondered the question of who exactly she might see. Though her own circles were relatively close-knit, and she had heard more than her fair share of gossip about others. She giggled lightly, bumping into the servant she’d brought along. “You know, I hate these things!” she said, her earlier promise to herself about not speaking already forgotten in the haze of drink, “C-can’t shtand the lark of control.”

It felt good to not worry over words as she usually did. Why had she been so nervous over this before? This was awesome! Incredible! She shouted as much to her servant before giving the woman a warm hug, only letting go when it became a bit too difficult to walk with her servant in her arms, plus the basket that the servant was holding. As Sameera let go of the servant, she thanked her a few times for various tasks that she did, not noticing the servant’s rather embarrassed face as she tried to hold up her normally reserved lady.

“More wine?” Sameera produced a metal cup from somewhere among the folds of her kalasiris, and held it pleadingly out to the servant, who obliged by removing a container of the stuff from the basket she carried and pouring a small amount for Sameera, who gratefully thanked her with a tight squeeze and a strong gulp of the wine.

Sameera dashed over to her sister, stumbling once or twice along the way, wine dripping on the lower edge of her kalasiris. At the sound of her twin’s question, she tried to hold up her hands to signify which amount she’d had, but the wine in the metal cup simply spilled onto the ground. “Enough,” she said with a giggle that was entirely unlike her. She normally wouldn’t be caught giggling like a little girl, as she preferred attempting to seem a little older despite being one of the youngest of the noblewomen.

Sameera reached out to squeeze one of her twin’s arms. “Shafiya!” she declared, “We need to...separate! No one can tell us apart. Funny funny.” Sameera winked, or at least tried to. She instead ended up blinking, and blinking again, before shrugging. Even sober it was a skill she had never picked up on, but she continued on with where her thoughts were going. “Like...heh...when we were little, remember? And I didn’t want to talk with...hmmm...Berenike, so you did it for me? It’ll be so much fun” Sameera giggled again. It was just one of many examples that she recalled, but she had always had fun when nobody knew which one she was. Well, not always. Sometimes she despised having to correct people that she was Sameera, but other times the opportunity to clarify herself just gave her the chance to think to herself.

She was Sameera, after all. A little bit more shy than her sister, and quite possibly less interesting, too, but still worth talking to. Sameera still had some of her mannerisms about her, and so she hesitantly dipped her legs into the water, keeping her top half above, for now. No doubt she would lose track of the kalasiris she was wearing the second she let it drift to the bottom, and if she were not intoxicated she might care just a little bit that the newfound money the Haikkaddads had been enjoying was to go sinking to the bottom of the Nile after just a short while, though Sameera had thoughtfully removed her earrings and charm bracelet to give to the servant in charge of wrapping a pale white cloth around her as the sun set, just in case there was no locating of her clothes or accessories afterwards.

With no wig on, just her natural-grown hair as her sister wore, she could almost imagine the feeling of the Nile’s water lapping at the ends of her hair, almost like it was begging her to be submerged, cleansed and celebrating the glory that the fertility goddess had brought and hopefully would continue to bless Egypt with. “Hathor…” Sameera murmured quietly, nearly closing her eyes in the feeling of the water on her legs, kicking them lightly back and forth as she giggled lightly to herself, ”It’s like walking on all of the clouds in the sky.” She liked that, and made a note to herself to write it down, though it would likely be forgotten the second she left the waters and made her way home.

This was the closeness, she thought, the whole purpose of the Tekh festival, and tomorrow when she woke up she would forget all about it and go back to worrying over it like she had last year. Even the thought, however fleeting, made her sad, so she turned to more joyful things. Soon she would join the unclothed crowd, she thought. Hathor! All of this for a person, or rather, a goddess that Sameera had never met, but she was certain had blessed the Haikaddads. How else would she and Safiya be so strong, twins and all? And their mother having Kissan, afterwards as well. What joy, Sameera thought, her mother must’ve felt upon having a son to continue the Haikaddad’s name, especially after her father’s passing.

She sometimes wondered if her father would be proud of her. What he would be like if he was still around to talk with Sameera, to manage the Hei. She didn’t want to blame her mother for anything, but she wondered if they would be more successful if it wasn’t for his death. She chose to believe that he was proud of her, in that moment, that maybe Osiris had granted him the ability to see his youngest daughter during the celebrations of her life. She felt an immense rush of happiness just then, whether from the buzz in her head or the idea and decided that rather than muddle it up inside of poetic terms and keep it in her head, she would call it out for everyone to hear. That way they might finally turn their heads to look at her.

“Hello!” she yelled, still full of giggles, “It’s a beautiful day and I’m feeling great!”

Kesi was in a conundrum. You see, she very much was interested in the different festivals in Egypt. They were fun! This one especially sounded like a lot of fun. People were drinking, they were naked, so much chaos could be had! But every year Kesi never went for one reason and one reason only: The Nile.

It didn’t quite make sense. The Nile didn’t give life like the Egyptians said. All the Nile could do is take. It took away Kesi’s memories, it takes away life. Osiris was drowned in the Nile by Set. The Nile just took and took and wasn’t worth worshiping. Truth be told, there were very few things that Kesi was afraid of, but the Nile was one of them.

Yet, Kesi was a curious girl. Her mind was always running rampant with thoughts. She wanted to go. She wanted to see the festival. She wanted to see all the fun things that might be there and partake in the chaos like… a normal Egyptian. But Nem wasn’t going to go. His eyes were open to the horrors of the river, knowing just what it had taken from Kesi. He had an aversion just like she did. Kesi would have preferred to have gone with Nem. At the very least… she didn’t want to go alone.

But Zein was there. He wanted to see the festival too! So when Kesi heard he was going to go, Kesi tagged along. The whole way she chattered, mostly out of nerves. It was a very rare sight. She had gone to the Nile before, even met her best friend there, but she never saw so many people… walking into it at once.

“You have to promise me you won’t go in, Zein,” Kesi said for perhaps the millionth time. She looked up at him with large, brown eyes. Despite his hatred of snakes, a fact that Kesi still didn’t understand and thought was lunacy, Kesi really liked him. She would hate if something bad happened to Zein. He was part of the circus family. They took care of their own.

“And… and don’t leave me! No leaving either! Not that I’m afraid or anything.” Of course, Kesi wasn’t afraid. That would be silly. Right? “I just… I just gotta protect you. Mhm. Gotta make sure you’re safe and not in the Nile. If I hear you went in the river I’m going to be really, really mad, Zein. I’ll put a snake in your tent as punishment!” She would too! Kesi was all about taking chances, but that was a chance no one should risk. It brought Kesi a lot of misery, and she still had fuzzy dreams of the memories that she lost. She wouldn’t want anyone else to have that same fate- particularly someone in the Tempest. “And we can go to the Temple of Hathor and give her offerings to make up for this.” Though Hathor would understand right?

Suddenly a drunken man stumbled from an alley and Kesi gave a jump, expecting it to be some sort of Nile monster intent to drag her into the river. She grabbed Zein’s wrist out of reflex, before realizing it was just some random person and not a monster. She blinked, then looked at her hold. “Oh,” she let go. “I… I thought you were going to fall or something. There was a… rock on the ground. I didn’t want you to trip.” She sniffed.

If there was anything that Atalanta was certain of, it was that Egyptians knew how to have a good time. In comparison to the people of Egypt, even those of her native Taengea were tame, Athenians and Colchians being borderline ascetics.

Though the couple debated whether or not to come to Egypt, considering the war raging on in the provinces, Atalanta felt a strong sense of confidence that they would face no trouble in their travels. The pair were, after all, quite the novelty - a pale beansprout of a man, and a paler woman with a loud shock of red hair. Their presence was more likely to entertain than agitate the Egyptians, though they would have to be much more surreptitious in their undertakings.

The pair had risen early in the morning, setting up a booth in a prime location for the festivities of the day - any merchant worth his salt knew that drunk customers were especially generous with their coin. Yet, as much as the Argothian loved to partake, she would refrain - there was simply too much money in the pockets of the Egyptian nobility, and Atalanta's noble duty was to help lighten their loads.

The day went by with sporadic visits from customers, ranging from slightly tipsy to fully drunk, Atalanta watching as the inhabitants of the river continuously increased, the festival almost acting as a drinking competition.

As the sun rose and began to dip in the sky, Atalanta's desire to join the festivities grew. If wine was liquid courage, every festival-goer was fearless. Atalanta was at once shocked and intrigued by the brazenness of the attendees, furtively glancing at her husband every now and then as she waited impatiently for the sun to set.

"Fabric! Jewelry! The finest from Greece!" she called out in broken Coptic, looking to lure those who were still left standing to their booth.

A dutiful and proud Egyptian, Zoser took joy in attending the festivals for the gods. Being a natural pleasure seeker, he was not about to miss out on a day of drunkeness and revelry.

Already several cups of wine in by the time he made his way to the riverbank, Zoser was pleasantly warmed and relaxed, greeting a few familiar faces in passing, keeping up conversations about their wives and children, or the affairs within the city. Zoser loved to talk, and despite being known for his tendency towards waxing on about things that he found interesting - which did not often match the interests held by his company - he was a damn good conversationalist in passing.

Still, even though the wine and smiles kept him engaged, his eyes kept glancing to and fro, eyeing each golden form and shock of black hair...always seeking those round, gorgeous eyes...

Nia...

If he were the smart man he claimed to be, he would do his best to keep far away from her today. Every god in the pantheon knew by now that he would be completely incapable of keeping his hands off her at this point, and in such a public space? It was something they could not risk at all.

And so, he hid his pining behind cupfuls of wine and a cheery disposition.

Turning a corner, a shock of vibrant red hair caught his attention. Callidora? A slight surge of guilt tugged at his gut when he thought of the gorgeous merchant that he had the pleasure of spending a long day with...in the time shortly before his devotion to Nia had fully taken form. Still, there was nothing wrong with a friendship there, and he stepped closer, immediately recognizing Kahi as well.

Only, as he began to say her name, "Calli-..." he realized his error.

Nope. Wrong person.

"Oop, sorry," he stated, realizing that it was not Callidora at all but another gorgeous Greek merchant. His eyes could not help but admire her for a brief moment before turning her attention to Kahi as another woman tried to stop her from tripping...

A Greek, A Judean, and An Egyptian stand at a market stall...

It read like the start of a bawdy joke told at the tavern, and the thought of it had him grinning.

"Kahi, Kahi, Kahi," Zoser teased, his eyes crinkling catlike in amusement to see the dutiful mother away from home, "Out of the house and out in the world. I'm impressed. Thrilled to see you out and about." Zoser had been close to their family for ages it seemed, and it truly was interesting to find her instead of her husband cups deep in wine on the streets of Cairo. His eyes shifted to the dark-eyed Egyptian at her side and he tilted his head, "Thank you for watching out for my friend, um...?"

Zoser let the sentence linger, an invitation for an introduction.

Then his eyes shifted back to the merchant, and a mirthful smirk tugging at one corner of his lip as he teased in Greek, "A bit ironic to sell fabric at an event where everyone will end up bare, isn't it?"