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Ana had no idea what to expect from the Tekh Festival.
Akhenaten invited her to meet him there, to let him wear her on his arm in an extremely public event. Was this a way of apologizing? Anastasia couldn't deny that she'd felt a twinge of arousal when Akhenaten grabbed her, even as Chione was berated and the man had gone storming off to leave that arisen sliver to be satisfied by the very woman who'd instigated the outburst.
In every respect, Anastasia was confused. But, there was no way she'd refuse. This was a reason for her to have gone out, to lavish herself in expensive fabrics and the jewels she adored so much. Anastasia couldn't help herself. She hadn't begun to drink just yet. Instead, she languished in her bed, adorned in the jewels she'd purchased. A large sapphire rested within her navel, a path of smaller jewels meeting her abdomen and settled between the curves of her breasts.
She'd almost forgotten, in the midst of being surrounded by such finery and left to deny the thrill of acquisition, what it was to be bathed in jewels. But, it couldn't and wouldn't last forever. She at last rose from her bed, catching the jewels in her hand before resting them on the mattress, sifting through her armoire to find the perfect selection to make Akhenaten drool over her.
Next time you start something, finish it you sick son of a bitch.
So very used to tightly woven fabrics, the way that a kalasiris seemed to hug her curves rather than suffocate them was... interesting. She was not entirely new to the Egyptian means of dress, but the beaded network dresses and tight sheathes commanded most of her attention, for it was so easy to weave jewelry into things that were already meant to support it. But, this.
Anastasia secured the kalasiris just beneath the slight curves of her breast, encrusted sapphires and jade lining the fabric before letting the silken white fall as a curtain to her form. The smooth pale flesh was visible for all to see, just transparent enough to show the contrast between herself and the norm of Egypt, but not so much that anyone would see the scars until she was bared of it. She wore a similarly translucent, but dyed by charcoal, shawl, with frayed ends held together by obsidian stones that supported the shawl despite the kick of a light breeze.
Night and day, she thought just as blue-tinged opium smoke layered her lungs. She blew the plume out before she left, intent on satisfying the requisite of the Tekh festival: drink.
Anastasia spent the next hour chatting up a bartender, listening to tales spun of the last Tekh festival so as to further satisfy her understanding of what Akhenaten pulled her into. After all, the last time the man invited her to something public... she'd made a heady escape from a band of thieves raiding his house.
That probably won't happen again.
Maybe.
Ana might've felt guilty about ditching him then, but... none of what happened to the Sheifas was her problem until he'd bought her a villa. Things were different, now.
While lamenting the fact that she did not cater to the whims of the festival in full, she certainly intended to catch up. Smoothly distilled mead poured down her throat, and she matched the bartender with drink after drink, though she did not miss the glances he gave her. Once drunk enough for her liking, at least... here, she took her leave, purchasing a pitcher to take with her as she stumbled from the bar and found the pilgrim's path of people heading towards the river Nile.
Anastasia wouldn't remember the path she wove, heavy footfalls from such a talented thief catching her attention more than anything else. She was getting sloppy and blaming the drink would be a cop-out. She furrowed her brow just as she saw the trove of people littering the edges of the Nile, waiting for the right time to go in. Anastasia looked only for Akhenaten, placing the pitcher at the water's edge, draining a goblet of it before she waded into the depths. Surely...
Akhenaten will find me.
There was a gaze flickering in search of Chione, and what she found...
Anastasia felt her heart chip away at the sight of the girl alone. But to approach her in this festival of lovers...
The taboo need be kept only behind closed doors.
Anastasia felt the pressure in her eyes, as a single tear fell along her cheek, only to be splashed away by the Nile's water, a refreshing splash to her face as she stood straight, searching next for the one who would meet her in the depths of the river.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Ana had no idea what to expect from the Tekh Festival.
Akhenaten invited her to meet him there, to let him wear her on his arm in an extremely public event. Was this a way of apologizing? Anastasia couldn't deny that she'd felt a twinge of arousal when Akhenaten grabbed her, even as Chione was berated and the man had gone storming off to leave that arisen sliver to be satisfied by the very woman who'd instigated the outburst.
In every respect, Anastasia was confused. But, there was no way she'd refuse. This was a reason for her to have gone out, to lavish herself in expensive fabrics and the jewels she adored so much. Anastasia couldn't help herself. She hadn't begun to drink just yet. Instead, she languished in her bed, adorned in the jewels she'd purchased. A large sapphire rested within her navel, a path of smaller jewels meeting her abdomen and settled between the curves of her breasts.
She'd almost forgotten, in the midst of being surrounded by such finery and left to deny the thrill of acquisition, what it was to be bathed in jewels. But, it couldn't and wouldn't last forever. She at last rose from her bed, catching the jewels in her hand before resting them on the mattress, sifting through her armoire to find the perfect selection to make Akhenaten drool over her.
Next time you start something, finish it you sick son of a bitch.
So very used to tightly woven fabrics, the way that a kalasiris seemed to hug her curves rather than suffocate them was... interesting. She was not entirely new to the Egyptian means of dress, but the beaded network dresses and tight sheathes commanded most of her attention, for it was so easy to weave jewelry into things that were already meant to support it. But, this.
Anastasia secured the kalasiris just beneath the slight curves of her breast, encrusted sapphires and jade lining the fabric before letting the silken white fall as a curtain to her form. The smooth pale flesh was visible for all to see, just transparent enough to show the contrast between herself and the norm of Egypt, but not so much that anyone would see the scars until she was bared of it. She wore a similarly translucent, but dyed by charcoal, shawl, with frayed ends held together by obsidian stones that supported the shawl despite the kick of a light breeze.
Night and day, she thought just as blue-tinged opium smoke layered her lungs. She blew the plume out before she left, intent on satisfying the requisite of the Tekh festival: drink.
Anastasia spent the next hour chatting up a bartender, listening to tales spun of the last Tekh festival so as to further satisfy her understanding of what Akhenaten pulled her into. After all, the last time the man invited her to something public... she'd made a heady escape from a band of thieves raiding his house.
That probably won't happen again.
Maybe.
Ana might've felt guilty about ditching him then, but... none of what happened to the Sheifas was her problem until he'd bought her a villa. Things were different, now.
While lamenting the fact that she did not cater to the whims of the festival in full, she certainly intended to catch up. Smoothly distilled mead poured down her throat, and she matched the bartender with drink after drink, though she did not miss the glances he gave her. Once drunk enough for her liking, at least... here, she took her leave, purchasing a pitcher to take with her as she stumbled from the bar and found the pilgrim's path of people heading towards the river Nile.
Anastasia wouldn't remember the path she wove, heavy footfalls from such a talented thief catching her attention more than anything else. She was getting sloppy and blaming the drink would be a cop-out. She furrowed her brow just as she saw the trove of people littering the edges of the Nile, waiting for the right time to go in. Anastasia looked only for Akhenaten, placing the pitcher at the water's edge, draining a goblet of it before she waded into the depths. Surely...
Akhenaten will find me.
There was a gaze flickering in search of Chione, and what she found...
Anastasia felt her heart chip away at the sight of the girl alone. But to approach her in this festival of lovers...
The taboo need be kept only behind closed doors.
Anastasia felt the pressure in her eyes, as a single tear fell along her cheek, only to be splashed away by the Nile's water, a refreshing splash to her face as she stood straight, searching next for the one who would meet her in the depths of the river.
Ana had no idea what to expect from the Tekh Festival.
Akhenaten invited her to meet him there, to let him wear her on his arm in an extremely public event. Was this a way of apologizing? Anastasia couldn't deny that she'd felt a twinge of arousal when Akhenaten grabbed her, even as Chione was berated and the man had gone storming off to leave that arisen sliver to be satisfied by the very woman who'd instigated the outburst.
In every respect, Anastasia was confused. But, there was no way she'd refuse. This was a reason for her to have gone out, to lavish herself in expensive fabrics and the jewels she adored so much. Anastasia couldn't help herself. She hadn't begun to drink just yet. Instead, she languished in her bed, adorned in the jewels she'd purchased. A large sapphire rested within her navel, a path of smaller jewels meeting her abdomen and settled between the curves of her breasts.
She'd almost forgotten, in the midst of being surrounded by such finery and left to deny the thrill of acquisition, what it was to be bathed in jewels. But, it couldn't and wouldn't last forever. She at last rose from her bed, catching the jewels in her hand before resting them on the mattress, sifting through her armoire to find the perfect selection to make Akhenaten drool over her.
Next time you start something, finish it you sick son of a bitch.
So very used to tightly woven fabrics, the way that a kalasiris seemed to hug her curves rather than suffocate them was... interesting. She was not entirely new to the Egyptian means of dress, but the beaded network dresses and tight sheathes commanded most of her attention, for it was so easy to weave jewelry into things that were already meant to support it. But, this.
Anastasia secured the kalasiris just beneath the slight curves of her breast, encrusted sapphires and jade lining the fabric before letting the silken white fall as a curtain to her form. The smooth pale flesh was visible for all to see, just transparent enough to show the contrast between herself and the norm of Egypt, but not so much that anyone would see the scars until she was bared of it. She wore a similarly translucent, but dyed by charcoal, shawl, with frayed ends held together by obsidian stones that supported the shawl despite the kick of a light breeze.
Night and day, she thought just as blue-tinged opium smoke layered her lungs. She blew the plume out before she left, intent on satisfying the requisite of the Tekh festival: drink.
Anastasia spent the next hour chatting up a bartender, listening to tales spun of the last Tekh festival so as to further satisfy her understanding of what Akhenaten pulled her into. After all, the last time the man invited her to something public... she'd made a heady escape from a band of thieves raiding his house.
That probably won't happen again.
Maybe.
Ana might've felt guilty about ditching him then, but... none of what happened to the Sheifas was her problem until he'd bought her a villa. Things were different, now.
While lamenting the fact that she did not cater to the whims of the festival in full, she certainly intended to catch up. Smoothly distilled mead poured down her throat, and she matched the bartender with drink after drink, though she did not miss the glances he gave her. Once drunk enough for her liking, at least... here, she took her leave, purchasing a pitcher to take with her as she stumbled from the bar and found the pilgrim's path of people heading towards the river Nile.
Anastasia wouldn't remember the path she wove, heavy footfalls from such a talented thief catching her attention more than anything else. She was getting sloppy and blaming the drink would be a cop-out. She furrowed her brow just as she saw the trove of people littering the edges of the Nile, waiting for the right time to go in. Anastasia looked only for Akhenaten, placing the pitcher at the water's edge, draining a goblet of it before she waded into the depths. Surely...
Akhenaten will find me.
There was a gaze flickering in search of Chione, and what she found...
Anastasia felt her heart chip away at the sight of the girl alone. But to approach her in this festival of lovers...
The taboo need be kept only behind closed doors.
Anastasia felt the pressure in her eyes, as a single tear fell along her cheek, only to be splashed away by the Nile's water, a refreshing splash to her face as she stood straight, searching next for the one who would meet her in the depths of the river.
Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set despised the river Nile. The river of life dredged up foul memories, conjured up images of the sky growing suddenly dark and the torrential rainfall that followed. He remembered how the strength of the rain created a tide within the river, and with it, took his sister away from him. He recalled chasing her, wading through the pool until he caught up with the prone form of the former Kesi of Alexandria. The blood oozed from her head as it bobbed to the surface.
He never returned to the river before joining the circus, and refused when asked during long journeys to go to the river and claim water from it. He understood the power of the river, how it provided life to the nation of Egypt. But, to him, it meted death. Evil spirits and monsters surely surrounded it, monsters that couldn't be seen, only felt. They stole lives away, caused tragedies, and yet... people loved the Nile. They were forced to love it.
Was it love when the thing being loved was a necessity? It was dependence, and even while Amenemhat depended on the river, he feared its duplicity. Everyone should, but... he didn't care about everyone. When Kesi decided to go to the Tekh festival, he knew he had to do something about it. Not for the sake of it being a lover's festival. He held no doubt in her devotion, but... the idea of her wanting to draw into the river, the idea of the Gods mocking him and repeating history...
It was unacceptable. So, he wove his little plan to steer the course of history himself. He'd attend the festival as well, but she wasn't to know that. He'd began the day in painting up his faithful, ugliest goon. Pitch paint inlaid with oils to make water slick against it covered his face and body, his wild hair left to splay over his muscled form and then, he placed needles on a paste over his shoulders. He created one of the horrible beasts he envisioned in childhood nightmares, intent on releasing it into the festival.
To stir up a bit of fun, sure. That's what he told Azarion. But, to keep Kesi afraid of the river... to protect her. The real goal would remain a secret.
"Come by whenever you'd like. Kesi's with Zein for the day. I'll be around to watch the fun," he said to the beast tamer before he made his way into town for the festival.
Like any Tekh festival, this one began with the drink. He'd risen with the sun, just as asked, but to prepare his monster. By the time he was showing his due faith to Hathor, it was well into the morning. The sun rose high over the Egyptian skies, just as Amenemhat took long draws from a large goblet of mead. He wandered through the town, following languidly moving bodies in a path towards the river. There were some who'd already searched out their lovers in the wading depths. Nem? He'd do it for the sake of the mission, he supposed.
He intended, however, to stay on the periphery, and he found the perfect person to do that with. He recognized the woman's figure, the sight of her drunkenly dancing to an imaginary tune stirred the memory of six years prior. What was her name? Most of the time, they were meaningless baubles, names. To be thrown away when not needed, but she'd made quite the impression on Nem, throwing the weight of her noble lineage around and demanding his father serve as her tour guide.
Chi...one, right? H'Isazari?
He confirmed the memory even as he waded through the annals of thought in a daze, making his way to the woman and linking one hand's digits with her own as she swayed towards the river. The other held an unopened bottle of mead.
"Let's not go in there just yet," he warned her, intent on spinning Chione towards him to press his uncovered chest to her barely-covered one.
"Dance with me, instead," he instructed her, pulling the both of them away from the river and towards a rise off the shore. Fingers traced along the curve of her spine as he breathed into the noble's ear,
"A stunning girl like you, dancing all alone at the festival? Such a strange sight... Your friends haven't abandoned you, have they? Your lovers intimidated by you? Worry not, my dear, I'll save you," he assured her, throwing himself to the ground and offering his hand so that she might join him.
From here, they could watch the stir and not be in the line of sight for Kesi or Zein to find him doing so.
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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Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set despised the river Nile. The river of life dredged up foul memories, conjured up images of the sky growing suddenly dark and the torrential rainfall that followed. He remembered how the strength of the rain created a tide within the river, and with it, took his sister away from him. He recalled chasing her, wading through the pool until he caught up with the prone form of the former Kesi of Alexandria. The blood oozed from her head as it bobbed to the surface.
He never returned to the river before joining the circus, and refused when asked during long journeys to go to the river and claim water from it. He understood the power of the river, how it provided life to the nation of Egypt. But, to him, it meted death. Evil spirits and monsters surely surrounded it, monsters that couldn't be seen, only felt. They stole lives away, caused tragedies, and yet... people loved the Nile. They were forced to love it.
Was it love when the thing being loved was a necessity? It was dependence, and even while Amenemhat depended on the river, he feared its duplicity. Everyone should, but... he didn't care about everyone. When Kesi decided to go to the Tekh festival, he knew he had to do something about it. Not for the sake of it being a lover's festival. He held no doubt in her devotion, but... the idea of her wanting to draw into the river, the idea of the Gods mocking him and repeating history...
It was unacceptable. So, he wove his little plan to steer the course of history himself. He'd attend the festival as well, but she wasn't to know that. He'd began the day in painting up his faithful, ugliest goon. Pitch paint inlaid with oils to make water slick against it covered his face and body, his wild hair left to splay over his muscled form and then, he placed needles on a paste over his shoulders. He created one of the horrible beasts he envisioned in childhood nightmares, intent on releasing it into the festival.
To stir up a bit of fun, sure. That's what he told Azarion. But, to keep Kesi afraid of the river... to protect her. The real goal would remain a secret.
"Come by whenever you'd like. Kesi's with Zein for the day. I'll be around to watch the fun," he said to the beast tamer before he made his way into town for the festival.
Like any Tekh festival, this one began with the drink. He'd risen with the sun, just as asked, but to prepare his monster. By the time he was showing his due faith to Hathor, it was well into the morning. The sun rose high over the Egyptian skies, just as Amenemhat took long draws from a large goblet of mead. He wandered through the town, following languidly moving bodies in a path towards the river. There were some who'd already searched out their lovers in the wading depths. Nem? He'd do it for the sake of the mission, he supposed.
He intended, however, to stay on the periphery, and he found the perfect person to do that with. He recognized the woman's figure, the sight of her drunkenly dancing to an imaginary tune stirred the memory of six years prior. What was her name? Most of the time, they were meaningless baubles, names. To be thrown away when not needed, but she'd made quite the impression on Nem, throwing the weight of her noble lineage around and demanding his father serve as her tour guide.
Chi...one, right? H'Isazari?
He confirmed the memory even as he waded through the annals of thought in a daze, making his way to the woman and linking one hand's digits with her own as she swayed towards the river. The other held an unopened bottle of mead.
"Let's not go in there just yet," he warned her, intent on spinning Chione towards him to press his uncovered chest to her barely-covered one.
"Dance with me, instead," he instructed her, pulling the both of them away from the river and towards a rise off the shore. Fingers traced along the curve of her spine as he breathed into the noble's ear,
"A stunning girl like you, dancing all alone at the festival? Such a strange sight... Your friends haven't abandoned you, have they? Your lovers intimidated by you? Worry not, my dear, I'll save you," he assured her, throwing himself to the ground and offering his hand so that she might join him.
From here, they could watch the stir and not be in the line of sight for Kesi or Zein to find him doing so.
Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set despised the river Nile. The river of life dredged up foul memories, conjured up images of the sky growing suddenly dark and the torrential rainfall that followed. He remembered how the strength of the rain created a tide within the river, and with it, took his sister away from him. He recalled chasing her, wading through the pool until he caught up with the prone form of the former Kesi of Alexandria. The blood oozed from her head as it bobbed to the surface.
He never returned to the river before joining the circus, and refused when asked during long journeys to go to the river and claim water from it. He understood the power of the river, how it provided life to the nation of Egypt. But, to him, it meted death. Evil spirits and monsters surely surrounded it, monsters that couldn't be seen, only felt. They stole lives away, caused tragedies, and yet... people loved the Nile. They were forced to love it.
Was it love when the thing being loved was a necessity? It was dependence, and even while Amenemhat depended on the river, he feared its duplicity. Everyone should, but... he didn't care about everyone. When Kesi decided to go to the Tekh festival, he knew he had to do something about it. Not for the sake of it being a lover's festival. He held no doubt in her devotion, but... the idea of her wanting to draw into the river, the idea of the Gods mocking him and repeating history...
It was unacceptable. So, he wove his little plan to steer the course of history himself. He'd attend the festival as well, but she wasn't to know that. He'd began the day in painting up his faithful, ugliest goon. Pitch paint inlaid with oils to make water slick against it covered his face and body, his wild hair left to splay over his muscled form and then, he placed needles on a paste over his shoulders. He created one of the horrible beasts he envisioned in childhood nightmares, intent on releasing it into the festival.
To stir up a bit of fun, sure. That's what he told Azarion. But, to keep Kesi afraid of the river... to protect her. The real goal would remain a secret.
"Come by whenever you'd like. Kesi's with Zein for the day. I'll be around to watch the fun," he said to the beast tamer before he made his way into town for the festival.
Like any Tekh festival, this one began with the drink. He'd risen with the sun, just as asked, but to prepare his monster. By the time he was showing his due faith to Hathor, it was well into the morning. The sun rose high over the Egyptian skies, just as Amenemhat took long draws from a large goblet of mead. He wandered through the town, following languidly moving bodies in a path towards the river. There were some who'd already searched out their lovers in the wading depths. Nem? He'd do it for the sake of the mission, he supposed.
He intended, however, to stay on the periphery, and he found the perfect person to do that with. He recognized the woman's figure, the sight of her drunkenly dancing to an imaginary tune stirred the memory of six years prior. What was her name? Most of the time, they were meaningless baubles, names. To be thrown away when not needed, but she'd made quite the impression on Nem, throwing the weight of her noble lineage around and demanding his father serve as her tour guide.
Chi...one, right? H'Isazari?
He confirmed the memory even as he waded through the annals of thought in a daze, making his way to the woman and linking one hand's digits with her own as she swayed towards the river. The other held an unopened bottle of mead.
"Let's not go in there just yet," he warned her, intent on spinning Chione towards him to press his uncovered chest to her barely-covered one.
"Dance with me, instead," he instructed her, pulling the both of them away from the river and towards a rise off the shore. Fingers traced along the curve of her spine as he breathed into the noble's ear,
"A stunning girl like you, dancing all alone at the festival? Such a strange sight... Your friends haven't abandoned you, have they? Your lovers intimidated by you? Worry not, my dear, I'll save you," he assured her, throwing himself to the ground and offering his hand so that she might join him.
From here, they could watch the stir and not be in the line of sight for Kesi or Zein to find him doing so.
Chione was oblivious to much that was happening around her. From the lingering glances of a friend she had once considered a sister of her heart, and from the tear she’d earned from the beautiful Greek she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of in the safety of shadows. There was only the imagined music within her mind, that guided her steps with a grace that couldn’t be overshadowed by the influence of drink.
All she cared for was the worship of a body against her own. Someone who wouldn’t make her heart ache with longing and bitter jealousy. Someone who wouldn’t make her question her own worth. No, she needed the reminder that she possessed a beauty that was meant to be honored.
A hand slipped into her own, spinning her, beckoning her closer. She obliged without a care who it belonged to. Her eyes lifted as a broad, bared chest pressed against her own. Her light eyes flickered with recognition and a slow, cat-like smile spread across her lips. Her favorite tour guide. He stuck out to her still all these years later. She’d been with many men, but the circus heir had made quite the impression. The sort that made running into him here of all places all the more appealing.
She followed his lead as he moved her away from the river. Her hips swayed enticingly for him as they moved. His fingertips caressed her spine as his whispered warmed her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine even as a dark tendril slipped free in her mind. Why was she alone? Why had Nia grown cold towards her? Why did Ana return to a man filled with such anger when Chione could offer her the same riches? Why did no one care enough to stay by her side?
’Worry not, my dear, I’ll save you.’
His words were like a balm upon her soul. She was still desireable. She wasn’t broken or lesser. Yes, save me, a part of her answered. Silence these cruel voices that dare to question my worth. How could they mean anything when it was clear that she was as wanted as ever? She wielded a power that few others could eclipse. She needed his adoration, needed to feel it upon her body. Today might be meant for revering Hathor, but she needed to be worshiped more than ever. What better way than with a man between her legs, left spent and trembling.
No one could compare to her. She needed that reminder. She needed his touches, his kisses, his seed to burn away all the doubt that insidiously whispered through her mind. It didn’t matter if others turned away from her. She held the power, always. She was not the one left craving more. No, she inspired such a hunger in others. She didn’t burn with jealousy. That was reserved for those who sought to possess her.
“I was merely waiting,” she murmured. “I see the goddess has indeed answered my prayers to send me someone worthy.” Chione took his hand, lowering herself beside him, fingers trailing along the line of his sternum, starting at his collarbone and teasingly moving lower.
“You’re going to save me, you say? By all means... I eagerly await your efforts,” she purred in response, teeth nipping at his earlobe.
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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Chione was oblivious to much that was happening around her. From the lingering glances of a friend she had once considered a sister of her heart, and from the tear she’d earned from the beautiful Greek she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of in the safety of shadows. There was only the imagined music within her mind, that guided her steps with a grace that couldn’t be overshadowed by the influence of drink.
All she cared for was the worship of a body against her own. Someone who wouldn’t make her heart ache with longing and bitter jealousy. Someone who wouldn’t make her question her own worth. No, she needed the reminder that she possessed a beauty that was meant to be honored.
A hand slipped into her own, spinning her, beckoning her closer. She obliged without a care who it belonged to. Her eyes lifted as a broad, bared chest pressed against her own. Her light eyes flickered with recognition and a slow, cat-like smile spread across her lips. Her favorite tour guide. He stuck out to her still all these years later. She’d been with many men, but the circus heir had made quite the impression. The sort that made running into him here of all places all the more appealing.
She followed his lead as he moved her away from the river. Her hips swayed enticingly for him as they moved. His fingertips caressed her spine as his whispered warmed her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine even as a dark tendril slipped free in her mind. Why was she alone? Why had Nia grown cold towards her? Why did Ana return to a man filled with such anger when Chione could offer her the same riches? Why did no one care enough to stay by her side?
’Worry not, my dear, I’ll save you.’
His words were like a balm upon her soul. She was still desireable. She wasn’t broken or lesser. Yes, save me, a part of her answered. Silence these cruel voices that dare to question my worth. How could they mean anything when it was clear that she was as wanted as ever? She wielded a power that few others could eclipse. She needed his adoration, needed to feel it upon her body. Today might be meant for revering Hathor, but she needed to be worshiped more than ever. What better way than with a man between her legs, left spent and trembling.
No one could compare to her. She needed that reminder. She needed his touches, his kisses, his seed to burn away all the doubt that insidiously whispered through her mind. It didn’t matter if others turned away from her. She held the power, always. She was not the one left craving more. No, she inspired such a hunger in others. She didn’t burn with jealousy. That was reserved for those who sought to possess her.
“I was merely waiting,” she murmured. “I see the goddess has indeed answered my prayers to send me someone worthy.” Chione took his hand, lowering herself beside him, fingers trailing along the line of his sternum, starting at his collarbone and teasingly moving lower.
“You’re going to save me, you say? By all means... I eagerly await your efforts,” she purred in response, teeth nipping at his earlobe.
Chione was oblivious to much that was happening around her. From the lingering glances of a friend she had once considered a sister of her heart, and from the tear she’d earned from the beautiful Greek she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of in the safety of shadows. There was only the imagined music within her mind, that guided her steps with a grace that couldn’t be overshadowed by the influence of drink.
All she cared for was the worship of a body against her own. Someone who wouldn’t make her heart ache with longing and bitter jealousy. Someone who wouldn’t make her question her own worth. No, she needed the reminder that she possessed a beauty that was meant to be honored.
A hand slipped into her own, spinning her, beckoning her closer. She obliged without a care who it belonged to. Her eyes lifted as a broad, bared chest pressed against her own. Her light eyes flickered with recognition and a slow, cat-like smile spread across her lips. Her favorite tour guide. He stuck out to her still all these years later. She’d been with many men, but the circus heir had made quite the impression. The sort that made running into him here of all places all the more appealing.
She followed his lead as he moved her away from the river. Her hips swayed enticingly for him as they moved. His fingertips caressed her spine as his whispered warmed her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine even as a dark tendril slipped free in her mind. Why was she alone? Why had Nia grown cold towards her? Why did Ana return to a man filled with such anger when Chione could offer her the same riches? Why did no one care enough to stay by her side?
’Worry not, my dear, I’ll save you.’
His words were like a balm upon her soul. She was still desireable. She wasn’t broken or lesser. Yes, save me, a part of her answered. Silence these cruel voices that dare to question my worth. How could they mean anything when it was clear that she was as wanted as ever? She wielded a power that few others could eclipse. She needed his adoration, needed to feel it upon her body. Today might be meant for revering Hathor, but she needed to be worshiped more than ever. What better way than with a man between her legs, left spent and trembling.
No one could compare to her. She needed that reminder. She needed his touches, his kisses, his seed to burn away all the doubt that insidiously whispered through her mind. It didn’t matter if others turned away from her. She held the power, always. She was not the one left craving more. No, she inspired such a hunger in others. She didn’t burn with jealousy. That was reserved for those who sought to possess her.
“I was merely waiting,” she murmured. “I see the goddess has indeed answered my prayers to send me someone worthy.” Chione took his hand, lowering herself beside him, fingers trailing along the line of his sternum, starting at his collarbone and teasingly moving lower.
“You’re going to save me, you say? By all means... I eagerly await your efforts,” she purred in response, teeth nipping at his earlobe.
River monsters aren’t real. River monsters aren’t real. Kesi had to repeatedly tell herself this. The power of the river was real; Kesi knew it first hand. River monsters weren’t though. That thought did not stop her from grabbing both Zein and a random drunk lady’s wrist, though. Zein at least took it well. The random lady giggled at her. Then she asked her when they go to the river, to which Kesi responded with a horrified expression.
“We don’t go to the river. We never, ever, ever go to the river.” Kesi found herself pressing closer to Zein. She did not trust this lady. Was she going to make her go to the river? Kesi would kill her. She brought her dagger just in case the (nonexistent) river monsters tried to get her; She’d kill a foreigner too. Anyone who tried to get her into the river deserved to die.
Though that might scare Zein. Kesi didn’t know how he would react to killing. What if he didn’t want to be friends with Kesi anymore because of that? That would make the girl very, very sad. He was a good friend. He was such a good friend that Kesi didn’t even want to feed poison to him as she did with Azarion. Maybe it was better to just get away from the Judean so Kesi didn’t react on impulse and potentially lose Zein as a friend? (And there was the fact that this was a public location, but that didn’t phase Kesi near as much.)
Then another man walked towards her. He looked at Kesi like he was expecting an introduction. Kesi just blinked back at him. She didn’t like giving people what they expected. That was boring. Besides, what was the point of names? It wasn’t like he was important. And she wouldn’t remember this guy. “You have something stuck in your teeth, mister. It’s really distracting.” Kesi said quite bluntly, instead of giving the name he asked for. She bared her own, pointing in between her two front ones. “Right there.”
What would you care to do first? Zein’s words cut through Kesi’s thoughts of murder and blood. They centered her back in reality (or as close as the girl could ever be to such a thing). She blinked and looked up at him, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Drink, of course.” That was part of the festival Kesi could partake in.
“Oh look! Drinks!” It was closer to the river, but not so close that Kesi worried about being snatched. “I’ll buy your round, Zein.” Kesi wasn’t a very materialistic girl, though she always seemed to have less saved up than she thought, and would occasionally have items she didn’t remember buying added to her closet. Kesi never really thought about it too much. But she did at least save enough that she could offer to buy her friend a drink without even a worry.
She grabbed his hand, dragging him to a stall that was selling drinks. Kesi happily bought two mugs of ale, passing one to the Judean man.
She took a hearty gulp, though the hidden nerves in her stomach didn’t subside. She took another glance at the river. Why were people swimming in it? Why did everyone think that it gave life? How many victims has the river claimed, and how many more would it claim before the world knew of it’s evils?
It’s a good thing Nem isn’t here. She hoped he wasn’t worried knowing Kesi was. But Kesi wouldn’t do anything dumb. She was a good girl, and she was far too fearful of it’s wicked magic to risk even dipping a toe. “Zein. Do you believe in magic?” Kesi asked her friend. “And curses?”
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River monsters aren’t real. River monsters aren’t real. Kesi had to repeatedly tell herself this. The power of the river was real; Kesi knew it first hand. River monsters weren’t though. That thought did not stop her from grabbing both Zein and a random drunk lady’s wrist, though. Zein at least took it well. The random lady giggled at her. Then she asked her when they go to the river, to which Kesi responded with a horrified expression.
“We don’t go to the river. We never, ever, ever go to the river.” Kesi found herself pressing closer to Zein. She did not trust this lady. Was she going to make her go to the river? Kesi would kill her. She brought her dagger just in case the (nonexistent) river monsters tried to get her; She’d kill a foreigner too. Anyone who tried to get her into the river deserved to die.
Though that might scare Zein. Kesi didn’t know how he would react to killing. What if he didn’t want to be friends with Kesi anymore because of that? That would make the girl very, very sad. He was a good friend. He was such a good friend that Kesi didn’t even want to feed poison to him as she did with Azarion. Maybe it was better to just get away from the Judean so Kesi didn’t react on impulse and potentially lose Zein as a friend? (And there was the fact that this was a public location, but that didn’t phase Kesi near as much.)
Then another man walked towards her. He looked at Kesi like he was expecting an introduction. Kesi just blinked back at him. She didn’t like giving people what they expected. That was boring. Besides, what was the point of names? It wasn’t like he was important. And she wouldn’t remember this guy. “You have something stuck in your teeth, mister. It’s really distracting.” Kesi said quite bluntly, instead of giving the name he asked for. She bared her own, pointing in between her two front ones. “Right there.”
What would you care to do first? Zein’s words cut through Kesi’s thoughts of murder and blood. They centered her back in reality (or as close as the girl could ever be to such a thing). She blinked and looked up at him, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Drink, of course.” That was part of the festival Kesi could partake in.
“Oh look! Drinks!” It was closer to the river, but not so close that Kesi worried about being snatched. “I’ll buy your round, Zein.” Kesi wasn’t a very materialistic girl, though she always seemed to have less saved up than she thought, and would occasionally have items she didn’t remember buying added to her closet. Kesi never really thought about it too much. But she did at least save enough that she could offer to buy her friend a drink without even a worry.
She grabbed his hand, dragging him to a stall that was selling drinks. Kesi happily bought two mugs of ale, passing one to the Judean man.
She took a hearty gulp, though the hidden nerves in her stomach didn’t subside. She took another glance at the river. Why were people swimming in it? Why did everyone think that it gave life? How many victims has the river claimed, and how many more would it claim before the world knew of it’s evils?
It’s a good thing Nem isn’t here. She hoped he wasn’t worried knowing Kesi was. But Kesi wouldn’t do anything dumb. She was a good girl, and she was far too fearful of it’s wicked magic to risk even dipping a toe. “Zein. Do you believe in magic?” Kesi asked her friend. “And curses?”
River monsters aren’t real. River monsters aren’t real. Kesi had to repeatedly tell herself this. The power of the river was real; Kesi knew it first hand. River monsters weren’t though. That thought did not stop her from grabbing both Zein and a random drunk lady’s wrist, though. Zein at least took it well. The random lady giggled at her. Then she asked her when they go to the river, to which Kesi responded with a horrified expression.
“We don’t go to the river. We never, ever, ever go to the river.” Kesi found herself pressing closer to Zein. She did not trust this lady. Was she going to make her go to the river? Kesi would kill her. She brought her dagger just in case the (nonexistent) river monsters tried to get her; She’d kill a foreigner too. Anyone who tried to get her into the river deserved to die.
Though that might scare Zein. Kesi didn’t know how he would react to killing. What if he didn’t want to be friends with Kesi anymore because of that? That would make the girl very, very sad. He was a good friend. He was such a good friend that Kesi didn’t even want to feed poison to him as she did with Azarion. Maybe it was better to just get away from the Judean so Kesi didn’t react on impulse and potentially lose Zein as a friend? (And there was the fact that this was a public location, but that didn’t phase Kesi near as much.)
Then another man walked towards her. He looked at Kesi like he was expecting an introduction. Kesi just blinked back at him. She didn’t like giving people what they expected. That was boring. Besides, what was the point of names? It wasn’t like he was important. And she wouldn’t remember this guy. “You have something stuck in your teeth, mister. It’s really distracting.” Kesi said quite bluntly, instead of giving the name he asked for. She bared her own, pointing in between her two front ones. “Right there.”
What would you care to do first? Zein’s words cut through Kesi’s thoughts of murder and blood. They centered her back in reality (or as close as the girl could ever be to such a thing). She blinked and looked up at him, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Drink, of course.” That was part of the festival Kesi could partake in.
“Oh look! Drinks!” It was closer to the river, but not so close that Kesi worried about being snatched. “I’ll buy your round, Zein.” Kesi wasn’t a very materialistic girl, though she always seemed to have less saved up than she thought, and would occasionally have items she didn’t remember buying added to her closet. Kesi never really thought about it too much. But she did at least save enough that she could offer to buy her friend a drink without even a worry.
She grabbed his hand, dragging him to a stall that was selling drinks. Kesi happily bought two mugs of ale, passing one to the Judean man.
She took a hearty gulp, though the hidden nerves in her stomach didn’t subside. She took another glance at the river. Why were people swimming in it? Why did everyone think that it gave life? How many victims has the river claimed, and how many more would it claim before the world knew of it’s evils?
It’s a good thing Nem isn’t here. She hoped he wasn’t worried knowing Kesi was. But Kesi wouldn’t do anything dumb. She was a good girl, and she was far too fearful of it’s wicked magic to risk even dipping a toe. “Zein. Do you believe in magic?” Kesi asked her friend. “And curses?”
It took her companion a moment but he finally recognized her and exclaimed just as nicely at her as she’d expected. “It’s-it’s the lady with the book.”
“Iiit’s m-meeeeeeeee!” she agreed, giggling terribly now. Even if she didn’t have a stutter she’d have been as easy to understand as any drunk, tittering girl ever is. Khufu shifted closer and Nenet smiled in that goggle eyed, vague way. She felt very...sloshy. Like a great wineskin with legs. When he fell over, she laughed like mad, almost enough to puke. It was touch and go there for a moment or two and she clamped her hand over her mouth just in case.
“Here’s some more wine if you haven’t had enough.” Nenet held up a hand and shook her head. The world did a funny spin. No, she’d had quite enough for the moment and didn’t want a refill. She may pass out soon. Or sleep.
“The name is Khufu, by the way.” Nenet stuck her hand out to shake his, being drunk enough to forget that they’d already introduced themselves to each other before. It didn’t even occur to her that his name wasn’t new. She just accepted that, restated her own name, and lounged back on the grassy slope.
Beyond them, a little ways down the Nile, the familiar voice of Sameera rose and Nenet half sat up, smiling as she watched her friend make a delightful spectacle of herself. Gods above. If any of them remembered this tomorrow…
“Nenet.”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?” she droned pleasantly, tilting her head to the side and raising one hand to shade her eyes so she could see. Ah. Nia. The smile didn’t even fade when Nia patted her shoulder and Nenet simply accepted this and looked towards Sameera again, gesturing towards her so Nia could see her too. She barely paid attention as Nia exclaimed over Khufu because it didn’t surprise her in the least that Nia already knew him. Nor was she herself going to explain. Khufu could do it so much better.
She did not notice her mother perched on a rock but even if she had, she wouldn’t have thought to curb her own behavior. After all, she wasn’t doing anything terrible and Khufu was no paramour of hers. He was her book dealer. Was it illegal to take the Pharaoh’s books home?? Was she a criminal mastermind? The thought made her laugh abruptly even though no one was saying anything funny.
“Sssssaaaammmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Nenet suddenly burst out, into a drawn together, sing-song way that completely hid the stutter. Waving wildly with her arm, she wanted her friend to come over there. They’d make a merry party, the four of them.
“Yyou [hic] kn-know,” she said sagely while they waited for Sameera, for both Khufu and Nia to hear. Nenet tapped the side of her nose, peering at Nia through one eye. “I’m-m a b-bad-d g-g-irl t-t-too, n-now.” She nodded exaggeratedly and whispered, jamming a thumb in Khufu’s direction. “W-we s-st-teal b-books!” and then she lapsed into giggles again.
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It took her companion a moment but he finally recognized her and exclaimed just as nicely at her as she’d expected. “It’s-it’s the lady with the book.”
“Iiit’s m-meeeeeeeee!” she agreed, giggling terribly now. Even if she didn’t have a stutter she’d have been as easy to understand as any drunk, tittering girl ever is. Khufu shifted closer and Nenet smiled in that goggle eyed, vague way. She felt very...sloshy. Like a great wineskin with legs. When he fell over, she laughed like mad, almost enough to puke. It was touch and go there for a moment or two and she clamped her hand over her mouth just in case.
“Here’s some more wine if you haven’t had enough.” Nenet held up a hand and shook her head. The world did a funny spin. No, she’d had quite enough for the moment and didn’t want a refill. She may pass out soon. Or sleep.
“The name is Khufu, by the way.” Nenet stuck her hand out to shake his, being drunk enough to forget that they’d already introduced themselves to each other before. It didn’t even occur to her that his name wasn’t new. She just accepted that, restated her own name, and lounged back on the grassy slope.
Beyond them, a little ways down the Nile, the familiar voice of Sameera rose and Nenet half sat up, smiling as she watched her friend make a delightful spectacle of herself. Gods above. If any of them remembered this tomorrow…
“Nenet.”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?” she droned pleasantly, tilting her head to the side and raising one hand to shade her eyes so she could see. Ah. Nia. The smile didn’t even fade when Nia patted her shoulder and Nenet simply accepted this and looked towards Sameera again, gesturing towards her so Nia could see her too. She barely paid attention as Nia exclaimed over Khufu because it didn’t surprise her in the least that Nia already knew him. Nor was she herself going to explain. Khufu could do it so much better.
She did not notice her mother perched on a rock but even if she had, she wouldn’t have thought to curb her own behavior. After all, she wasn’t doing anything terrible and Khufu was no paramour of hers. He was her book dealer. Was it illegal to take the Pharaoh’s books home?? Was she a criminal mastermind? The thought made her laugh abruptly even though no one was saying anything funny.
“Sssssaaaammmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Nenet suddenly burst out, into a drawn together, sing-song way that completely hid the stutter. Waving wildly with her arm, she wanted her friend to come over there. They’d make a merry party, the four of them.
“Yyou [hic] kn-know,” she said sagely while they waited for Sameera, for both Khufu and Nia to hear. Nenet tapped the side of her nose, peering at Nia through one eye. “I’m-m a b-bad-d g-g-irl t-t-too, n-now.” She nodded exaggeratedly and whispered, jamming a thumb in Khufu’s direction. “W-we s-st-teal b-books!” and then she lapsed into giggles again.
It took her companion a moment but he finally recognized her and exclaimed just as nicely at her as she’d expected. “It’s-it’s the lady with the book.”
“Iiit’s m-meeeeeeeee!” she agreed, giggling terribly now. Even if she didn’t have a stutter she’d have been as easy to understand as any drunk, tittering girl ever is. Khufu shifted closer and Nenet smiled in that goggle eyed, vague way. She felt very...sloshy. Like a great wineskin with legs. When he fell over, she laughed like mad, almost enough to puke. It was touch and go there for a moment or two and she clamped her hand over her mouth just in case.
“Here’s some more wine if you haven’t had enough.” Nenet held up a hand and shook her head. The world did a funny spin. No, she’d had quite enough for the moment and didn’t want a refill. She may pass out soon. Or sleep.
“The name is Khufu, by the way.” Nenet stuck her hand out to shake his, being drunk enough to forget that they’d already introduced themselves to each other before. It didn’t even occur to her that his name wasn’t new. She just accepted that, restated her own name, and lounged back on the grassy slope.
Beyond them, a little ways down the Nile, the familiar voice of Sameera rose and Nenet half sat up, smiling as she watched her friend make a delightful spectacle of herself. Gods above. If any of them remembered this tomorrow…
“Nenet.”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?” she droned pleasantly, tilting her head to the side and raising one hand to shade her eyes so she could see. Ah. Nia. The smile didn’t even fade when Nia patted her shoulder and Nenet simply accepted this and looked towards Sameera again, gesturing towards her so Nia could see her too. She barely paid attention as Nia exclaimed over Khufu because it didn’t surprise her in the least that Nia already knew him. Nor was she herself going to explain. Khufu could do it so much better.
She did not notice her mother perched on a rock but even if she had, she wouldn’t have thought to curb her own behavior. After all, she wasn’t doing anything terrible and Khufu was no paramour of hers. He was her book dealer. Was it illegal to take the Pharaoh’s books home?? Was she a criminal mastermind? The thought made her laugh abruptly even though no one was saying anything funny.
“Sssssaaaammmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Nenet suddenly burst out, into a drawn together, sing-song way that completely hid the stutter. Waving wildly with her arm, she wanted her friend to come over there. They’d make a merry party, the four of them.
“Yyou [hic] kn-know,” she said sagely while they waited for Sameera, for both Khufu and Nia to hear. Nenet tapped the side of her nose, peering at Nia through one eye. “I’m-m a b-bad-d g-g-irl t-t-too, n-now.” She nodded exaggeratedly and whispered, jamming a thumb in Khufu’s direction. “W-we s-st-teal b-books!” and then she lapsed into giggles again.
Hena took part in this festival every year, how could he not? A time when it was encouraged to be drunk, he was definitely in for that. Usually he tended to find some random woman to sleep with, and he wasn’t entirely sure that that wouldn’t still happen, but he had invited Ana along and would likely stick with her.
He wasn’t sure how she would do with going to an Egyptian festival dedicated to Gods he wasn’t sure if she believed in, but she had accepted the invitation anyways. He had also been a little unsure how she had felt about him after his outburst of anger when he had been at the tavern with Chione.
He had been drinking since the sun had rose, as he was supposed to, but he wasn’t quite drunk yet. It took a lot for him to feel it these days, having been drinking a bunch of wine every day since he was fourteen. He knew by the end of the day he would be drunk enough to have fun, but at the moment he was sober enough to be in control of himself.
He had been wandering the crowds for a little while at this point, when he finally spotted Ana. She was already in the waters, and the way her pale cheeks were tinged pink, he would venture to guess she was already quite drunk.
He made his way over to where she stood in the water, his two slaves waiting at the waters edge, ready to serve him more wine upon demand. They were well stocked, and ready to grab more if he started running low. They had been told that he would require a constant supply for himself and Ana throughout the day.
“My beautiful star.” He said, wading into the water to where Ana stood. Hena pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips, letting it linger. It didn’t matter who saw, he was a single man and she a single woman. Not to mention, they were in a festival full of drunk people who likely would be hooking up all over the place.
When the kiss broke, he took a moment to look around and see if he could recognize anyone.
That was when he spotted two of his sisters, Nenet and Nia. Both crowded around some guy who seemed much older than them. He wasn’t surprised to see Nia with a strange man, but it was definitely weird to see Nenet with one.
His attentions turned back to the woman in his arms.
“Have you had enough to drink? I have plenty of wine here for you.” He said, motioning to the two slaves standing at the ready on the shores.
“I do have to say, it is not yet time for us to be in the water. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” He said with a teasing smile, his hand running up her side as he took a moment to admire her beauty.
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Hena took part in this festival every year, how could he not? A time when it was encouraged to be drunk, he was definitely in for that. Usually he tended to find some random woman to sleep with, and he wasn’t entirely sure that that wouldn’t still happen, but he had invited Ana along and would likely stick with her.
He wasn’t sure how she would do with going to an Egyptian festival dedicated to Gods he wasn’t sure if she believed in, but she had accepted the invitation anyways. He had also been a little unsure how she had felt about him after his outburst of anger when he had been at the tavern with Chione.
He had been drinking since the sun had rose, as he was supposed to, but he wasn’t quite drunk yet. It took a lot for him to feel it these days, having been drinking a bunch of wine every day since he was fourteen. He knew by the end of the day he would be drunk enough to have fun, but at the moment he was sober enough to be in control of himself.
He had been wandering the crowds for a little while at this point, when he finally spotted Ana. She was already in the waters, and the way her pale cheeks were tinged pink, he would venture to guess she was already quite drunk.
He made his way over to where she stood in the water, his two slaves waiting at the waters edge, ready to serve him more wine upon demand. They were well stocked, and ready to grab more if he started running low. They had been told that he would require a constant supply for himself and Ana throughout the day.
“My beautiful star.” He said, wading into the water to where Ana stood. Hena pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips, letting it linger. It didn’t matter who saw, he was a single man and she a single woman. Not to mention, they were in a festival full of drunk people who likely would be hooking up all over the place.
When the kiss broke, he took a moment to look around and see if he could recognize anyone.
That was when he spotted two of his sisters, Nenet and Nia. Both crowded around some guy who seemed much older than them. He wasn’t surprised to see Nia with a strange man, but it was definitely weird to see Nenet with one.
His attentions turned back to the woman in his arms.
“Have you had enough to drink? I have plenty of wine here for you.” He said, motioning to the two slaves standing at the ready on the shores.
“I do have to say, it is not yet time for us to be in the water. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” He said with a teasing smile, his hand running up her side as he took a moment to admire her beauty.
Hena took part in this festival every year, how could he not? A time when it was encouraged to be drunk, he was definitely in for that. Usually he tended to find some random woman to sleep with, and he wasn’t entirely sure that that wouldn’t still happen, but he had invited Ana along and would likely stick with her.
He wasn’t sure how she would do with going to an Egyptian festival dedicated to Gods he wasn’t sure if she believed in, but she had accepted the invitation anyways. He had also been a little unsure how she had felt about him after his outburst of anger when he had been at the tavern with Chione.
He had been drinking since the sun had rose, as he was supposed to, but he wasn’t quite drunk yet. It took a lot for him to feel it these days, having been drinking a bunch of wine every day since he was fourteen. He knew by the end of the day he would be drunk enough to have fun, but at the moment he was sober enough to be in control of himself.
He had been wandering the crowds for a little while at this point, when he finally spotted Ana. She was already in the waters, and the way her pale cheeks were tinged pink, he would venture to guess she was already quite drunk.
He made his way over to where she stood in the water, his two slaves waiting at the waters edge, ready to serve him more wine upon demand. They were well stocked, and ready to grab more if he started running low. They had been told that he would require a constant supply for himself and Ana throughout the day.
“My beautiful star.” He said, wading into the water to where Ana stood. Hena pulled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips, letting it linger. It didn’t matter who saw, he was a single man and she a single woman. Not to mention, they were in a festival full of drunk people who likely would be hooking up all over the place.
When the kiss broke, he took a moment to look around and see if he could recognize anyone.
That was when he spotted two of his sisters, Nenet and Nia. Both crowded around some guy who seemed much older than them. He wasn’t surprised to see Nia with a strange man, but it was definitely weird to see Nenet with one.
His attentions turned back to the woman in his arms.
“Have you had enough to drink? I have plenty of wine here for you.” He said, motioning to the two slaves standing at the ready on the shores.
“I do have to say, it is not yet time for us to be in the water. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” He said with a teasing smile, his hand running up her side as he took a moment to admire her beauty.
It wasn't like this festival came with instructions!
Anastasia was flustered to find herself alone in the waters for a time, her thoughts swimming with the whirlwind of emotions that were the past couple of weeks. Between everything, it was so easy for her to let herself go, to surrender to the lull of the mead in her stomach and the poppy smoke that heightened every which sensation. She felt the cool water seep into her clothes, and allowed herself to bask in it rather than continue to look around.
Was she embarrassing herself, being in the water so early? Then, she opened her eyes to find Akhenaten's approach, with two slaves in tow. To bring the comforts of servants and stores of wine to the river for the festival... Akhenaten's opulent tastes were seldom missed. She felt the pink tinge in her cheeks deepen as he followed her into the waters. She let herself fall against his chest, tipping her chin upwards to meet his kiss without hesitation. It was easier, to give in, than to dwell on everything else. The splashed away tear did not summon another, extraneous thoughts siphoning off into the aether just as Akhenaten pulled back to take a look around.
Ana decided to play coy with the man,
"I was waiting for someone, you know. A dazzling prince who gave me the world. He said not to let other men kiss me. You won't tell, right?" she warned, her eyes wide before the expression dissolved into an easy smile.
She didn't match his wandering gaze, letting fingertips dance along his chest, her gaze following the motion along his skin just as he posed his question,
"I had some mead left over from earlier, but... wine sounds absolutely divine."
Anastasia was relieved to feel her thoughts pulled elsewhere, lingering to her abandoned Greece and the patron of wine, Dionysus, who so reveled in his celebrations. Ana knew the Goddess being worshipped today, visited her temple, but was just given the gist. To lavish oneself in the pleasures of the moment, wine and sex, to be bared to the world in the river...
These were all things that the woman could get behind. When Hena switched topics to her being ahead of herself, she nodded in recognition. She'd felt it odd, but figured that the rest simply hadn't gotten to it yet.
"Is there a specific time? I'm not... making a mockery of Hathor by being inside, am I? I haven't stripped yet..."
Ana took Hena's hands in her own and lured him over to the water's edge. It was too late for her to be embarrassed. Too numb to the sensation tinging her cheeks, so wanton in her desires to lavish herself in the promises the Tekh Festival offered, and to reconcile her anger at the man on her arm. She'd rather let it fall by the wayside than let it fester, and she made it clear when she deigned it proper to acknowledge one of the slaves that hovered over them.
She didn't address them, merely holding out her hand for the goblet placed between her fingers. Lifting it to her lips, the smile left in the wake of the sanguine blessing grew wider.
"Your tastes never disappoint," she admitted, as she shifted her posture, leaning forward to trail her lips along the length of his throat, an arm curving around the man's waist.
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It wasn't like this festival came with instructions!
Anastasia was flustered to find herself alone in the waters for a time, her thoughts swimming with the whirlwind of emotions that were the past couple of weeks. Between everything, it was so easy for her to let herself go, to surrender to the lull of the mead in her stomach and the poppy smoke that heightened every which sensation. She felt the cool water seep into her clothes, and allowed herself to bask in it rather than continue to look around.
Was she embarrassing herself, being in the water so early? Then, she opened her eyes to find Akhenaten's approach, with two slaves in tow. To bring the comforts of servants and stores of wine to the river for the festival... Akhenaten's opulent tastes were seldom missed. She felt the pink tinge in her cheeks deepen as he followed her into the waters. She let herself fall against his chest, tipping her chin upwards to meet his kiss without hesitation. It was easier, to give in, than to dwell on everything else. The splashed away tear did not summon another, extraneous thoughts siphoning off into the aether just as Akhenaten pulled back to take a look around.
Ana decided to play coy with the man,
"I was waiting for someone, you know. A dazzling prince who gave me the world. He said not to let other men kiss me. You won't tell, right?" she warned, her eyes wide before the expression dissolved into an easy smile.
She didn't match his wandering gaze, letting fingertips dance along his chest, her gaze following the motion along his skin just as he posed his question,
"I had some mead left over from earlier, but... wine sounds absolutely divine."
Anastasia was relieved to feel her thoughts pulled elsewhere, lingering to her abandoned Greece and the patron of wine, Dionysus, who so reveled in his celebrations. Ana knew the Goddess being worshipped today, visited her temple, but was just given the gist. To lavish oneself in the pleasures of the moment, wine and sex, to be bared to the world in the river...
These were all things that the woman could get behind. When Hena switched topics to her being ahead of herself, she nodded in recognition. She'd felt it odd, but figured that the rest simply hadn't gotten to it yet.
"Is there a specific time? I'm not... making a mockery of Hathor by being inside, am I? I haven't stripped yet..."
Ana took Hena's hands in her own and lured him over to the water's edge. It was too late for her to be embarrassed. Too numb to the sensation tinging her cheeks, so wanton in her desires to lavish herself in the promises the Tekh Festival offered, and to reconcile her anger at the man on her arm. She'd rather let it fall by the wayside than let it fester, and she made it clear when she deigned it proper to acknowledge one of the slaves that hovered over them.
She didn't address them, merely holding out her hand for the goblet placed between her fingers. Lifting it to her lips, the smile left in the wake of the sanguine blessing grew wider.
"Your tastes never disappoint," she admitted, as she shifted her posture, leaning forward to trail her lips along the length of his throat, an arm curving around the man's waist.
It wasn't like this festival came with instructions!
Anastasia was flustered to find herself alone in the waters for a time, her thoughts swimming with the whirlwind of emotions that were the past couple of weeks. Between everything, it was so easy for her to let herself go, to surrender to the lull of the mead in her stomach and the poppy smoke that heightened every which sensation. She felt the cool water seep into her clothes, and allowed herself to bask in it rather than continue to look around.
Was she embarrassing herself, being in the water so early? Then, she opened her eyes to find Akhenaten's approach, with two slaves in tow. To bring the comforts of servants and stores of wine to the river for the festival... Akhenaten's opulent tastes were seldom missed. She felt the pink tinge in her cheeks deepen as he followed her into the waters. She let herself fall against his chest, tipping her chin upwards to meet his kiss without hesitation. It was easier, to give in, than to dwell on everything else. The splashed away tear did not summon another, extraneous thoughts siphoning off into the aether just as Akhenaten pulled back to take a look around.
Ana decided to play coy with the man,
"I was waiting for someone, you know. A dazzling prince who gave me the world. He said not to let other men kiss me. You won't tell, right?" she warned, her eyes wide before the expression dissolved into an easy smile.
She didn't match his wandering gaze, letting fingertips dance along his chest, her gaze following the motion along his skin just as he posed his question,
"I had some mead left over from earlier, but... wine sounds absolutely divine."
Anastasia was relieved to feel her thoughts pulled elsewhere, lingering to her abandoned Greece and the patron of wine, Dionysus, who so reveled in his celebrations. Ana knew the Goddess being worshipped today, visited her temple, but was just given the gist. To lavish oneself in the pleasures of the moment, wine and sex, to be bared to the world in the river...
These were all things that the woman could get behind. When Hena switched topics to her being ahead of herself, she nodded in recognition. She'd felt it odd, but figured that the rest simply hadn't gotten to it yet.
"Is there a specific time? I'm not... making a mockery of Hathor by being inside, am I? I haven't stripped yet..."
Ana took Hena's hands in her own and lured him over to the water's edge. It was too late for her to be embarrassed. Too numb to the sensation tinging her cheeks, so wanton in her desires to lavish herself in the promises the Tekh Festival offered, and to reconcile her anger at the man on her arm. She'd rather let it fall by the wayside than let it fester, and she made it clear when she deigned it proper to acknowledge one of the slaves that hovered over them.
She didn't address them, merely holding out her hand for the goblet placed between her fingers. Lifting it to her lips, the smile left in the wake of the sanguine blessing grew wider.
"Your tastes never disappoint," she admitted, as she shifted her posture, leaning forward to trail her lips along the length of his throat, an arm curving around the man's waist.
She could feel that strange detachment that came from having too much to drink, was that possible to have too much? especially during this festival, there were different rules. Safiya was aware that she needed to concentrate as her sister - or was that a reflection from the water - was talking to her about something. It must be important.
"I don't like talking mirrahs" she stated not really managing to avoid the slurring quality to her voice.
Even if that was the sort of expected manner of a reply and a state of being during these events, wasn't it? She could just about manage to retain hold of one single thought before it started to drift away again "Do mirrahs like to talk? Why... don't they have echoes?" it was probably not nearly as important as more wine.
"Separated! Yes, surprise, it's me, not you-me. Me-you. You aren't me" she giggled not even registering that she had been chatting to the thin air before she started to stumble away, her steps wobbling more than a little bit, so she started to take rather exaggerated steps. Picking her feet up and watching them head to the ground.
"I like those things!" she announced to the seller of something, what had been again? She knew a moment before but the moment seemed to have passed as she watched her feet again "Did you know I am a you-me?" she questioned the woman with the bright hair "Why is your head on fire?" Safiya was immediately fascinated with this as she reached out a hand to try and see if it was hot.
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She could feel that strange detachment that came from having too much to drink, was that possible to have too much? especially during this festival, there were different rules. Safiya was aware that she needed to concentrate as her sister - or was that a reflection from the water - was talking to her about something. It must be important.
"I don't like talking mirrahs" she stated not really managing to avoid the slurring quality to her voice.
Even if that was the sort of expected manner of a reply and a state of being during these events, wasn't it? She could just about manage to retain hold of one single thought before it started to drift away again "Do mirrahs like to talk? Why... don't they have echoes?" it was probably not nearly as important as more wine.
"Separated! Yes, surprise, it's me, not you-me. Me-you. You aren't me" she giggled not even registering that she had been chatting to the thin air before she started to stumble away, her steps wobbling more than a little bit, so she started to take rather exaggerated steps. Picking her feet up and watching them head to the ground.
"I like those things!" she announced to the seller of something, what had been again? She knew a moment before but the moment seemed to have passed as she watched her feet again "Did you know I am a you-me?" she questioned the woman with the bright hair "Why is your head on fire?" Safiya was immediately fascinated with this as she reached out a hand to try and see if it was hot.
She could feel that strange detachment that came from having too much to drink, was that possible to have too much? especially during this festival, there were different rules. Safiya was aware that she needed to concentrate as her sister - or was that a reflection from the water - was talking to her about something. It must be important.
"I don't like talking mirrahs" she stated not really managing to avoid the slurring quality to her voice.
Even if that was the sort of expected manner of a reply and a state of being during these events, wasn't it? She could just about manage to retain hold of one single thought before it started to drift away again "Do mirrahs like to talk? Why... don't they have echoes?" it was probably not nearly as important as more wine.
"Separated! Yes, surprise, it's me, not you-me. Me-you. You aren't me" she giggled not even registering that she had been chatting to the thin air before she started to stumble away, her steps wobbling more than a little bit, so she started to take rather exaggerated steps. Picking her feet up and watching them head to the ground.
"I like those things!" she announced to the seller of something, what had been again? She knew a moment before but the moment seemed to have passed as she watched her feet again "Did you know I am a you-me?" she questioned the woman with the bright hair "Why is your head on fire?" Safiya was immediately fascinated with this as she reached out a hand to try and see if it was hot.
Inside her luxurious pavilion on the banks of the Nile, Hatshepsut reclined upon a richly-divan upholstered witch carved legs covered in pure gold, softly strumming her kithara. Upon brocade cushions on either side of her sat Tahira and Nefret, her only protection today. Her guards and handmaidens were participating in the festival. Hathor would no longer favor her if she denied them this opportunity. She encouraged it instead. Most of them were slaves, some from foreign lands who worshiped false gods. Perhaps their inhibitions would be lowered due to all the drink they consumed and they would finally feel the power of the true gods. That was what she hoped for them every year at this time.
Because of her pregnancy, she could not take part in either stage of the festivities. Too much wine would not be good for the baby, and while she wished she could immerse herself in the river and rise from it nude, she had been forbidden to do so by the High Priestess of Hathor. Egypt’s heir was sacred and should not be exposed while still in the womb. She still had a part to play, though. Because she was pregnant, she would represent Hathor while the priestesses wrapped the worshipers in the pure white of renewal as they emerged from the water. That was usually the High Priestess’ role, but she had told the Queen that the goddess had come to her in a dream and had directed her to give the honor to Hatshepsut this time, to show that Hathor had blessed the young ruler with fertility.
Last year had been the first time she had participated in the Tekh festival, as she had come of age earlier that year. It had been fun getting drunk, even if she had been under her mother’s watchful eye the entire time. The water had been blissfully cool, and when she came out, she had held her head up high to hide her uneasiness. Almost everyone had watched her every move. She was not ashamed of her body, but she didn’t like being the center of so much attention, Nobody had ever seen the young Queen nude before that day and they were understandably curious as to whether she had an exquisite form, which her mother had assured her she did.
The Queen still dressed in fine attire for today’s celebration like her subjects did. Over a tight white linen shift that accented the increasing roundness of he belly, she wore a network gown made of small multicolored precious gems on gold netting. Her collar, arm cuffs, bracelet and earrings were also constructed of gold and studded with multicolored jewels. She usually wore wigs to all public events, but to symbolize purity, her luscious black hair cascaded down her back in soft curls. An elaborate bejeweled circlet wrapped around her forehead.
During the morning, she had walked through the gathering crowd before they were too far into their cups. Nefret had ridden on her shoulder and Tahira had loped beside her. She had been treated her with the respect and deference, though as the day wore on, a few tipsy people had tried to touch her swollen belly for luck. Most of them had thought better of it as soon as they heard Tahira growl. One foolish individual ignored her warning and nearly had his hand bitten off. Her pets had both been trained to protect her and were not about to let anyone get too close.
Now, her hand stilled upon her kithara. As the last strains of music hovered on the air, nearly drowned out by the revelry going on around her, Hatshepsut surveyed the area. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and a few of them were already in the water. Taking a sip of her wine, she continued to watch them, feeling a bit lonely and left out. The baby fluttered within her as if to tell her that she was not alone. His kicks seemed to get stronger every day. “I know, little one, you are always with me,” she whispered.
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Inside her luxurious pavilion on the banks of the Nile, Hatshepsut reclined upon a richly-divan upholstered witch carved legs covered in pure gold, softly strumming her kithara. Upon brocade cushions on either side of her sat Tahira and Nefret, her only protection today. Her guards and handmaidens were participating in the festival. Hathor would no longer favor her if she denied them this opportunity. She encouraged it instead. Most of them were slaves, some from foreign lands who worshiped false gods. Perhaps their inhibitions would be lowered due to all the drink they consumed and they would finally feel the power of the true gods. That was what she hoped for them every year at this time.
Because of her pregnancy, she could not take part in either stage of the festivities. Too much wine would not be good for the baby, and while she wished she could immerse herself in the river and rise from it nude, she had been forbidden to do so by the High Priestess of Hathor. Egypt’s heir was sacred and should not be exposed while still in the womb. She still had a part to play, though. Because she was pregnant, she would represent Hathor while the priestesses wrapped the worshipers in the pure white of renewal as they emerged from the water. That was usually the High Priestess’ role, but she had told the Queen that the goddess had come to her in a dream and had directed her to give the honor to Hatshepsut this time, to show that Hathor had blessed the young ruler with fertility.
Last year had been the first time she had participated in the Tekh festival, as she had come of age earlier that year. It had been fun getting drunk, even if she had been under her mother’s watchful eye the entire time. The water had been blissfully cool, and when she came out, she had held her head up high to hide her uneasiness. Almost everyone had watched her every move. She was not ashamed of her body, but she didn’t like being the center of so much attention, Nobody had ever seen the young Queen nude before that day and they were understandably curious as to whether she had an exquisite form, which her mother had assured her she did.
The Queen still dressed in fine attire for today’s celebration like her subjects did. Over a tight white linen shift that accented the increasing roundness of he belly, she wore a network gown made of small multicolored precious gems on gold netting. Her collar, arm cuffs, bracelet and earrings were also constructed of gold and studded with multicolored jewels. She usually wore wigs to all public events, but to symbolize purity, her luscious black hair cascaded down her back in soft curls. An elaborate bejeweled circlet wrapped around her forehead.
During the morning, she had walked through the gathering crowd before they were too far into their cups. Nefret had ridden on her shoulder and Tahira had loped beside her. She had been treated her with the respect and deference, though as the day wore on, a few tipsy people had tried to touch her swollen belly for luck. Most of them had thought better of it as soon as they heard Tahira growl. One foolish individual ignored her warning and nearly had his hand bitten off. Her pets had both been trained to protect her and were not about to let anyone get too close.
Now, her hand stilled upon her kithara. As the last strains of music hovered on the air, nearly drowned out by the revelry going on around her, Hatshepsut surveyed the area. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and a few of them were already in the water. Taking a sip of her wine, she continued to watch them, feeling a bit lonely and left out. The baby fluttered within her as if to tell her that she was not alone. His kicks seemed to get stronger every day. “I know, little one, you are always with me,” she whispered.
Inside her luxurious pavilion on the banks of the Nile, Hatshepsut reclined upon a richly-divan upholstered witch carved legs covered in pure gold, softly strumming her kithara. Upon brocade cushions on either side of her sat Tahira and Nefret, her only protection today. Her guards and handmaidens were participating in the festival. Hathor would no longer favor her if she denied them this opportunity. She encouraged it instead. Most of them were slaves, some from foreign lands who worshiped false gods. Perhaps their inhibitions would be lowered due to all the drink they consumed and they would finally feel the power of the true gods. That was what she hoped for them every year at this time.
Because of her pregnancy, she could not take part in either stage of the festivities. Too much wine would not be good for the baby, and while she wished she could immerse herself in the river and rise from it nude, she had been forbidden to do so by the High Priestess of Hathor. Egypt’s heir was sacred and should not be exposed while still in the womb. She still had a part to play, though. Because she was pregnant, she would represent Hathor while the priestesses wrapped the worshipers in the pure white of renewal as they emerged from the water. That was usually the High Priestess’ role, but she had told the Queen that the goddess had come to her in a dream and had directed her to give the honor to Hatshepsut this time, to show that Hathor had blessed the young ruler with fertility.
Last year had been the first time she had participated in the Tekh festival, as she had come of age earlier that year. It had been fun getting drunk, even if she had been under her mother’s watchful eye the entire time. The water had been blissfully cool, and when she came out, she had held her head up high to hide her uneasiness. Almost everyone had watched her every move. She was not ashamed of her body, but she didn’t like being the center of so much attention, Nobody had ever seen the young Queen nude before that day and they were understandably curious as to whether she had an exquisite form, which her mother had assured her she did.
The Queen still dressed in fine attire for today’s celebration like her subjects did. Over a tight white linen shift that accented the increasing roundness of he belly, she wore a network gown made of small multicolored precious gems on gold netting. Her collar, arm cuffs, bracelet and earrings were also constructed of gold and studded with multicolored jewels. She usually wore wigs to all public events, but to symbolize purity, her luscious black hair cascaded down her back in soft curls. An elaborate bejeweled circlet wrapped around her forehead.
During the morning, she had walked through the gathering crowd before they were too far into their cups. Nefret had ridden on her shoulder and Tahira had loped beside her. She had been treated her with the respect and deference, though as the day wore on, a few tipsy people had tried to touch her swollen belly for luck. Most of them had thought better of it as soon as they heard Tahira growl. One foolish individual ignored her warning and nearly had his hand bitten off. Her pets had both been trained to protect her and were not about to let anyone get too close.
Now, her hand stilled upon her kithara. As the last strains of music hovered on the air, nearly drowned out by the revelry going on around her, Hatshepsut surveyed the area. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and a few of them were already in the water. Taking a sip of her wine, she continued to watch them, feeling a bit lonely and left out. The baby fluttered within her as if to tell her that she was not alone. His kicks seemed to get stronger every day. “I know, little one, you are always with me,” she whispered.
Azarion couldn’t contain his excitement at what was going to happen today. He hadn’t planned on going to this festival, despite the fact that he called Egypt home, the fact that he loved an Egyptian man, and despite the fact that he held loyalty to an Egyptian leader, he did not believe in their Gods. But then Nem had approached him and had asked him if he wanted to play a prank on Kesi.
He absolutely wanted to play a prank on Kesi. He had not hesitated for a second to agree, despite not even knowing what Nem was planning. Usually his leader wasn’t quite this much fun, and Azarion had no idea what had come over him to make him want to pull this prank, but he definitely was not the type to question it. Azarion didn’t question most things in life.
Azarion had decided to have something to drink before he went, everyone else was going to be drinking so why couldn’t he? So after Nem had dressed him up and taken his leave, Azarion found his way into his stash of ale. Not sure where his boyfriend, Acherres had gotten to, he lounged around the small tent that the two of them shared as their home at the circus.
He had then made his way towards the river, skirting the busy streets so no one saw him. He couldn’t ruin the surprise for Kesi, or the joke would be ruined. He wanted to pull this off, for his own entertainment but also for Nem. He loved Nem.
He found his way to the river, tucking himself into a bunch of tall reeds, he crouched and remained hidden, eyes scanning the groups of people until he saw Kesi. A wild grin came across his face. There she was. And she had no idea. He was going to get her so good. She was going to scream and he was going to laugh, and Nem was going to be proud.
And Zein was there. Perhaps he would scream too. Then Nem would be REALLY proud of him. Azarion wanted to make Nem as proud as possible. This prank had to work.
The two were close enough to the river, Azarion thought he could get them now. He could get them good.
He shifted slowly from the reeds and slipped into the water, holding his breath as he swam under the surface so he would not be seen. It was a good thing he was a strong swimmer.
He swam, and he swam, and he swam. The wicked grin still on his face. If he had aimed himself right, he should pop up right by Kesi and Zein.
He approached the other side of the shore, jumping out of the water, his large and imposing stature ought to help him scare them.
And he let out a loud shout, sounding absolutely insane and barbaric, and probably drawing attention from anyone in the area. A large man, dressed as a river monster, shouting, was bound to interest some people.
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Azarion couldn’t contain his excitement at what was going to happen today. He hadn’t planned on going to this festival, despite the fact that he called Egypt home, the fact that he loved an Egyptian man, and despite the fact that he held loyalty to an Egyptian leader, he did not believe in their Gods. But then Nem had approached him and had asked him if he wanted to play a prank on Kesi.
He absolutely wanted to play a prank on Kesi. He had not hesitated for a second to agree, despite not even knowing what Nem was planning. Usually his leader wasn’t quite this much fun, and Azarion had no idea what had come over him to make him want to pull this prank, but he definitely was not the type to question it. Azarion didn’t question most things in life.
Azarion had decided to have something to drink before he went, everyone else was going to be drinking so why couldn’t he? So after Nem had dressed him up and taken his leave, Azarion found his way into his stash of ale. Not sure where his boyfriend, Acherres had gotten to, he lounged around the small tent that the two of them shared as their home at the circus.
He had then made his way towards the river, skirting the busy streets so no one saw him. He couldn’t ruin the surprise for Kesi, or the joke would be ruined. He wanted to pull this off, for his own entertainment but also for Nem. He loved Nem.
He found his way to the river, tucking himself into a bunch of tall reeds, he crouched and remained hidden, eyes scanning the groups of people until he saw Kesi. A wild grin came across his face. There she was. And she had no idea. He was going to get her so good. She was going to scream and he was going to laugh, and Nem was going to be proud.
And Zein was there. Perhaps he would scream too. Then Nem would be REALLY proud of him. Azarion wanted to make Nem as proud as possible. This prank had to work.
The two were close enough to the river, Azarion thought he could get them now. He could get them good.
He shifted slowly from the reeds and slipped into the water, holding his breath as he swam under the surface so he would not be seen. It was a good thing he was a strong swimmer.
He swam, and he swam, and he swam. The wicked grin still on his face. If he had aimed himself right, he should pop up right by Kesi and Zein.
He approached the other side of the shore, jumping out of the water, his large and imposing stature ought to help him scare them.
And he let out a loud shout, sounding absolutely insane and barbaric, and probably drawing attention from anyone in the area. A large man, dressed as a river monster, shouting, was bound to interest some people.
Azarion couldn’t contain his excitement at what was going to happen today. He hadn’t planned on going to this festival, despite the fact that he called Egypt home, the fact that he loved an Egyptian man, and despite the fact that he held loyalty to an Egyptian leader, he did not believe in their Gods. But then Nem had approached him and had asked him if he wanted to play a prank on Kesi.
He absolutely wanted to play a prank on Kesi. He had not hesitated for a second to agree, despite not even knowing what Nem was planning. Usually his leader wasn’t quite this much fun, and Azarion had no idea what had come over him to make him want to pull this prank, but he definitely was not the type to question it. Azarion didn’t question most things in life.
Azarion had decided to have something to drink before he went, everyone else was going to be drinking so why couldn’t he? So after Nem had dressed him up and taken his leave, Azarion found his way into his stash of ale. Not sure where his boyfriend, Acherres had gotten to, he lounged around the small tent that the two of them shared as their home at the circus.
He had then made his way towards the river, skirting the busy streets so no one saw him. He couldn’t ruin the surprise for Kesi, or the joke would be ruined. He wanted to pull this off, for his own entertainment but also for Nem. He loved Nem.
He found his way to the river, tucking himself into a bunch of tall reeds, he crouched and remained hidden, eyes scanning the groups of people until he saw Kesi. A wild grin came across his face. There she was. And she had no idea. He was going to get her so good. She was going to scream and he was going to laugh, and Nem was going to be proud.
And Zein was there. Perhaps he would scream too. Then Nem would be REALLY proud of him. Azarion wanted to make Nem as proud as possible. This prank had to work.
The two were close enough to the river, Azarion thought he could get them now. He could get them good.
He shifted slowly from the reeds and slipped into the water, holding his breath as he swam under the surface so he would not be seen. It was a good thing he was a strong swimmer.
He swam, and he swam, and he swam. The wicked grin still on his face. If he had aimed himself right, he should pop up right by Kesi and Zein.
He approached the other side of the shore, jumping out of the water, his large and imposing stature ought to help him scare them.
And he let out a loud shout, sounding absolutely insane and barbaric, and probably drawing attention from anyone in the area. A large man, dressed as a river monster, shouting, was bound to interest some people.
This was not a festival that Skylla would have chosen to attend on her own. However, as it was, wherever the queen went, Skylla eventually followed. Keep an eye on the young girl and the babe in her womb was Skylla's main job and main reason for living. Here and now. To leave the queen alone for such a long time would look poorly upon Skylla herself, especially if rowdy, drunk people got too touchy with the queen and harmed her. Such would not do, so the woman followed shortly after the queen had left.
The physician walked, keeping her medicinal pack with her just in case. Dressed in her normal drab black kalisaris, the woman had not dressed to celebrate, but to work. She wore no jewelry, but had braided her hair in the usual Greek way, keeping much of her almost unruly curls out of her face. She had tamed them more and more over the years, but sometimes she was still the wild child island brat that she had been born, and it showed. Less now that she was a working professional, but Skylla knew how to let loose.
Right time, right place was key.
She approached the queen's pavilion from the back, navigating through it until she was able to stand before Hatshepsut and then bow reverently to her friend and queen. Rising back to steady feet, the physician reached forward and found herself pressing her hand between Tahira's pointed ears, soothing the feline creature with a tender hand. A hand that adored animals, most especially cats. "You're doing well, Tahira," she mused sweetly to the creature before pulling her hand away and then smiling at the queen. "Your Evening Radiance," she said gently, "You look resplendit."
Then her gaze trailed toward the banks where a great number of people were gathering, drinking, being all around free. Skylla found herself feeling rather resigned and not at all inclined to join any of them at that moment. Especially because her gaze found a familiar group of people and the pretty head of Kesi. It was best to avoid that one and remain beside her companion instead.
Trailing to one of the other seats in the pavilion, Skylla set her pack down and settled down on the edge of the chair, constantly coiled to spring and to protect her charge. "How do you feel?" Skylla questioned the queen, her dark eyes searching the face of the young woman before her. "Has your illness faded? You've not called upon me in the last few days," Skylla added, the thought bringing a brightness to her features. It meant that whatever her treatments were, they were working and the Pharaoh could cease his threats against her life.
And Callidora's.
Finally, the curiosity in her gaze flitted back toward the water. "I'm afraid I don't understand this festival. I am half Egyptian, but I was raised in Greece and have followed the Greek Pantheon all my life. What is happening?" she questioned honestly, showing that she was open and willing to learn from the young queen.
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This was not a festival that Skylla would have chosen to attend on her own. However, as it was, wherever the queen went, Skylla eventually followed. Keep an eye on the young girl and the babe in her womb was Skylla's main job and main reason for living. Here and now. To leave the queen alone for such a long time would look poorly upon Skylla herself, especially if rowdy, drunk people got too touchy with the queen and harmed her. Such would not do, so the woman followed shortly after the queen had left.
The physician walked, keeping her medicinal pack with her just in case. Dressed in her normal drab black kalisaris, the woman had not dressed to celebrate, but to work. She wore no jewelry, but had braided her hair in the usual Greek way, keeping much of her almost unruly curls out of her face. She had tamed them more and more over the years, but sometimes she was still the wild child island brat that she had been born, and it showed. Less now that she was a working professional, but Skylla knew how to let loose.
Right time, right place was key.
She approached the queen's pavilion from the back, navigating through it until she was able to stand before Hatshepsut and then bow reverently to her friend and queen. Rising back to steady feet, the physician reached forward and found herself pressing her hand between Tahira's pointed ears, soothing the feline creature with a tender hand. A hand that adored animals, most especially cats. "You're doing well, Tahira," she mused sweetly to the creature before pulling her hand away and then smiling at the queen. "Your Evening Radiance," she said gently, "You look resplendit."
Then her gaze trailed toward the banks where a great number of people were gathering, drinking, being all around free. Skylla found herself feeling rather resigned and not at all inclined to join any of them at that moment. Especially because her gaze found a familiar group of people and the pretty head of Kesi. It was best to avoid that one and remain beside her companion instead.
Trailing to one of the other seats in the pavilion, Skylla set her pack down and settled down on the edge of the chair, constantly coiled to spring and to protect her charge. "How do you feel?" Skylla questioned the queen, her dark eyes searching the face of the young woman before her. "Has your illness faded? You've not called upon me in the last few days," Skylla added, the thought bringing a brightness to her features. It meant that whatever her treatments were, they were working and the Pharaoh could cease his threats against her life.
And Callidora's.
Finally, the curiosity in her gaze flitted back toward the water. "I'm afraid I don't understand this festival. I am half Egyptian, but I was raised in Greece and have followed the Greek Pantheon all my life. What is happening?" she questioned honestly, showing that she was open and willing to learn from the young queen.
This was not a festival that Skylla would have chosen to attend on her own. However, as it was, wherever the queen went, Skylla eventually followed. Keep an eye on the young girl and the babe in her womb was Skylla's main job and main reason for living. Here and now. To leave the queen alone for such a long time would look poorly upon Skylla herself, especially if rowdy, drunk people got too touchy with the queen and harmed her. Such would not do, so the woman followed shortly after the queen had left.
The physician walked, keeping her medicinal pack with her just in case. Dressed in her normal drab black kalisaris, the woman had not dressed to celebrate, but to work. She wore no jewelry, but had braided her hair in the usual Greek way, keeping much of her almost unruly curls out of her face. She had tamed them more and more over the years, but sometimes she was still the wild child island brat that she had been born, and it showed. Less now that she was a working professional, but Skylla knew how to let loose.
Right time, right place was key.
She approached the queen's pavilion from the back, navigating through it until she was able to stand before Hatshepsut and then bow reverently to her friend and queen. Rising back to steady feet, the physician reached forward and found herself pressing her hand between Tahira's pointed ears, soothing the feline creature with a tender hand. A hand that adored animals, most especially cats. "You're doing well, Tahira," she mused sweetly to the creature before pulling her hand away and then smiling at the queen. "Your Evening Radiance," she said gently, "You look resplendit."
Then her gaze trailed toward the banks where a great number of people were gathering, drinking, being all around free. Skylla found herself feeling rather resigned and not at all inclined to join any of them at that moment. Especially because her gaze found a familiar group of people and the pretty head of Kesi. It was best to avoid that one and remain beside her companion instead.
Trailing to one of the other seats in the pavilion, Skylla set her pack down and settled down on the edge of the chair, constantly coiled to spring and to protect her charge. "How do you feel?" Skylla questioned the queen, her dark eyes searching the face of the young woman before her. "Has your illness faded? You've not called upon me in the last few days," Skylla added, the thought bringing a brightness to her features. It meant that whatever her treatments were, they were working and the Pharaoh could cease his threats against her life.
And Callidora's.
Finally, the curiosity in her gaze flitted back toward the water. "I'm afraid I don't understand this festival. I am half Egyptian, but I was raised in Greece and have followed the Greek Pantheon all my life. What is happening?" she questioned honestly, showing that she was open and willing to learn from the young queen.
As he sat there drunkenly talking with Nenet, he hadn’t expected that there would be a sudden influx of other women that would be joining him there at the bank of the Nile. It might look strange, for an older man to be surrounded by these beautiful young women, and perhaps if he had not been married he would have taken in in the context most people assumed, but despite the beauty of the two Sheifa women that were with him, there was no one more beautiful than his wife.
“Nia!!” He exclaimed. He had met the woman two years ago in a tavern, where they had both been drunk and had ended up running away from a man who was less than fond of Nia and her luck at gambling.
The drunken man managed to haul himself up off the ground, though it took considerably more effort than it should have. He stumbled over to Nia and wrapped her in a big bear hug with a laugh. When the hug was done, he found his way back to sit on the ground, patting the spot near him for Nia to join him and her sister.
“This is your sister!” He declared, as if Nia wasn’t already aware of that and hadn’t brought it up already.
“Nenet and I met last month! I stole a book from her!” He explained, as if that situation made total sense to anyone outside of the two that were involved.
And then suddenly Khufu perked up and his head whipped around like some kind of a crazed person. A huge grin came across his face.
“Wait right here!” He stated, rising from his spot once more, he hurried off drunkenly, missing Nenet’s comment about stealing books completely. He was far too excited. He’d heard a giggle, a giggle that he knew more than anything.
“KAHI!” He declared upon spotting his wife. She looked radiant, absolutely beautiful, a Goddess come to Earth.
He approached her, not noticing anyone else that was around them, and he wrapped her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips.
“Come with me, my love. We have friends!” He declared, and without hesitation he picked his wife up, tossing her over his shoulder. Had he not been drunk, his back and shoulder pain would have prevented him from doing exactly this, but in his current state, he didn’t even notice.
Instead, he hauled his wife off back to Nia and Nenet, setting her down on her feet, he grinned proudly as if he had just done something worthy of praise.
“May I introduce you to my absolutely gorgeous and amazing wife, Kahi?” He said, motioning to her as if they needed assistance in realizing who he was talking about. To Khufu, Kahi was as much Egyptian as any of them, though she clearly did not look as if she was from Egypt.
“My love, this is Nenet, and this is Nia. They’re sisters! H’Sheifas!” He stated, motioning to the sisters as he declared their names. He didn’t know what his wife knew of Egyptian noble families.
He sat himself back on the ground and grabbed his cup and amphora of wine again.
“Come, drink with us!”
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As he sat there drunkenly talking with Nenet, he hadn’t expected that there would be a sudden influx of other women that would be joining him there at the bank of the Nile. It might look strange, for an older man to be surrounded by these beautiful young women, and perhaps if he had not been married he would have taken in in the context most people assumed, but despite the beauty of the two Sheifa women that were with him, there was no one more beautiful than his wife.
“Nia!!” He exclaimed. He had met the woman two years ago in a tavern, where they had both been drunk and had ended up running away from a man who was less than fond of Nia and her luck at gambling.
The drunken man managed to haul himself up off the ground, though it took considerably more effort than it should have. He stumbled over to Nia and wrapped her in a big bear hug with a laugh. When the hug was done, he found his way back to sit on the ground, patting the spot near him for Nia to join him and her sister.
“This is your sister!” He declared, as if Nia wasn’t already aware of that and hadn’t brought it up already.
“Nenet and I met last month! I stole a book from her!” He explained, as if that situation made total sense to anyone outside of the two that were involved.
And then suddenly Khufu perked up and his head whipped around like some kind of a crazed person. A huge grin came across his face.
“Wait right here!” He stated, rising from his spot once more, he hurried off drunkenly, missing Nenet’s comment about stealing books completely. He was far too excited. He’d heard a giggle, a giggle that he knew more than anything.
“KAHI!” He declared upon spotting his wife. She looked radiant, absolutely beautiful, a Goddess come to Earth.
He approached her, not noticing anyone else that was around them, and he wrapped her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips.
“Come with me, my love. We have friends!” He declared, and without hesitation he picked his wife up, tossing her over his shoulder. Had he not been drunk, his back and shoulder pain would have prevented him from doing exactly this, but in his current state, he didn’t even notice.
Instead, he hauled his wife off back to Nia and Nenet, setting her down on her feet, he grinned proudly as if he had just done something worthy of praise.
“May I introduce you to my absolutely gorgeous and amazing wife, Kahi?” He said, motioning to her as if they needed assistance in realizing who he was talking about. To Khufu, Kahi was as much Egyptian as any of them, though she clearly did not look as if she was from Egypt.
“My love, this is Nenet, and this is Nia. They’re sisters! H’Sheifas!” He stated, motioning to the sisters as he declared their names. He didn’t know what his wife knew of Egyptian noble families.
He sat himself back on the ground and grabbed his cup and amphora of wine again.
“Come, drink with us!”
As he sat there drunkenly talking with Nenet, he hadn’t expected that there would be a sudden influx of other women that would be joining him there at the bank of the Nile. It might look strange, for an older man to be surrounded by these beautiful young women, and perhaps if he had not been married he would have taken in in the context most people assumed, but despite the beauty of the two Sheifa women that were with him, there was no one more beautiful than his wife.
“Nia!!” He exclaimed. He had met the woman two years ago in a tavern, where they had both been drunk and had ended up running away from a man who was less than fond of Nia and her luck at gambling.
The drunken man managed to haul himself up off the ground, though it took considerably more effort than it should have. He stumbled over to Nia and wrapped her in a big bear hug with a laugh. When the hug was done, he found his way back to sit on the ground, patting the spot near him for Nia to join him and her sister.
“This is your sister!” He declared, as if Nia wasn’t already aware of that and hadn’t brought it up already.
“Nenet and I met last month! I stole a book from her!” He explained, as if that situation made total sense to anyone outside of the two that were involved.
And then suddenly Khufu perked up and his head whipped around like some kind of a crazed person. A huge grin came across his face.
“Wait right here!” He stated, rising from his spot once more, he hurried off drunkenly, missing Nenet’s comment about stealing books completely. He was far too excited. He’d heard a giggle, a giggle that he knew more than anything.
“KAHI!” He declared upon spotting his wife. She looked radiant, absolutely beautiful, a Goddess come to Earth.
He approached her, not noticing anyone else that was around them, and he wrapped her in his arms and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips.
“Come with me, my love. We have friends!” He declared, and without hesitation he picked his wife up, tossing her over his shoulder. Had he not been drunk, his back and shoulder pain would have prevented him from doing exactly this, but in his current state, he didn’t even notice.
Instead, he hauled his wife off back to Nia and Nenet, setting her down on her feet, he grinned proudly as if he had just done something worthy of praise.
“May I introduce you to my absolutely gorgeous and amazing wife, Kahi?” He said, motioning to her as if they needed assistance in realizing who he was talking about. To Khufu, Kahi was as much Egyptian as any of them, though she clearly did not look as if she was from Egypt.
“My love, this is Nenet, and this is Nia. They’re sisters! H’Sheifas!” He stated, motioning to the sisters as he declared their names. He didn’t know what his wife knew of Egyptian noble families.
He sat himself back on the ground and grabbed his cup and amphora of wine again.
“Come, drink with us!”
Zoser's brow furrowed as the diminutive woman before him pointed out the issue - the 'thing' in his teeth. Immediately, he used his tongue to feel the area and flashed his teeth again as if to silently ask 'is it gone?'
When the woman pointed out specifically where it was, Zoser screwed his lips tight a moment, hoping a bit of suction would help before he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. Then, curling his finger, he did his best to scrape away at the area, checking under his nail periodically to see if he got it.
After a few frustrating moments of fussing with it, a swirl of motion both distracted and confused him and for a brief moment, Zoser stared wide-eyed at the empty space where Kahi once stood. Before he could shoot an accusing look to the woman who had pointed out the flaw in his smile, sense took him again and he watched as Kahi was literally carried off by none other than Khufu himself.
"Ex-....excuse me," Zoser said, the befuddlement of it all not sitting entirely well with his intoxication, and he stepped away, weaving through the crowd and catching a quick glance with Kahi before Zoser called out, "Well, hello to you as well, Khufu!"
His tone was a perfect blend of jest and offense, not entirely sure which he felt more of in that moment as he managed to trail just behind the man and raise a brow to Kahi, asking "does he do this often?"
Then, every word completely left him.
His heart was completely tossed in the air, stilling itself airborne a moment as he saw her, light as a feather caught on the wind and rising just the way his smile nearly did...
Until, even in his drunkenness, he remembered.
And it came plummeting down to the depths of his stomach as he tried for a brief moment to look anywhere but Nia...
In doing so, his eyes caught on yet another sight across the way...
Lady Iaheru.
For a moment, Zoser thought he had forgotten how to breathe as he caught eyes with his once-friend...were they still? There were plenty of questions all around, and enough confusion and crossed lines to sew and entirely new pattern in the fabric of their lives. Swallowing slightly, Zoser looked back to Khufu as he said the Hei's name - and Zoser wondered for likely the millionth time whether or not his friend could read minds.
"My Ladies," Zoser replied, slipping into the easy-to-wear amiable persona, "I would apologize for him, but knowing that you know him, well...we all know he can't help the way he is."
Yes, a jab at the friend to give Zoser a moment to laugh and keep his composure. Thankful to follow Khufu's lead, he managed to use the amphora to fill the cup he had been holding the whole time. Seeking literally anything to distract himself from the absolutely ravenous, burning desire that was trapped in its uncomfortable shell and circumstance, Zoser wondered aloud, "Did you get the wine from the Greek merchant, Callidora? She has an excellent stock you know...."
Immediately sucking down as much wine as he could to tend to the ice-cold sobering he felt in that moment, he could not resist his eyes sliding over to Nia, drawn like a moth to a flame, before it flicked away briefly to her mother, the Sirdsett of H'Sheifa, then back again.
Naturally, the paranoid thought crossed his mind...
what did she know?
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Zoser's brow furrowed as the diminutive woman before him pointed out the issue - the 'thing' in his teeth. Immediately, he used his tongue to feel the area and flashed his teeth again as if to silently ask 'is it gone?'
When the woman pointed out specifically where it was, Zoser screwed his lips tight a moment, hoping a bit of suction would help before he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. Then, curling his finger, he did his best to scrape away at the area, checking under his nail periodically to see if he got it.
After a few frustrating moments of fussing with it, a swirl of motion both distracted and confused him and for a brief moment, Zoser stared wide-eyed at the empty space where Kahi once stood. Before he could shoot an accusing look to the woman who had pointed out the flaw in his smile, sense took him again and he watched as Kahi was literally carried off by none other than Khufu himself.
"Ex-....excuse me," Zoser said, the befuddlement of it all not sitting entirely well with his intoxication, and he stepped away, weaving through the crowd and catching a quick glance with Kahi before Zoser called out, "Well, hello to you as well, Khufu!"
His tone was a perfect blend of jest and offense, not entirely sure which he felt more of in that moment as he managed to trail just behind the man and raise a brow to Kahi, asking "does he do this often?"
Then, every word completely left him.
His heart was completely tossed in the air, stilling itself airborne a moment as he saw her, light as a feather caught on the wind and rising just the way his smile nearly did...
Until, even in his drunkenness, he remembered.
And it came plummeting down to the depths of his stomach as he tried for a brief moment to look anywhere but Nia...
In doing so, his eyes caught on yet another sight across the way...
Lady Iaheru.
For a moment, Zoser thought he had forgotten how to breathe as he caught eyes with his once-friend...were they still? There were plenty of questions all around, and enough confusion and crossed lines to sew and entirely new pattern in the fabric of their lives. Swallowing slightly, Zoser looked back to Khufu as he said the Hei's name - and Zoser wondered for likely the millionth time whether or not his friend could read minds.
"My Ladies," Zoser replied, slipping into the easy-to-wear amiable persona, "I would apologize for him, but knowing that you know him, well...we all know he can't help the way he is."
Yes, a jab at the friend to give Zoser a moment to laugh and keep his composure. Thankful to follow Khufu's lead, he managed to use the amphora to fill the cup he had been holding the whole time. Seeking literally anything to distract himself from the absolutely ravenous, burning desire that was trapped in its uncomfortable shell and circumstance, Zoser wondered aloud, "Did you get the wine from the Greek merchant, Callidora? She has an excellent stock you know...."
Immediately sucking down as much wine as he could to tend to the ice-cold sobering he felt in that moment, he could not resist his eyes sliding over to Nia, drawn like a moth to a flame, before it flicked away briefly to her mother, the Sirdsett of H'Sheifa, then back again.
Naturally, the paranoid thought crossed his mind...
what did she know?
Zoser's brow furrowed as the diminutive woman before him pointed out the issue - the 'thing' in his teeth. Immediately, he used his tongue to feel the area and flashed his teeth again as if to silently ask 'is it gone?'
When the woman pointed out specifically where it was, Zoser screwed his lips tight a moment, hoping a bit of suction would help before he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. Then, curling his finger, he did his best to scrape away at the area, checking under his nail periodically to see if he got it.
After a few frustrating moments of fussing with it, a swirl of motion both distracted and confused him and for a brief moment, Zoser stared wide-eyed at the empty space where Kahi once stood. Before he could shoot an accusing look to the woman who had pointed out the flaw in his smile, sense took him again and he watched as Kahi was literally carried off by none other than Khufu himself.
"Ex-....excuse me," Zoser said, the befuddlement of it all not sitting entirely well with his intoxication, and he stepped away, weaving through the crowd and catching a quick glance with Kahi before Zoser called out, "Well, hello to you as well, Khufu!"
His tone was a perfect blend of jest and offense, not entirely sure which he felt more of in that moment as he managed to trail just behind the man and raise a brow to Kahi, asking "does he do this often?"
Then, every word completely left him.
His heart was completely tossed in the air, stilling itself airborne a moment as he saw her, light as a feather caught on the wind and rising just the way his smile nearly did...
Until, even in his drunkenness, he remembered.
And it came plummeting down to the depths of his stomach as he tried for a brief moment to look anywhere but Nia...
In doing so, his eyes caught on yet another sight across the way...
Lady Iaheru.
For a moment, Zoser thought he had forgotten how to breathe as he caught eyes with his once-friend...were they still? There were plenty of questions all around, and enough confusion and crossed lines to sew and entirely new pattern in the fabric of their lives. Swallowing slightly, Zoser looked back to Khufu as he said the Hei's name - and Zoser wondered for likely the millionth time whether or not his friend could read minds.
"My Ladies," Zoser replied, slipping into the easy-to-wear amiable persona, "I would apologize for him, but knowing that you know him, well...we all know he can't help the way he is."
Yes, a jab at the friend to give Zoser a moment to laugh and keep his composure. Thankful to follow Khufu's lead, he managed to use the amphora to fill the cup he had been holding the whole time. Seeking literally anything to distract himself from the absolutely ravenous, burning desire that was trapped in its uncomfortable shell and circumstance, Zoser wondered aloud, "Did you get the wine from the Greek merchant, Callidora? She has an excellent stock you know...."
Immediately sucking down as much wine as he could to tend to the ice-cold sobering he felt in that moment, he could not resist his eyes sliding over to Nia, drawn like a moth to a flame, before it flicked away briefly to her mother, the Sirdsett of H'Sheifa, then back again.
Naturally, the paranoid thought crossed his mind...
what did she know?
It was clear Nenet and Khufu both were already thoroughly intoxicated, and Nia was going to have to do some catching up to get to their level. Perhaps it was the lighthearted air of the festival that had her smiling at her younger sister when she looked up at her before gesturing over to the blissfully drunk Sameera H’Haikkadad. Wow, what a bunch of lightweights. They were Egyptians. How were they already so drunk? Maybe Nia was just an alcoholic.
Her laughter grew louder as Khufu stumbled to his feet and wrapped her in a great big embrace, nearly lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm. “It’s good to see you too, Khufu,” she said with a giggle, returning his hug with equal enthusiasm. As he gestured to Nenet and informed Nia that was her sister, she laughed again and shook her head. “Yes, thank you, I believe we’ve met.”
Nenet called for Sameera to join them and Khufu left to go fetch his wife, and then her sister was informing her how bad she was now, stealing books with the man who had just left their little group. “What a criminal mastermind you’ve turned out to be, huh?” she teased good-naturedly. “Stealing books. And you want to be a priestess! Do they even allow thieves?” Winking, she looked back at Khufu as he returned, a woman tossed quite literally over his shoulder.
Blinking a few times when he set her down, she smiled warmly at his introduction and nodded to the woman he called Kahi. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kahi,” she greeted the foreign-looking woman. “Your husband is quite the character.” And what an understatement that was.
Nia was beginning to relax now that she was in a familiar group, happy for the cheerful amity the festival seemed to provide. Any day she could get along with her siblings was a good one, and Nenet seemed far too drunk to be combative. As long as it stayed that way, all would be well.
Or she thought it would be. The next person to approach their group had her eyes widening in surprise, her heart seeming to stop mid-beat. Zoser. Zoser was here? She hadn’t expected him to attend something like this, and now that he was here, she was suddenly self-conscious, sure the heat flushing her cheeks would give her away. Though she had kept herself from other men’s hands for his sake, she couldn’t exactly fall into his hands, either. Not so publicly. Though, there were plenty of grassy copses along the shores of the Nile… Perhaps they could steal some time alone…?
Schooling her face back to a more careful neutrality and dropping her gaze before the lovelorn look in her eyes could betray her, she only smiled and greeted the scribe with a polite usage of his name, “Zoser. What a pleasant surprise.”
She couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept flicking elsewhere, and out of curiosity, she turned to see what it was he kept looking at. Once she had, she wish she hadn’t. There, sunning herself on a nearby rock, lay her mother of all people, an overly modest woman she never would have expected at a festival like this. Well, wasn’t that just lovely?
“Here to honor Hathor, as well?” she asked Zoser, putting her mother out of her notice for the time being. Perhaps she ought to pretend he wasn’t standing there, either, but gods, she couldn’t help herself. He was right there, right within her grasp. She couldn’t just ignore him.
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It was clear Nenet and Khufu both were already thoroughly intoxicated, and Nia was going to have to do some catching up to get to their level. Perhaps it was the lighthearted air of the festival that had her smiling at her younger sister when she looked up at her before gesturing over to the blissfully drunk Sameera H’Haikkadad. Wow, what a bunch of lightweights. They were Egyptians. How were they already so drunk? Maybe Nia was just an alcoholic.
Her laughter grew louder as Khufu stumbled to his feet and wrapped her in a great big embrace, nearly lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm. “It’s good to see you too, Khufu,” she said with a giggle, returning his hug with equal enthusiasm. As he gestured to Nenet and informed Nia that was her sister, she laughed again and shook her head. “Yes, thank you, I believe we’ve met.”
Nenet called for Sameera to join them and Khufu left to go fetch his wife, and then her sister was informing her how bad she was now, stealing books with the man who had just left their little group. “What a criminal mastermind you’ve turned out to be, huh?” she teased good-naturedly. “Stealing books. And you want to be a priestess! Do they even allow thieves?” Winking, she looked back at Khufu as he returned, a woman tossed quite literally over his shoulder.
Blinking a few times when he set her down, she smiled warmly at his introduction and nodded to the woman he called Kahi. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kahi,” she greeted the foreign-looking woman. “Your husband is quite the character.” And what an understatement that was.
Nia was beginning to relax now that she was in a familiar group, happy for the cheerful amity the festival seemed to provide. Any day she could get along with her siblings was a good one, and Nenet seemed far too drunk to be combative. As long as it stayed that way, all would be well.
Or she thought it would be. The next person to approach their group had her eyes widening in surprise, her heart seeming to stop mid-beat. Zoser. Zoser was here? She hadn’t expected him to attend something like this, and now that he was here, she was suddenly self-conscious, sure the heat flushing her cheeks would give her away. Though she had kept herself from other men’s hands for his sake, she couldn’t exactly fall into his hands, either. Not so publicly. Though, there were plenty of grassy copses along the shores of the Nile… Perhaps they could steal some time alone…?
Schooling her face back to a more careful neutrality and dropping her gaze before the lovelorn look in her eyes could betray her, she only smiled and greeted the scribe with a polite usage of his name, “Zoser. What a pleasant surprise.”
She couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept flicking elsewhere, and out of curiosity, she turned to see what it was he kept looking at. Once she had, she wish she hadn’t. There, sunning herself on a nearby rock, lay her mother of all people, an overly modest woman she never would have expected at a festival like this. Well, wasn’t that just lovely?
“Here to honor Hathor, as well?” she asked Zoser, putting her mother out of her notice for the time being. Perhaps she ought to pretend he wasn’t standing there, either, but gods, she couldn’t help herself. He was right there, right within her grasp. She couldn’t just ignore him.
It was clear Nenet and Khufu both were already thoroughly intoxicated, and Nia was going to have to do some catching up to get to their level. Perhaps it was the lighthearted air of the festival that had her smiling at her younger sister when she looked up at her before gesturing over to the blissfully drunk Sameera H’Haikkadad. Wow, what a bunch of lightweights. They were Egyptians. How were they already so drunk? Maybe Nia was just an alcoholic.
Her laughter grew louder as Khufu stumbled to his feet and wrapped her in a great big embrace, nearly lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm. “It’s good to see you too, Khufu,” she said with a giggle, returning his hug with equal enthusiasm. As he gestured to Nenet and informed Nia that was her sister, she laughed again and shook her head. “Yes, thank you, I believe we’ve met.”
Nenet called for Sameera to join them and Khufu left to go fetch his wife, and then her sister was informing her how bad she was now, stealing books with the man who had just left their little group. “What a criminal mastermind you’ve turned out to be, huh?” she teased good-naturedly. “Stealing books. And you want to be a priestess! Do they even allow thieves?” Winking, she looked back at Khufu as he returned, a woman tossed quite literally over his shoulder.
Blinking a few times when he set her down, she smiled warmly at his introduction and nodded to the woman he called Kahi. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kahi,” she greeted the foreign-looking woman. “Your husband is quite the character.” And what an understatement that was.
Nia was beginning to relax now that she was in a familiar group, happy for the cheerful amity the festival seemed to provide. Any day she could get along with her siblings was a good one, and Nenet seemed far too drunk to be combative. As long as it stayed that way, all would be well.
Or she thought it would be. The next person to approach their group had her eyes widening in surprise, her heart seeming to stop mid-beat. Zoser. Zoser was here? She hadn’t expected him to attend something like this, and now that he was here, she was suddenly self-conscious, sure the heat flushing her cheeks would give her away. Though she had kept herself from other men’s hands for his sake, she couldn’t exactly fall into his hands, either. Not so publicly. Though, there were plenty of grassy copses along the shores of the Nile… Perhaps they could steal some time alone…?
Schooling her face back to a more careful neutrality and dropping her gaze before the lovelorn look in her eyes could betray her, she only smiled and greeted the scribe with a polite usage of his name, “Zoser. What a pleasant surprise.”
She couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept flicking elsewhere, and out of curiosity, she turned to see what it was he kept looking at. Once she had, she wish she hadn’t. There, sunning herself on a nearby rock, lay her mother of all people, an overly modest woman she never would have expected at a festival like this. Well, wasn’t that just lovely?
“Here to honor Hathor, as well?” she asked Zoser, putting her mother out of her notice for the time being. Perhaps she ought to pretend he wasn’t standing there, either, but gods, she couldn’t help herself. He was right there, right within her grasp. She couldn’t just ignore him.
A charade to blend him into his environment.
That's what Chione H'Isazari offered him in this moment. An indulgence into what the Tekh festival offered, something that would fail to draw attention to the man who had his allegiances and his position in the world splayed across his back for all to see.
A plaything, toyed with for a time before let alone to languish in her previous solitude.
She truly was an exquisite creature, evidenced by the easy sway of her hips as she shuffled ahead of him, led onwards but positioned just slightly in front of him. He felt the shiver tear along her spine, just as the words registered in the woman's thoughts. Amenemhat had no way of knowing what chords they might strum within her, but ultimately, it was for naught.
He cared little for the woman behind the mask. She was interesting, and even entertaining. Their bodies worked well with one another, a notion that seemed true on both ends, given how his words seemed to cease the tremor that they themselves had caused.
Words held power, but, that power could be deferred. Amenemhat listened to the woman, nodding in agreement. She was waiting, for someone to partake in the festival with her. She spoke of answered prayers, but, in the end, who was the one who answered them? The ringmaster felt the warmth of her fingertips draw along his collarbone, a slow, teasing movement that intrigued the ringmaster's attention, but did little else to satisfy. He took what was attached to him at the hip, a small sack that held the sweet poppy that Egypt loved so dearly.
Crushed to a powder and mixed with the indulgence that was the lotus flower, he'd brought this with him in the event that he was inclined to truly let himself fall into the reverie. Just as he spotted Azarion over Chione's shoulder, sifting his way towards Kesi and Zein, the ringmaster decided to do just that.
A hand trickled its touch along the length of Chione's spine, up until his palm met her nape and his fingers wound into her hair. He pulled back on the strands, so eager to watch how this unfolded. Kesi was not a weak woman. She was a powerful, useful tool and his sister, not one to be so driven to flight. Nem had informed Rekhmire of his intentions, if only for the sake of having the man in town to deliver any of the three circus performers to in the event that this escalated. He watched, intrigued, as he pressed forward, meeting the woman's breasts with his chest as his hands sought purchase over her thighs. He'd have her, move her, intent on bringing a leg to either side of him.
"So, you have forgotten me. I remember you well enough, however. At least, I remember... some things. Screams for more, maybe?" he deliberated. Holding her head in the palm of his hand allowed him to bend her to his whims, pulling back on her tresses to allow lips to paint a path along the flesh of her throat, his gaze averted towards the river still as the other hand grasped at the flesh of her hips, kneading into bronzed skin as he told her,
"I'll make you remember, too."
The ringmaster sprinkled that powder onto the woman's neck, the same path he'd kept with his lips. Just enough moisture for the poppy to cling to before he took a deep breath, the granules sending those electric waves of pleasure through the length of his spine. His grasp upon her hips wore tighter still before he took hold of the sack at his side, to place it in the palm of Chione's hand.
The drug-addled throes of passion were more fun with a partner that dwelled with him at every level of indulgence. But, he wasn't going to wait for her to prepare it just yet. The chills that poppy sent through his very blood, the pressure in the back of his skull. With every breath, it seemed a wave crested, a deluge of sensation that fell as tide over the mind.
"Fuck yes..." he breathed against her flesh, just before he pressed tighter still against her, his teeth wearing for a moment on her lower lip before he claimed both of hers, his tongue venturing forth in an ardent claim. Once satisfied, he pulled back, winking at the woman before he lay back against the shore.
"Your turn."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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A charade to blend him into his environment.
That's what Chione H'Isazari offered him in this moment. An indulgence into what the Tekh festival offered, something that would fail to draw attention to the man who had his allegiances and his position in the world splayed across his back for all to see.
A plaything, toyed with for a time before let alone to languish in her previous solitude.
She truly was an exquisite creature, evidenced by the easy sway of her hips as she shuffled ahead of him, led onwards but positioned just slightly in front of him. He felt the shiver tear along her spine, just as the words registered in the woman's thoughts. Amenemhat had no way of knowing what chords they might strum within her, but ultimately, it was for naught.
He cared little for the woman behind the mask. She was interesting, and even entertaining. Their bodies worked well with one another, a notion that seemed true on both ends, given how his words seemed to cease the tremor that they themselves had caused.
Words held power, but, that power could be deferred. Amenemhat listened to the woman, nodding in agreement. She was waiting, for someone to partake in the festival with her. She spoke of answered prayers, but, in the end, who was the one who answered them? The ringmaster felt the warmth of her fingertips draw along his collarbone, a slow, teasing movement that intrigued the ringmaster's attention, but did little else to satisfy. He took what was attached to him at the hip, a small sack that held the sweet poppy that Egypt loved so dearly.
Crushed to a powder and mixed with the indulgence that was the lotus flower, he'd brought this with him in the event that he was inclined to truly let himself fall into the reverie. Just as he spotted Azarion over Chione's shoulder, sifting his way towards Kesi and Zein, the ringmaster decided to do just that.
A hand trickled its touch along the length of Chione's spine, up until his palm met her nape and his fingers wound into her hair. He pulled back on the strands, so eager to watch how this unfolded. Kesi was not a weak woman. She was a powerful, useful tool and his sister, not one to be so driven to flight. Nem had informed Rekhmire of his intentions, if only for the sake of having the man in town to deliver any of the three circus performers to in the event that this escalated. He watched, intrigued, as he pressed forward, meeting the woman's breasts with his chest as his hands sought purchase over her thighs. He'd have her, move her, intent on bringing a leg to either side of him.
"So, you have forgotten me. I remember you well enough, however. At least, I remember... some things. Screams for more, maybe?" he deliberated. Holding her head in the palm of his hand allowed him to bend her to his whims, pulling back on her tresses to allow lips to paint a path along the flesh of her throat, his gaze averted towards the river still as the other hand grasped at the flesh of her hips, kneading into bronzed skin as he told her,
"I'll make you remember, too."
The ringmaster sprinkled that powder onto the woman's neck, the same path he'd kept with his lips. Just enough moisture for the poppy to cling to before he took a deep breath, the granules sending those electric waves of pleasure through the length of his spine. His grasp upon her hips wore tighter still before he took hold of the sack at his side, to place it in the palm of Chione's hand.
The drug-addled throes of passion were more fun with a partner that dwelled with him at every level of indulgence. But, he wasn't going to wait for her to prepare it just yet. The chills that poppy sent through his very blood, the pressure in the back of his skull. With every breath, it seemed a wave crested, a deluge of sensation that fell as tide over the mind.
"Fuck yes..." he breathed against her flesh, just before he pressed tighter still against her, his teeth wearing for a moment on her lower lip before he claimed both of hers, his tongue venturing forth in an ardent claim. Once satisfied, he pulled back, winking at the woman before he lay back against the shore.
"Your turn."
A charade to blend him into his environment.
That's what Chione H'Isazari offered him in this moment. An indulgence into what the Tekh festival offered, something that would fail to draw attention to the man who had his allegiances and his position in the world splayed across his back for all to see.
A plaything, toyed with for a time before let alone to languish in her previous solitude.
She truly was an exquisite creature, evidenced by the easy sway of her hips as she shuffled ahead of him, led onwards but positioned just slightly in front of him. He felt the shiver tear along her spine, just as the words registered in the woman's thoughts. Amenemhat had no way of knowing what chords they might strum within her, but ultimately, it was for naught.
He cared little for the woman behind the mask. She was interesting, and even entertaining. Their bodies worked well with one another, a notion that seemed true on both ends, given how his words seemed to cease the tremor that they themselves had caused.
Words held power, but, that power could be deferred. Amenemhat listened to the woman, nodding in agreement. She was waiting, for someone to partake in the festival with her. She spoke of answered prayers, but, in the end, who was the one who answered them? The ringmaster felt the warmth of her fingertips draw along his collarbone, a slow, teasing movement that intrigued the ringmaster's attention, but did little else to satisfy. He took what was attached to him at the hip, a small sack that held the sweet poppy that Egypt loved so dearly.
Crushed to a powder and mixed with the indulgence that was the lotus flower, he'd brought this with him in the event that he was inclined to truly let himself fall into the reverie. Just as he spotted Azarion over Chione's shoulder, sifting his way towards Kesi and Zein, the ringmaster decided to do just that.
A hand trickled its touch along the length of Chione's spine, up until his palm met her nape and his fingers wound into her hair. He pulled back on the strands, so eager to watch how this unfolded. Kesi was not a weak woman. She was a powerful, useful tool and his sister, not one to be so driven to flight. Nem had informed Rekhmire of his intentions, if only for the sake of having the man in town to deliver any of the three circus performers to in the event that this escalated. He watched, intrigued, as he pressed forward, meeting the woman's breasts with his chest as his hands sought purchase over her thighs. He'd have her, move her, intent on bringing a leg to either side of him.
"So, you have forgotten me. I remember you well enough, however. At least, I remember... some things. Screams for more, maybe?" he deliberated. Holding her head in the palm of his hand allowed him to bend her to his whims, pulling back on her tresses to allow lips to paint a path along the flesh of her throat, his gaze averted towards the river still as the other hand grasped at the flesh of her hips, kneading into bronzed skin as he told her,
"I'll make you remember, too."
The ringmaster sprinkled that powder onto the woman's neck, the same path he'd kept with his lips. Just enough moisture for the poppy to cling to before he took a deep breath, the granules sending those electric waves of pleasure through the length of his spine. His grasp upon her hips wore tighter still before he took hold of the sack at his side, to place it in the palm of Chione's hand.
The drug-addled throes of passion were more fun with a partner that dwelled with him at every level of indulgence. But, he wasn't going to wait for her to prepare it just yet. The chills that poppy sent through his very blood, the pressure in the back of his skull. With every breath, it seemed a wave crested, a deluge of sensation that fell as tide over the mind.
"Fuck yes..." he breathed against her flesh, just before he pressed tighter still against her, his teeth wearing for a moment on her lower lip before he claimed both of hers, his tongue venturing forth in an ardent claim. Once satisfied, he pulled back, winking at the woman before he lay back against the shore.
