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Ariadne had just received the biggest shock of her life the night before. She was supposed to be on her way back to the capital today, but knew that if she were to be back in the company of Persephone and the other ladies, she would never get the quiet time she needed to grieve. Plus, she needed to tell her sister the news and she was still working up the courage to do so. Ari had left the house early that morning to send a missive to Persephone, informing her that she would be returning to the palati later than planned. Not once had she ever done this before—Ariadne was the picture of servitude, always taking the least amount of time off and being exactly where she was expected. So she was sure that her mistress would be forgiving in this case—especially when she found out why. That was, if Ariadne even wanted to share this with her. Normally, she shared a lot with the princess, but this felt so deeply personal that the only other person who deserved to know it was Ismene. Her twin would be the only one to understand. Though perhaps she would not have the same gentle calm that Ariadne was currently exhibiting.
That was one reason that Ari was afraid to talk to her, but there was a part of her that wanted to protect Isi’s innocence a bit longer. Let her have one more positive interaction with their…with Hector. Let her feel safe and welcome in their home one more day. As much as Ari longed to run away back to the capital and leave their home behind, she could not leave until her twin knew the truth about the man they called father and the woman they had made up in their heads called mother.
Betrayal might have been the most accurate word Ariadne could use to describe her feelings at the moment. Though, she couldn’t ignore the hurt and sadness as well. She wanted to cry, but knew it might be impossible to stop. How could Hector had lied to them for so many years about their mother? Didn’t they have every right to know who she was? Even if he didn’t know himself. Why would he have lied so blatantly to them, building in their imaginations a couple so in love that to be apart was devastation of the highest order. Ariadne had wanted for herself a love just like her parents—only now there was no purpose to that. There was nothing for her to live up to. Just disappointment. And the implicit notion that he might not even be her father was too much for her to bear.
These thoughts had been swirling in her head all day and Ariadne had been unwilling to go back home and face her family just yet. She had spent most of the day wandering the streets, unable to move her thoughts off of the conversation from the night before when her father had changed her entire perception of her life. Ariadne was so caught up that she failed to notice that the daylight had faded and night had fallen upon her. She also was closer to the seedier areas of the harbor that she had been told not to venture to during the nighttime. It was suddenly as if the streets had become unfamiliar and Ariadne felt a panic starting to set in.
Her steps became more hurried as she sought to find a street that she knew. In her haste, she turned down an alley that led to a dead end. When Ariadne turned around, there was a menacing figure in front of her, approaching in a manner that didn’t seem friendly at all to her. He said nothing, but there was a serious glint in his eye that did not bode well for her at all. Ari wasn’t prepared to go down without a fight, but she had nothing at her disposal and there seemed to be no one around.
“I ask that you would let me pass,” Ariadne said, loudly, so that if there was someone near they might come to her aid. More firmly and loudly, she added, “Now.”
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Ariadne had just received the biggest shock of her life the night before. She was supposed to be on her way back to the capital today, but knew that if she were to be back in the company of Persephone and the other ladies, she would never get the quiet time she needed to grieve. Plus, she needed to tell her sister the news and she was still working up the courage to do so. Ari had left the house early that morning to send a missive to Persephone, informing her that she would be returning to the palati later than planned. Not once had she ever done this before—Ariadne was the picture of servitude, always taking the least amount of time off and being exactly where she was expected. So she was sure that her mistress would be forgiving in this case—especially when she found out why. That was, if Ariadne even wanted to share this with her. Normally, she shared a lot with the princess, but this felt so deeply personal that the only other person who deserved to know it was Ismene. Her twin would be the only one to understand. Though perhaps she would not have the same gentle calm that Ariadne was currently exhibiting.
That was one reason that Ari was afraid to talk to her, but there was a part of her that wanted to protect Isi’s innocence a bit longer. Let her have one more positive interaction with their…with Hector. Let her feel safe and welcome in their home one more day. As much as Ari longed to run away back to the capital and leave their home behind, she could not leave until her twin knew the truth about the man they called father and the woman they had made up in their heads called mother.
Betrayal might have been the most accurate word Ariadne could use to describe her feelings at the moment. Though, she couldn’t ignore the hurt and sadness as well. She wanted to cry, but knew it might be impossible to stop. How could Hector had lied to them for so many years about their mother? Didn’t they have every right to know who she was? Even if he didn’t know himself. Why would he have lied so blatantly to them, building in their imaginations a couple so in love that to be apart was devastation of the highest order. Ariadne had wanted for herself a love just like her parents—only now there was no purpose to that. There was nothing for her to live up to. Just disappointment. And the implicit notion that he might not even be her father was too much for her to bear.
These thoughts had been swirling in her head all day and Ariadne had been unwilling to go back home and face her family just yet. She had spent most of the day wandering the streets, unable to move her thoughts off of the conversation from the night before when her father had changed her entire perception of her life. Ariadne was so caught up that she failed to notice that the daylight had faded and night had fallen upon her. She also was closer to the seedier areas of the harbor that she had been told not to venture to during the nighttime. It was suddenly as if the streets had become unfamiliar and Ariadne felt a panic starting to set in.
Her steps became more hurried as she sought to find a street that she knew. In her haste, she turned down an alley that led to a dead end. When Ariadne turned around, there was a menacing figure in front of her, approaching in a manner that didn’t seem friendly at all to her. He said nothing, but there was a serious glint in his eye that did not bode well for her at all. Ari wasn’t prepared to go down without a fight, but she had nothing at her disposal and there seemed to be no one around.
“I ask that you would let me pass,” Ariadne said, loudly, so that if there was someone near they might come to her aid. More firmly and loudly, she added, “Now.”
Ariadne had just received the biggest shock of her life the night before. She was supposed to be on her way back to the capital today, but knew that if she were to be back in the company of Persephone and the other ladies, she would never get the quiet time she needed to grieve. Plus, she needed to tell her sister the news and she was still working up the courage to do so. Ari had left the house early that morning to send a missive to Persephone, informing her that she would be returning to the palati later than planned. Not once had she ever done this before—Ariadne was the picture of servitude, always taking the least amount of time off and being exactly where she was expected. So she was sure that her mistress would be forgiving in this case—especially when she found out why. That was, if Ariadne even wanted to share this with her. Normally, she shared a lot with the princess, but this felt so deeply personal that the only other person who deserved to know it was Ismene. Her twin would be the only one to understand. Though perhaps she would not have the same gentle calm that Ariadne was currently exhibiting.
That was one reason that Ari was afraid to talk to her, but there was a part of her that wanted to protect Isi’s innocence a bit longer. Let her have one more positive interaction with their…with Hector. Let her feel safe and welcome in their home one more day. As much as Ari longed to run away back to the capital and leave their home behind, she could not leave until her twin knew the truth about the man they called father and the woman they had made up in their heads called mother.
Betrayal might have been the most accurate word Ariadne could use to describe her feelings at the moment. Though, she couldn’t ignore the hurt and sadness as well. She wanted to cry, but knew it might be impossible to stop. How could Hector had lied to them for so many years about their mother? Didn’t they have every right to know who she was? Even if he didn’t know himself. Why would he have lied so blatantly to them, building in their imaginations a couple so in love that to be apart was devastation of the highest order. Ariadne had wanted for herself a love just like her parents—only now there was no purpose to that. There was nothing for her to live up to. Just disappointment. And the implicit notion that he might not even be her father was too much for her to bear.
These thoughts had been swirling in her head all day and Ariadne had been unwilling to go back home and face her family just yet. She had spent most of the day wandering the streets, unable to move her thoughts off of the conversation from the night before when her father had changed her entire perception of her life. Ariadne was so caught up that she failed to notice that the daylight had faded and night had fallen upon her. She also was closer to the seedier areas of the harbor that she had been told not to venture to during the nighttime. It was suddenly as if the streets had become unfamiliar and Ariadne felt a panic starting to set in.
Her steps became more hurried as she sought to find a street that she knew. In her haste, she turned down an alley that led to a dead end. When Ariadne turned around, there was a menacing figure in front of her, approaching in a manner that didn’t seem friendly at all to her. He said nothing, but there was a serious glint in his eye that did not bode well for her at all. Ari wasn’t prepared to go down without a fight, but she had nothing at her disposal and there seemed to be no one around.
“I ask that you would let me pass,” Ariadne said, loudly, so that if there was someone near they might come to her aid. More firmly and loudly, she added, “Now.”
Akila could not understand why people thought they could get one over on her. Were they born stupid, or did they just get hit in the head so many times that they didn’t have a single brain cell left in their gods damned head? All she wanted was her money. That’s all she fucking wanted. That’s it. She sold her slaves to this skeevy fucking slaver, and she expected to get paid.
What did she get instead? Whacked over the head with a metal rod. Motherfucker that hurt! Her men were with her, of course, and a fight ensued. The entire time Akila just heard ringing in her ears, and she felt viciously dizzy. And when the fighting was done, the slaver was gone.
She was going to kill that man.
“I’ll go a-” Khalid started to say.
“Get back to the ship.” Akila snapped at him. She ignored the nauseated feeling. She ignored the fact that her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. She ignored everything. She was furious. That man was going to die. She was going to stick her thumbs in his eyes and pull them out only to shove them in his screaming mouth. She’d fucking laugh as he choked on them, and only when he was near death would she shove her khopesh in his stomach and twist it, so all his guts came flying out.
Akila was mad.
You don’t steal from a thief. And you sure as fucking don’t attack a thief. He dug his own grave, and Akila would fucking dance on it when it was all said and done. She just needed to find him.
Arcana wasn’t a large place. It was outside the capital of Athenia enough that it didn’t annoy her as much. There weren’t as many scholars sticking around Arcana nosing up in her business. But Akila’s disdain for this Kingdom didn’t help the asshole any. She was angry enough at him, and her already foul mood before she met with him fed into it. He would be begging for the gods for mercy. Too bad the gods, Greek or Egyptian, didn’t give a shit about humans. No gods could stop the fury that was Akila.
She was dizzy. She was nauseous. She had a wicked headache. But she still stumbled around Arcana looking for him like some drunk trying to find their way home. And then, finally she got some luck.
I ask that you let me pass. Now. Akila heard a voice from the alley.
”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.” Oh, Akila recognized that voice. Two guards had joined the asshole. Akila didn’t care about the girl; she didn’t care about the guards; she only cared about him.
She made her was partly dazed through the alley following them. Her khopesh dug through one of the guards' back, quickly removing it to slash the other one as he turned around. She stuck the blade towards the asshole.
“Gi-” she started to say before she suddenly felt blood rushing from her. Did he just stab me? That was fucking it!
Her khopesh lodged deep into his stomach, the hook catching on his guts, spilling them all over the floor as she pulled it out. Then Akila stumbled back, leaning against the wall. “What an asshole.” He better not have fucking killed her.
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Akila could not understand why people thought they could get one over on her. Were they born stupid, or did they just get hit in the head so many times that they didn’t have a single brain cell left in their gods damned head? All she wanted was her money. That’s all she fucking wanted. That’s it. She sold her slaves to this skeevy fucking slaver, and she expected to get paid.
What did she get instead? Whacked over the head with a metal rod. Motherfucker that hurt! Her men were with her, of course, and a fight ensued. The entire time Akila just heard ringing in her ears, and she felt viciously dizzy. And when the fighting was done, the slaver was gone.
She was going to kill that man.
“I’ll go a-” Khalid started to say.
“Get back to the ship.” Akila snapped at him. She ignored the nauseated feeling. She ignored the fact that her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. She ignored everything. She was furious. That man was going to die. She was going to stick her thumbs in his eyes and pull them out only to shove them in his screaming mouth. She’d fucking laugh as he choked on them, and only when he was near death would she shove her khopesh in his stomach and twist it, so all his guts came flying out.
Akila was mad.
You don’t steal from a thief. And you sure as fucking don’t attack a thief. He dug his own grave, and Akila would fucking dance on it when it was all said and done. She just needed to find him.
Arcana wasn’t a large place. It was outside the capital of Athenia enough that it didn’t annoy her as much. There weren’t as many scholars sticking around Arcana nosing up in her business. But Akila’s disdain for this Kingdom didn’t help the asshole any. She was angry enough at him, and her already foul mood before she met with him fed into it. He would be begging for the gods for mercy. Too bad the gods, Greek or Egyptian, didn’t give a shit about humans. No gods could stop the fury that was Akila.
She was dizzy. She was nauseous. She had a wicked headache. But she still stumbled around Arcana looking for him like some drunk trying to find their way home. And then, finally she got some luck.
I ask that you let me pass. Now. Akila heard a voice from the alley.
”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.” Oh, Akila recognized that voice. Two guards had joined the asshole. Akila didn’t care about the girl; she didn’t care about the guards; she only cared about him.
She made her was partly dazed through the alley following them. Her khopesh dug through one of the guards' back, quickly removing it to slash the other one as he turned around. She stuck the blade towards the asshole.
“Gi-” she started to say before she suddenly felt blood rushing from her. Did he just stab me? That was fucking it!
Her khopesh lodged deep into his stomach, the hook catching on his guts, spilling them all over the floor as she pulled it out. Then Akila stumbled back, leaning against the wall. “What an asshole.” He better not have fucking killed her.
Akila could not understand why people thought they could get one over on her. Were they born stupid, or did they just get hit in the head so many times that they didn’t have a single brain cell left in their gods damned head? All she wanted was her money. That’s all she fucking wanted. That’s it. She sold her slaves to this skeevy fucking slaver, and she expected to get paid.
What did she get instead? Whacked over the head with a metal rod. Motherfucker that hurt! Her men were with her, of course, and a fight ensued. The entire time Akila just heard ringing in her ears, and she felt viciously dizzy. And when the fighting was done, the slaver was gone.
She was going to kill that man.
“I’ll go a-” Khalid started to say.
“Get back to the ship.” Akila snapped at him. She ignored the nauseated feeling. She ignored the fact that her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. She ignored everything. She was furious. That man was going to die. She was going to stick her thumbs in his eyes and pull them out only to shove them in his screaming mouth. She’d fucking laugh as he choked on them, and only when he was near death would she shove her khopesh in his stomach and twist it, so all his guts came flying out.
Akila was mad.
You don’t steal from a thief. And you sure as fucking don’t attack a thief. He dug his own grave, and Akila would fucking dance on it when it was all said and done. She just needed to find him.
Arcana wasn’t a large place. It was outside the capital of Athenia enough that it didn’t annoy her as much. There weren’t as many scholars sticking around Arcana nosing up in her business. But Akila’s disdain for this Kingdom didn’t help the asshole any. She was angry enough at him, and her already foul mood before she met with him fed into it. He would be begging for the gods for mercy. Too bad the gods, Greek or Egyptian, didn’t give a shit about humans. No gods could stop the fury that was Akila.
She was dizzy. She was nauseous. She had a wicked headache. But she still stumbled around Arcana looking for him like some drunk trying to find their way home. And then, finally she got some luck.
I ask that you let me pass. Now. Akila heard a voice from the alley.
”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.” Oh, Akila recognized that voice. Two guards had joined the asshole. Akila didn’t care about the girl; she didn’t care about the guards; she only cared about him.
She made her was partly dazed through the alley following them. Her khopesh dug through one of the guards' back, quickly removing it to slash the other one as he turned around. She stuck the blade towards the asshole.
“Gi-” she started to say before she suddenly felt blood rushing from her. Did he just stab me? That was fucking it!
Her khopesh lodged deep into his stomach, the hook catching on his guts, spilling them all over the floor as she pulled it out. Then Akila stumbled back, leaning against the wall. “What an asshole.” He better not have fucking killed her.
Ariadne thought she was being very brave by holding her ground, but she knew that it was an illusion of sorts. Inwardly, she was beginning to panic and that was the one thing she knew that she must not do. For if she started to panic than all hope of her being rational and getting out of this situation was lost. Her comment didn’t seem to go over all too well, unfortunately, when the man said, ”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.”
She felt her body go cold at the thought of being sold into slavery. She knew that it wasn’t the worst to give her body to men for money—her own mother had done such a thing. But that had been of her own choice. If Ariadne was a slave, then she wouldn’t have any choice at all. This could not be something that happened. Not to her. She didn’t want to leave her father and sister behind without a fight.
The men were advancing on her quickly, Ariadne struggling to form a plan in her head. She glanced around her surroundings, wondering what she might use for her advantage. She was much smaller than this man—any hit she made would not be strong enough. He would manage to overpower her easily. She would have to use her small size to her advantage and attempt to make a run for it. It was unfortunate that they were still in an alley. She would have to distract him somehow. Ariadne sent a silent prayer up to whatever gods that were listening that they see her through this safely. Or at least that she would not let herself be sold as goods.
It was as she searched for a distraction that one came upon her. A woman stumbled into the alley behind the men, though they appeared not to notice. They were focused on Ariadne alone. Before Ari could think of something to do, the woman stabbed one of the men and he crumpled to the floor. Ari’s eyes went wide at the shock of what she was witnessing. Had she just…killed him?
Then, she was moving towards the other man, the one who had been antagonizing her—wanting to sell her. The woman’s blade went into his stomach, and there was blood everywhere, pooling on the ground. Ariadne had never seen such a thing, but she had imagined it many times, thinking of her father off to battle in the various wars. She had imagined that it was him on the ground so many times as a child that for a moment she was frozen, seeing the same image here. It took the sight of the woman falling against the wall to snap Ari out of her reverie. She had been hurt! So much had happened in the past minute that she had failed to take it all in.
The other man had left, running before he, too, could be stabbed. Ari could not leave this woman to bleed out on the ground, not after she had saved her. Rushing forward, Ari approached cautiously once she was close. She didn’t want to somehow be confused for another enemy and stabbed in the process. There had been entirely too much stabbing today.
Ismene was really the right person for this situation, but Ariadne had picked up a few things here and there over the past several years. She always listened diligently to whatever her twin had to say, even if it was something medical. That was what might save this woman’s life right now.
The smell of blood and guts was strong, nearly causing Ari to vomit, but she held it together as best she could, going to her place of gentle calm.
“Give me your knife,” she said, forgoing any pleasantries. This woman would bleed out before Ari could thank her. Knife in hand, Ari reached down to cut a long strip from her chiton. It wasn’t idea, but at least the garment was more cleanly that anything else in this alley. She wouldn’t miss the dress—there were always more. When she had the strip cut, she pressed part of it into the woman’s wound, knowing that it would hurt. Then, she wrapped the remainder of the cloth around her body to hold it in place. She needed to get home. Isi was there. She could help.
“Sorry about this,” she said, hands shaking a bit. “Do you think you can stand? My home is not far from here and my sister is a healer. You’re going to need her help.” It was the least Ari could do to repay the woman. She only hoped she would comply.
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Ariadne thought she was being very brave by holding her ground, but she knew that it was an illusion of sorts. Inwardly, she was beginning to panic and that was the one thing she knew that she must not do. For if she started to panic than all hope of her being rational and getting out of this situation was lost. Her comment didn’t seem to go over all too well, unfortunately, when the man said, ”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.”
She felt her body go cold at the thought of being sold into slavery. She knew that it wasn’t the worst to give her body to men for money—her own mother had done such a thing. But that had been of her own choice. If Ariadne was a slave, then she wouldn’t have any choice at all. This could not be something that happened. Not to her. She didn’t want to leave her father and sister behind without a fight.
The men were advancing on her quickly, Ariadne struggling to form a plan in her head. She glanced around her surroundings, wondering what she might use for her advantage. She was much smaller than this man—any hit she made would not be strong enough. He would manage to overpower her easily. She would have to use her small size to her advantage and attempt to make a run for it. It was unfortunate that they were still in an alley. She would have to distract him somehow. Ariadne sent a silent prayer up to whatever gods that were listening that they see her through this safely. Or at least that she would not let herself be sold as goods.
It was as she searched for a distraction that one came upon her. A woman stumbled into the alley behind the men, though they appeared not to notice. They were focused on Ariadne alone. Before Ari could think of something to do, the woman stabbed one of the men and he crumpled to the floor. Ari’s eyes went wide at the shock of what she was witnessing. Had she just…killed him?
Then, she was moving towards the other man, the one who had been antagonizing her—wanting to sell her. The woman’s blade went into his stomach, and there was blood everywhere, pooling on the ground. Ariadne had never seen such a thing, but she had imagined it many times, thinking of her father off to battle in the various wars. She had imagined that it was him on the ground so many times as a child that for a moment she was frozen, seeing the same image here. It took the sight of the woman falling against the wall to snap Ari out of her reverie. She had been hurt! So much had happened in the past minute that she had failed to take it all in.
The other man had left, running before he, too, could be stabbed. Ari could not leave this woman to bleed out on the ground, not after she had saved her. Rushing forward, Ari approached cautiously once she was close. She didn’t want to somehow be confused for another enemy and stabbed in the process. There had been entirely too much stabbing today.
Ismene was really the right person for this situation, but Ariadne had picked up a few things here and there over the past several years. She always listened diligently to whatever her twin had to say, even if it was something medical. That was what might save this woman’s life right now.
The smell of blood and guts was strong, nearly causing Ari to vomit, but she held it together as best she could, going to her place of gentle calm.
“Give me your knife,” she said, forgoing any pleasantries. This woman would bleed out before Ari could thank her. Knife in hand, Ari reached down to cut a long strip from her chiton. It wasn’t idea, but at least the garment was more cleanly that anything else in this alley. She wouldn’t miss the dress—there were always more. When she had the strip cut, she pressed part of it into the woman’s wound, knowing that it would hurt. Then, she wrapped the remainder of the cloth around her body to hold it in place. She needed to get home. Isi was there. She could help.
“Sorry about this,” she said, hands shaking a bit. “Do you think you can stand? My home is not far from here and my sister is a healer. You’re going to need her help.” It was the least Ari could do to repay the woman. She only hoped she would comply.
Ariadne thought she was being very brave by holding her ground, but she knew that it was an illusion of sorts. Inwardly, she was beginning to panic and that was the one thing she knew that she must not do. For if she started to panic than all hope of her being rational and getting out of this situation was lost. Her comment didn’t seem to go over all too well, unfortunately, when the man said, ”Look here, boys. This one has a mouth on her. She’ll sell quite nicely.”
She felt her body go cold at the thought of being sold into slavery. She knew that it wasn’t the worst to give her body to men for money—her own mother had done such a thing. But that had been of her own choice. If Ariadne was a slave, then she wouldn’t have any choice at all. This could not be something that happened. Not to her. She didn’t want to leave her father and sister behind without a fight.
The men were advancing on her quickly, Ariadne struggling to form a plan in her head. She glanced around her surroundings, wondering what she might use for her advantage. She was much smaller than this man—any hit she made would not be strong enough. He would manage to overpower her easily. She would have to use her small size to her advantage and attempt to make a run for it. It was unfortunate that they were still in an alley. She would have to distract him somehow. Ariadne sent a silent prayer up to whatever gods that were listening that they see her through this safely. Or at least that she would not let herself be sold as goods.
It was as she searched for a distraction that one came upon her. A woman stumbled into the alley behind the men, though they appeared not to notice. They were focused on Ariadne alone. Before Ari could think of something to do, the woman stabbed one of the men and he crumpled to the floor. Ari’s eyes went wide at the shock of what she was witnessing. Had she just…killed him?
Then, she was moving towards the other man, the one who had been antagonizing her—wanting to sell her. The woman’s blade went into his stomach, and there was blood everywhere, pooling on the ground. Ariadne had never seen such a thing, but she had imagined it many times, thinking of her father off to battle in the various wars. She had imagined that it was him on the ground so many times as a child that for a moment she was frozen, seeing the same image here. It took the sight of the woman falling against the wall to snap Ari out of her reverie. She had been hurt! So much had happened in the past minute that she had failed to take it all in.
The other man had left, running before he, too, could be stabbed. Ari could not leave this woman to bleed out on the ground, not after she had saved her. Rushing forward, Ari approached cautiously once she was close. She didn’t want to somehow be confused for another enemy and stabbed in the process. There had been entirely too much stabbing today.
Ismene was really the right person for this situation, but Ariadne had picked up a few things here and there over the past several years. She always listened diligently to whatever her twin had to say, even if it was something medical. That was what might save this woman’s life right now.
The smell of blood and guts was strong, nearly causing Ari to vomit, but she held it together as best she could, going to her place of gentle calm.
“Give me your knife,” she said, forgoing any pleasantries. This woman would bleed out before Ari could thank her. Knife in hand, Ari reached down to cut a long strip from her chiton. It wasn’t idea, but at least the garment was more cleanly that anything else in this alley. She wouldn’t miss the dress—there were always more. When she had the strip cut, she pressed part of it into the woman’s wound, knowing that it would hurt. Then, she wrapped the remainder of the cloth around her body to hold it in place. She needed to get home. Isi was there. She could help.
“Sorry about this,” she said, hands shaking a bit. “Do you think you can stand? My home is not far from here and my sister is a healer. You’re going to need her help.” It was the least Ari could do to repay the woman. She only hoped she would comply.
Akila never counted on the goodwill of others. That was worth shit. If roles were reversed, Akila would have left the girl to die. In this world, you should only care about yourself. But roles weren’t reversed and Akila was fortunate to have met someone in the ally that wasn’t, well, like her.
Akila didn’t put up much of a fight when she had taken Akila’s knife. Though should the girl be robbing her she would use the last of her life to slice her pretty little neck. Fortunately, it was as Akila thought- she was kind. She ripped her chiton and put it over her wound.
It hurt like a motherfucker. But Akila grit through the pain. You know what hurts more? Death. And those fuckers were feeling that while Akila was still very much alive. Ha. Assholes.
Akila stood with little more of a grunt. Though she had lost blood and mixed with her previously pounding head the world seemed very dizzy. Akila had little choice but to use the girl for support. Her ripped chiton was now stained with Akila’s blood. For a moment Akila briefly wondered if the girl would handle it, or if she would vomit and faint at the pure horror that was this sight.
But also Akila didn’t give a shit. She just wanted to get the fuck out.
My sister’s a healer. She had said. How fortunate. It seems the gods had a sense of humor. She gets hit over the back of the head, stabbed in the gut, but at least the person she happened to save is related to a healer. Ha. Funny. If the Gods actually cared they’d at least give her the money this douchebag owed her. Asshole gods.
To say Akila’s mood was foul was an understatement. She was furious. She had been stabbed like an idiot by an idiot, she killed her payday, and every time she breathed more pain rippled through her. And she was relying on an Athenian to make sure she lives. Fan-freaking-tastic. Could this day get any better?
“Lead the way,” Akila grunted. As she walked more and more pain followed. Akila did little more than sharp breaths through gritted teeth. This wasn’t the first stabbing she’s been through, and it better not be the last. She wasn’t dying in a fucking Athenian house. The embarrassment that would be done in by a lucky stab by a nobody.
The house the girl led her to wasn’t anything to write home about. It was certainly not the smallest of places she had seen in Arcana, but it wasn’t the largest either. She would never have thought to rob this place and looking inside reaffirmed that. It looked… practical. Nothing caught Akila’s eye as valuable. Not that she was looking, really. The world was getting fairly blurry. She was leaning harder and harder into the stranger’s side. “Your sister’s home… right?” She had best better be. Otherwise, Akila would be bleeding out in the middle of nowhere. Akila wouldn’t know what would kill her first, the stab wound, or the embarrassment.
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Akila never counted on the goodwill of others. That was worth shit. If roles were reversed, Akila would have left the girl to die. In this world, you should only care about yourself. But roles weren’t reversed and Akila was fortunate to have met someone in the ally that wasn’t, well, like her.
Akila didn’t put up much of a fight when she had taken Akila’s knife. Though should the girl be robbing her she would use the last of her life to slice her pretty little neck. Fortunately, it was as Akila thought- she was kind. She ripped her chiton and put it over her wound.
It hurt like a motherfucker. But Akila grit through the pain. You know what hurts more? Death. And those fuckers were feeling that while Akila was still very much alive. Ha. Assholes.
Akila stood with little more of a grunt. Though she had lost blood and mixed with her previously pounding head the world seemed very dizzy. Akila had little choice but to use the girl for support. Her ripped chiton was now stained with Akila’s blood. For a moment Akila briefly wondered if the girl would handle it, or if she would vomit and faint at the pure horror that was this sight.
But also Akila didn’t give a shit. She just wanted to get the fuck out.
My sister’s a healer. She had said. How fortunate. It seems the gods had a sense of humor. She gets hit over the back of the head, stabbed in the gut, but at least the person she happened to save is related to a healer. Ha. Funny. If the Gods actually cared they’d at least give her the money this douchebag owed her. Asshole gods.
To say Akila’s mood was foul was an understatement. She was furious. She had been stabbed like an idiot by an idiot, she killed her payday, and every time she breathed more pain rippled through her. And she was relying on an Athenian to make sure she lives. Fan-freaking-tastic. Could this day get any better?
“Lead the way,” Akila grunted. As she walked more and more pain followed. Akila did little more than sharp breaths through gritted teeth. This wasn’t the first stabbing she’s been through, and it better not be the last. She wasn’t dying in a fucking Athenian house. The embarrassment that would be done in by a lucky stab by a nobody.
The house the girl led her to wasn’t anything to write home about. It was certainly not the smallest of places she had seen in Arcana, but it wasn’t the largest either. She would never have thought to rob this place and looking inside reaffirmed that. It looked… practical. Nothing caught Akila’s eye as valuable. Not that she was looking, really. The world was getting fairly blurry. She was leaning harder and harder into the stranger’s side. “Your sister’s home… right?” She had best better be. Otherwise, Akila would be bleeding out in the middle of nowhere. Akila wouldn’t know what would kill her first, the stab wound, or the embarrassment.
Akila never counted on the goodwill of others. That was worth shit. If roles were reversed, Akila would have left the girl to die. In this world, you should only care about yourself. But roles weren’t reversed and Akila was fortunate to have met someone in the ally that wasn’t, well, like her.
Akila didn’t put up much of a fight when she had taken Akila’s knife. Though should the girl be robbing her she would use the last of her life to slice her pretty little neck. Fortunately, it was as Akila thought- she was kind. She ripped her chiton and put it over her wound.
It hurt like a motherfucker. But Akila grit through the pain. You know what hurts more? Death. And those fuckers were feeling that while Akila was still very much alive. Ha. Assholes.
Akila stood with little more of a grunt. Though she had lost blood and mixed with her previously pounding head the world seemed very dizzy. Akila had little choice but to use the girl for support. Her ripped chiton was now stained with Akila’s blood. For a moment Akila briefly wondered if the girl would handle it, or if she would vomit and faint at the pure horror that was this sight.
But also Akila didn’t give a shit. She just wanted to get the fuck out.
My sister’s a healer. She had said. How fortunate. It seems the gods had a sense of humor. She gets hit over the back of the head, stabbed in the gut, but at least the person she happened to save is related to a healer. Ha. Funny. If the Gods actually cared they’d at least give her the money this douchebag owed her. Asshole gods.
To say Akila’s mood was foul was an understatement. She was furious. She had been stabbed like an idiot by an idiot, she killed her payday, and every time she breathed more pain rippled through her. And she was relying on an Athenian to make sure she lives. Fan-freaking-tastic. Could this day get any better?
“Lead the way,” Akila grunted. As she walked more and more pain followed. Akila did little more than sharp breaths through gritted teeth. This wasn’t the first stabbing she’s been through, and it better not be the last. She wasn’t dying in a fucking Athenian house. The embarrassment that would be done in by a lucky stab by a nobody.
The house the girl led her to wasn’t anything to write home about. It was certainly not the smallest of places she had seen in Arcana, but it wasn’t the largest either. She would never have thought to rob this place and looking inside reaffirmed that. It looked… practical. Nothing caught Akila’s eye as valuable. Not that she was looking, really. The world was getting fairly blurry. She was leaning harder and harder into the stranger’s side. “Your sister’s home… right?” She had best better be. Otherwise, Akila would be bleeding out in the middle of nowhere. Akila wouldn’t know what would kill her first, the stab wound, or the embarrassment.
Demi had, as usual came over to Hector's house after her evening clientele had been done for the day. The pleasure worker always did liked to be reminded that she actually had some form of anchor to return to at the end of the day, instead of the endless strings of faces she dealt and serviced on a daily basis. While it was nothing but work for Demi, it wasn't the case everyday, and today had been one such case after just one too many customers for the day.
Unwrapping her brown serviceable cloak from her chiton as she stepped into the house, Demi called out names, and then frowned when she got no response in return. Were the girls not home? She wasn't surprised that Ariadne wasn't home of course, for the girl was likely back in the capitol at work. Hector too had irregular hours, and it was far more likely that Demi would be awokened by Hector when he came back in the wee hours.But where was Ismene?
Frowning in curiosity as she ventured further in, she peeked into the kitchen to find some leftover food in the larder (as always, or Demi would subsist herself on stale bread and pickled food). Taking out some fruits and biting into a sweet apple, the brunette allowed herself a brief amount of time to savor the sweet juice that moistened a throat she did not even realized was dry, before continuing towards the family rooms, curious if Ismene was simply taking a nap.
She had but laid a hand on the door that led to the room Ismene usually resided in, when the front door opened and Demi turned in her surprise. Sweeping her pale mauve chiton out of the way as she hurried towards he main entrance instead, the brunette honest to Gods expected to see one of the twins. "Isme-" she started to ask, but her words died on her lips when her glance fell upon the drip of blood on the floor of the front doorway, her mouth hanging agape as she recognized the figure of Ariadne holding on to what appeared to be a woman bleeding out.
"Ariadne!" Demi first exclaimed, her half-eaten apple lying forgotten on a nearby table as she hurried towards the young girl, her concern for Hector's daughter first. Her eyes quickly assessed the young girl before she asked, "What happened? Are you injured?"
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Demi had, as usual came over to Hector's house after her evening clientele had been done for the day. The pleasure worker always did liked to be reminded that she actually had some form of anchor to return to at the end of the day, instead of the endless strings of faces she dealt and serviced on a daily basis. While it was nothing but work for Demi, it wasn't the case everyday, and today had been one such case after just one too many customers for the day.
Unwrapping her brown serviceable cloak from her chiton as she stepped into the house, Demi called out names, and then frowned when she got no response in return. Were the girls not home? She wasn't surprised that Ariadne wasn't home of course, for the girl was likely back in the capitol at work. Hector too had irregular hours, and it was far more likely that Demi would be awokened by Hector when he came back in the wee hours.But where was Ismene?
Frowning in curiosity as she ventured further in, she peeked into the kitchen to find some leftover food in the larder (as always, or Demi would subsist herself on stale bread and pickled food). Taking out some fruits and biting into a sweet apple, the brunette allowed herself a brief amount of time to savor the sweet juice that moistened a throat she did not even realized was dry, before continuing towards the family rooms, curious if Ismene was simply taking a nap.
She had but laid a hand on the door that led to the room Ismene usually resided in, when the front door opened and Demi turned in her surprise. Sweeping her pale mauve chiton out of the way as she hurried towards he main entrance instead, the brunette honest to Gods expected to see one of the twins. "Isme-" she started to ask, but her words died on her lips when her glance fell upon the drip of blood on the floor of the front doorway, her mouth hanging agape as she recognized the figure of Ariadne holding on to what appeared to be a woman bleeding out.
"Ariadne!" Demi first exclaimed, her half-eaten apple lying forgotten on a nearby table as she hurried towards the young girl, her concern for Hector's daughter first. Her eyes quickly assessed the young girl before she asked, "What happened? Are you injured?"
Demi had, as usual came over to Hector's house after her evening clientele had been done for the day. The pleasure worker always did liked to be reminded that she actually had some form of anchor to return to at the end of the day, instead of the endless strings of faces she dealt and serviced on a daily basis. While it was nothing but work for Demi, it wasn't the case everyday, and today had been one such case after just one too many customers for the day.
Unwrapping her brown serviceable cloak from her chiton as she stepped into the house, Demi called out names, and then frowned when she got no response in return. Were the girls not home? She wasn't surprised that Ariadne wasn't home of course, for the girl was likely back in the capitol at work. Hector too had irregular hours, and it was far more likely that Demi would be awokened by Hector when he came back in the wee hours.But where was Ismene?
Frowning in curiosity as she ventured further in, she peeked into the kitchen to find some leftover food in the larder (as always, or Demi would subsist herself on stale bread and pickled food). Taking out some fruits and biting into a sweet apple, the brunette allowed herself a brief amount of time to savor the sweet juice that moistened a throat she did not even realized was dry, before continuing towards the family rooms, curious if Ismene was simply taking a nap.
She had but laid a hand on the door that led to the room Ismene usually resided in, when the front door opened and Demi turned in her surprise. Sweeping her pale mauve chiton out of the way as she hurried towards he main entrance instead, the brunette honest to Gods expected to see one of the twins. "Isme-" she started to ask, but her words died on her lips when her glance fell upon the drip of blood on the floor of the front doorway, her mouth hanging agape as she recognized the figure of Ariadne holding on to what appeared to be a woman bleeding out.
"Ariadne!" Demi first exclaimed, her half-eaten apple lying forgotten on a nearby table as she hurried towards the young girl, her concern for Hector's daughter first. Her eyes quickly assessed the young girl before she asked, "What happened? Are you injured?"
Somehow, against all odds, Ariadne managed to help get this woman to their home. Now that she had some of her sense jolted back into her by the events of the evening, she was aware of exactly where she was. And it was certainly a foolish place for her to be after dark. Her father would be upset with her when he heard where she was. Well, she supposed she was a bit upset with him so it evened things out. Of course, what she had done was foolish and already the girl was berating herself for allowing herself to wander alone.
She was a bit surprised that the woman could walk, but she looked like she had been through plenty of things before and this was just yet another one to endure. However, Ari knew that it was important that she was looked after by a healer. Or else the wound might become all the more serious and she could die. That was the last thing Ariadne wanted—she didn’t know this woman, but she didn’t deserve to die because of a mistake that Ari had made. The lady’s maid sent up a gentle prayer to the gods, asking them to heal this woman. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed to get better.
They finally made it inside, Ari wondering where she ought to put the woman so that her sister could work on her. The kitchen table was probably the best place, so that Ismene wouldn’t have to kneel on the floor. However, it was rather unfortunate that they were about to stain the table with a fair amount of blood. Despite Ari attempting to hold this woman’s wound, the walking had caused more bleeding, much of it soaking into Ari’s light blue chiton.
Ariadne only hummed an answer to the question of whether or not her sister was home. Hopefully the answer was yes or else there might be some trouble. The sound of approaching footsteps had her look up in anticipation, though it wasn’t her twin who appeared. Demi was more preferable than seeing Hector at the moment and Ariadne quickly beckoned her over.
“I’m fine,” she told the other woman. “It’s her blood on me. She saved me but was attacked. Can you help me get her to the table?”
Together, the two of them half dragged the woman to their table, helping her lay down on it. Ari resumed putting pressure on the wound because she knew that it was something she ought to do. Beyond that, her knowledge was limited about what she was supposed to do. Ari hoped that it wasn’t going to come down to her skills.
“Quick, can you catch Isi or Uncle Gregor? We’ll need them to help,” she said to Demi, urgently. “I don’t know enough to stop the bleeding.”
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Somehow, against all odds, Ariadne managed to help get this woman to their home. Now that she had some of her sense jolted back into her by the events of the evening, she was aware of exactly where she was. And it was certainly a foolish place for her to be after dark. Her father would be upset with her when he heard where she was. Well, she supposed she was a bit upset with him so it evened things out. Of course, what she had done was foolish and already the girl was berating herself for allowing herself to wander alone.
She was a bit surprised that the woman could walk, but she looked like she had been through plenty of things before and this was just yet another one to endure. However, Ari knew that it was important that she was looked after by a healer. Or else the wound might become all the more serious and she could die. That was the last thing Ariadne wanted—she didn’t know this woman, but she didn’t deserve to die because of a mistake that Ari had made. The lady’s maid sent up a gentle prayer to the gods, asking them to heal this woman. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed to get better.
They finally made it inside, Ari wondering where she ought to put the woman so that her sister could work on her. The kitchen table was probably the best place, so that Ismene wouldn’t have to kneel on the floor. However, it was rather unfortunate that they were about to stain the table with a fair amount of blood. Despite Ari attempting to hold this woman’s wound, the walking had caused more bleeding, much of it soaking into Ari’s light blue chiton.
Ariadne only hummed an answer to the question of whether or not her sister was home. Hopefully the answer was yes or else there might be some trouble. The sound of approaching footsteps had her look up in anticipation, though it wasn’t her twin who appeared. Demi was more preferable than seeing Hector at the moment and Ariadne quickly beckoned her over.
“I’m fine,” she told the other woman. “It’s her blood on me. She saved me but was attacked. Can you help me get her to the table?”
Together, the two of them half dragged the woman to their table, helping her lay down on it. Ari resumed putting pressure on the wound because she knew that it was something she ought to do. Beyond that, her knowledge was limited about what she was supposed to do. Ari hoped that it wasn’t going to come down to her skills.
“Quick, can you catch Isi or Uncle Gregor? We’ll need them to help,” she said to Demi, urgently. “I don’t know enough to stop the bleeding.”
Somehow, against all odds, Ariadne managed to help get this woman to their home. Now that she had some of her sense jolted back into her by the events of the evening, she was aware of exactly where she was. And it was certainly a foolish place for her to be after dark. Her father would be upset with her when he heard where she was. Well, she supposed she was a bit upset with him so it evened things out. Of course, what she had done was foolish and already the girl was berating herself for allowing herself to wander alone.
She was a bit surprised that the woman could walk, but she looked like she had been through plenty of things before and this was just yet another one to endure. However, Ari knew that it was important that she was looked after by a healer. Or else the wound might become all the more serious and she could die. That was the last thing Ariadne wanted—she didn’t know this woman, but she didn’t deserve to die because of a mistake that Ari had made. The lady’s maid sent up a gentle prayer to the gods, asking them to heal this woman. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed to get better.
They finally made it inside, Ari wondering where she ought to put the woman so that her sister could work on her. The kitchen table was probably the best place, so that Ismene wouldn’t have to kneel on the floor. However, it was rather unfortunate that they were about to stain the table with a fair amount of blood. Despite Ari attempting to hold this woman’s wound, the walking had caused more bleeding, much of it soaking into Ari’s light blue chiton.
Ariadne only hummed an answer to the question of whether or not her sister was home. Hopefully the answer was yes or else there might be some trouble. The sound of approaching footsteps had her look up in anticipation, though it wasn’t her twin who appeared. Demi was more preferable than seeing Hector at the moment and Ariadne quickly beckoned her over.
“I’m fine,” she told the other woman. “It’s her blood on me. She saved me but was attacked. Can you help me get her to the table?”
Together, the two of them half dragged the woman to their table, helping her lay down on it. Ari resumed putting pressure on the wound because she knew that it was something she ought to do. Beyond that, her knowledge was limited about what she was supposed to do. Ari hoped that it wasn’t going to come down to her skills.
“Quick, can you catch Isi or Uncle Gregor? We’ll need them to help,” she said to Demi, urgently. “I don’t know enough to stop the bleeding.”
Whenever Hector had no idea what else to do in life, he prayed. For the entirety of his life, he knew that what he gained in the skills of his body, he lacked in the logic of his mind. It was the reason, after all, that nobles were held to a higher standard than the common folk like him. Something of their bloodline made them wiser and closer to the gods.
As such, to gain any sort of favor, he prayed and prayed hard to @athena, hopefully to make up for anything he lacked. After all, as the goddess of both wisdom and war, she would see it through that he succeeded in the two areas of his life. He had that faith.
So, when he returned home and could not find Ari - had she left for the capital without saying goodbye? - he felt sick, removed all of his uniform but his chiton, and found himself knelt before the dais where he had placed his own home's altar to Athena. Leaving his offering there, he had been there for so long, initially down on his knees before taking a seat on the stone bench he placed there.
It could have been ages where he sat there, his face pressed against the heels of his hands as his arms perched against his knees. Worn, defeated, and melancholy, he lingered there, occasionally having the urge to stand and walk away but then looking up at the goddess and cycling back into the issues. He thought about the past, what he could have done. Should he have told them sooner? When they were children and barely understood? Then maybe it would not sting so much.
In all of this, he had not even told Gregor or Demi what had taken place. Would he need to reiterate it all again? And Ismene...if one of the girls knew, the other would as well...unless Ari already told her...
His thoughts were shattered by a raised voice coming from the main living area of the home - was that Demi? When had she gotten here? And...there was an unmistakable panic in her voice as she said Ariadne's name.
That was primarily what pulled him to stand and in a few strides he made his way through the door just in time to watch in horror as Demi and Ariadne hoisted a bleeding woman onto their dining table.
What the fuck.
"GREGOR!!" Hector roared up the stairs, knowing that even if his brother were asleep, he was still just jumpy enough from his recent return from Egypt to come running...if he were at home. Ismene probably would as well, but for good measure, he followed with a call of her name, "ISMENE!! HERE. NOW."
Otherwise, they had an entirely other issue at hand. What the hell was his family doing out in the late evening these days??
It took a few long strides for Hector to get his hands on some of the linens kept in the kitchen for cleaning and covering tables, and he started with doing what he knew from the basics of training for battle.
Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. If it didn't stop...well, then...find someone who could. After all, he had survived something like this so anything was possible, right? He was not going to have a woman die on his table and leave bloodstains that would likely not come out....right?
His eyes flicked around the room to see what resources they had, but they caught on the streak of blood leading from doorway to dining space, then to the red that soaked through Ariadne's chiton.
After folding the cloth over several times as he undid the bloody, haphazard wrapping, he pressed it firmly against the woman's bleeding wound. The moment it was in place, he found his voice again, laced with confusion and concern, "Ari. What happened? Are you hurt? Who is this?"
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Whenever Hector had no idea what else to do in life, he prayed. For the entirety of his life, he knew that what he gained in the skills of his body, he lacked in the logic of his mind. It was the reason, after all, that nobles were held to a higher standard than the common folk like him. Something of their bloodline made them wiser and closer to the gods.
As such, to gain any sort of favor, he prayed and prayed hard to @athena, hopefully to make up for anything he lacked. After all, as the goddess of both wisdom and war, she would see it through that he succeeded in the two areas of his life. He had that faith.
So, when he returned home and could not find Ari - had she left for the capital without saying goodbye? - he felt sick, removed all of his uniform but his chiton, and found himself knelt before the dais where he had placed his own home's altar to Athena. Leaving his offering there, he had been there for so long, initially down on his knees before taking a seat on the stone bench he placed there.
It could have been ages where he sat there, his face pressed against the heels of his hands as his arms perched against his knees. Worn, defeated, and melancholy, he lingered there, occasionally having the urge to stand and walk away but then looking up at the goddess and cycling back into the issues. He thought about the past, what he could have done. Should he have told them sooner? When they were children and barely understood? Then maybe it would not sting so much.
In all of this, he had not even told Gregor or Demi what had taken place. Would he need to reiterate it all again? And Ismene...if one of the girls knew, the other would as well...unless Ari already told her...
His thoughts were shattered by a raised voice coming from the main living area of the home - was that Demi? When had she gotten here? And...there was an unmistakable panic in her voice as she said Ariadne's name.
That was primarily what pulled him to stand and in a few strides he made his way through the door just in time to watch in horror as Demi and Ariadne hoisted a bleeding woman onto their dining table.
What the fuck.
"GREGOR!!" Hector roared up the stairs, knowing that even if his brother were asleep, he was still just jumpy enough from his recent return from Egypt to come running...if he were at home. Ismene probably would as well, but for good measure, he followed with a call of her name, "ISMENE!! HERE. NOW."
Otherwise, they had an entirely other issue at hand. What the hell was his family doing out in the late evening these days??
It took a few long strides for Hector to get his hands on some of the linens kept in the kitchen for cleaning and covering tables, and he started with doing what he knew from the basics of training for battle.
Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. If it didn't stop...well, then...find someone who could. After all, he had survived something like this so anything was possible, right? He was not going to have a woman die on his table and leave bloodstains that would likely not come out....right?
His eyes flicked around the room to see what resources they had, but they caught on the streak of blood leading from doorway to dining space, then to the red that soaked through Ariadne's chiton.
After folding the cloth over several times as he undid the bloody, haphazard wrapping, he pressed it firmly against the woman's bleeding wound. The moment it was in place, he found his voice again, laced with confusion and concern, "Ari. What happened? Are you hurt? Who is this?"
Whenever Hector had no idea what else to do in life, he prayed. For the entirety of his life, he knew that what he gained in the skills of his body, he lacked in the logic of his mind. It was the reason, after all, that nobles were held to a higher standard than the common folk like him. Something of their bloodline made them wiser and closer to the gods.
As such, to gain any sort of favor, he prayed and prayed hard to @athena, hopefully to make up for anything he lacked. After all, as the goddess of both wisdom and war, she would see it through that he succeeded in the two areas of his life. He had that faith.
So, when he returned home and could not find Ari - had she left for the capital without saying goodbye? - he felt sick, removed all of his uniform but his chiton, and found himself knelt before the dais where he had placed his own home's altar to Athena. Leaving his offering there, he had been there for so long, initially down on his knees before taking a seat on the stone bench he placed there.
It could have been ages where he sat there, his face pressed against the heels of his hands as his arms perched against his knees. Worn, defeated, and melancholy, he lingered there, occasionally having the urge to stand and walk away but then looking up at the goddess and cycling back into the issues. He thought about the past, what he could have done. Should he have told them sooner? When they were children and barely understood? Then maybe it would not sting so much.
In all of this, he had not even told Gregor or Demi what had taken place. Would he need to reiterate it all again? And Ismene...if one of the girls knew, the other would as well...unless Ari already told her...
His thoughts were shattered by a raised voice coming from the main living area of the home - was that Demi? When had she gotten here? And...there was an unmistakable panic in her voice as she said Ariadne's name.
That was primarily what pulled him to stand and in a few strides he made his way through the door just in time to watch in horror as Demi and Ariadne hoisted a bleeding woman onto their dining table.
What the fuck.
"GREGOR!!" Hector roared up the stairs, knowing that even if his brother were asleep, he was still just jumpy enough from his recent return from Egypt to come running...if he were at home. Ismene probably would as well, but for good measure, he followed with a call of her name, "ISMENE!! HERE. NOW."
Otherwise, they had an entirely other issue at hand. What the hell was his family doing out in the late evening these days??
It took a few long strides for Hector to get his hands on some of the linens kept in the kitchen for cleaning and covering tables, and he started with doing what he knew from the basics of training for battle.
Apply pressure to stop the bleeding. If it didn't stop...well, then...find someone who could. After all, he had survived something like this so anything was possible, right? He was not going to have a woman die on his table and leave bloodstains that would likely not come out....right?
His eyes flicked around the room to see what resources they had, but they caught on the streak of blood leading from doorway to dining space, then to the red that soaked through Ariadne's chiton.
After folding the cloth over several times as he undid the bloody, haphazard wrapping, he pressed it firmly against the woman's bleeding wound. The moment it was in place, he found his voice again, laced with confusion and concern, "Ari. What happened? Are you hurt? Who is this?"
Akila was leaning heavily on the Greek girl and yet What happened? Are you injured? Fuck you bitch, did she not have eyes?! Akila was the one who was clearly bleeding profusely. Fucking hell, if Akila wasn’t in such god damned pain she’d slit the bitch’s throat- Akila’s mood was certainly this foul. In fact- she’d wager she hadn’t been this pissed off in a very long time.
Before Akila could say anything the girl carrying her, Ariadne evidently, answered her. Akila merely grunted through her teeth, not much for conversation in the best of days- and this certainly wasn’t one of those. She wanted whatever an Isi or a Gregor was. The healers, Akila hoped, or this really was a waste of time.
Fuck Athenia. Akila thought to herself once again. I hope it burns to the ground.
They hoisted her onto a table and finally, the pirate let out a noise of pain. Being stabbed was nothing new, being hoisted onto a table after a wound that was bleeding very dangerously… eh, she felt no shame in acknowledging how it hurt so bad she saw black for a good few seconds.
When her eyes refocused she heard a man now shouting for people. How many people were in this tiny ass place? What, was someone going to pop out of the closet now? The man had long strides and made it to Akila fairly quickly where he undid the wrapping and started pressing on Akila’s wounds. A series of expletives in several languages- all languages in which she knew expletives, left her mouth one after another as it felt like her entire body was on fire. She didn’t stop the man- of course- but it fucking hurt.
Perhaps one day, should Akila get better and get the hell out of Athenia, she’d hate this family less. She hadn’t meant to save the girl, Akila didn’t much care about her. But she was at least saving Akila by bringing her here (maybe). If Akila was a good person she’d reward them… then again Akila did stab the man who was going to sell her. And Akila isn’t a good person. And none of this fucking mattered right now anyway except for a momentary way to distract herself from the lunacy of the situation and the agony that was her wound.
“She’s fine!” Akila snapped, unsure if she was more annoyed by the stab wound or by the fact that people kept asking her. It didn’t quite matter- angry was angry and Akila was just that. “I’m a fucking merchant who could use a shot. Or ten.” Anything to numb her right now. Now was that enough with twenty gods damned questions? If one more person asked the girl if she was alright...
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Akila was leaning heavily on the Greek girl and yet What happened? Are you injured? Fuck you bitch, did she not have eyes?! Akila was the one who was clearly bleeding profusely. Fucking hell, if Akila wasn’t in such god damned pain she’d slit the bitch’s throat- Akila’s mood was certainly this foul. In fact- she’d wager she hadn’t been this pissed off in a very long time.
Before Akila could say anything the girl carrying her, Ariadne evidently, answered her. Akila merely grunted through her teeth, not much for conversation in the best of days- and this certainly wasn’t one of those. She wanted whatever an Isi or a Gregor was. The healers, Akila hoped, or this really was a waste of time.
Fuck Athenia. Akila thought to herself once again. I hope it burns to the ground.
They hoisted her onto a table and finally, the pirate let out a noise of pain. Being stabbed was nothing new, being hoisted onto a table after a wound that was bleeding very dangerously… eh, she felt no shame in acknowledging how it hurt so bad she saw black for a good few seconds.
When her eyes refocused she heard a man now shouting for people. How many people were in this tiny ass place? What, was someone going to pop out of the closet now? The man had long strides and made it to Akila fairly quickly where he undid the wrapping and started pressing on Akila’s wounds. A series of expletives in several languages- all languages in which she knew expletives, left her mouth one after another as it felt like her entire body was on fire. She didn’t stop the man- of course- but it fucking hurt.
Perhaps one day, should Akila get better and get the hell out of Athenia, she’d hate this family less. She hadn’t meant to save the girl, Akila didn’t much care about her. But she was at least saving Akila by bringing her here (maybe). If Akila was a good person she’d reward them… then again Akila did stab the man who was going to sell her. And Akila isn’t a good person. And none of this fucking mattered right now anyway except for a momentary way to distract herself from the lunacy of the situation and the agony that was her wound.
“She’s fine!” Akila snapped, unsure if she was more annoyed by the stab wound or by the fact that people kept asking her. It didn’t quite matter- angry was angry and Akila was just that. “I’m a fucking merchant who could use a shot. Or ten.” Anything to numb her right now. Now was that enough with twenty gods damned questions? If one more person asked the girl if she was alright...
Akila was leaning heavily on the Greek girl and yet What happened? Are you injured? Fuck you bitch, did she not have eyes?! Akila was the one who was clearly bleeding profusely. Fucking hell, if Akila wasn’t in such god damned pain she’d slit the bitch’s throat- Akila’s mood was certainly this foul. In fact- she’d wager she hadn’t been this pissed off in a very long time.
Before Akila could say anything the girl carrying her, Ariadne evidently, answered her. Akila merely grunted through her teeth, not much for conversation in the best of days- and this certainly wasn’t one of those. She wanted whatever an Isi or a Gregor was. The healers, Akila hoped, or this really was a waste of time.
Fuck Athenia. Akila thought to herself once again. I hope it burns to the ground.
They hoisted her onto a table and finally, the pirate let out a noise of pain. Being stabbed was nothing new, being hoisted onto a table after a wound that was bleeding very dangerously… eh, she felt no shame in acknowledging how it hurt so bad she saw black for a good few seconds.
When her eyes refocused she heard a man now shouting for people. How many people were in this tiny ass place? What, was someone going to pop out of the closet now? The man had long strides and made it to Akila fairly quickly where he undid the wrapping and started pressing on Akila’s wounds. A series of expletives in several languages- all languages in which she knew expletives, left her mouth one after another as it felt like her entire body was on fire. She didn’t stop the man- of course- but it fucking hurt.
Perhaps one day, should Akila get better and get the hell out of Athenia, she’d hate this family less. She hadn’t meant to save the girl, Akila didn’t much care about her. But she was at least saving Akila by bringing her here (maybe). If Akila was a good person she’d reward them… then again Akila did stab the man who was going to sell her. And Akila isn’t a good person. And none of this fucking mattered right now anyway except for a momentary way to distract herself from the lunacy of the situation and the agony that was her wound.
“She’s fine!” Akila snapped, unsure if she was more annoyed by the stab wound or by the fact that people kept asking her. It didn’t quite matter- angry was angry and Akila was just that. “I’m a fucking merchant who could use a shot. Or ten.” Anything to numb her right now. Now was that enough with twenty gods damned questions? If one more person asked the girl if she was alright...
It was a huge sigh of relief that came from Demi first the moment Ariadne affirmed she was fine - afterall, she knew Hector would explode if he found one of his daughter's injured. But more then that, she would be worried herself. Ismene and Ariadne had more or less became like her own daughter's as well, so her concern stretched to them too.
Turning her attention to the injured woman the next moment, Demi quickly nodded and grabbed under the injured womna's arm, effectively getting herself smeared with blood as well as she adjusted the table and swiped anything that was on it to the ground, before taking a step away. Unlike Ismene, even Demi's own experience with injuries were limited. Her expertise was in the bedroom, not in the battleground afterall.
Just as she turned to do as Ariadne said, Demi turned on her heel just in time to hear the roar of her love, and while the situation was dire, Demi had to wince at the baritone that was yelling up the stairs. Man, Hector had a set of lungs on him when he wanted to, didn't he? Knowing him full well to know he was a man of action now in such situations, in a way Demi was kind of glad he was around now? She was a bit of a mess in such things, and now scurried to stand next to the table once again, turning to the injured lady who seemed not too injured to snap.
"If you don't watch your language, you're probably going to need more then just one." she murmured in dry amusement, raising a brow at Hector, and then waitinng for the arrival of Ismene or Gregor. The both of them would be far better then the merry set of three who knew squat about medical procedures. "But give it a moment. I doubt you'd want us helping you with your injury. We are likely to make matters worst."
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It was a huge sigh of relief that came from Demi first the moment Ariadne affirmed she was fine - afterall, she knew Hector would explode if he found one of his daughter's injured. But more then that, she would be worried herself. Ismene and Ariadne had more or less became like her own daughter's as well, so her concern stretched to them too.
Turning her attention to the injured woman the next moment, Demi quickly nodded and grabbed under the injured womna's arm, effectively getting herself smeared with blood as well as she adjusted the table and swiped anything that was on it to the ground, before taking a step away. Unlike Ismene, even Demi's own experience with injuries were limited. Her expertise was in the bedroom, not in the battleground afterall.
Just as she turned to do as Ariadne said, Demi turned on her heel just in time to hear the roar of her love, and while the situation was dire, Demi had to wince at the baritone that was yelling up the stairs. Man, Hector had a set of lungs on him when he wanted to, didn't he? Knowing him full well to know he was a man of action now in such situations, in a way Demi was kind of glad he was around now? She was a bit of a mess in such things, and now scurried to stand next to the table once again, turning to the injured lady who seemed not too injured to snap.
"If you don't watch your language, you're probably going to need more then just one." she murmured in dry amusement, raising a brow at Hector, and then waitinng for the arrival of Ismene or Gregor. The both of them would be far better then the merry set of three who knew squat about medical procedures. "But give it a moment. I doubt you'd want us helping you with your injury. We are likely to make matters worst."
It was a huge sigh of relief that came from Demi first the moment Ariadne affirmed she was fine - afterall, she knew Hector would explode if he found one of his daughter's injured. But more then that, she would be worried herself. Ismene and Ariadne had more or less became like her own daughter's as well, so her concern stretched to them too.
Turning her attention to the injured woman the next moment, Demi quickly nodded and grabbed under the injured womna's arm, effectively getting herself smeared with blood as well as she adjusted the table and swiped anything that was on it to the ground, before taking a step away. Unlike Ismene, even Demi's own experience with injuries were limited. Her expertise was in the bedroom, not in the battleground afterall.
Just as she turned to do as Ariadne said, Demi turned on her heel just in time to hear the roar of her love, and while the situation was dire, Demi had to wince at the baritone that was yelling up the stairs. Man, Hector had a set of lungs on him when he wanted to, didn't he? Knowing him full well to know he was a man of action now in such situations, in a way Demi was kind of glad he was around now? She was a bit of a mess in such things, and now scurried to stand next to the table once again, turning to the injured lady who seemed not too injured to snap.
"If you don't watch your language, you're probably going to need more then just one." she murmured in dry amusement, raising a brow at Hector, and then waitinng for the arrival of Ismene or Gregor. The both of them would be far better then the merry set of three who knew squat about medical procedures. "But give it a moment. I doubt you'd want us helping you with your injury. We are likely to make matters worst."
None of this was how Ariadne was expecting her day to go. Truthfully, she should have already been back at the capitol at Persephone’s side. That would have been much preferred over what was happening now. Her foolish actions had gotten this woman stabbed and she could very possibly die on their kitchen table. The thought nearly made her sick, but Ariadne had to keep her head right now. At least until her uncle or sister arrived and could take care of this woman.
Although she was a bundle of emotions when it came to her father right now, the sound of his voice in their home was a relief to her. Hector was good at taking charge. He would know what to do in this situation. All Ariadne could think to do was keep her hands pressed on the woman’s wound, hoping that it would be enough until the healers in her family could help. Hector came closer with some linens to help. Ari moved to the side as he came up next to her, pressing the cloth into the wound. Her hands were shaking slightly as she removed them, her eyes unable to stop staring at the blood on her hands.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, still not meeting Hector’s eyes. Her heart was still burning with the secret he had told her last night. It seemed unimportant right now, but had been the cause of this situation. She was ashamed to tell him what had happened. “I’ll explain later.”
The woman had been kind enough to save her, but clearly was not the sort of person that Ariadne might normally have associated with. She flinched slightly as the woman yelled, though Ari couldn’t blame her. She was sure that the pain was intense. Thankfully, her uncle and sister came running down the stairs moments later.
“I’m fine,” she repeated before either of them could ask. “She’s been stabbed. Please help her.” Oh there would be so much explaining to do later and Ari didn’t look forward to it. In fact, she rather wanted to vomit. This was all too much. Thankfully, Gregor and Ismene took over, assessing the situation with a calm that Ariadne was grateful for.
Someone ended up supplying the wounded woman with some alcohol, though who knew how much it helped because she was still cursing like a sailor. The room started to smell like blood—something that she very much wanted to forget. Ari knew that she should make herself useful, but Hector and Demi were there to help. They could do it. She needed some air—just for a moment. Then she would come back and do what she could. So, Ariadne slipped from the kitchen into their back courtyard, trying to catch her breath. She looked at her bloody hands again, slightly shocked and uncomprehending. It had to come off, the blood. She went to the well and drew some water, vigorously cleaning her hands. Please let it come off. Please let this woman live. If she died, it would be all Ari’s fault.
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None of this was how Ariadne was expecting her day to go. Truthfully, she should have already been back at the capitol at Persephone’s side. That would have been much preferred over what was happening now. Her foolish actions had gotten this woman stabbed and she could very possibly die on their kitchen table. The thought nearly made her sick, but Ariadne had to keep her head right now. At least until her uncle or sister arrived and could take care of this woman.
Although she was a bundle of emotions when it came to her father right now, the sound of his voice in their home was a relief to her. Hector was good at taking charge. He would know what to do in this situation. All Ariadne could think to do was keep her hands pressed on the woman’s wound, hoping that it would be enough until the healers in her family could help. Hector came closer with some linens to help. Ari moved to the side as he came up next to her, pressing the cloth into the wound. Her hands were shaking slightly as she removed them, her eyes unable to stop staring at the blood on her hands.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, still not meeting Hector’s eyes. Her heart was still burning with the secret he had told her last night. It seemed unimportant right now, but had been the cause of this situation. She was ashamed to tell him what had happened. “I’ll explain later.”
The woman had been kind enough to save her, but clearly was not the sort of person that Ariadne might normally have associated with. She flinched slightly as the woman yelled, though Ari couldn’t blame her. She was sure that the pain was intense. Thankfully, her uncle and sister came running down the stairs moments later.
“I’m fine,” she repeated before either of them could ask. “She’s been stabbed. Please help her.” Oh there would be so much explaining to do later and Ari didn’t look forward to it. In fact, she rather wanted to vomit. This was all too much. Thankfully, Gregor and Ismene took over, assessing the situation with a calm that Ariadne was grateful for.
Someone ended up supplying the wounded woman with some alcohol, though who knew how much it helped because she was still cursing like a sailor. The room started to smell like blood—something that she very much wanted to forget. Ari knew that she should make herself useful, but Hector and Demi were there to help. They could do it. She needed some air—just for a moment. Then she would come back and do what she could. So, Ariadne slipped from the kitchen into their back courtyard, trying to catch her breath. She looked at her bloody hands again, slightly shocked and uncomprehending. It had to come off, the blood. She went to the well and drew some water, vigorously cleaning her hands. Please let it come off. Please let this woman live. If she died, it would be all Ari’s fault.
None of this was how Ariadne was expecting her day to go. Truthfully, she should have already been back at the capitol at Persephone’s side. That would have been much preferred over what was happening now. Her foolish actions had gotten this woman stabbed and she could very possibly die on their kitchen table. The thought nearly made her sick, but Ariadne had to keep her head right now. At least until her uncle or sister arrived and could take care of this woman.
Although she was a bundle of emotions when it came to her father right now, the sound of his voice in their home was a relief to her. Hector was good at taking charge. He would know what to do in this situation. All Ariadne could think to do was keep her hands pressed on the woman’s wound, hoping that it would be enough until the healers in her family could help. Hector came closer with some linens to help. Ari moved to the side as he came up next to her, pressing the cloth into the wound. Her hands were shaking slightly as she removed them, her eyes unable to stop staring at the blood on her hands.
“I’m fine,” she said softly, still not meeting Hector’s eyes. Her heart was still burning with the secret he had told her last night. It seemed unimportant right now, but had been the cause of this situation. She was ashamed to tell him what had happened. “I’ll explain later.”
The woman had been kind enough to save her, but clearly was not the sort of person that Ariadne might normally have associated with. She flinched slightly as the woman yelled, though Ari couldn’t blame her. She was sure that the pain was intense. Thankfully, her uncle and sister came running down the stairs moments later.
“I’m fine,” she repeated before either of them could ask. “She’s been stabbed. Please help her.” Oh there would be so much explaining to do later and Ari didn’t look forward to it. In fact, she rather wanted to vomit. This was all too much. Thankfully, Gregor and Ismene took over, assessing the situation with a calm that Ariadne was grateful for.
Someone ended up supplying the wounded woman with some alcohol, though who knew how much it helped because she was still cursing like a sailor. The room started to smell like blood—something that she very much wanted to forget. Ari knew that she should make herself useful, but Hector and Demi were there to help. They could do it. She needed some air—just for a moment. Then she would come back and do what she could. So, Ariadne slipped from the kitchen into their back courtyard, trying to catch her breath. She looked at her bloody hands again, slightly shocked and uncomprehending. It had to come off, the blood. She went to the well and drew some water, vigorously cleaning her hands. Please let it come off. Please let this woman live. If she died, it would be all Ari’s fault.
