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The guards were doing their damnest to stop the chaos, and others had joined them. Anyone with a weapon seemed to be out on the streets fighting, though on whose side, it wasn’t always clear. Evi felt the hand clutching her arm release her and she looked around, seeing a guard attack the smallfolk with sword in hand. Evi fell to the floor, grazing her hands and elbows as she fell. Above her and all around the battle seemed to be raging, and the girl curled up in a foetal position, protecting her head as best she could from the random stomps of feet beside her.
She wished she had stayed in her home, away from the violence. She should have listened to her father.
But the headstrong girl was just that: always thinking she knew best. And she needed to find her sisters. As far as Evi was aware, they were still out in this tumultuous violence. She needed to find them. Without any grace, the girl pushed herself up from the dusty floor, moving to a crawling position, where she looked around for the best possible exit from the fighting above her. She crawled a few feet, unhindered by anyone, until she was in a loss crowded spot, where she stood up.
On her tiptoes, she tried to look around for any hint of her sisters, though the girl was short and could not see over the heads of the angry men and women still rioting away. The city was huge, and Evi had no idea how far the violence spread. They could be anywhere and no amount of mindless searching would help to find them.
The girl moved, half aimlessly, half with purpose, through the crowds, using her elbows to jostle people aside as she ducked under arms and between bodies pressed lose together. She stepped over people lying motionless on the floor and with each one, she hoped they weren’t dead and sent up a prayer to any God who would listen that the violence would end soon and no one further would be hurt. The Gods weren’t listening though, or they were busy doing other stuff. Or maybe they were enjoying the little spectacle. Who could say, really.
Someone caught her by the arm and dragged her in close. Evi yelped and looked around at her assailant, though this time it was one of the guards. “Stay with me, my lady,” he shouted even as he swung his weapon at another rioter. Evi watched in horror as she was splattered with the rioters blood on her face and clothing. Hysterically, she thought about how angry her mother would be that a perfectly good chiton was now ruined.
By chance, she spotted a familiar face. Adrestus was out in the chaos too, he had a woman in his arms and another close by, moving through the pandemonium with purpose. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him. “Adrestus!” She shouted, though in the din she had no idea if he would hear her. She turned to the guard who had released her to use his sword double-handed and told him she had seen a friend. The guard grunted, though she was sure it was with the effort of having to swing his sword rather than in response to what she had said.
She left his side, pushing through behind the lines of guards, away from the lawless fighters and towards her old friend. “Adrestus!” She shouted again as she panted from the effort of pushing through the close-knit attackers and defenders. Approaching from behind, she had hoped that the two women with him were her sisters, though as she got nearer, she realised neither of them were… “Have you seen my sisters? I can’t find them and they’re out here somewhere!”
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The guards were doing their damnest to stop the chaos, and others had joined them. Anyone with a weapon seemed to be out on the streets fighting, though on whose side, it wasn’t always clear. Evi felt the hand clutching her arm release her and she looked around, seeing a guard attack the smallfolk with sword in hand. Evi fell to the floor, grazing her hands and elbows as she fell. Above her and all around the battle seemed to be raging, and the girl curled up in a foetal position, protecting her head as best she could from the random stomps of feet beside her.
She wished she had stayed in her home, away from the violence. She should have listened to her father.
But the headstrong girl was just that: always thinking she knew best. And she needed to find her sisters. As far as Evi was aware, they were still out in this tumultuous violence. She needed to find them. Without any grace, the girl pushed herself up from the dusty floor, moving to a crawling position, where she looked around for the best possible exit from the fighting above her. She crawled a few feet, unhindered by anyone, until she was in a loss crowded spot, where she stood up.
On her tiptoes, she tried to look around for any hint of her sisters, though the girl was short and could not see over the heads of the angry men and women still rioting away. The city was huge, and Evi had no idea how far the violence spread. They could be anywhere and no amount of mindless searching would help to find them.
The girl moved, half aimlessly, half with purpose, through the crowds, using her elbows to jostle people aside as she ducked under arms and between bodies pressed lose together. She stepped over people lying motionless on the floor and with each one, she hoped they weren’t dead and sent up a prayer to any God who would listen that the violence would end soon and no one further would be hurt. The Gods weren’t listening though, or they were busy doing other stuff. Or maybe they were enjoying the little spectacle. Who could say, really.
Someone caught her by the arm and dragged her in close. Evi yelped and looked around at her assailant, though this time it was one of the guards. “Stay with me, my lady,” he shouted even as he swung his weapon at another rioter. Evi watched in horror as she was splattered with the rioters blood on her face and clothing. Hysterically, she thought about how angry her mother would be that a perfectly good chiton was now ruined.
By chance, she spotted a familiar face. Adrestus was out in the chaos too, he had a woman in his arms and another close by, moving through the pandemonium with purpose. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him. “Adrestus!” She shouted, though in the din she had no idea if he would hear her. She turned to the guard who had released her to use his sword double-handed and told him she had seen a friend. The guard grunted, though she was sure it was with the effort of having to swing his sword rather than in response to what she had said.
She left his side, pushing through behind the lines of guards, away from the lawless fighters and towards her old friend. “Adrestus!” She shouted again as she panted from the effort of pushing through the close-knit attackers and defenders. Approaching from behind, she had hoped that the two women with him were her sisters, though as she got nearer, she realised neither of them were… “Have you seen my sisters? I can’t find them and they’re out here somewhere!”
The guards were doing their damnest to stop the chaos, and others had joined them. Anyone with a weapon seemed to be out on the streets fighting, though on whose side, it wasn’t always clear. Evi felt the hand clutching her arm release her and she looked around, seeing a guard attack the smallfolk with sword in hand. Evi fell to the floor, grazing her hands and elbows as she fell. Above her and all around the battle seemed to be raging, and the girl curled up in a foetal position, protecting her head as best she could from the random stomps of feet beside her.
She wished she had stayed in her home, away from the violence. She should have listened to her father.
But the headstrong girl was just that: always thinking she knew best. And she needed to find her sisters. As far as Evi was aware, they were still out in this tumultuous violence. She needed to find them. Without any grace, the girl pushed herself up from the dusty floor, moving to a crawling position, where she looked around for the best possible exit from the fighting above her. She crawled a few feet, unhindered by anyone, until she was in a loss crowded spot, where she stood up.
On her tiptoes, she tried to look around for any hint of her sisters, though the girl was short and could not see over the heads of the angry men and women still rioting away. The city was huge, and Evi had no idea how far the violence spread. They could be anywhere and no amount of mindless searching would help to find them.
The girl moved, half aimlessly, half with purpose, through the crowds, using her elbows to jostle people aside as she ducked under arms and between bodies pressed lose together. She stepped over people lying motionless on the floor and with each one, she hoped they weren’t dead and sent up a prayer to any God who would listen that the violence would end soon and no one further would be hurt. The Gods weren’t listening though, or they were busy doing other stuff. Or maybe they were enjoying the little spectacle. Who could say, really.
Someone caught her by the arm and dragged her in close. Evi yelped and looked around at her assailant, though this time it was one of the guards. “Stay with me, my lady,” he shouted even as he swung his weapon at another rioter. Evi watched in horror as she was splattered with the rioters blood on her face and clothing. Hysterically, she thought about how angry her mother would be that a perfectly good chiton was now ruined.
By chance, she spotted a familiar face. Adrestus was out in the chaos too, he had a woman in his arms and another close by, moving through the pandemonium with purpose. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him. “Adrestus!” She shouted, though in the din she had no idea if he would hear her. She turned to the guard who had released her to use his sword double-handed and told him she had seen a friend. The guard grunted, though she was sure it was with the effort of having to swing his sword rather than in response to what she had said.
She left his side, pushing through behind the lines of guards, away from the lawless fighters and towards her old friend. “Adrestus!” She shouted again as she panted from the effort of pushing through the close-knit attackers and defenders. Approaching from behind, she had hoped that the two women with him were her sisters, though as she got nearer, she realised neither of them were… “Have you seen my sisters? I can’t find them and they’re out here somewhere!”
In the chaos, as Adrestus surged forth to find Ariadne, Hector could not help but point and gesture "Go!" out of habit. Adre was no soldier, but there was a profound sense of relief in knowing the young man would help Ariadne. Though the noble had been gone away, voyaging the seas to escape his fate, he trusted Adrestus when it came to his girls, filling the role of brother that they never had before.
Hector found himself focused on trying to balance Marietta enough to lift a hand to her lips, feeling for breath. With the adrenaline he was not certain if he could sense it, so he tilted his head towards her lips instead, and ever so faintly, he could hear a low rasp there, as well as a faint gurgle. Blood? Likely.
Years ago, he had become a father, and in that time, he developed a surprising amount of delicacy when it came to carrying someone. Unlike the brutish holds that would be expected of a soldier, one trained with strength and speed to pull someone from the heat of battle, his hold on Marietta was secure but careful, as it had been when trying to carry Ismene or Ariadne to their bed after they fell asleep in the sitting room.
Antonis Estate. He needed to get her there immediately, and then hopefully, in some of this, they would be able to find a healer. He cursed the fact that Gregor and Ismene remained on the far side of the Arcana province, though he also would have been loathe to have them come and leave their guests alone in their home. Healers would be very much in demand by nightfall, though Hector did not doubt that the Antonis name would summon them quickly.
His eyes sought out familiar faces, but the clattering of horseshoes and the panicked shouts of those trying to dispurse as guards brandished their swords had him moving without finding them.
A yelp escaped him as something crashed into his shin...twice...a third time. A shock of mussed, dark hair and angry, furrowed brows had him all but snarling at Lady Hebe. Why was it always her?
"Stop, STOP IT!" Hector bit out, shifting Marietta so that he had hold under her arms with most of her weight against his chest and shoulder, allowing his now free hand to grab the other Antonis daughter by the scruff of the neck to pull her away and hold her just out of striking distance. The effort of it all winded him. "Cut it out! Damn..."
The last part his frustration petered off as he waited for the girl to register that he was helping, not kidnapping...
"Lady Hebe," Hector said, half-greeting and half-apology, as he cautiously released his hold on her neck to better support the injured lady he held, "Your sister is hurt. Badly. We need to make it to the Antonis Estate quickly..."
Not waiting for the young noblewoman to lead the way, Hector started on the trek, pushing himself further to the edge of the crowd along the sides of the buildings. Ahead, he thought he heard 'Adrestus' and his eyes flashed across the faces to see if he could find the source. There!
"Quickly, Lady Hebe. Grab hold of my arm." He would guide them to their party, and the Antonis house not far away. Another woman with similar features - light eyes, dark hair - sought out her sisters.
"Here!" he called to them, his soldier's call holding more volume than expected to be heard over the din. As he drew closer, his eyes saw that Adrestus mirrored his own hold on another....on Ariadne. And his heart fell.
"We have to get inside, out of this mess. To get help."
His voice had lost its bite as he saw his daughter's limp form in Adrestus' arms, but the years of training, of perseverance, knew that there would be time to assess later.
"Let's go. Quickly."
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In the chaos, as Adrestus surged forth to find Ariadne, Hector could not help but point and gesture "Go!" out of habit. Adre was no soldier, but there was a profound sense of relief in knowing the young man would help Ariadne. Though the noble had been gone away, voyaging the seas to escape his fate, he trusted Adrestus when it came to his girls, filling the role of brother that they never had before.
Hector found himself focused on trying to balance Marietta enough to lift a hand to her lips, feeling for breath. With the adrenaline he was not certain if he could sense it, so he tilted his head towards her lips instead, and ever so faintly, he could hear a low rasp there, as well as a faint gurgle. Blood? Likely.
Years ago, he had become a father, and in that time, he developed a surprising amount of delicacy when it came to carrying someone. Unlike the brutish holds that would be expected of a soldier, one trained with strength and speed to pull someone from the heat of battle, his hold on Marietta was secure but careful, as it had been when trying to carry Ismene or Ariadne to their bed after they fell asleep in the sitting room.
Antonis Estate. He needed to get her there immediately, and then hopefully, in some of this, they would be able to find a healer. He cursed the fact that Gregor and Ismene remained on the far side of the Arcana province, though he also would have been loathe to have them come and leave their guests alone in their home. Healers would be very much in demand by nightfall, though Hector did not doubt that the Antonis name would summon them quickly.
His eyes sought out familiar faces, but the clattering of horseshoes and the panicked shouts of those trying to dispurse as guards brandished their swords had him moving without finding them.
A yelp escaped him as something crashed into his shin...twice...a third time. A shock of mussed, dark hair and angry, furrowed brows had him all but snarling at Lady Hebe. Why was it always her?
"Stop, STOP IT!" Hector bit out, shifting Marietta so that he had hold under her arms with most of her weight against his chest and shoulder, allowing his now free hand to grab the other Antonis daughter by the scruff of the neck to pull her away and hold her just out of striking distance. The effort of it all winded him. "Cut it out! Damn..."
The last part his frustration petered off as he waited for the girl to register that he was helping, not kidnapping...
"Lady Hebe," Hector said, half-greeting and half-apology, as he cautiously released his hold on her neck to better support the injured lady he held, "Your sister is hurt. Badly. We need to make it to the Antonis Estate quickly..."
Not waiting for the young noblewoman to lead the way, Hector started on the trek, pushing himself further to the edge of the crowd along the sides of the buildings. Ahead, he thought he heard 'Adrestus' and his eyes flashed across the faces to see if he could find the source. There!
"Quickly, Lady Hebe. Grab hold of my arm." He would guide them to their party, and the Antonis house not far away. Another woman with similar features - light eyes, dark hair - sought out her sisters.
"Here!" he called to them, his soldier's call holding more volume than expected to be heard over the din. As he drew closer, his eyes saw that Adrestus mirrored his own hold on another....on Ariadne. And his heart fell.
"We have to get inside, out of this mess. To get help."
His voice had lost its bite as he saw his daughter's limp form in Adrestus' arms, but the years of training, of perseverance, knew that there would be time to assess later.
"Let's go. Quickly."
In the chaos, as Adrestus surged forth to find Ariadne, Hector could not help but point and gesture "Go!" out of habit. Adre was no soldier, but there was a profound sense of relief in knowing the young man would help Ariadne. Though the noble had been gone away, voyaging the seas to escape his fate, he trusted Adrestus when it came to his girls, filling the role of brother that they never had before.
Hector found himself focused on trying to balance Marietta enough to lift a hand to her lips, feeling for breath. With the adrenaline he was not certain if he could sense it, so he tilted his head towards her lips instead, and ever so faintly, he could hear a low rasp there, as well as a faint gurgle. Blood? Likely.
Years ago, he had become a father, and in that time, he developed a surprising amount of delicacy when it came to carrying someone. Unlike the brutish holds that would be expected of a soldier, one trained with strength and speed to pull someone from the heat of battle, his hold on Marietta was secure but careful, as it had been when trying to carry Ismene or Ariadne to their bed after they fell asleep in the sitting room.
Antonis Estate. He needed to get her there immediately, and then hopefully, in some of this, they would be able to find a healer. He cursed the fact that Gregor and Ismene remained on the far side of the Arcana province, though he also would have been loathe to have them come and leave their guests alone in their home. Healers would be very much in demand by nightfall, though Hector did not doubt that the Antonis name would summon them quickly.
His eyes sought out familiar faces, but the clattering of horseshoes and the panicked shouts of those trying to dispurse as guards brandished their swords had him moving without finding them.
A yelp escaped him as something crashed into his shin...twice...a third time. A shock of mussed, dark hair and angry, furrowed brows had him all but snarling at Lady Hebe. Why was it always her?
"Stop, STOP IT!" Hector bit out, shifting Marietta so that he had hold under her arms with most of her weight against his chest and shoulder, allowing his now free hand to grab the other Antonis daughter by the scruff of the neck to pull her away and hold her just out of striking distance. The effort of it all winded him. "Cut it out! Damn..."
The last part his frustration petered off as he waited for the girl to register that he was helping, not kidnapping...
"Lady Hebe," Hector said, half-greeting and half-apology, as he cautiously released his hold on her neck to better support the injured lady he held, "Your sister is hurt. Badly. We need to make it to the Antonis Estate quickly..."
Not waiting for the young noblewoman to lead the way, Hector started on the trek, pushing himself further to the edge of the crowd along the sides of the buildings. Ahead, he thought he heard 'Adrestus' and his eyes flashed across the faces to see if he could find the source. There!
"Quickly, Lady Hebe. Grab hold of my arm." He would guide them to their party, and the Antonis house not far away. Another woman with similar features - light eyes, dark hair - sought out her sisters.
"Here!" he called to them, his soldier's call holding more volume than expected to be heard over the din. As he drew closer, his eyes saw that Adrestus mirrored his own hold on another....on Ariadne. And his heart fell.
"We have to get inside, out of this mess. To get help."
His voice had lost its bite as he saw his daughter's limp form in Adrestus' arms, but the years of training, of perseverance, knew that there would be time to assess later.
"Let's go. Quickly."
Reeling from the threat of fire and the first throwing of the torch that would set her cousin's home ablaze, Iris followed her family without complaint. Fear threatened to stop her feet, but she could only think of the children and Elysia's safety. Her own didn't matter, not when she didn't know anything of where Aimias was. If he was safe or if he, too, was being attacked by the massive mob of people. The thought of that threatened to make her sick to her stomach. If Aimias died in this ruckus, she would be beside herself and unsure how to reconcile that pain in her heart.
Taking the linens that Cicero pushed into her arms, Iris followed faithfully after them. Crouching when they stopped for a moment, Iris started to disguise the children with cloth and then handed Elysia the clothing that she would need to use to disguise herself. Iris was already working on the extra set of clothing over her light chiton. She left the himation on the floor of the home, making an effort to appear as anything but noble or rich.
She had little to say, except to do everything told to her. Her rings came off her fingers and her earrings followed, thinking this to be distinctly like when her province had burned. Only taking what was absolutely essential and making their escape, outrunning an enemy that most assuredly would have killed them all. Had tried to killed them in the dead of night by setting the Aetaean forest ablaze.
Swallowing hard, Iris reached for Cicero before he could truly go, touching his arm for a brief moment. She only said one word, "Aimias," wanted to be entirely sure that he was safe, and if anyone could find him, it would be her cousin. Her green eyes were worried beyond anything, fear tinging the name as it fell off her lips. And then she was turning to help usher the children up into the cart that was pulled by the donkey, reaching for Elysia as well and glancing back toward their burning home. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "Elysia, I'm sorry," her voice was thick, but it was all she could think to say, knowing that this would be hard for her cousin.
And then Iris was getting into the cart, reaching out to help her cousin in with her. Perhaps they could get to safety before anyone realized that they had gone out the back. That would be ideal, but the anger of the crowd didn't make them any promises.
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Reeling from the threat of fire and the first throwing of the torch that would set her cousin's home ablaze, Iris followed her family without complaint. Fear threatened to stop her feet, but she could only think of the children and Elysia's safety. Her own didn't matter, not when she didn't know anything of where Aimias was. If he was safe or if he, too, was being attacked by the massive mob of people. The thought of that threatened to make her sick to her stomach. If Aimias died in this ruckus, she would be beside herself and unsure how to reconcile that pain in her heart.
Taking the linens that Cicero pushed into her arms, Iris followed faithfully after them. Crouching when they stopped for a moment, Iris started to disguise the children with cloth and then handed Elysia the clothing that she would need to use to disguise herself. Iris was already working on the extra set of clothing over her light chiton. She left the himation on the floor of the home, making an effort to appear as anything but noble or rich.
She had little to say, except to do everything told to her. Her rings came off her fingers and her earrings followed, thinking this to be distinctly like when her province had burned. Only taking what was absolutely essential and making their escape, outrunning an enemy that most assuredly would have killed them all. Had tried to killed them in the dead of night by setting the Aetaean forest ablaze.
Swallowing hard, Iris reached for Cicero before he could truly go, touching his arm for a brief moment. She only said one word, "Aimias," wanted to be entirely sure that he was safe, and if anyone could find him, it would be her cousin. Her green eyes were worried beyond anything, fear tinging the name as it fell off her lips. And then she was turning to help usher the children up into the cart that was pulled by the donkey, reaching for Elysia as well and glancing back toward their burning home. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "Elysia, I'm sorry," her voice was thick, but it was all she could think to say, knowing that this would be hard for her cousin.
And then Iris was getting into the cart, reaching out to help her cousin in with her. Perhaps they could get to safety before anyone realized that they had gone out the back. That would be ideal, but the anger of the crowd didn't make them any promises.
Reeling from the threat of fire and the first throwing of the torch that would set her cousin's home ablaze, Iris followed her family without complaint. Fear threatened to stop her feet, but she could only think of the children and Elysia's safety. Her own didn't matter, not when she didn't know anything of where Aimias was. If he was safe or if he, too, was being attacked by the massive mob of people. The thought of that threatened to make her sick to her stomach. If Aimias died in this ruckus, she would be beside herself and unsure how to reconcile that pain in her heart.
Taking the linens that Cicero pushed into her arms, Iris followed faithfully after them. Crouching when they stopped for a moment, Iris started to disguise the children with cloth and then handed Elysia the clothing that she would need to use to disguise herself. Iris was already working on the extra set of clothing over her light chiton. She left the himation on the floor of the home, making an effort to appear as anything but noble or rich.
She had little to say, except to do everything told to her. Her rings came off her fingers and her earrings followed, thinking this to be distinctly like when her province had burned. Only taking what was absolutely essential and making their escape, outrunning an enemy that most assuredly would have killed them all. Had tried to killed them in the dead of night by setting the Aetaean forest ablaze.
Swallowing hard, Iris reached for Cicero before he could truly go, touching his arm for a brief moment. She only said one word, "Aimias," wanted to be entirely sure that he was safe, and if anyone could find him, it would be her cousin. Her green eyes were worried beyond anything, fear tinging the name as it fell off her lips. And then she was turning to help usher the children up into the cart that was pulled by the donkey, reaching for Elysia as well and glancing back toward their burning home. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "Elysia, I'm sorry," her voice was thick, but it was all she could think to say, knowing that this would be hard for her cousin.
And then Iris was getting into the cart, reaching out to help her cousin in with her. Perhaps they could get to safety before anyone realized that they had gone out the back. That would be ideal, but the anger of the crowd didn't make them any promises.
Dima had completely lost track of time. In the darkness of the cells in the flyaki with the little food and water they were given it felt as if it could have been days or years, he wouldn't know. The only way he could vaguely judge time was based on the length of his beard and hair which were becoming a matted mess from lack of care. The gods had abandoned him, playing such a cruel trick in giving him everything he'd been searching for, only to have it all taken away once more.
Olena must hate him now with so many broken promises between them. He'd sworn he would come back, that he'd never leave her again, and he hadn't been able to tell her what happened or where he was. Even if he was allowed to send a message, he couldn't write one and she wouldn't be able to read it. There was a hopelessness that had settled over him he couldn't shake, lying on the floor of the cell without any sense of time, unable to find a way to end his own life to find freedom in a different way, unwilling to do so just in case she was still waiting for him.
The loud bang should have startled him from where he was, but all he did was turn his head to look out into the darkness. Voices and a rumbling started low and grew louder, and suddenly he could see torches, people and the jingling of keys. There were shouts from guards, and before his eyes one who had been particularly vicious in his treatment of him was cut down, the door to his cell and the others around him opened as the crowd swept through. It had to be a dream of course, but even in this dream he wouldn't pass up a chance to escape, even if he woke still imprisoned.
Stumbling to his feet, the foreign gladiator moved in a daze, following the hurried flow of prisoners as they burst suddenly into sunlight. He didn't have time to stop and take it in, blinking in disorientation against the light. The air was fresh, and he was free. Someone ran into him and knocked him to the ground, startling him into the reality of the situation. He could run, find Olena and get away from this godsforsaken place that had caused him so much pain.
Dima hauled himself to his feet and ran, as fast as he could manage in his pitiful state, not paying too much attention to where he was going just seeking to get out of the city and as far away from the jail as he possibly could. Voices and humanity swirled around him, a confusing mix of life and anger, pain and death that he couldn't escape no matter which way he darted. A familiar face registered just before he ran directly into her, gripping tightly to Chrysanthe's arm to keep from being swept away and not questioning for the moment how or why she was here. She would know where Olena was, she would be able to help them find freedom.
"Where is she? Olena, please." His voice was hoarse and broken and it took him a long moment to register anyone else with his wild gaze and disorientation. There was a man he didn't recognize holding her up, and he had another girl in his arms. Ariadne? What were they doing here, why were they out in this mob? Was she alive or had something horrible happened? And where was Olena. If the queen's other ladies were here, where was his betrothed? There were too many questions and no answers as he clung to the one person he knew who might be able to tell him anything.
"What's happening..?"
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Dima had completely lost track of time. In the darkness of the cells in the flyaki with the little food and water they were given it felt as if it could have been days or years, he wouldn't know. The only way he could vaguely judge time was based on the length of his beard and hair which were becoming a matted mess from lack of care. The gods had abandoned him, playing such a cruel trick in giving him everything he'd been searching for, only to have it all taken away once more.
Olena must hate him now with so many broken promises between them. He'd sworn he would come back, that he'd never leave her again, and he hadn't been able to tell her what happened or where he was. Even if he was allowed to send a message, he couldn't write one and she wouldn't be able to read it. There was a hopelessness that had settled over him he couldn't shake, lying on the floor of the cell without any sense of time, unable to find a way to end his own life to find freedom in a different way, unwilling to do so just in case she was still waiting for him.
The loud bang should have startled him from where he was, but all he did was turn his head to look out into the darkness. Voices and a rumbling started low and grew louder, and suddenly he could see torches, people and the jingling of keys. There were shouts from guards, and before his eyes one who had been particularly vicious in his treatment of him was cut down, the door to his cell and the others around him opened as the crowd swept through. It had to be a dream of course, but even in this dream he wouldn't pass up a chance to escape, even if he woke still imprisoned.
Stumbling to his feet, the foreign gladiator moved in a daze, following the hurried flow of prisoners as they burst suddenly into sunlight. He didn't have time to stop and take it in, blinking in disorientation against the light. The air was fresh, and he was free. Someone ran into him and knocked him to the ground, startling him into the reality of the situation. He could run, find Olena and get away from this godsforsaken place that had caused him so much pain.
Dima hauled himself to his feet and ran, as fast as he could manage in his pitiful state, not paying too much attention to where he was going just seeking to get out of the city and as far away from the jail as he possibly could. Voices and humanity swirled around him, a confusing mix of life and anger, pain and death that he couldn't escape no matter which way he darted. A familiar face registered just before he ran directly into her, gripping tightly to Chrysanthe's arm to keep from being swept away and not questioning for the moment how or why she was here. She would know where Olena was, she would be able to help them find freedom.
"Where is she? Olena, please." His voice was hoarse and broken and it took him a long moment to register anyone else with his wild gaze and disorientation. There was a man he didn't recognize holding her up, and he had another girl in his arms. Ariadne? What were they doing here, why were they out in this mob? Was she alive or had something horrible happened? And where was Olena. If the queen's other ladies were here, where was his betrothed? There were too many questions and no answers as he clung to the one person he knew who might be able to tell him anything.
"What's happening..?"
Dima had completely lost track of time. In the darkness of the cells in the flyaki with the little food and water they were given it felt as if it could have been days or years, he wouldn't know. The only way he could vaguely judge time was based on the length of his beard and hair which were becoming a matted mess from lack of care. The gods had abandoned him, playing such a cruel trick in giving him everything he'd been searching for, only to have it all taken away once more.
Olena must hate him now with so many broken promises between them. He'd sworn he would come back, that he'd never leave her again, and he hadn't been able to tell her what happened or where he was. Even if he was allowed to send a message, he couldn't write one and she wouldn't be able to read it. There was a hopelessness that had settled over him he couldn't shake, lying on the floor of the cell without any sense of time, unable to find a way to end his own life to find freedom in a different way, unwilling to do so just in case she was still waiting for him.
The loud bang should have startled him from where he was, but all he did was turn his head to look out into the darkness. Voices and a rumbling started low and grew louder, and suddenly he could see torches, people and the jingling of keys. There were shouts from guards, and before his eyes one who had been particularly vicious in his treatment of him was cut down, the door to his cell and the others around him opened as the crowd swept through. It had to be a dream of course, but even in this dream he wouldn't pass up a chance to escape, even if he woke still imprisoned.
Stumbling to his feet, the foreign gladiator moved in a daze, following the hurried flow of prisoners as they burst suddenly into sunlight. He didn't have time to stop and take it in, blinking in disorientation against the light. The air was fresh, and he was free. Someone ran into him and knocked him to the ground, startling him into the reality of the situation. He could run, find Olena and get away from this godsforsaken place that had caused him so much pain.
Dima hauled himself to his feet and ran, as fast as he could manage in his pitiful state, not paying too much attention to where he was going just seeking to get out of the city and as far away from the jail as he possibly could. Voices and humanity swirled around him, a confusing mix of life and anger, pain and death that he couldn't escape no matter which way he darted. A familiar face registered just before he ran directly into her, gripping tightly to Chrysanthe's arm to keep from being swept away and not questioning for the moment how or why she was here. She would know where Olena was, she would be able to help them find freedom.
"Where is she? Olena, please." His voice was hoarse and broken and it took him a long moment to register anyone else with his wild gaze and disorientation. There was a man he didn't recognize holding her up, and he had another girl in his arms. Ariadne? What were they doing here, why were they out in this mob? Was she alive or had something horrible happened? And where was Olena. If the queen's other ladies were here, where was his betrothed? There were too many questions and no answers as he clung to the one person he knew who might be able to tell him anything.
"What's happening..?"
“Ouch!”
“Oww!”
“Eeek!”
“Fuck!”
Each cry of agony (except that last one) was music to Hebe’s ears as she continued her shin-kicking spree. She wanted to hurt the morons who had beaten her sister. No, she wanted to destroy them. Marietta could be dead by now. Shaking her head, she banished that thought from her mind, focusing on kicking her way through the crowd while keeping her body covered with the filthy cloth she had wrapped it in.
Pain began to penetrate her fury. Her sandals had been pulled off by the mob when she was pinned underneath Marietta(where she also lost her clothes), and her feet were starting to ache from repeatedly colliding with shinbones. She couldn’t stop, though, she had to keep going until she found her sister. Hebe was a tiny little tornado, ripping through the crowd on a rampage, a single goal urging her onward.
She looked down most of the time, so she could pick out shins to kick. A muscular leg came into view and she drew back her leg and struck it several times. She heard a satisfying yelp and then a vaguely familiar voice demanded that she stop. If she had not been in such a rage, she would have recognized it at once, but her anger was in control of her now, clouding her eidetic memory.
Preparing to kick the muscular shin again, Hebe suddenly found herself grabbed by the scruff of the neck and held out of reach. “Let me go, moron!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, struggling to break free of the strong grip that held her captive. “I have to find ...”
Her sister.
The man had her bloody and bruised sister cradled in his arms She stopped squirming and looked up into the face of the man who had tried to kidnap Marietta for years. Not HIM again! Concern eclipsed her annoyance when she saw that Marietta was not moving at all. Was she …? Of course she wasn’t. Why would the kidnapper want to abduct a dead body? He had saved her instead.
The fight went out of her and the kidnapper let her go, addressing her by name and telling her that her sister was badly injured and they needed to take her home. He wasn’t going to take her to his hideout? All kidnappers had hideouts.
He was moving before he stopped speaking and Hebe followed close behind him, kicking the shins of anyone who got in her way. They were soon on the edge of the crowd and able to walk more quickly. She had to run to keep up with him and she winced every time she saw Marietta’s limp legs swinging helplessly back and forth.
A couple of ragged women ran between them, nearly separating Hebe from her sister. She quickly caught up. The kidnapper instructed her to take his arm. After looking at it for a moment like it had suddenly turned into a hissing snake, she sighed and grabbed hold of it, her other hand keeping the cloth wrapped around her body, Again, she had to run to keep up with his longer stride.
They were almost home when they encountered Lord Adrestus carrying an unconscious Ariadne in his arms. Chrysanthe was there too. Hebe let go of the kidnapper’s arm and ran toward the young woman and hugged her, glad that she was okay. Then she saw Evi and launched herself into her sister’s arms “Maretta … is … hurt,” she exclaimed as she tried to catch her breath. “The mob … beat her … after she saved my life. We need to get her to the manor and call for a healer.”
The kidnapper was issuing orders. It was strange how everyone listened to him. Who was he anyway? They did need to get inside as soon as possible. Hebe pulled away from Evi. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. I doubt there’s any rioting there.”
Some man she had never seen before rushed up and grabbed Chrysanthe’s arm, asking for someone called Olena. Did all commoners know each other? There were so many of them that it seemed impossible.
“Come on!” she called impatiently. Pulling her impromptu clothing tighter around her petite form, Hebe took a turn around one of the buildings, hoping everyone would accompany her to the servant’s door of the Antonis manor. She promised herself that no mater what happened, she wouldn’t leave Marietta’s side until she was out of danger.
Then she was going to find that kidnapper and get some answers.
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“Ouch!”
“Oww!”
“Eeek!”
“Fuck!”
Each cry of agony (except that last one) was music to Hebe’s ears as she continued her shin-kicking spree. She wanted to hurt the morons who had beaten her sister. No, she wanted to destroy them. Marietta could be dead by now. Shaking her head, she banished that thought from her mind, focusing on kicking her way through the crowd while keeping her body covered with the filthy cloth she had wrapped it in.
Pain began to penetrate her fury. Her sandals had been pulled off by the mob when she was pinned underneath Marietta(where she also lost her clothes), and her feet were starting to ache from repeatedly colliding with shinbones. She couldn’t stop, though, she had to keep going until she found her sister. Hebe was a tiny little tornado, ripping through the crowd on a rampage, a single goal urging her onward.
She looked down most of the time, so she could pick out shins to kick. A muscular leg came into view and she drew back her leg and struck it several times. She heard a satisfying yelp and then a vaguely familiar voice demanded that she stop. If she had not been in such a rage, she would have recognized it at once, but her anger was in control of her now, clouding her eidetic memory.
Preparing to kick the muscular shin again, Hebe suddenly found herself grabbed by the scruff of the neck and held out of reach. “Let me go, moron!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, struggling to break free of the strong grip that held her captive. “I have to find ...”
Her sister.
The man had her bloody and bruised sister cradled in his arms She stopped squirming and looked up into the face of the man who had tried to kidnap Marietta for years. Not HIM again! Concern eclipsed her annoyance when she saw that Marietta was not moving at all. Was she …? Of course she wasn’t. Why would the kidnapper want to abduct a dead body? He had saved her instead.
The fight went out of her and the kidnapper let her go, addressing her by name and telling her that her sister was badly injured and they needed to take her home. He wasn’t going to take her to his hideout? All kidnappers had hideouts.
He was moving before he stopped speaking and Hebe followed close behind him, kicking the shins of anyone who got in her way. They were soon on the edge of the crowd and able to walk more quickly. She had to run to keep up with him and she winced every time she saw Marietta’s limp legs swinging helplessly back and forth.
A couple of ragged women ran between them, nearly separating Hebe from her sister. She quickly caught up. The kidnapper instructed her to take his arm. After looking at it for a moment like it had suddenly turned into a hissing snake, she sighed and grabbed hold of it, her other hand keeping the cloth wrapped around her body, Again, she had to run to keep up with his longer stride.
They were almost home when they encountered Lord Adrestus carrying an unconscious Ariadne in his arms. Chrysanthe was there too. Hebe let go of the kidnapper’s arm and ran toward the young woman and hugged her, glad that she was okay. Then she saw Evi and launched herself into her sister’s arms “Maretta … is … hurt,” she exclaimed as she tried to catch her breath. “The mob … beat her … after she saved my life. We need to get her to the manor and call for a healer.”
The kidnapper was issuing orders. It was strange how everyone listened to him. Who was he anyway? They did need to get inside as soon as possible. Hebe pulled away from Evi. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. I doubt there’s any rioting there.”
Some man she had never seen before rushed up and grabbed Chrysanthe’s arm, asking for someone called Olena. Did all commoners know each other? There were so many of them that it seemed impossible.
“Come on!” she called impatiently. Pulling her impromptu clothing tighter around her petite form, Hebe took a turn around one of the buildings, hoping everyone would accompany her to the servant’s door of the Antonis manor. She promised herself that no mater what happened, she wouldn’t leave Marietta’s side until she was out of danger.
Then she was going to find that kidnapper and get some answers.
“Ouch!”
“Oww!”
“Eeek!”
“Fuck!”
Each cry of agony (except that last one) was music to Hebe’s ears as she continued her shin-kicking spree. She wanted to hurt the morons who had beaten her sister. No, she wanted to destroy them. Marietta could be dead by now. Shaking her head, she banished that thought from her mind, focusing on kicking her way through the crowd while keeping her body covered with the filthy cloth she had wrapped it in.
Pain began to penetrate her fury. Her sandals had been pulled off by the mob when she was pinned underneath Marietta(where she also lost her clothes), and her feet were starting to ache from repeatedly colliding with shinbones. She couldn’t stop, though, she had to keep going until she found her sister. Hebe was a tiny little tornado, ripping through the crowd on a rampage, a single goal urging her onward.
She looked down most of the time, so she could pick out shins to kick. A muscular leg came into view and she drew back her leg and struck it several times. She heard a satisfying yelp and then a vaguely familiar voice demanded that she stop. If she had not been in such a rage, she would have recognized it at once, but her anger was in control of her now, clouding her eidetic memory.
Preparing to kick the muscular shin again, Hebe suddenly found herself grabbed by the scruff of the neck and held out of reach. “Let me go, moron!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, struggling to break free of the strong grip that held her captive. “I have to find ...”
Her sister.
The man had her bloody and bruised sister cradled in his arms She stopped squirming and looked up into the face of the man who had tried to kidnap Marietta for years. Not HIM again! Concern eclipsed her annoyance when she saw that Marietta was not moving at all. Was she …? Of course she wasn’t. Why would the kidnapper want to abduct a dead body? He had saved her instead.
The fight went out of her and the kidnapper let her go, addressing her by name and telling her that her sister was badly injured and they needed to take her home. He wasn’t going to take her to his hideout? All kidnappers had hideouts.
He was moving before he stopped speaking and Hebe followed close behind him, kicking the shins of anyone who got in her way. They were soon on the edge of the crowd and able to walk more quickly. She had to run to keep up with him and she winced every time she saw Marietta’s limp legs swinging helplessly back and forth.
A couple of ragged women ran between them, nearly separating Hebe from her sister. She quickly caught up. The kidnapper instructed her to take his arm. After looking at it for a moment like it had suddenly turned into a hissing snake, she sighed and grabbed hold of it, her other hand keeping the cloth wrapped around her body, Again, she had to run to keep up with his longer stride.
They were almost home when they encountered Lord Adrestus carrying an unconscious Ariadne in his arms. Chrysanthe was there too. Hebe let go of the kidnapper’s arm and ran toward the young woman and hugged her, glad that she was okay. Then she saw Evi and launched herself into her sister’s arms “Maretta … is … hurt,” she exclaimed as she tried to catch her breath. “The mob … beat her … after she saved my life. We need to get her to the manor and call for a healer.”
The kidnapper was issuing orders. It was strange how everyone listened to him. Who was he anyway? They did need to get inside as soon as possible. Hebe pulled away from Evi. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. I doubt there’s any rioting there.”
Some man she had never seen before rushed up and grabbed Chrysanthe’s arm, asking for someone called Olena. Did all commoners know each other? There were so many of them that it seemed impossible.
“Come on!” she called impatiently. Pulling her impromptu clothing tighter around her petite form, Hebe took a turn around one of the buildings, hoping everyone would accompany her to the servant’s door of the Antonis manor. She promised herself that no mater what happened, she wouldn’t leave Marietta’s side until she was out of danger.
Then she was going to find that kidnapper and get some answers.
(Near the Palati)
He was not Cicero. The Master Informer had a way of gleaning information from people that AImias could only hope to one day learn. He was direct when he needed to be, listened when people felt like giving information and was persistent. The advisor was none of those things, at least not in his own opinion. But what he could do, where he seemed to shine, was in the way he blended into the background. Most crowds did not recognize him, for he was not a head advisor, nor was he constantly at the King’s side. Most nobles knew him from court functions, as did senators recognize him from their meetings. But part of the reason he had always chosen his drab dark clothing was to blend in.
In the markets, he was one of the people. He had connections through his father, a former trader, which allowed him to gain information in his own ways. They had known him as a child, when he’d travel with his father into the city. And it was with that friendship that he had heard whispers of revolt, of desperate people. And desperate people did strange things when they felt they had no other means.
He had hoped that the announcement of Elias and Emilia would calm the people. But it came with no real leadership, no real answer in regards to the famine and blight that seemed to be ripping through the common people. For those who felt like they were being forgotten about, it would not take long before they forcefully reminded those in power who they were.
And it seemed as if it was coming to a head.
Aimias had left early that morning, quietly pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek before he donned his plain clothing and vanished into the city. It was a good thing he’d opted to find cheaper clothing than what Cicero and Elysia wished to give him. Their own home in the city had been ransacked prior to their reentrance, and both he and Iris had opted to stay with family for a few extra days before returning. His wife had told him of her plans to stay close to her cousins, and Aimias had to trust that they would keep her safe.
But instead of his home, he found himself making his way through the crowds as they gathered. Things were starting to rise, yet he used the mob mentality to his advantage. While they were causing a ruckus, he was able to sneak into an abandoned storefront, his mind put at ease, knowing he was not the reason for their anger. Waiting until they passed, he kept still. They were heading to the inner circle, towards the palati. His heart dropped, knowing that as much as he wanted to turn and find his wife, he had to trust that she would be well cared for in the home of her cousin.
She was capable of protecting herself, he reasoned. And she would keep a level head to escape, and it seemed that some of her anger had stemmed from the idea that he’d needed to protect her, or something of the like. So he had to have faith that she would be just fine.
Things dissolved as he moved, chaos raging around him. As someone who spent the majority of his time being invisible, it wasn’t surprising that few people gave him much notice. But as things began to turn violent, his plans to head for the palati changed. They were safe there, most likely, and the need to find the friends who would most certainly be there.
It was not hard to find Hector, not when he was so familiar. While it did take him a bit to push through the ground, to gain high enough ground to see, Aimias was relieved that it appeared as if most of the group was together. So while Hector seemed to be leading the charge, the advisor had no issue taking to the rear, catching up to the group as they reached the side of the Antonis manor. He was silent in his herding, not until Chrysanthe was nearly accosted did step into her line of sight, hoping that she knew that he would let nothing happen to them. The name on his lips, of the small girl Olena, brought a wave of relief-- her Dima was alive after all. Nearly unrecognizable, but alive nonetheless.
His voice rose over the crowd so that the group could hear. He dropped the titles, for safety’s sake. “Hebe is right, about the back is the safest bet. We should make haste.”
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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(Near the Palati)
He was not Cicero. The Master Informer had a way of gleaning information from people that AImias could only hope to one day learn. He was direct when he needed to be, listened when people felt like giving information and was persistent. The advisor was none of those things, at least not in his own opinion. But what he could do, where he seemed to shine, was in the way he blended into the background. Most crowds did not recognize him, for he was not a head advisor, nor was he constantly at the King’s side. Most nobles knew him from court functions, as did senators recognize him from their meetings. But part of the reason he had always chosen his drab dark clothing was to blend in.
In the markets, he was one of the people. He had connections through his father, a former trader, which allowed him to gain information in his own ways. They had known him as a child, when he’d travel with his father into the city. And it was with that friendship that he had heard whispers of revolt, of desperate people. And desperate people did strange things when they felt they had no other means.
He had hoped that the announcement of Elias and Emilia would calm the people. But it came with no real leadership, no real answer in regards to the famine and blight that seemed to be ripping through the common people. For those who felt like they were being forgotten about, it would not take long before they forcefully reminded those in power who they were.
And it seemed as if it was coming to a head.
Aimias had left early that morning, quietly pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek before he donned his plain clothing and vanished into the city. It was a good thing he’d opted to find cheaper clothing than what Cicero and Elysia wished to give him. Their own home in the city had been ransacked prior to their reentrance, and both he and Iris had opted to stay with family for a few extra days before returning. His wife had told him of her plans to stay close to her cousins, and Aimias had to trust that they would keep her safe.
But instead of his home, he found himself making his way through the crowds as they gathered. Things were starting to rise, yet he used the mob mentality to his advantage. While they were causing a ruckus, he was able to sneak into an abandoned storefront, his mind put at ease, knowing he was not the reason for their anger. Waiting until they passed, he kept still. They were heading to the inner circle, towards the palati. His heart dropped, knowing that as much as he wanted to turn and find his wife, he had to trust that she would be well cared for in the home of her cousin.
She was capable of protecting herself, he reasoned. And she would keep a level head to escape, and it seemed that some of her anger had stemmed from the idea that he’d needed to protect her, or something of the like. So he had to have faith that she would be just fine.
Things dissolved as he moved, chaos raging around him. As someone who spent the majority of his time being invisible, it wasn’t surprising that few people gave him much notice. But as things began to turn violent, his plans to head for the palati changed. They were safe there, most likely, and the need to find the friends who would most certainly be there.
It was not hard to find Hector, not when he was so familiar. While it did take him a bit to push through the ground, to gain high enough ground to see, Aimias was relieved that it appeared as if most of the group was together. So while Hector seemed to be leading the charge, the advisor had no issue taking to the rear, catching up to the group as they reached the side of the Antonis manor. He was silent in his herding, not until Chrysanthe was nearly accosted did step into her line of sight, hoping that she knew that he would let nothing happen to them. The name on his lips, of the small girl Olena, brought a wave of relief-- her Dima was alive after all. Nearly unrecognizable, but alive nonetheless.
His voice rose over the crowd so that the group could hear. He dropped the titles, for safety’s sake. “Hebe is right, about the back is the safest bet. We should make haste.”
(Near the Palati)
He was not Cicero. The Master Informer had a way of gleaning information from people that AImias could only hope to one day learn. He was direct when he needed to be, listened when people felt like giving information and was persistent. The advisor was none of those things, at least not in his own opinion. But what he could do, where he seemed to shine, was in the way he blended into the background. Most crowds did not recognize him, for he was not a head advisor, nor was he constantly at the King’s side. Most nobles knew him from court functions, as did senators recognize him from their meetings. But part of the reason he had always chosen his drab dark clothing was to blend in.
In the markets, he was one of the people. He had connections through his father, a former trader, which allowed him to gain information in his own ways. They had known him as a child, when he’d travel with his father into the city. And it was with that friendship that he had heard whispers of revolt, of desperate people. And desperate people did strange things when they felt they had no other means.
He had hoped that the announcement of Elias and Emilia would calm the people. But it came with no real leadership, no real answer in regards to the famine and blight that seemed to be ripping through the common people. For those who felt like they were being forgotten about, it would not take long before they forcefully reminded those in power who they were.
And it seemed as if it was coming to a head.
Aimias had left early that morning, quietly pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek before he donned his plain clothing and vanished into the city. It was a good thing he’d opted to find cheaper clothing than what Cicero and Elysia wished to give him. Their own home in the city had been ransacked prior to their reentrance, and both he and Iris had opted to stay with family for a few extra days before returning. His wife had told him of her plans to stay close to her cousins, and Aimias had to trust that they would keep her safe.
But instead of his home, he found himself making his way through the crowds as they gathered. Things were starting to rise, yet he used the mob mentality to his advantage. While they were causing a ruckus, he was able to sneak into an abandoned storefront, his mind put at ease, knowing he was not the reason for their anger. Waiting until they passed, he kept still. They were heading to the inner circle, towards the palati. His heart dropped, knowing that as much as he wanted to turn and find his wife, he had to trust that she would be well cared for in the home of her cousin.
She was capable of protecting herself, he reasoned. And she would keep a level head to escape, and it seemed that some of her anger had stemmed from the idea that he’d needed to protect her, or something of the like. So he had to have faith that she would be just fine.
Things dissolved as he moved, chaos raging around him. As someone who spent the majority of his time being invisible, it wasn’t surprising that few people gave him much notice. But as things began to turn violent, his plans to head for the palati changed. They were safe there, most likely, and the need to find the friends who would most certainly be there.
It was not hard to find Hector, not when he was so familiar. While it did take him a bit to push through the ground, to gain high enough ground to see, Aimias was relieved that it appeared as if most of the group was together. So while Hector seemed to be leading the charge, the advisor had no issue taking to the rear, catching up to the group as they reached the side of the Antonis manor. He was silent in his herding, not until Chrysanthe was nearly accosted did step into her line of sight, hoping that she knew that he would let nothing happen to them. The name on his lips, of the small girl Olena, brought a wave of relief-- her Dima was alive after all. Nearly unrecognizable, but alive nonetheless.
His voice rose over the crowd so that the group could hear. He dropped the titles, for safety’s sake. “Hebe is right, about the back is the safest bet. We should make haste.”
Everything around them was moving too fast. It all seemed to dart in and out of focus and the world seemed to still be in a fog as she heard the man in front of her yelling, it was as if she was hearing him through water. His intentions seemed to be good, if a bit frantic as he pulled her to her feet. She quickly found herself leaning on him to steady herself as he made his way through the crowd.
Had he said the Antonis house? That seemed as good a place as any as far as she knew, though she was still uncertain about who everyone was in Athenia. At least it sounded like it would be safe. A noble house should have guards that would protect them. Then in the chaos, another woman appeared. For a moment she thought it might be Hebe, but it wasn’t. She was looking for her sisters and seemed to know Adrestus. Finally a name to put to the face of the man who was carrying her friend. Still, she didn’t know the women that this woman was looking for or at least she couldn’t be certain enough to offer any advice. At the moment, she was still mostly focused on staying on her feet.
Then she felt a hand tighten around her free arm and she jumped. She turned around to see who was trying to drag her back into the mob once again only to see….Dima? That couldn’t be right. She blinked hard. He was in jail, they were supposed to argue for his release. When she opened her eyes again it was still Dima, and he was asking about Olena.
“She’s not here, she’s back with Perse. She’s safe, don’t worry.” She and the baby. He wouldn’t know that news yet, but now was not the time or place. For a moment longer she stared at him, almost stumbling as she was still being pulled towards safety by Adrestus. “How are you here? I thought you were in jail?” It still felt almost like a dream to Chrysanthe. Maybe it was. Maybe this whole thing was a nightmare and she was going to wake up back in Vasiliadon. It was the only thing that could possibly explain what had happened to her so far.
In another moment, everyone who had been missing was back there with them, Hector, Hebe, Marietta. Another few moments they were inside. The crowds kept out by doors and walls between them. That was good. She found herself sat in a chair. She would have time to process all of this later. Right now, all she needed was a nice, long nap.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Everything around them was moving too fast. It all seemed to dart in and out of focus and the world seemed to still be in a fog as she heard the man in front of her yelling, it was as if she was hearing him through water. His intentions seemed to be good, if a bit frantic as he pulled her to her feet. She quickly found herself leaning on him to steady herself as he made his way through the crowd.
Had he said the Antonis house? That seemed as good a place as any as far as she knew, though she was still uncertain about who everyone was in Athenia. At least it sounded like it would be safe. A noble house should have guards that would protect them. Then in the chaos, another woman appeared. For a moment she thought it might be Hebe, but it wasn’t. She was looking for her sisters and seemed to know Adrestus. Finally a name to put to the face of the man who was carrying her friend. Still, she didn’t know the women that this woman was looking for or at least she couldn’t be certain enough to offer any advice. At the moment, she was still mostly focused on staying on her feet.
Then she felt a hand tighten around her free arm and she jumped. She turned around to see who was trying to drag her back into the mob once again only to see….Dima? That couldn’t be right. She blinked hard. He was in jail, they were supposed to argue for his release. When she opened her eyes again it was still Dima, and he was asking about Olena.
“She’s not here, she’s back with Perse. She’s safe, don’t worry.” She and the baby. He wouldn’t know that news yet, but now was not the time or place. For a moment longer she stared at him, almost stumbling as she was still being pulled towards safety by Adrestus. “How are you here? I thought you were in jail?” It still felt almost like a dream to Chrysanthe. Maybe it was. Maybe this whole thing was a nightmare and she was going to wake up back in Vasiliadon. It was the only thing that could possibly explain what had happened to her so far.
In another moment, everyone who had been missing was back there with them, Hector, Hebe, Marietta. Another few moments they were inside. The crowds kept out by doors and walls between them. That was good. She found herself sat in a chair. She would have time to process all of this later. Right now, all she needed was a nice, long nap.
Everything around them was moving too fast. It all seemed to dart in and out of focus and the world seemed to still be in a fog as she heard the man in front of her yelling, it was as if she was hearing him through water. His intentions seemed to be good, if a bit frantic as he pulled her to her feet. She quickly found herself leaning on him to steady herself as he made his way through the crowd.
Had he said the Antonis house? That seemed as good a place as any as far as she knew, though she was still uncertain about who everyone was in Athenia. At least it sounded like it would be safe. A noble house should have guards that would protect them. Then in the chaos, another woman appeared. For a moment she thought it might be Hebe, but it wasn’t. She was looking for her sisters and seemed to know Adrestus. Finally a name to put to the face of the man who was carrying her friend. Still, she didn’t know the women that this woman was looking for or at least she couldn’t be certain enough to offer any advice. At the moment, she was still mostly focused on staying on her feet.
Then she felt a hand tighten around her free arm and she jumped. She turned around to see who was trying to drag her back into the mob once again only to see….Dima? That couldn’t be right. She blinked hard. He was in jail, they were supposed to argue for his release. When she opened her eyes again it was still Dima, and he was asking about Olena.
“She’s not here, she’s back with Perse. She’s safe, don’t worry.” She and the baby. He wouldn’t know that news yet, but now was not the time or place. For a moment longer she stared at him, almost stumbling as she was still being pulled towards safety by Adrestus. “How are you here? I thought you were in jail?” It still felt almost like a dream to Chrysanthe. Maybe it was. Maybe this whole thing was a nightmare and she was going to wake up back in Vasiliadon. It was the only thing that could possibly explain what had happened to her so far.
In another moment, everyone who had been missing was back there with them, Hector, Hebe, Marietta. Another few moments they were inside. The crowds kept out by doors and walls between them. That was good. She found herself sat in a chair. She would have time to process all of this later. Right now, all she needed was a nice, long nap.
