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Kesi was playing with her friends. This wasn’t an unusual circumstance. Since her brother had left for the circus, Kesi had to find other ways to occupy her time. When Krieos was in port, she spent it with him, learning as much of poison craft as she possibly could. But when he wasn’t in port, she would do other things, like play with the other children in Alexandria. With the war that was going on, some had disappeared to fight the Greeks, but some remained, and Kesi would often find herself drawn to them. They, however,… didn’t always appreciate Kesi hanging around.
“No, I’m not supposed to go near the Nile,” Kesi said to the kids. They were all older than her. The oldest was thirteen, and the second youngest was twelve. Kesi was the only eleven-year-old of the group. Because she was the youngest, she was told that she had to listen to them always. They were smarter and wiser, and she was only a freak. Kesi didn’t really believe that, but if she didn’t just do what they said, she would be alone. Being alone wasn’t… very happy…
“I’m not supposed to go near the Nile.” Nour mimicked Kesi, screwing up his face as he did. Nour took a step closer, and Kesi took a step back. “What are you, a baby?”
They did this a lot. But their words were never as bad as her papa’s. Papa called her useless. Papa called her worthless. Papa called her a waste of space. They never did that. They just called her a freak. They just made fun of her because her family owned the circus. They didn’t understand that it was wonderful and magical. They just thought it was weird.
But they were Kesi’s friends, so even if they said mean things, Kesi had to forgive them. That’s what friends did. She let them say their mean words because Kesi would forgive them. She let them push her or hit her because Kesi would forgive them. (They didn’t hit near as hard as papa did anyway). She let them boss her around… because Kesi would forgive them.
But this time, it was different. She wasn’t allowed to go near the Nile. When Kesi was six, the Nile tried taking her away. It took her memories. She was sick for a long time. Nem and mama took care of Kesi. Her big brother gave her medicine that made her really foggy, but it eventually helped her be normal again. And mama helped clean her and feed and take care of her. If it weren’t for them, it wouldn’t be just her memories the Nile took; it would be her life.
“I’m not a baby!” Kesi stomped her foot defiantly, something she never did. She was a really good listener to her friends. “My mama told me I’m not allowed to go!”
Rashida moved forward, gripping Kesi by her hair. She was the oldest and by far the meanest. “You’re not a baby. You’re a freak.” She hissed in Kesi’s ear. The girl never liked Kesi, not from the start. Her dad didn’t get along with Kesi’s papa, but Kesi didn’t find that very unusual. No one gets along with papa. But Rashida seemed to take it out on Kesi. She wasn’t very… friend-like.
“Get that Greek’s clothes.” She shoved Kesi hard, so hard that she found herself sprawled on the sand. Her knees skid on the ground below her, tiny bits of blood smearing on her legs. They stung really bad, but at this point in her life, Kesi was used to pain. She didn’t even flinch.
The others laughed as they went back into hiding, though. Kesi frowned and turned towards the river. The kids called this a ‘war effort.’ They were helping to fight the soldiers. Kesi didn’t really see this as helping the war. This was just stealing. Who even needed clothes, anyway?
I don’t have to go in the Nile. Kesi thought to herself as she took a step forward. She inched closer and closer, with steps so light that it was as if they were hovering over the sands. Tiptoe… tiptoe…
She had gotten to the clothes and bent down. There was a lot. Kesi once asked Krieos why Greeks wore so many clothes. She didn’t remember the answer, but knowing him, he probably just ignored her. She just didn’t understand how Ra’s sun didn’t melt them. But now was not the time to question it. She gathered them as quickly and quietly as she could.
But when she went to get the last shoe, she saw him. Did he see her? The child didn’t wait to find out. She turned heel and ran, leaving the shoe, trying to head towards her friends’ hiding spot as fast as she could. But when she arrived- they were gone!
Maybe they saw that the Greek might have noticed her? Kesi didn’t think about it too long. She continued running as fast as her short legs would take her, trying not to trip as the bundle of cloth dragged across the desert. It was much bigger than the girl who, if she stood the straightest she could stand, was just barely 4’. What she was carrying was likely bigger than her blankets and mostly covered her face as she sprinted from the river as fast as she could.
“Guys? Guys!” Kesi called after her friend with no response. What was she supposed to do with this? They asked for it and then just left her? Oh, the well! Her friends would probably think that’s really funny! They might even approve of something she did for once! She would toss them in there. She just had to get there.
Kesi knew Alexandria reasonably well, but having never once looked over her shoulder to see if a Greek Giant was chasing her, she didn’t know if that was a reasonably feasible plan. It was, however, the only plan the eleven-year-old had. She continued to run, stumbling at her pace, with every intention to toss the clothes in the well. She just had to get to it…
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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“Just do it!”
Kesi was playing with her friends. This wasn’t an unusual circumstance. Since her brother had left for the circus, Kesi had to find other ways to occupy her time. When Krieos was in port, she spent it with him, learning as much of poison craft as she possibly could. But when he wasn’t in port, she would do other things, like play with the other children in Alexandria. With the war that was going on, some had disappeared to fight the Greeks, but some remained, and Kesi would often find herself drawn to them. They, however,… didn’t always appreciate Kesi hanging around.
“No, I’m not supposed to go near the Nile,” Kesi said to the kids. They were all older than her. The oldest was thirteen, and the second youngest was twelve. Kesi was the only eleven-year-old of the group. Because she was the youngest, she was told that she had to listen to them always. They were smarter and wiser, and she was only a freak. Kesi didn’t really believe that, but if she didn’t just do what they said, she would be alone. Being alone wasn’t… very happy…
“I’m not supposed to go near the Nile.” Nour mimicked Kesi, screwing up his face as he did. Nour took a step closer, and Kesi took a step back. “What are you, a baby?”
They did this a lot. But their words were never as bad as her papa’s. Papa called her useless. Papa called her worthless. Papa called her a waste of space. They never did that. They just called her a freak. They just made fun of her because her family owned the circus. They didn’t understand that it was wonderful and magical. They just thought it was weird.
But they were Kesi’s friends, so even if they said mean things, Kesi had to forgive them. That’s what friends did. She let them say their mean words because Kesi would forgive them. She let them push her or hit her because Kesi would forgive them. (They didn’t hit near as hard as papa did anyway). She let them boss her around… because Kesi would forgive them.
But this time, it was different. She wasn’t allowed to go near the Nile. When Kesi was six, the Nile tried taking her away. It took her memories. She was sick for a long time. Nem and mama took care of Kesi. Her big brother gave her medicine that made her really foggy, but it eventually helped her be normal again. And mama helped clean her and feed and take care of her. If it weren’t for them, it wouldn’t be just her memories the Nile took; it would be her life.
“I’m not a baby!” Kesi stomped her foot defiantly, something she never did. She was a really good listener to her friends. “My mama told me I’m not allowed to go!”
Rashida moved forward, gripping Kesi by her hair. She was the oldest and by far the meanest. “You’re not a baby. You’re a freak.” She hissed in Kesi’s ear. The girl never liked Kesi, not from the start. Her dad didn’t get along with Kesi’s papa, but Kesi didn’t find that very unusual. No one gets along with papa. But Rashida seemed to take it out on Kesi. She wasn’t very… friend-like.
“Get that Greek’s clothes.” She shoved Kesi hard, so hard that she found herself sprawled on the sand. Her knees skid on the ground below her, tiny bits of blood smearing on her legs. They stung really bad, but at this point in her life, Kesi was used to pain. She didn’t even flinch.
The others laughed as they went back into hiding, though. Kesi frowned and turned towards the river. The kids called this a ‘war effort.’ They were helping to fight the soldiers. Kesi didn’t really see this as helping the war. This was just stealing. Who even needed clothes, anyway?
I don’t have to go in the Nile. Kesi thought to herself as she took a step forward. She inched closer and closer, with steps so light that it was as if they were hovering over the sands. Tiptoe… tiptoe…
She had gotten to the clothes and bent down. There was a lot. Kesi once asked Krieos why Greeks wore so many clothes. She didn’t remember the answer, but knowing him, he probably just ignored her. She just didn’t understand how Ra’s sun didn’t melt them. But now was not the time to question it. She gathered them as quickly and quietly as she could.
But when she went to get the last shoe, she saw him. Did he see her? The child didn’t wait to find out. She turned heel and ran, leaving the shoe, trying to head towards her friends’ hiding spot as fast as she could. But when she arrived- they were gone!
Maybe they saw that the Greek might have noticed her? Kesi didn’t think about it too long. She continued running as fast as her short legs would take her, trying not to trip as the bundle of cloth dragged across the desert. It was much bigger than the girl who, if she stood the straightest she could stand, was just barely 4’. What she was carrying was likely bigger than her blankets and mostly covered her face as she sprinted from the river as fast as she could.
“Guys? Guys!” Kesi called after her friend with no response. What was she supposed to do with this? They asked for it and then just left her? Oh, the well! Her friends would probably think that’s really funny! They might even approve of something she did for once! She would toss them in there. She just had to get there.
Kesi knew Alexandria reasonably well, but having never once looked over her shoulder to see if a Greek Giant was chasing her, she didn’t know if that was a reasonably feasible plan. It was, however, the only plan the eleven-year-old had. She continued to run, stumbling at her pace, with every intention to toss the clothes in the well. She just had to get to it…
“Just do it!”
Kesi was playing with her friends. This wasn’t an unusual circumstance. Since her brother had left for the circus, Kesi had to find other ways to occupy her time. When Krieos was in port, she spent it with him, learning as much of poison craft as she possibly could. But when he wasn’t in port, she would do other things, like play with the other children in Alexandria. With the war that was going on, some had disappeared to fight the Greeks, but some remained, and Kesi would often find herself drawn to them. They, however,… didn’t always appreciate Kesi hanging around.
“No, I’m not supposed to go near the Nile,” Kesi said to the kids. They were all older than her. The oldest was thirteen, and the second youngest was twelve. Kesi was the only eleven-year-old of the group. Because she was the youngest, she was told that she had to listen to them always. They were smarter and wiser, and she was only a freak. Kesi didn’t really believe that, but if she didn’t just do what they said, she would be alone. Being alone wasn’t… very happy…
“I’m not supposed to go near the Nile.” Nour mimicked Kesi, screwing up his face as he did. Nour took a step closer, and Kesi took a step back. “What are you, a baby?”
They did this a lot. But their words were never as bad as her papa’s. Papa called her useless. Papa called her worthless. Papa called her a waste of space. They never did that. They just called her a freak. They just made fun of her because her family owned the circus. They didn’t understand that it was wonderful and magical. They just thought it was weird.
But they were Kesi’s friends, so even if they said mean things, Kesi had to forgive them. That’s what friends did. She let them say their mean words because Kesi would forgive them. She let them push her or hit her because Kesi would forgive them. (They didn’t hit near as hard as papa did anyway). She let them boss her around… because Kesi would forgive them.
But this time, it was different. She wasn’t allowed to go near the Nile. When Kesi was six, the Nile tried taking her away. It took her memories. She was sick for a long time. Nem and mama took care of Kesi. Her big brother gave her medicine that made her really foggy, but it eventually helped her be normal again. And mama helped clean her and feed and take care of her. If it weren’t for them, it wouldn’t be just her memories the Nile took; it would be her life.
“I’m not a baby!” Kesi stomped her foot defiantly, something she never did. She was a really good listener to her friends. “My mama told me I’m not allowed to go!”
Rashida moved forward, gripping Kesi by her hair. She was the oldest and by far the meanest. “You’re not a baby. You’re a freak.” She hissed in Kesi’s ear. The girl never liked Kesi, not from the start. Her dad didn’t get along with Kesi’s papa, but Kesi didn’t find that very unusual. No one gets along with papa. But Rashida seemed to take it out on Kesi. She wasn’t very… friend-like.
“Get that Greek’s clothes.” She shoved Kesi hard, so hard that she found herself sprawled on the sand. Her knees skid on the ground below her, tiny bits of blood smearing on her legs. They stung really bad, but at this point in her life, Kesi was used to pain. She didn’t even flinch.
The others laughed as they went back into hiding, though. Kesi frowned and turned towards the river. The kids called this a ‘war effort.’ They were helping to fight the soldiers. Kesi didn’t really see this as helping the war. This was just stealing. Who even needed clothes, anyway?
I don’t have to go in the Nile. Kesi thought to herself as she took a step forward. She inched closer and closer, with steps so light that it was as if they were hovering over the sands. Tiptoe… tiptoe…
She had gotten to the clothes and bent down. There was a lot. Kesi once asked Krieos why Greeks wore so many clothes. She didn’t remember the answer, but knowing him, he probably just ignored her. She just didn’t understand how Ra’s sun didn’t melt them. But now was not the time to question it. She gathered them as quickly and quietly as she could.
But when she went to get the last shoe, she saw him. Did he see her? The child didn’t wait to find out. She turned heel and ran, leaving the shoe, trying to head towards her friends’ hiding spot as fast as she could. But when she arrived- they were gone!
Maybe they saw that the Greek might have noticed her? Kesi didn’t think about it too long. She continued running as fast as her short legs would take her, trying not to trip as the bundle of cloth dragged across the desert. It was much bigger than the girl who, if she stood the straightest she could stand, was just barely 4’. What she was carrying was likely bigger than her blankets and mostly covered her face as she sprinted from the river as fast as she could.
“Guys? Guys!” Kesi called after her friend with no response. What was she supposed to do with this? They asked for it and then just left her? Oh, the well! Her friends would probably think that’s really funny! They might even approve of something she did for once! She would toss them in there. She just had to get there.
Kesi knew Alexandria reasonably well, but having never once looked over her shoulder to see if a Greek Giant was chasing her, she didn’t know if that was a reasonably feasible plan. It was, however, the only plan the eleven-year-old had. She continued to run, stumbling at her pace, with every intention to toss the clothes in the well. She just had to get to it…
It had been a particularly sunny day. Now, as someone that hailed from the Lands of Ire, Damocles had known quite well the heat and intensity of the outside world. He had spent the brunt of his childhood amongst mines and rocks after all, and so he though that he had developed a tolerance for roused temperatures that some of his paler-skinned comrades lacked. And yet, despite his olive, Mediterranean skin-tone, little had been afforded in terms of salvation from Egypt’s sun.
Gods, how he missed Greece! Granted, he had never before visited the coolness of Taengea or the vastness of Athenia, but even the ruggedness of Colchis was better than this scorching inferno that he had been deployed to. For fuck’s sake! There was even sweat in places he didn’t even remembered could be sweaty. Truthfully, he had to have pissed off one of his superiors to have been assigned on duty by the city of Alexandria, there wasn’t any other explanation as to why he would be in such a dreadfully unbearable place.
Still, it wasn’t all entirely for naught. Though his army had mostly settled under the shadow of Alexandria, their camp was raised by the side of the River Nile, a welcome reprieve from this scorched earth that only Hephastus himself could feel at home with. Now, Damocles had his reservations about the Nile. After all, a long while ago he had tried to partake in its waters before being stopped by Achilleas whence the sight of river lizards, damned, monstrous beasties that they were, revealed themselves just as he began to dip his toes on the waters. Could Egypt really get any worse? Not only was the weather terrible, but, even if their was water that could potentially cool oneself, it was infested with so-called crocodiles, ugly, giant bastards that not even Hades would welcome in the Underworld if slayed.
And yet, the waters were far too inviting. He just could not resist. So what If there had been river lizards before, he was now in a war more urbanized (if one could call it that) region of Egypt, removed from the primitive savagery of whence he had first met those conniving creatures that he swore traced their origins from the deepest, darkest pit in Tartarus. No, he would take his chances with the Nile. It was one thing to be hot. It was another thing entirely to be burned alive into an early grave.
Thus, without telling anyone, not even Alexander, whom he often regaled with his secrets and clandestine affairs, Damocles made for the river, leaving behind his bulky, heavy armor and walking towards the base of those almost seductive waters with as little clothes as he could possibly conceive of wearing. He wore no particular jewelry or fashionable accessories. Just his robes, thick and heavy as they were, with his sandals, his perizoma and a few pins to make sure everything was settled right in its proper place.
At first, he had undone much of the means by which his robes were draped over his form, and yet, as if possessed by a state of heat-induced madness, once he saw the gentleness of the Nile, and realized that, unlike last time, there weren’t any river lizards at all, Damocles practically lept out of his clothes, stripping at an almost breakneck pace as he arrogantly threw his garments at the side, showing his impressively muscular body in all its brawny glory. He had thought about perhaps keeping his perizoma on as he dipped into the water. But, after judging the river safe from beasties and people (that he was aware of) he committed to his bared form and proceeded unto the springs entirely naked, strutting around without any shame at all over his nude form. He had nothing to hide at all, especially given that he was quite considerably more Priapus or Satyr than statue in terms of endowment. Without wasting any more time than needed, he bathed on those waters, groaning with absolute ecstasy as he cooled down from the unbearableness that was Egypt and its heat.
He did not know how much time had passed since he first dipped on the Nile, but after a natural smile formed on his face, and the sweat that once laced his body was replaced with drips of water, Damocles started to swim back towards the surface, happy as he could to have found some modicum of comfort on that day. It was only after he came by the shore, where he swore by the Gods that he had left his clothes, that his silver eyes catched sight of something, or rather, someone. And, as if to confirm his suspicions, after focusing on the sight of the small, feminine-looking person who seemed to be struggling with clothes, Damocles saw how one of his sandals fell to the ground, recognizing its size as his own, spurring him to dash towards the other with renewed vigor as he grit his teeth and gave chase.
“Stop Thief! Return those!” He shouted, running right behind the much smaller person with a certain rush to his steps that were born out of shame more than outrage, shame that traced its origins in the very real fact that, for all intents and purposes, the famed Damocles of Magnemea was entirely clothless, waving around all of himself as he ran towards the thieving Egyptian.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It had been a particularly sunny day. Now, as someone that hailed from the Lands of Ire, Damocles had known quite well the heat and intensity of the outside world. He had spent the brunt of his childhood amongst mines and rocks after all, and so he though that he had developed a tolerance for roused temperatures that some of his paler-skinned comrades lacked. And yet, despite his olive, Mediterranean skin-tone, little had been afforded in terms of salvation from Egypt’s sun.
Gods, how he missed Greece! Granted, he had never before visited the coolness of Taengea or the vastness of Athenia, but even the ruggedness of Colchis was better than this scorching inferno that he had been deployed to. For fuck’s sake! There was even sweat in places he didn’t even remembered could be sweaty. Truthfully, he had to have pissed off one of his superiors to have been assigned on duty by the city of Alexandria, there wasn’t any other explanation as to why he would be in such a dreadfully unbearable place.
Still, it wasn’t all entirely for naught. Though his army had mostly settled under the shadow of Alexandria, their camp was raised by the side of the River Nile, a welcome reprieve from this scorched earth that only Hephastus himself could feel at home with. Now, Damocles had his reservations about the Nile. After all, a long while ago he had tried to partake in its waters before being stopped by Achilleas whence the sight of river lizards, damned, monstrous beasties that they were, revealed themselves just as he began to dip his toes on the waters. Could Egypt really get any worse? Not only was the weather terrible, but, even if their was water that could potentially cool oneself, it was infested with so-called crocodiles, ugly, giant bastards that not even Hades would welcome in the Underworld if slayed.
And yet, the waters were far too inviting. He just could not resist. So what If there had been river lizards before, he was now in a war more urbanized (if one could call it that) region of Egypt, removed from the primitive savagery of whence he had first met those conniving creatures that he swore traced their origins from the deepest, darkest pit in Tartarus. No, he would take his chances with the Nile. It was one thing to be hot. It was another thing entirely to be burned alive into an early grave.
Thus, without telling anyone, not even Alexander, whom he often regaled with his secrets and clandestine affairs, Damocles made for the river, leaving behind his bulky, heavy armor and walking towards the base of those almost seductive waters with as little clothes as he could possibly conceive of wearing. He wore no particular jewelry or fashionable accessories. Just his robes, thick and heavy as they were, with his sandals, his perizoma and a few pins to make sure everything was settled right in its proper place.
At first, he had undone much of the means by which his robes were draped over his form, and yet, as if possessed by a state of heat-induced madness, once he saw the gentleness of the Nile, and realized that, unlike last time, there weren’t any river lizards at all, Damocles practically lept out of his clothes, stripping at an almost breakneck pace as he arrogantly threw his garments at the side, showing his impressively muscular body in all its brawny glory. He had thought about perhaps keeping his perizoma on as he dipped into the water. But, after judging the river safe from beasties and people (that he was aware of) he committed to his bared form and proceeded unto the springs entirely naked, strutting around without any shame at all over his nude form. He had nothing to hide at all, especially given that he was quite considerably more Priapus or Satyr than statue in terms of endowment. Without wasting any more time than needed, he bathed on those waters, groaning with absolute ecstasy as he cooled down from the unbearableness that was Egypt and its heat.
He did not know how much time had passed since he first dipped on the Nile, but after a natural smile formed on his face, and the sweat that once laced his body was replaced with drips of water, Damocles started to swim back towards the surface, happy as he could to have found some modicum of comfort on that day. It was only after he came by the shore, where he swore by the Gods that he had left his clothes, that his silver eyes catched sight of something, or rather, someone. And, as if to confirm his suspicions, after focusing on the sight of the small, feminine-looking person who seemed to be struggling with clothes, Damocles saw how one of his sandals fell to the ground, recognizing its size as his own, spurring him to dash towards the other with renewed vigor as he grit his teeth and gave chase.
“Stop Thief! Return those!” He shouted, running right behind the much smaller person with a certain rush to his steps that were born out of shame more than outrage, shame that traced its origins in the very real fact that, for all intents and purposes, the famed Damocles of Magnemea was entirely clothless, waving around all of himself as he ran towards the thieving Egyptian.
It had been a particularly sunny day. Now, as someone that hailed from the Lands of Ire, Damocles had known quite well the heat and intensity of the outside world. He had spent the brunt of his childhood amongst mines and rocks after all, and so he though that he had developed a tolerance for roused temperatures that some of his paler-skinned comrades lacked. And yet, despite his olive, Mediterranean skin-tone, little had been afforded in terms of salvation from Egypt’s sun.
Gods, how he missed Greece! Granted, he had never before visited the coolness of Taengea or the vastness of Athenia, but even the ruggedness of Colchis was better than this scorching inferno that he had been deployed to. For fuck’s sake! There was even sweat in places he didn’t even remembered could be sweaty. Truthfully, he had to have pissed off one of his superiors to have been assigned on duty by the city of Alexandria, there wasn’t any other explanation as to why he would be in such a dreadfully unbearable place.
Still, it wasn’t all entirely for naught. Though his army had mostly settled under the shadow of Alexandria, their camp was raised by the side of the River Nile, a welcome reprieve from this scorched earth that only Hephastus himself could feel at home with. Now, Damocles had his reservations about the Nile. After all, a long while ago he had tried to partake in its waters before being stopped by Achilleas whence the sight of river lizards, damned, monstrous beasties that they were, revealed themselves just as he began to dip his toes on the waters. Could Egypt really get any worse? Not only was the weather terrible, but, even if their was water that could potentially cool oneself, it was infested with so-called crocodiles, ugly, giant bastards that not even Hades would welcome in the Underworld if slayed.
And yet, the waters were far too inviting. He just could not resist. So what If there had been river lizards before, he was now in a war more urbanized (if one could call it that) region of Egypt, removed from the primitive savagery of whence he had first met those conniving creatures that he swore traced their origins from the deepest, darkest pit in Tartarus. No, he would take his chances with the Nile. It was one thing to be hot. It was another thing entirely to be burned alive into an early grave.
Thus, without telling anyone, not even Alexander, whom he often regaled with his secrets and clandestine affairs, Damocles made for the river, leaving behind his bulky, heavy armor and walking towards the base of those almost seductive waters with as little clothes as he could possibly conceive of wearing. He wore no particular jewelry or fashionable accessories. Just his robes, thick and heavy as they were, with his sandals, his perizoma and a few pins to make sure everything was settled right in its proper place.
At first, he had undone much of the means by which his robes were draped over his form, and yet, as if possessed by a state of heat-induced madness, once he saw the gentleness of the Nile, and realized that, unlike last time, there weren’t any river lizards at all, Damocles practically lept out of his clothes, stripping at an almost breakneck pace as he arrogantly threw his garments at the side, showing his impressively muscular body in all its brawny glory. He had thought about perhaps keeping his perizoma on as he dipped into the water. But, after judging the river safe from beasties and people (that he was aware of) he committed to his bared form and proceeded unto the springs entirely naked, strutting around without any shame at all over his nude form. He had nothing to hide at all, especially given that he was quite considerably more Priapus or Satyr than statue in terms of endowment. Without wasting any more time than needed, he bathed on those waters, groaning with absolute ecstasy as he cooled down from the unbearableness that was Egypt and its heat.
He did not know how much time had passed since he first dipped on the Nile, but after a natural smile formed on his face, and the sweat that once laced his body was replaced with drips of water, Damocles started to swim back towards the surface, happy as he could to have found some modicum of comfort on that day. It was only after he came by the shore, where he swore by the Gods that he had left his clothes, that his silver eyes catched sight of something, or rather, someone. And, as if to confirm his suspicions, after focusing on the sight of the small, feminine-looking person who seemed to be struggling with clothes, Damocles saw how one of his sandals fell to the ground, recognizing its size as his own, spurring him to dash towards the other with renewed vigor as he grit his teeth and gave chase.
“Stop Thief! Return those!” He shouted, running right behind the much smaller person with a certain rush to his steps that were born out of shame more than outrage, shame that traced its origins in the very real fact that, for all intents and purposes, the famed Damocles of Magnemea was entirely clothless, waving around all of himself as he ran towards the thieving Egyptian.
