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Iaheru clenched her jaw, painfully so at the sight of her guest thrown from her home. She wondered briefly if the guards would refuse the patriarch’s entry if she willed it, a test of loyalty surely, fearing for the fate of such guards if they refused entry to the ever so bold Onuphrious. Where was this boldness in the early years of her marriage, this question applying to either party as the pair eroded against each other’s will, suspectedly intense at the convergence of ice and flames.
As Akhenaten openly gulped down bitter opium, Neithotep following in insolence, Iaheru snickered. For a moment, she ignored the guest Nenet had so mistakenly brought and expressed content. “I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her eyes darting back to Onuphrious. She takes a long sip of her fine wine, the acidity stinging the throat. “But it would be nice to have a strong buzz going when I do.”
“Pardon me,” Her lips smack together violently as she scoots her chair backwards with a force that creaks against even the smoothest of marble. “Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Her hands brace against the table. Snapping for a servant with urgency. “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.” She hints to a night long away, her eyes refusing to find another target as the narrow in on her estranged husband.
She addresses Khufu and Nenet at the end of the table. “Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.”
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Iaheru clenched her jaw, painfully so at the sight of her guest thrown from her home. She wondered briefly if the guards would refuse the patriarch’s entry if she willed it, a test of loyalty surely, fearing for the fate of such guards if they refused entry to the ever so bold Onuphrious. Where was this boldness in the early years of her marriage, this question applying to either party as the pair eroded against each other’s will, suspectedly intense at the convergence of ice and flames.
As Akhenaten openly gulped down bitter opium, Neithotep following in insolence, Iaheru snickered. For a moment, she ignored the guest Nenet had so mistakenly brought and expressed content. “I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her eyes darting back to Onuphrious. She takes a long sip of her fine wine, the acidity stinging the throat. “But it would be nice to have a strong buzz going when I do.”
“Pardon me,” Her lips smack together violently as she scoots her chair backwards with a force that creaks against even the smoothest of marble. “Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Her hands brace against the table. Snapping for a servant with urgency. “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.” She hints to a night long away, her eyes refusing to find another target as the narrow in on her estranged husband.
She addresses Khufu and Nenet at the end of the table. “Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.”
Iaheru clenched her jaw, painfully so at the sight of her guest thrown from her home. She wondered briefly if the guards would refuse the patriarch’s entry if she willed it, a test of loyalty surely, fearing for the fate of such guards if they refused entry to the ever so bold Onuphrious. Where was this boldness in the early years of her marriage, this question applying to either party as the pair eroded against each other’s will, suspectedly intense at the convergence of ice and flames.
As Akhenaten openly gulped down bitter opium, Neithotep following in insolence, Iaheru snickered. For a moment, she ignored the guest Nenet had so mistakenly brought and expressed content. “I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her eyes darting back to Onuphrious. She takes a long sip of her fine wine, the acidity stinging the throat. “But it would be nice to have a strong buzz going when I do.”
“Pardon me,” Her lips smack together violently as she scoots her chair backwards with a force that creaks against even the smoothest of marble. “Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Her hands brace against the table. Snapping for a servant with urgency. “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.” She hints to a night long away, her eyes refusing to find another target as the narrow in on her estranged husband.
She addresses Khufu and Nenet at the end of the table. “Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.”
Did Onuphrious expect anything different, coming in the way he did? Already, tensions within the hei Sheifa were out of control, with fissures between parents exacerbating already tenuous relationships with the children. He played off his rage for the moment, simply because it seemed to prevalent already in his wife and his son. Part of him enjoyed it all, almost craving to see a vein bulge on his incompetent heir's forehead, or for Iaheru to lash out at him and truly turn the dinner she'd orchestrated to dissolve into pandemonium.
Anger had its way of poisoning someone. He'd learned that lesson long ago, but... at this point, he didn't care in the slightest. The audacity they had, in inviting not one, but two guests in his place. At the very least, the other one was Khufu. He wouldn't kick out his friend, if only for the benefit of having someone to talk to once the dust from this settled. If it settled.
"I'd kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless."
Onuphrious didn't hide the chuckle that parted his lips, shifting his head to glide his gaze along the table from hateful son to hateful wife. The laughter became a ghost on his lips, however, as Iaheru went on. If anyone at this table had the capacity to wound him, it was her. Once she'd had that sip of wine, her tone shifted. The chair scraped against the floor, the creaking jarring his senses up until her sarcastic jibes served their intended purpose.
"How you honour me with your respect, dear wife. It's rather unnecessary, given how half of you would have trouble doing it!"
He offered a fine smile to his opiated daughter, seeing no reason to insult her. Neithotep was a complicated creature, and he'd rather not dive into every jar of worms at the exact same time. As Iaheru rounded on their remaining guest, Onuphrious arched his eyebrows. They seemed unfamiliar with one another. While the sirdar certainly kept his friends and family separate, he could've sworn they'd met before. He didn't, however, care to ask.
"We certainly are," he agreed. It wouldn't do for him to partake. He'd prove himself their better, take the high ground. The irony that it required not being high to do so. No, he'd suffer through this in sobriety, or rather, with merely alcohol to fan the flames building in his gut. It was becoming more and more difficult to retain the composure he'd built once that Greek harlot was expunged. The servant returned, just in time to provide Onuphrious with a large goblet of wine. Food was to follow, and he could distantly smell cooking in the distance.
So obedient, even when the matriarch is clearly speaking mockingly.
It was nice, to clear his throat with a sip. But the moment the goblet fell, wine splattered from it, seeping into the table cloth as he turned his gaze towards his heir. How he hated the thought of that future reality.
"Now, we're enjoying it even more, aren't we? Well, maybe not. A phial in a glass is just scratching the surface of your day to day, right son?"
The sirdar smirked as he raised the goblet back to his lips, letting another sip before he smiled brightly at Nenet,
"I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine."
For now, he'd ignore Iaheru, fully intent on mocking her mockery by partaking in that wine, and in the food she'd ordered made for him with the brightest of smiles.
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Did Onuphrious expect anything different, coming in the way he did? Already, tensions within the hei Sheifa were out of control, with fissures between parents exacerbating already tenuous relationships with the children. He played off his rage for the moment, simply because it seemed to prevalent already in his wife and his son. Part of him enjoyed it all, almost craving to see a vein bulge on his incompetent heir's forehead, or for Iaheru to lash out at him and truly turn the dinner she'd orchestrated to dissolve into pandemonium.
Anger had its way of poisoning someone. He'd learned that lesson long ago, but... at this point, he didn't care in the slightest. The audacity they had, in inviting not one, but two guests in his place. At the very least, the other one was Khufu. He wouldn't kick out his friend, if only for the benefit of having someone to talk to once the dust from this settled. If it settled.
"I'd kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless."
Onuphrious didn't hide the chuckle that parted his lips, shifting his head to glide his gaze along the table from hateful son to hateful wife. The laughter became a ghost on his lips, however, as Iaheru went on. If anyone at this table had the capacity to wound him, it was her. Once she'd had that sip of wine, her tone shifted. The chair scraped against the floor, the creaking jarring his senses up until her sarcastic jibes served their intended purpose.
"How you honour me with your respect, dear wife. It's rather unnecessary, given how half of you would have trouble doing it!"
He offered a fine smile to his opiated daughter, seeing no reason to insult her. Neithotep was a complicated creature, and he'd rather not dive into every jar of worms at the exact same time. As Iaheru rounded on their remaining guest, Onuphrious arched his eyebrows. They seemed unfamiliar with one another. While the sirdar certainly kept his friends and family separate, he could've sworn they'd met before. He didn't, however, care to ask.
"We certainly are," he agreed. It wouldn't do for him to partake. He'd prove himself their better, take the high ground. The irony that it required not being high to do so. No, he'd suffer through this in sobriety, or rather, with merely alcohol to fan the flames building in his gut. It was becoming more and more difficult to retain the composure he'd built once that Greek harlot was expunged. The servant returned, just in time to provide Onuphrious with a large goblet of wine. Food was to follow, and he could distantly smell cooking in the distance.
So obedient, even when the matriarch is clearly speaking mockingly.
It was nice, to clear his throat with a sip. But the moment the goblet fell, wine splattered from it, seeping into the table cloth as he turned his gaze towards his heir. How he hated the thought of that future reality.
"Now, we're enjoying it even more, aren't we? Well, maybe not. A phial in a glass is just scratching the surface of your day to day, right son?"
The sirdar smirked as he raised the goblet back to his lips, letting another sip before he smiled brightly at Nenet,
"I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine."
For now, he'd ignore Iaheru, fully intent on mocking her mockery by partaking in that wine, and in the food she'd ordered made for him with the brightest of smiles.
Did Onuphrious expect anything different, coming in the way he did? Already, tensions within the hei Sheifa were out of control, with fissures between parents exacerbating already tenuous relationships with the children. He played off his rage for the moment, simply because it seemed to prevalent already in his wife and his son. Part of him enjoyed it all, almost craving to see a vein bulge on his incompetent heir's forehead, or for Iaheru to lash out at him and truly turn the dinner she'd orchestrated to dissolve into pandemonium.
Anger had its way of poisoning someone. He'd learned that lesson long ago, but... at this point, he didn't care in the slightest. The audacity they had, in inviting not one, but two guests in his place. At the very least, the other one was Khufu. He wouldn't kick out his friend, if only for the benefit of having someone to talk to once the dust from this settled. If it settled.
"I'd kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless."
Onuphrious didn't hide the chuckle that parted his lips, shifting his head to glide his gaze along the table from hateful son to hateful wife. The laughter became a ghost on his lips, however, as Iaheru went on. If anyone at this table had the capacity to wound him, it was her. Once she'd had that sip of wine, her tone shifted. The chair scraped against the floor, the creaking jarring his senses up until her sarcastic jibes served their intended purpose.
"How you honour me with your respect, dear wife. It's rather unnecessary, given how half of you would have trouble doing it!"
He offered a fine smile to his opiated daughter, seeing no reason to insult her. Neithotep was a complicated creature, and he'd rather not dive into every jar of worms at the exact same time. As Iaheru rounded on their remaining guest, Onuphrious arched his eyebrows. They seemed unfamiliar with one another. While the sirdar certainly kept his friends and family separate, he could've sworn they'd met before. He didn't, however, care to ask.
"We certainly are," he agreed. It wouldn't do for him to partake. He'd prove himself their better, take the high ground. The irony that it required not being high to do so. No, he'd suffer through this in sobriety, or rather, with merely alcohol to fan the flames building in his gut. It was becoming more and more difficult to retain the composure he'd built once that Greek harlot was expunged. The servant returned, just in time to provide Onuphrious with a large goblet of wine. Food was to follow, and he could distantly smell cooking in the distance.
So obedient, even when the matriarch is clearly speaking mockingly.
It was nice, to clear his throat with a sip. But the moment the goblet fell, wine splattered from it, seeping into the table cloth as he turned his gaze towards his heir. How he hated the thought of that future reality.
"Now, we're enjoying it even more, aren't we? Well, maybe not. A phial in a glass is just scratching the surface of your day to day, right son?"
The sirdar smirked as he raised the goblet back to his lips, letting another sip before he smiled brightly at Nenet,
"I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine."
For now, he'd ignore Iaheru, fully intent on mocking her mockery by partaking in that wine, and in the food she'd ordered made for him with the brightest of smiles.
Shock wasn’t quite strong enough for what she felt when her father, of all people, walked in. Sutekh would have been less shocking. Even the Pharaoh she could have understood but her father? Her gaze flew to her mother, but bounced immediately to Anastasia who was unceremoniously ousted from the room. Then her eyes bounced to Akhenaten to see how he bore that insult. Well...the real insult was that the girl was here at all but the insult to the insult, perhaps.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena ground out. Nenet, obviously, remained mute.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” Nia’s voice sounded false and shrill to Nenet. Her anxious eyes pounced on Nia, now, wondering how this was going to play out. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’”
Sweet Toth in the Duat. This was so very, very painful. Nenet rested her elbow on the table and hid her face in her hand. Between her fingers she watched Khufu. Why had she invited him? Why had she ever thought it would be safe to invite him? She heard, rather than saw Nia downing the rest of her wine like an uncultured peasant. Nenet hid her face in both hands.
Dear Anubis, take her now.
“It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?” Nia brutally went on. Nenet kind of wanted to cry. Gods did she want out of this family. Her elder sister wasn’t the worst part but she was definitely drilling home the awkward.
“I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her mother was saying and Nenet wondered what the phial was for. Phial of what? Strong alcohol? Though she knew well enough the end of the sentence was that Iaheru was mightily enraged at Onuphrious. Nenet shot Khufu a look. If they snuck out now, literally no one would miss them. She’d walk him to the door, apologize, and just never see him again. Then she could die in her room in peace and float on the eternal river. It would be fine.
“Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Iaheru was saying and Nenet’s head snapped up. What? Oh, no, no, no. Nope. She wasn’t standing, she wasn’t remaining seated...okay well she was but it wasn’t, like, a ‘stance’ per say. How did one remain neutral? Was she allowed to? “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.”
Okay so no standing?? Nenet reached for Akhenaten’s wine and knocked it back. Whatever he’d put in it, she wanted it. Of course, then, that was when her mother addressed her, while the wine cup was in her mouth with wine escaping the sides and spilling down her jaw and neck.
“Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.” It wasn’t like Khufu could say no. Nenet nearly spilled the cup trying to get it away from her and actually did spill half of it back on her brother while trying to shove it back at him. All this, of course, meant she had to reach across her father as he’d taken Ana’s place.
Everything was happening so fast. Khufu was leaving, drinks were spilling, and then her father was sniping back at her mother. Nenet was feeling distinctly strange at this point, growing a little less anxious but a little more floaty. The anxiety was still there but she kind of felt like she was watching it as the seconds blazed past. Then she heard herself being spoken to by her father and she blinked at him.
“I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine.”
“Uh…” she didn’t really want to say that he’d stolen a book from her and that she’d cried on him while discussing Sutekh. And that he was now her book dealer from the palace. “W-w-we…” she tongued her teeth. “M-m-m-et-t-t.” Yep. That was the story. They met.
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Shock wasn’t quite strong enough for what she felt when her father, of all people, walked in. Sutekh would have been less shocking. Even the Pharaoh she could have understood but her father? Her gaze flew to her mother, but bounced immediately to Anastasia who was unceremoniously ousted from the room. Then her eyes bounced to Akhenaten to see how he bore that insult. Well...the real insult was that the girl was here at all but the insult to the insult, perhaps.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena ground out. Nenet, obviously, remained mute.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” Nia’s voice sounded false and shrill to Nenet. Her anxious eyes pounced on Nia, now, wondering how this was going to play out. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’”
Sweet Toth in the Duat. This was so very, very painful. Nenet rested her elbow on the table and hid her face in her hand. Between her fingers she watched Khufu. Why had she invited him? Why had she ever thought it would be safe to invite him? She heard, rather than saw Nia downing the rest of her wine like an uncultured peasant. Nenet hid her face in both hands.
Dear Anubis, take her now.
“It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?” Nia brutally went on. Nenet kind of wanted to cry. Gods did she want out of this family. Her elder sister wasn’t the worst part but she was definitely drilling home the awkward.
“I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her mother was saying and Nenet wondered what the phial was for. Phial of what? Strong alcohol? Though she knew well enough the end of the sentence was that Iaheru was mightily enraged at Onuphrious. Nenet shot Khufu a look. If they snuck out now, literally no one would miss them. She’d walk him to the door, apologize, and just never see him again. Then she could die in her room in peace and float on the eternal river. It would be fine.
“Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Iaheru was saying and Nenet’s head snapped up. What? Oh, no, no, no. Nope. She wasn’t standing, she wasn’t remaining seated...okay well she was but it wasn’t, like, a ‘stance’ per say. How did one remain neutral? Was she allowed to? “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.”
Okay so no standing?? Nenet reached for Akhenaten’s wine and knocked it back. Whatever he’d put in it, she wanted it. Of course, then, that was when her mother addressed her, while the wine cup was in her mouth with wine escaping the sides and spilling down her jaw and neck.
“Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.” It wasn’t like Khufu could say no. Nenet nearly spilled the cup trying to get it away from her and actually did spill half of it back on her brother while trying to shove it back at him. All this, of course, meant she had to reach across her father as he’d taken Ana’s place.
Everything was happening so fast. Khufu was leaving, drinks were spilling, and then her father was sniping back at her mother. Nenet was feeling distinctly strange at this point, growing a little less anxious but a little more floaty. The anxiety was still there but she kind of felt like she was watching it as the seconds blazed past. Then she heard herself being spoken to by her father and she blinked at him.
“I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine.”
“Uh…” she didn’t really want to say that he’d stolen a book from her and that she’d cried on him while discussing Sutekh. And that he was now her book dealer from the palace. “W-w-we…” she tongued her teeth. “M-m-m-et-t-t.” Yep. That was the story. They met.
Shock wasn’t quite strong enough for what she felt when her father, of all people, walked in. Sutekh would have been less shocking. Even the Pharaoh she could have understood but her father? Her gaze flew to her mother, but bounced immediately to Anastasia who was unceremoniously ousted from the room. Then her eyes bounced to Akhenaten to see how he bore that insult. Well...the real insult was that the girl was here at all but the insult to the insult, perhaps.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena ground out. Nenet, obviously, remained mute.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” Nia’s voice sounded false and shrill to Nenet. Her anxious eyes pounced on Nia, now, wondering how this was going to play out. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’”
Sweet Toth in the Duat. This was so very, very painful. Nenet rested her elbow on the table and hid her face in her hand. Between her fingers she watched Khufu. Why had she invited him? Why had she ever thought it would be safe to invite him? She heard, rather than saw Nia downing the rest of her wine like an uncultured peasant. Nenet hid her face in both hands.
Dear Anubis, take her now.
“It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?” Nia brutally went on. Nenet kind of wanted to cry. Gods did she want out of this family. Her elder sister wasn’t the worst part but she was definitely drilling home the awkward.
“I’d kill for a phial, dear son. I may kill regardless,” her mother was saying and Nenet wondered what the phial was for. Phial of what? Strong alcohol? Though she knew well enough the end of the sentence was that Iaheru was mightily enraged at Onuphrious. Nenet shot Khufu a look. If they snuck out now, literally no one would miss them. She’d walk him to the door, apologize, and just never see him again. Then she could die in her room in peace and float on the eternal river. It would be fine.
“Should we not stand for the master of the house? Does he not command our respect any longer?” Iaheru was saying and Nenet’s head snapped up. What? Oh, no, no, no. Nope. She wasn’t standing, she wasn’t remaining seated...okay well she was but it wasn’t, like, a ‘stance’ per say. How did one remain neutral? Was she allowed to? “Have Sirdar Onuphrious treated to the finest meal on a golden plate. Shower him further in wine. A fine vintage. We will require a large supply.”
Okay so no standing?? Nenet reached for Akhenaten’s wine and knocked it back. Whatever he’d put in it, she wanted it. Of course, then, that was when her mother addressed her, while the wine cup was in her mouth with wine escaping the sides and spilling down her jaw and neck.
“Feel free to leave, kind sir. Feel free to stay. I’m sure the theatrics will prove intriguing. Sheifas are known for their indulgences.” It wasn’t like Khufu could say no. Nenet nearly spilled the cup trying to get it away from her and actually did spill half of it back on her brother while trying to shove it back at him. All this, of course, meant she had to reach across her father as he’d taken Ana’s place.
Everything was happening so fast. Khufu was leaving, drinks were spilling, and then her father was sniping back at her mother. Nenet was feeling distinctly strange at this point, growing a little less anxious but a little more floaty. The anxiety was still there but she kind of felt like she was watching it as the seconds blazed past. Then she heard herself being spoken to by her father and she blinked at him.
“I'm curious... how did you meet Khufu, Nenet? He's a dear friend of mine.”
“Uh…” she didn’t really want to say that he’d stolen a book from her and that she’d cried on him while discussing Sutekh. And that he was now her book dealer from the palace. “W-w-we…” she tongued her teeth. “M-m-m-et-t-t.” Yep. That was the story. They met.
Hena knew what Nia was trying to convey with the squeeze of his hand, they had always been able to just know what the other was thinking non-verbally. They were close enough that they didn’t need to speak, though recently he had felt a little more disconnected from his sister than he would like. At this time, he knew that she was trying to stop him from antagonizing their father further. And yet, he didn’t listen, as he often hadn’t.
Nia attempted to break the awkwardness with a few joking toasts, and Hena just ignored it, he was not interested in cheering the mood up and having a normal family dinner. This was more normal for their family than anything else.
His parents toxicity only made Hena believe even more that marriage was a bunch of bullshit. What was the point in tying yourself to one person for the rest of your life? To live unhappily as they did.
And then his mother was saying she’d kill for some of the opium he had just downed.
“I have no more on me. I would have it fetched from Ana’s villa, but that would seem unfair considering the events that just transpired.” He said. A jab at his father, hinting at the amount of his father’s money he had spent on the woman who had just been removed from the dinner table for no reason other than pure spite.
Hena did not make a move to stand from his chair when his mother said they should stand for their father. Instead his hard gaze moved from his mother and he looked once more at his father, as if daring him to try and get him to stand as a sign of respect. The heir and his father held no relationship as far as Hena was aware, the blood that tied them was simply that. Blood and circumstance, nothing more.
His father seemed to brush off his actions with the opium, and in a way that made Hena seethe even more than if he had addressed it. He had felt ignored by his parents his entire life, and this was putting salt into an old wound. As much as Hena would never admit it, he had spent most of his life only wishing his parents loved him as much as they had Sutekh.
Then Nenet was stealing his wine and he gave her a weird look. His wine was the same as hers, the opium having been consumed straight from the phial and already starting to flow through his veins. Perhaps she had missed that part and figured she would find some in his drink instead. He cared little, instead he motioned for a slave to bring him another cup of wine.
Until Nenet spilled the wine on him trying to shove it back at him, and he felt his anger flare.
He stood, his previously stark white Shendyt now stained with the dark wine.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT.” He shouted, anger flaring as he started to see red. He grabbed the knife, intended to be used to cut through meat during the meal, and began to round the table towards his sister, his anger in control of his actions.
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Hena knew what Nia was trying to convey with the squeeze of his hand, they had always been able to just know what the other was thinking non-verbally. They were close enough that they didn’t need to speak, though recently he had felt a little more disconnected from his sister than he would like. At this time, he knew that she was trying to stop him from antagonizing their father further. And yet, he didn’t listen, as he often hadn’t.
Nia attempted to break the awkwardness with a few joking toasts, and Hena just ignored it, he was not interested in cheering the mood up and having a normal family dinner. This was more normal for their family than anything else.
His parents toxicity only made Hena believe even more that marriage was a bunch of bullshit. What was the point in tying yourself to one person for the rest of your life? To live unhappily as they did.
And then his mother was saying she’d kill for some of the opium he had just downed.
“I have no more on me. I would have it fetched from Ana’s villa, but that would seem unfair considering the events that just transpired.” He said. A jab at his father, hinting at the amount of his father’s money he had spent on the woman who had just been removed from the dinner table for no reason other than pure spite.
Hena did not make a move to stand from his chair when his mother said they should stand for their father. Instead his hard gaze moved from his mother and he looked once more at his father, as if daring him to try and get him to stand as a sign of respect. The heir and his father held no relationship as far as Hena was aware, the blood that tied them was simply that. Blood and circumstance, nothing more.
His father seemed to brush off his actions with the opium, and in a way that made Hena seethe even more than if he had addressed it. He had felt ignored by his parents his entire life, and this was putting salt into an old wound. As much as Hena would never admit it, he had spent most of his life only wishing his parents loved him as much as they had Sutekh.
Then Nenet was stealing his wine and he gave her a weird look. His wine was the same as hers, the opium having been consumed straight from the phial and already starting to flow through his veins. Perhaps she had missed that part and figured she would find some in his drink instead. He cared little, instead he motioned for a slave to bring him another cup of wine.
Until Nenet spilled the wine on him trying to shove it back at him, and he felt his anger flare.
He stood, his previously stark white Shendyt now stained with the dark wine.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT.” He shouted, anger flaring as he started to see red. He grabbed the knife, intended to be used to cut through meat during the meal, and began to round the table towards his sister, his anger in control of his actions.
Hena knew what Nia was trying to convey with the squeeze of his hand, they had always been able to just know what the other was thinking non-verbally. They were close enough that they didn’t need to speak, though recently he had felt a little more disconnected from his sister than he would like. At this time, he knew that she was trying to stop him from antagonizing their father further. And yet, he didn’t listen, as he often hadn’t.
Nia attempted to break the awkwardness with a few joking toasts, and Hena just ignored it, he was not interested in cheering the mood up and having a normal family dinner. This was more normal for their family than anything else.
His parents toxicity only made Hena believe even more that marriage was a bunch of bullshit. What was the point in tying yourself to one person for the rest of your life? To live unhappily as they did.
And then his mother was saying she’d kill for some of the opium he had just downed.
“I have no more on me. I would have it fetched from Ana’s villa, but that would seem unfair considering the events that just transpired.” He said. A jab at his father, hinting at the amount of his father’s money he had spent on the woman who had just been removed from the dinner table for no reason other than pure spite.
Hena did not make a move to stand from his chair when his mother said they should stand for their father. Instead his hard gaze moved from his mother and he looked once more at his father, as if daring him to try and get him to stand as a sign of respect. The heir and his father held no relationship as far as Hena was aware, the blood that tied them was simply that. Blood and circumstance, nothing more.
His father seemed to brush off his actions with the opium, and in a way that made Hena seethe even more than if he had addressed it. He had felt ignored by his parents his entire life, and this was putting salt into an old wound. As much as Hena would never admit it, he had spent most of his life only wishing his parents loved him as much as they had Sutekh.
Then Nenet was stealing his wine and he gave her a weird look. His wine was the same as hers, the opium having been consumed straight from the phial and already starting to flow through his veins. Perhaps she had missed that part and figured she would find some in his drink instead. He cared little, instead he motioned for a slave to bring him another cup of wine.
Until Nenet spilled the wine on him trying to shove it back at him, and he felt his anger flare.
He stood, his previously stark white Shendyt now stained with the dark wine.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT.” He shouted, anger flaring as he started to see red. He grabbed the knife, intended to be used to cut through meat during the meal, and began to round the table towards his sister, his anger in control of his actions.
The recoil was immediate. Wine gushed over the tabletop, dumping into Hena’s lap. The stain spread violently like he’d been stabbed and he surged to his feet so quickly that Nenet barely comprehended that he’d done it. She gawked at him as he stood fuming down at his shendyt while a coiling sense of dread formed a lump in her chest. If she’d had time, she the fear would have subsided. They were with family and there were strangers...stranger, at the table. Akhenaten would no doubt get her back later but she could hide from him in the stables or something. There were ways of waiting out his rage and even he had limitations on how far he’d go.
Except he wouldn’t behave himself. Hadn’t the entire evening and why should he start now? Young, handsome, arrogant, set to inherit it all? He had no reason to behave himself and even less with the stress and strain of their parents, of Nia’s brutal awkwardness, their father’s presence...and now the tipping point - her spilling wine on his clothes.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT!” His bellow was so loud that she ducked at the sound as it reverberated around the room.
“NO!” That one, crystal clear scream. No stutter, no social anxiety. Just the uninhibited word as she stumbled out of her own chair, tangling in the legs but managing to remain upright. The chair bounced away behind her, smacking against table and then wall. Nenet backed away, arms outstretched, as though her hands could do anything. “S-stop!” He wouldn’t kill her over clothes?
Yes he would.
She turned tail and fled the room, bolting down the hallway, and intending to make it to her room upstairs.
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The recoil was immediate. Wine gushed over the tabletop, dumping into Hena’s lap. The stain spread violently like he’d been stabbed and he surged to his feet so quickly that Nenet barely comprehended that he’d done it. She gawked at him as he stood fuming down at his shendyt while a coiling sense of dread formed a lump in her chest. If she’d had time, she the fear would have subsided. They were with family and there were strangers...stranger, at the table. Akhenaten would no doubt get her back later but she could hide from him in the stables or something. There were ways of waiting out his rage and even he had limitations on how far he’d go.
Except he wouldn’t behave himself. Hadn’t the entire evening and why should he start now? Young, handsome, arrogant, set to inherit it all? He had no reason to behave himself and even less with the stress and strain of their parents, of Nia’s brutal awkwardness, their father’s presence...and now the tipping point - her spilling wine on his clothes.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT!” His bellow was so loud that she ducked at the sound as it reverberated around the room.
“NO!” That one, crystal clear scream. No stutter, no social anxiety. Just the uninhibited word as she stumbled out of her own chair, tangling in the legs but managing to remain upright. The chair bounced away behind her, smacking against table and then wall. Nenet backed away, arms outstretched, as though her hands could do anything. “S-stop!” He wouldn’t kill her over clothes?
Yes he would.
She turned tail and fled the room, bolting down the hallway, and intending to make it to her room upstairs.
The recoil was immediate. Wine gushed over the tabletop, dumping into Hena’s lap. The stain spread violently like he’d been stabbed and he surged to his feet so quickly that Nenet barely comprehended that he’d done it. She gawked at him as he stood fuming down at his shendyt while a coiling sense of dread formed a lump in her chest. If she’d had time, she the fear would have subsided. They were with family and there were strangers...stranger, at the table. Akhenaten would no doubt get her back later but she could hide from him in the stables or something. There were ways of waiting out his rage and even he had limitations on how far he’d go.
Except he wouldn’t behave himself. Hadn’t the entire evening and why should he start now? Young, handsome, arrogant, set to inherit it all? He had no reason to behave himself and even less with the stress and strain of their parents, of Nia’s brutal awkwardness, their father’s presence...and now the tipping point - her spilling wine on his clothes.
“YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT!” His bellow was so loud that she ducked at the sound as it reverberated around the room.
“NO!” That one, crystal clear scream. No stutter, no social anxiety. Just the uninhibited word as she stumbled out of her own chair, tangling in the legs but managing to remain upright. The chair bounced away behind her, smacking against table and then wall. Nenet backed away, arms outstretched, as though her hands could do anything. “S-stop!” He wouldn’t kill her over clothes?
Yes he would.
She turned tail and fled the room, bolting down the hallway, and intending to make it to her room upstairs.
Nefertaari’s joy at seeing her father quickly fled the moment he threw out Ana, and her hope for an enjoyable family dinner faded in the wake of the drama stirred up. She sat there in silence, brandishing a pipe from somewhere so that she could suckle on some hash. It would at least calm her nerves as much as the opium should have calmed her brother’s.
Or so she thought, because then Nenet reached for his glass and something spilled, and suddenly a knife was involved and Nefertaari stood up so quickly as to cast her chair backwards. She moved quickly, grabbing Nenet and pulling her back with as much force as she could muster before Akhenaten could stab her.
“Stop it!” the eldest of the children shouted, and it was at all of them. “Hena, you need to learn to control your temper. Killing off your family for minor transgressions will get you nowhere. Mother, you did something wrong. Don’t blame Father for it. I am taking Nenet, and we are going back to my room, where I’ll request our dinner brought to us. Or you can start behaving like civilized adults, and we can enjoy our meal and bicker safely!”
It was the most words Nefertaari had put together in quite some time, but she felt she made her point. At least enough to save Nenet’s life before she lost it over something stupid. A long, low sigh that nearly sounded like a growl followed, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to slow the anxiety that tightened around her chest.
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Nefertaari’s joy at seeing her father quickly fled the moment he threw out Ana, and her hope for an enjoyable family dinner faded in the wake of the drama stirred up. She sat there in silence, brandishing a pipe from somewhere so that she could suckle on some hash. It would at least calm her nerves as much as the opium should have calmed her brother’s.
Or so she thought, because then Nenet reached for his glass and something spilled, and suddenly a knife was involved and Nefertaari stood up so quickly as to cast her chair backwards. She moved quickly, grabbing Nenet and pulling her back with as much force as she could muster before Akhenaten could stab her.
“Stop it!” the eldest of the children shouted, and it was at all of them. “Hena, you need to learn to control your temper. Killing off your family for minor transgressions will get you nowhere. Mother, you did something wrong. Don’t blame Father for it. I am taking Nenet, and we are going back to my room, where I’ll request our dinner brought to us. Or you can start behaving like civilized adults, and we can enjoy our meal and bicker safely!”
It was the most words Nefertaari had put together in quite some time, but she felt she made her point. At least enough to save Nenet’s life before she lost it over something stupid. A long, low sigh that nearly sounded like a growl followed, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to slow the anxiety that tightened around her chest.
Nefertaari’s joy at seeing her father quickly fled the moment he threw out Ana, and her hope for an enjoyable family dinner faded in the wake of the drama stirred up. She sat there in silence, brandishing a pipe from somewhere so that she could suckle on some hash. It would at least calm her nerves as much as the opium should have calmed her brother’s.
Or so she thought, because then Nenet reached for his glass and something spilled, and suddenly a knife was involved and Nefertaari stood up so quickly as to cast her chair backwards. She moved quickly, grabbing Nenet and pulling her back with as much force as she could muster before Akhenaten could stab her.
“Stop it!” the eldest of the children shouted, and it was at all of them. “Hena, you need to learn to control your temper. Killing off your family for minor transgressions will get you nowhere. Mother, you did something wrong. Don’t blame Father for it. I am taking Nenet, and we are going back to my room, where I’ll request our dinner brought to us. Or you can start behaving like civilized adults, and we can enjoy our meal and bicker safely!”
It was the most words Nefertaari had put together in quite some time, but she felt she made her point. At least enough to save Nenet’s life before she lost it over something stupid. A long, low sigh that nearly sounded like a growl followed, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to slow the anxiety that tightened around her chest.
Everything seemed to happen so fast, and yet so slow as the opium Nia had just downed worked its way through her system. Unsurprisingly, her parents were already harping at each other, elevating the discomfort of the already uncomfortable dinner to whole new levels. She thought to just drown out the whole thing in her wine glass, but of course, that was never going to be an option, was it?
Before she could do anything to stop it, Nenet was stealing Hena’s wine before spilling it, and Hena was on his feet with a knife. Blinking a few times to reassure herself she was actually seeing what she was seeing, her sister’s shrill scream all but confirmed it. This was actually happening right now. Her little brother was about to murder her little sister over a spilled drink. Gods, was this what Hei Sheifa had come to?
Knocking her chair over as she clumsily jumped to her feet, she rushed over to where Hena stood, jumping up to loop an arm around his neck and another around his waist in order to yank him back. In her intoxication, she wasn’t entirely sure just how successful she was, but she was relatively confident she was the one person in this room Hena wouldn’t actually hurt. The night where he shoved her back into the wall and screamed in her face briefly flashed across her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. It was one time. If there was anyone here who could stop him now, it was her. And if there wasn’t, well, so be it.
“Stop it!” she added her own shout to both of her sisters’, shaking Akhenaten a little in her frustration. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Hena?!” she hissed in his ear. “That’s your sister! You can buy another fucking outfit!” No matter how much she generally loathed most of her family, she wouldn’t go murdering them over it. Apparently, Hena didn’t share this same sentiment.
Nia’s glare could have cut stone as it flashed over to their mother, shaking her head with her jaw set in a hard line. “You just had to bring us all together, didn’t you? Who could have predicted something terrible would have happened, huh?” As if it wasn’t practically a given. Though, pulling weapons on each other was a new disaster to add to the repertoire.
Looking back at Onuphrious, the seething look on her face only sharpened in her anger. “And you. Just had to come in and make it all worse, didn’t you? How predictable.” Shaking her head again, she fought the very unladylike urge to spit on the floor. “This family is pathetic. I hope you’re both proud of the mess you spawned.”
The young woman did her best to try and wrestle her brother backwards while Nefertaari intervened to help Nenet. If they could make it through the rest of the evening without having to summon a healer, it would be the greatest success they could claim for this monster of a family dinner.
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Everything seemed to happen so fast, and yet so slow as the opium Nia had just downed worked its way through her system. Unsurprisingly, her parents were already harping at each other, elevating the discomfort of the already uncomfortable dinner to whole new levels. She thought to just drown out the whole thing in her wine glass, but of course, that was never going to be an option, was it?
Before she could do anything to stop it, Nenet was stealing Hena’s wine before spilling it, and Hena was on his feet with a knife. Blinking a few times to reassure herself she was actually seeing what she was seeing, her sister’s shrill scream all but confirmed it. This was actually happening right now. Her little brother was about to murder her little sister over a spilled drink. Gods, was this what Hei Sheifa had come to?
Knocking her chair over as she clumsily jumped to her feet, she rushed over to where Hena stood, jumping up to loop an arm around his neck and another around his waist in order to yank him back. In her intoxication, she wasn’t entirely sure just how successful she was, but she was relatively confident she was the one person in this room Hena wouldn’t actually hurt. The night where he shoved her back into the wall and screamed in her face briefly flashed across her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. It was one time. If there was anyone here who could stop him now, it was her. And if there wasn’t, well, so be it.
“Stop it!” she added her own shout to both of her sisters’, shaking Akhenaten a little in her frustration. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Hena?!” she hissed in his ear. “That’s your sister! You can buy another fucking outfit!” No matter how much she generally loathed most of her family, she wouldn’t go murdering them over it. Apparently, Hena didn’t share this same sentiment.
Nia’s glare could have cut stone as it flashed over to their mother, shaking her head with her jaw set in a hard line. “You just had to bring us all together, didn’t you? Who could have predicted something terrible would have happened, huh?” As if it wasn’t practically a given. Though, pulling weapons on each other was a new disaster to add to the repertoire.
Looking back at Onuphrious, the seething look on her face only sharpened in her anger. “And you. Just had to come in and make it all worse, didn’t you? How predictable.” Shaking her head again, she fought the very unladylike urge to spit on the floor. “This family is pathetic. I hope you’re both proud of the mess you spawned.”
The young woman did her best to try and wrestle her brother backwards while Nefertaari intervened to help Nenet. If they could make it through the rest of the evening without having to summon a healer, it would be the greatest success they could claim for this monster of a family dinner.
Everything seemed to happen so fast, and yet so slow as the opium Nia had just downed worked its way through her system. Unsurprisingly, her parents were already harping at each other, elevating the discomfort of the already uncomfortable dinner to whole new levels. She thought to just drown out the whole thing in her wine glass, but of course, that was never going to be an option, was it?
Before she could do anything to stop it, Nenet was stealing Hena’s wine before spilling it, and Hena was on his feet with a knife. Blinking a few times to reassure herself she was actually seeing what she was seeing, her sister’s shrill scream all but confirmed it. This was actually happening right now. Her little brother was about to murder her little sister over a spilled drink. Gods, was this what Hei Sheifa had come to?
Knocking her chair over as she clumsily jumped to her feet, she rushed over to where Hena stood, jumping up to loop an arm around his neck and another around his waist in order to yank him back. In her intoxication, she wasn’t entirely sure just how successful she was, but she was relatively confident she was the one person in this room Hena wouldn’t actually hurt. The night where he shoved her back into the wall and screamed in her face briefly flashed across her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside. It was one time. If there was anyone here who could stop him now, it was her. And if there wasn’t, well, so be it.
“Stop it!” she added her own shout to both of her sisters’, shaking Akhenaten a little in her frustration. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Hena?!” she hissed in his ear. “That’s your sister! You can buy another fucking outfit!” No matter how much she generally loathed most of her family, she wouldn’t go murdering them over it. Apparently, Hena didn’t share this same sentiment.
Nia’s glare could have cut stone as it flashed over to their mother, shaking her head with her jaw set in a hard line. “You just had to bring us all together, didn’t you? Who could have predicted something terrible would have happened, huh?” As if it wasn’t practically a given. Though, pulling weapons on each other was a new disaster to add to the repertoire.
Looking back at Onuphrious, the seething look on her face only sharpened in her anger. “And you. Just had to come in and make it all worse, didn’t you? How predictable.” Shaking her head again, she fought the very unladylike urge to spit on the floor. “This family is pathetic. I hope you’re both proud of the mess you spawned.”
The young woman did her best to try and wrestle her brother backwards while Nefertaari intervened to help Nenet. If they could make it through the rest of the evening without having to summon a healer, it would be the greatest success they could claim for this monster of a family dinner.
Iaheru popped dates in her mouth nonchalantly as the dinner reverted back to the topic of their guest. She had heard of the man, apparently obsessed with books? Their paths simply hadn't crossed. At least, not yet. Feigning disinterest, the dates found her lips, slowly and methodically leaning back into the carved palm fronds of her chair...
Had her family always been like this? Chaos consumed the hall and she wasn't as mad as Akhenaten for his fit of rage than she was at her daughters. How dare they reproach her? How dare they judge her motivations when they achieved fractions of what Iaheru had at their respective ages? The best education was afforded them, the strongest and fattest allowances, they wanted for nothing at the hands of their mother. Her lips thin to a line as she rose from her seat.
Shoulders thrown back, her eyes locked on Onuphrious for a brief moment, nostrils characteristically flared in a distinct anger for his presence. She didn't so much blame him as she did her incompetent children, but she didn't miss her opportunity to express her seething anger towards the man in her home. "Is that so, Nefertari?" Iaheru crossed her arms. Without a doubt, Akhenaten had made the largest mess of the evening, but it was her eldest that stoked the rage within the mother as she exaggerated the extent of the daughter's words in the mother's deep insecurity.
Though they were different souls, Iaheru could empathize with Neithotep through shared trauma, and for that reason, Iaheru could turn the other cheek to Nia's insults and reprimands. But Nefertari? What did she know of the pain Iaheru suffered? What entitled this woman to pass judgement? Heat and regret sept into the silence between them. "You have a lot of nerve to say that in my home. At my table."
"What do you know?" Iaheru inched closer, her fury mounting with each step, tilting Nefertari's chin up with a single finger. "Do you want to tell me what it was like all those years?"
"Do you want to share your ignorant little musings on my life? Do you know what it's like to be me? Do you want to?" Iaheru narrowed her eyes as she made her threat, only briefly darting to Neithotep's outburst before she turned her attentions to the other half, Akhenaten.
Though she'd never admit it, her heart warmed at the sight of her youngest's rage, at least he never had to suppress it like women did. Iaheru wished dearly to lean into the burning pits of her being and channel it through sharpened metal. They were more alike than they'd ever admit. Iaheru quite liked the woman Onuphrious ejected, there was a softened heart that beat within her chest for love, and she only wanted love with all its faults for her children. "You aren't even holding that knife right you imbecile."
Iaheru recalled the days on the prow of her father's boat, and later Onuphrious'. How they'd filet fish with a long, slender knife, the metal curving with the contours and plinks of hairpin thin bones. Manicured fingers, similar to her own son's, gripped around the hilt of a knife set at a now sparse table. "You hold it like this," she showed her opium hazed son, not that he'd retain a single iota of this information. Not that they'd ever share the closeness Iaheru yearned for. Her hand plunged the knife into the table with all of her might, the table yielding beneath the puncture, creating a fissure and holding the golden hilted knife upright for all to see. She felt deeply satisfied. If the knife could assert control over a seemingly lost cause.
And finally, finally, she wrapped her fingers around the stem of a goblet, sloshing around the contents of wine within. With the conflated sway of her hips she approached Onuphrious from behind resting her trembling hands on his shoulders before swooping to brush her lips behind his ears. "You get to have them next..."
"And do a favor for your dear wife," she withdrew, staring at Nefertari with a distinct hatred before pointing the wine glass in her direction. "Take the disrespectful one to Thebes with you."
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Iaheru popped dates in her mouth nonchalantly as the dinner reverted back to the topic of their guest. She had heard of the man, apparently obsessed with books? Their paths simply hadn't crossed. At least, not yet. Feigning disinterest, the dates found her lips, slowly and methodically leaning back into the carved palm fronds of her chair...
Had her family always been like this? Chaos consumed the hall and she wasn't as mad as Akhenaten for his fit of rage than she was at her daughters. How dare they reproach her? How dare they judge her motivations when they achieved fractions of what Iaheru had at their respective ages? The best education was afforded them, the strongest and fattest allowances, they wanted for nothing at the hands of their mother. Her lips thin to a line as she rose from her seat.
Shoulders thrown back, her eyes locked on Onuphrious for a brief moment, nostrils characteristically flared in a distinct anger for his presence. She didn't so much blame him as she did her incompetent children, but she didn't miss her opportunity to express her seething anger towards the man in her home. "Is that so, Nefertari?" Iaheru crossed her arms. Without a doubt, Akhenaten had made the largest mess of the evening, but it was her eldest that stoked the rage within the mother as she exaggerated the extent of the daughter's words in the mother's deep insecurity.
Though they were different souls, Iaheru could empathize with Neithotep through shared trauma, and for that reason, Iaheru could turn the other cheek to Nia's insults and reprimands. But Nefertari? What did she know of the pain Iaheru suffered? What entitled this woman to pass judgement? Heat and regret sept into the silence between them. "You have a lot of nerve to say that in my home. At my table."
"What do you know?" Iaheru inched closer, her fury mounting with each step, tilting Nefertari's chin up with a single finger. "Do you want to tell me what it was like all those years?"
"Do you want to share your ignorant little musings on my life? Do you know what it's like to be me? Do you want to?" Iaheru narrowed her eyes as she made her threat, only briefly darting to Neithotep's outburst before she turned her attentions to the other half, Akhenaten.
Though she'd never admit it, her heart warmed at the sight of her youngest's rage, at least he never had to suppress it like women did. Iaheru wished dearly to lean into the burning pits of her being and channel it through sharpened metal. They were more alike than they'd ever admit. Iaheru quite liked the woman Onuphrious ejected, there was a softened heart that beat within her chest for love, and she only wanted love with all its faults for her children. "You aren't even holding that knife right you imbecile."
Iaheru recalled the days on the prow of her father's boat, and later Onuphrious'. How they'd filet fish with a long, slender knife, the metal curving with the contours and plinks of hairpin thin bones. Manicured fingers, similar to her own son's, gripped around the hilt of a knife set at a now sparse table. "You hold it like this," she showed her opium hazed son, not that he'd retain a single iota of this information. Not that they'd ever share the closeness Iaheru yearned for. Her hand plunged the knife into the table with all of her might, the table yielding beneath the puncture, creating a fissure and holding the golden hilted knife upright for all to see. She felt deeply satisfied. If the knife could assert control over a seemingly lost cause.
And finally, finally, she wrapped her fingers around the stem of a goblet, sloshing around the contents of wine within. With the conflated sway of her hips she approached Onuphrious from behind resting her trembling hands on his shoulders before swooping to brush her lips behind his ears. "You get to have them next..."
"And do a favor for your dear wife," she withdrew, staring at Nefertari with a distinct hatred before pointing the wine glass in her direction. "Take the disrespectful one to Thebes with you."
Iaheru popped dates in her mouth nonchalantly as the dinner reverted back to the topic of their guest. She had heard of the man, apparently obsessed with books? Their paths simply hadn't crossed. At least, not yet. Feigning disinterest, the dates found her lips, slowly and methodically leaning back into the carved palm fronds of her chair...
Had her family always been like this? Chaos consumed the hall and she wasn't as mad as Akhenaten for his fit of rage than she was at her daughters. How dare they reproach her? How dare they judge her motivations when they achieved fractions of what Iaheru had at their respective ages? The best education was afforded them, the strongest and fattest allowances, they wanted for nothing at the hands of their mother. Her lips thin to a line as she rose from her seat.
Shoulders thrown back, her eyes locked on Onuphrious for a brief moment, nostrils characteristically flared in a distinct anger for his presence. She didn't so much blame him as she did her incompetent children, but she didn't miss her opportunity to express her seething anger towards the man in her home. "Is that so, Nefertari?" Iaheru crossed her arms. Without a doubt, Akhenaten had made the largest mess of the evening, but it was her eldest that stoked the rage within the mother as she exaggerated the extent of the daughter's words in the mother's deep insecurity.
Though they were different souls, Iaheru could empathize with Neithotep through shared trauma, and for that reason, Iaheru could turn the other cheek to Nia's insults and reprimands. But Nefertari? What did she know of the pain Iaheru suffered? What entitled this woman to pass judgement? Heat and regret sept into the silence between them. "You have a lot of nerve to say that in my home. At my table."
"What do you know?" Iaheru inched closer, her fury mounting with each step, tilting Nefertari's chin up with a single finger. "Do you want to tell me what it was like all those years?"
"Do you want to share your ignorant little musings on my life? Do you know what it's like to be me? Do you want to?" Iaheru narrowed her eyes as she made her threat, only briefly darting to Neithotep's outburst before she turned her attentions to the other half, Akhenaten.
Though she'd never admit it, her heart warmed at the sight of her youngest's rage, at least he never had to suppress it like women did. Iaheru wished dearly to lean into the burning pits of her being and channel it through sharpened metal. They were more alike than they'd ever admit. Iaheru quite liked the woman Onuphrious ejected, there was a softened heart that beat within her chest for love, and she only wanted love with all its faults for her children. "You aren't even holding that knife right you imbecile."
Iaheru recalled the days on the prow of her father's boat, and later Onuphrious'. How they'd filet fish with a long, slender knife, the metal curving with the contours and plinks of hairpin thin bones. Manicured fingers, similar to her own son's, gripped around the hilt of a knife set at a now sparse table. "You hold it like this," she showed her opium hazed son, not that he'd retain a single iota of this information. Not that they'd ever share the closeness Iaheru yearned for. Her hand plunged the knife into the table with all of her might, the table yielding beneath the puncture, creating a fissure and holding the golden hilted knife upright for all to see. She felt deeply satisfied. If the knife could assert control over a seemingly lost cause.
And finally, finally, she wrapped her fingers around the stem of a goblet, sloshing around the contents of wine within. With the conflated sway of her hips she approached Onuphrious from behind resting her trembling hands on his shoulders before swooping to brush her lips behind his ears. "You get to have them next..."
"And do a favor for your dear wife," she withdrew, staring at Nefertari with a distinct hatred before pointing the wine glass in her direction. "Take the disrespectful one to Thebes with you."
A desire for spite ran amok amidst the anger that swirled around Onuphrious. He wasn't accustomed to the sensation, how it bubbled to the surface, glimmered red on the edge of his vision with every sidelong glance he made towards Iaheru. If Nenet explained how she'd met Khufu, the sirdar didn't hear any of it. Curious, but not enough so to actually fixate himself on the stuttering mess that was Nenet, it was Akhenaten's little jab that sprung the ire from him once again.
"Oh, good. You remember this one's name," he answered, the chuckle coming easily from his lips. The money, in truth, didn't matter to him. He gave his children more than enough, but clearly they held little concept of just how far the coffers of their house stretched. He preferred it that way, having long laid rest to the notion of trusting his lesser children, least of all Akhenaten, with anything resembling actual responsibility. How dreadful, that the future of the harakat rested on such a foolish boy.
If Onuphrious was disinclined to acknowledge Hena before, the rage that burned in his chest steeped deeper still. Then, Nenet spilled her wine all over the man's brilliant white shendyt. Onuphrious started to laugh, a bit of well-deserved comeuppance before Hena grabbed a knife and rounded towards his sister. This anger was beyond troublesome, and while the youngest ran towards her bedroom, the sirdar raised himself from his seat. For a moment, he looked towards Khufu, an apology written in his expression as he said,
"On second thought, it might be best if you left after all."
Circumstance led him to ask all of the houseguests to be on their way, intended or no. Onuphrious was, despite the threat Hena made, quite pleased to be the shatterpoint through which this quaint little dinner turned to shit. It seemed everything already did lately, and pushing Iaheru off of her high horse was more than a worthy objective, even if there were necessary sacrifices to be made for it.
Then, Nefertaari broke the sirdar out of his moment of reverie, attracting his gaze to her as she began to scold everyone else at the table. His only good child, the sweet yet competent Nefertaari. Whatever her faults were, the sirdar saw none of them. Instead, she poked at the sirdsett, sparking what was inevitably going to be another raging fire. But, there was no reason to stop it. Hena was being dealt with next by Neithotep, one of the only times that one served any sort of use.
She was the one apparently trusted to be a guide to the young heir, and she'd failed so incredibly miserably at it that it was all but certain that this would happen once Hena was pushed. The sirdar, for all he wished to avoid conflict, found a flicker of satisfaction in it all, even as the modicum of worry for his youngest did flicker with his standing position.
"Me?" The word came out as a guffaw of disbelief. He arched his eyebrows, then narrowed his gaze as he sought to round on Neithotep next, only to be interrupted by Iaheru.
"Is that so, Nefertaari?"
Oh.
This boded ill. It seemed, little by little, that the madness simmered into a hateful quiet. Iaheru's pain turned into a chill that coursed down his spine as she tested Nefertaari, until she moved towards Akhenaten and corrected the lavish oaf on his grip on the knife. Crisis averted, somewhat? At the very least, until she rammed the blade into the table. The sirdar groaned aloud, quite pleased that they were in Cairo and not Thebes. Invited to leave, the sirdar found that combativeness encountered a second wind.
"Oh, how I'd love to host one of these. I'll be sure to send you a shining invitation. You're right, Neithotep. This is pathetic. But, this isn't because of the mess I spawned."
Why couldn't Sutekh have been his boy? Why did this wretched woman hide her forced indiscretion for over twenty years and waste so much of his time?
"All of this is because she wanted her son to be in my chair."
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A desire for spite ran amok amidst the anger that swirled around Onuphrious. He wasn't accustomed to the sensation, how it bubbled to the surface, glimmered red on the edge of his vision with every sidelong glance he made towards Iaheru. If Nenet explained how she'd met Khufu, the sirdar didn't hear any of it. Curious, but not enough so to actually fixate himself on the stuttering mess that was Nenet, it was Akhenaten's little jab that sprung the ire from him once again.
"Oh, good. You remember this one's name," he answered, the chuckle coming easily from his lips. The money, in truth, didn't matter to him. He gave his children more than enough, but clearly they held little concept of just how far the coffers of their house stretched. He preferred it that way, having long laid rest to the notion of trusting his lesser children, least of all Akhenaten, with anything resembling actual responsibility. How dreadful, that the future of the harakat rested on such a foolish boy.
If Onuphrious was disinclined to acknowledge Hena before, the rage that burned in his chest steeped deeper still. Then, Nenet spilled her wine all over the man's brilliant white shendyt. Onuphrious started to laugh, a bit of well-deserved comeuppance before Hena grabbed a knife and rounded towards his sister. This anger was beyond troublesome, and while the youngest ran towards her bedroom, the sirdar raised himself from his seat. For a moment, he looked towards Khufu, an apology written in his expression as he said,
"On second thought, it might be best if you left after all."
Circumstance led him to ask all of the houseguests to be on their way, intended or no. Onuphrious was, despite the threat Hena made, quite pleased to be the shatterpoint through which this quaint little dinner turned to shit. It seemed everything already did lately, and pushing Iaheru off of her high horse was more than a worthy objective, even if there were necessary sacrifices to be made for it.
Then, Nefertaari broke the sirdar out of his moment of reverie, attracting his gaze to her as she began to scold everyone else at the table. His only good child, the sweet yet competent Nefertaari. Whatever her faults were, the sirdar saw none of them. Instead, she poked at the sirdsett, sparking what was inevitably going to be another raging fire. But, there was no reason to stop it. Hena was being dealt with next by Neithotep, one of the only times that one served any sort of use.
She was the one apparently trusted to be a guide to the young heir, and she'd failed so incredibly miserably at it that it was all but certain that this would happen once Hena was pushed. The sirdar, for all he wished to avoid conflict, found a flicker of satisfaction in it all, even as the modicum of worry for his youngest did flicker with his standing position.
"Me?" The word came out as a guffaw of disbelief. He arched his eyebrows, then narrowed his gaze as he sought to round on Neithotep next, only to be interrupted by Iaheru.
"Is that so, Nefertaari?"
Oh.
This boded ill. It seemed, little by little, that the madness simmered into a hateful quiet. Iaheru's pain turned into a chill that coursed down his spine as she tested Nefertaari, until she moved towards Akhenaten and corrected the lavish oaf on his grip on the knife. Crisis averted, somewhat? At the very least, until she rammed the blade into the table. The sirdar groaned aloud, quite pleased that they were in Cairo and not Thebes. Invited to leave, the sirdar found that combativeness encountered a second wind.
"Oh, how I'd love to host one of these. I'll be sure to send you a shining invitation. You're right, Neithotep. This is pathetic. But, this isn't because of the mess I spawned."
Why couldn't Sutekh have been his boy? Why did this wretched woman hide her forced indiscretion for over twenty years and waste so much of his time?
"All of this is because she wanted her son to be in my chair."
A desire for spite ran amok amidst the anger that swirled around Onuphrious. He wasn't accustomed to the sensation, how it bubbled to the surface, glimmered red on the edge of his vision with every sidelong glance he made towards Iaheru. If Nenet explained how she'd met Khufu, the sirdar didn't hear any of it. Curious, but not enough so to actually fixate himself on the stuttering mess that was Nenet, it was Akhenaten's little jab that sprung the ire from him once again.
"Oh, good. You remember this one's name," he answered, the chuckle coming easily from his lips. The money, in truth, didn't matter to him. He gave his children more than enough, but clearly they held little concept of just how far the coffers of their house stretched. He preferred it that way, having long laid rest to the notion of trusting his lesser children, least of all Akhenaten, with anything resembling actual responsibility. How dreadful, that the future of the harakat rested on such a foolish boy.
If Onuphrious was disinclined to acknowledge Hena before, the rage that burned in his chest steeped deeper still. Then, Nenet spilled her wine all over the man's brilliant white shendyt. Onuphrious started to laugh, a bit of well-deserved comeuppance before Hena grabbed a knife and rounded towards his sister. This anger was beyond troublesome, and while the youngest ran towards her bedroom, the sirdar raised himself from his seat. For a moment, he looked towards Khufu, an apology written in his expression as he said,
"On second thought, it might be best if you left after all."
Circumstance led him to ask all of the houseguests to be on their way, intended or no. Onuphrious was, despite the threat Hena made, quite pleased to be the shatterpoint through which this quaint little dinner turned to shit. It seemed everything already did lately, and pushing Iaheru off of her high horse was more than a worthy objective, even if there were necessary sacrifices to be made for it.
Then, Nefertaari broke the sirdar out of his moment of reverie, attracting his gaze to her as she began to scold everyone else at the table. His only good child, the sweet yet competent Nefertaari. Whatever her faults were, the sirdar saw none of them. Instead, she poked at the sirdsett, sparking what was inevitably going to be another raging fire. But, there was no reason to stop it. Hena was being dealt with next by Neithotep, one of the only times that one served any sort of use.
She was the one apparently trusted to be a guide to the young heir, and she'd failed so incredibly miserably at it that it was all but certain that this would happen once Hena was pushed. The sirdar, for all he wished to avoid conflict, found a flicker of satisfaction in it all, even as the modicum of worry for his youngest did flicker with his standing position.
"Me?" The word came out as a guffaw of disbelief. He arched his eyebrows, then narrowed his gaze as he sought to round on Neithotep next, only to be interrupted by Iaheru.
"Is that so, Nefertaari?"
Oh.
This boded ill. It seemed, little by little, that the madness simmered into a hateful quiet. Iaheru's pain turned into a chill that coursed down his spine as she tested Nefertaari, until she moved towards Akhenaten and corrected the lavish oaf on his grip on the knife. Crisis averted, somewhat? At the very least, until she rammed the blade into the table. The sirdar groaned aloud, quite pleased that they were in Cairo and not Thebes. Invited to leave, the sirdar found that combativeness encountered a second wind.
"Oh, how I'd love to host one of these. I'll be sure to send you a shining invitation. You're right, Neithotep. This is pathetic. But, this isn't because of the mess I spawned."
Why couldn't Sutekh have been his boy? Why did this wretched woman hide her forced indiscretion for over twenty years and waste so much of his time?
"All of this is because she wanted her son to be in my chair."
He was nervous to be there. While he had spent a lot of time with Onu, he hadn’t spent any time with his family members outside of Nia, whom he had met completely at random and befriended. And now he had spent a little bit of time with Nenet, though not much. He truly did not know her all that well.
He felt super awkward intruding on this dinner, and he wished like hell he had just said he couldn’t come and stayed home with his own family. Way too late for that now. Not like he could just up and leave without seeming extremely rude.
When he was addressed by Iaheru, he turned his gaze on her to answer.
“Ah, it seems I know members of your family in a few different ways.” He said. How would he explain that he had met one daughter while drunkenly gambling and running from a pissed off tavern patron, and he had met the other when he had inadvertently stolen from her?
“Your husband I know well from our younger years, back when I was still serving our military.” He said, that was the easiest story to tell, it was completely true and there was nothing to try and hide away there.
“Your wonderful daughter, Neithotep, I met a few years ago. She had been being hassled by a rather unsavoury man, and I stepped in to assist.” He said, okay that didn’t sound too bad put that way. It wasn’t exactly accurate in the details, but technically that had been what had happened. Her mother didn’t need to know the full details.
“And Nenet I have met more recently, a chance encounter in the Wastan.” He stated, again, not a lie, but certainly not all of the details.
And then Onu was entering and everyone seemed surprised about it, and Khufu was more confused than anything. He knew about the strife in the family, but had it really been so bad that he had not been invited to a family dinner?
And then suddenly chaos seemed to reign supreme and things seemed to happen quicker than he could comprehend. Onu was removing the Greek woman who had seemed to be connected to his heir in some way, and his heir was reacting poorly. He had heard stories of Akhenaten and his rebellious attitude, but this was the first time he was actually witnessing such things.
He remained quiet, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him so he wouldn’t have to face what was happening. Little did he know, things were going to get much worse very quickly.
Iaheru was saying he was free to leave, and he wanted to take that opportunity, but before he could even stand from his chair, Nenet was spilling wine and something in the H’Sheifa heir seemed to snap. He grabbed a knife and was jumping up from his chair, going after his sister with it. Khufu stood from his chair then, his military training kicking in, his intention was to disarm Hena before any damage could be done.
But before he could do anything, Nia was grabbing her brother and Nenet was fleeing the room.
And then things just seemed to escalate more.
Onu didn’t have to tell him to leave more than once, he ducked out of the room with speed and intended on leaving this cursed household behind. What had he gotten himself into?
He wanted nothing more than to go home and wrap his own children in a tight hug and tell them how much he loved them, and how good they were. He couldn’t imagine such hatred and spite between family members. He would also wrap Kahi in his arms, and would treat her to what ever she wanted. Expensive clothing or jewellery. He could take away his gambling budget for a few days and get her something she deserved. To show her how much she meant to him.
After seeing this disaster, he felt like he needed to pull his own family closer.
Without a second thought, he left the household and hurried home to do exactly that.
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He was nervous to be there. While he had spent a lot of time with Onu, he hadn’t spent any time with his family members outside of Nia, whom he had met completely at random and befriended. And now he had spent a little bit of time with Nenet, though not much. He truly did not know her all that well.
He felt super awkward intruding on this dinner, and he wished like hell he had just said he couldn’t come and stayed home with his own family. Way too late for that now. Not like he could just up and leave without seeming extremely rude.
When he was addressed by Iaheru, he turned his gaze on her to answer.
“Ah, it seems I know members of your family in a few different ways.” He said. How would he explain that he had met one daughter while drunkenly gambling and running from a pissed off tavern patron, and he had met the other when he had inadvertently stolen from her?
“Your husband I know well from our younger years, back when I was still serving our military.” He said, that was the easiest story to tell, it was completely true and there was nothing to try and hide away there.
“Your wonderful daughter, Neithotep, I met a few years ago. She had been being hassled by a rather unsavoury man, and I stepped in to assist.” He said, okay that didn’t sound too bad put that way. It wasn’t exactly accurate in the details, but technically that had been what had happened. Her mother didn’t need to know the full details.
“And Nenet I have met more recently, a chance encounter in the Wastan.” He stated, again, not a lie, but certainly not all of the details.
And then Onu was entering and everyone seemed surprised about it, and Khufu was more confused than anything. He knew about the strife in the family, but had it really been so bad that he had not been invited to a family dinner?
And then suddenly chaos seemed to reign supreme and things seemed to happen quicker than he could comprehend. Onu was removing the Greek woman who had seemed to be connected to his heir in some way, and his heir was reacting poorly. He had heard stories of Akhenaten and his rebellious attitude, but this was the first time he was actually witnessing such things.
He remained quiet, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him so he wouldn’t have to face what was happening. Little did he know, things were going to get much worse very quickly.
Iaheru was saying he was free to leave, and he wanted to take that opportunity, but before he could even stand from his chair, Nenet was spilling wine and something in the H’Sheifa heir seemed to snap. He grabbed a knife and was jumping up from his chair, going after his sister with it. Khufu stood from his chair then, his military training kicking in, his intention was to disarm Hena before any damage could be done.
But before he could do anything, Nia was grabbing her brother and Nenet was fleeing the room.
And then things just seemed to escalate more.
Onu didn’t have to tell him to leave more than once, he ducked out of the room with speed and intended on leaving this cursed household behind. What had he gotten himself into?
He wanted nothing more than to go home and wrap his own children in a tight hug and tell them how much he loved them, and how good they were. He couldn’t imagine such hatred and spite between family members. He would also wrap Kahi in his arms, and would treat her to what ever she wanted. Expensive clothing or jewellery. He could take away his gambling budget for a few days and get her something she deserved. To show her how much she meant to him.
After seeing this disaster, he felt like he needed to pull his own family closer.
Without a second thought, he left the household and hurried home to do exactly that.
He was nervous to be there. While he had spent a lot of time with Onu, he hadn’t spent any time with his family members outside of Nia, whom he had met completely at random and befriended. And now he had spent a little bit of time with Nenet, though not much. He truly did not know her all that well.
He felt super awkward intruding on this dinner, and he wished like hell he had just said he couldn’t come and stayed home with his own family. Way too late for that now. Not like he could just up and leave without seeming extremely rude.
When he was addressed by Iaheru, he turned his gaze on her to answer.
“Ah, it seems I know members of your family in a few different ways.” He said. How would he explain that he had met one daughter while drunkenly gambling and running from a pissed off tavern patron, and he had met the other when he had inadvertently stolen from her?
“Your husband I know well from our younger years, back when I was still serving our military.” He said, that was the easiest story to tell, it was completely true and there was nothing to try and hide away there.
“Your wonderful daughter, Neithotep, I met a few years ago. She had been being hassled by a rather unsavoury man, and I stepped in to assist.” He said, okay that didn’t sound too bad put that way. It wasn’t exactly accurate in the details, but technically that had been what had happened. Her mother didn’t need to know the full details.
“And Nenet I have met more recently, a chance encounter in the Wastan.” He stated, again, not a lie, but certainly not all of the details.
And then Onu was entering and everyone seemed surprised about it, and Khufu was more confused than anything. He knew about the strife in the family, but had it really been so bad that he had not been invited to a family dinner?
And then suddenly chaos seemed to reign supreme and things seemed to happen quicker than he could comprehend. Onu was removing the Greek woman who had seemed to be connected to his heir in some way, and his heir was reacting poorly. He had heard stories of Akhenaten and his rebellious attitude, but this was the first time he was actually witnessing such things.
He remained quiet, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow him so he wouldn’t have to face what was happening. Little did he know, things were going to get much worse very quickly.
Iaheru was saying he was free to leave, and he wanted to take that opportunity, but before he could even stand from his chair, Nenet was spilling wine and something in the H’Sheifa heir seemed to snap. He grabbed a knife and was jumping up from his chair, going after his sister with it. Khufu stood from his chair then, his military training kicking in, his intention was to disarm Hena before any damage could be done.
But before he could do anything, Nia was grabbing her brother and Nenet was fleeing the room.
And then things just seemed to escalate more.
Onu didn’t have to tell him to leave more than once, he ducked out of the room with speed and intended on leaving this cursed household behind. What had he gotten himself into?
He wanted nothing more than to go home and wrap his own children in a tight hug and tell them how much he loved them, and how good they were. He couldn’t imagine such hatred and spite between family members. He would also wrap Kahi in his arms, and would treat her to what ever she wanted. Expensive clothing or jewellery. He could take away his gambling budget for a few days and get her something she deserved. To show her how much she meant to him.
After seeing this disaster, he felt like he needed to pull his own family closer.
Without a second thought, he left the household and hurried home to do exactly that.
What happened next happened fast, as Hena lunged at his sister with the knife, he was being pulled back and he could hear Nia’s soothing voice, Nenet was screaming and telling him to stop, looking absolutely terrified. She clearly understood the level of his anger, and how little control he had over it once it had started.
What ever Nef was saying was irrelevant and didn’t break through the red hot haze of his anger. She didn’t matter, he would have gone after her with the knife in an effort to get to Nenet if Nia hadn’t grabbed him first.
Luckily his best friend and sister knew that she was the only chance of calming him down and keeping him from hurting anyone in that room. He wouldn’t have listened to any other family member, wouldn’t have cared. His rage would have had him carry through with the violent actions his mind wanted him to so desperately do.
But Nia’s voice in his ear had the rage subsiding, he wasn’t aware of much else that went around as he came down from the rage, Nia’s grip on him grounding him back to reality. He missed his mother’s words, and her stabbing of the knife into the table, he missed the retreat of who ever the fuck Nenet had invited.
He dropped the knife and pulled himself from Nia’s grip. He flashed her a look that clearly said ‘Follow me.’ and he shot a glare at the rest of his family who remained in the room before he stormed out of the room. His intentions were to get changed and find himself to the nearest tavern where he would spend the rest of the night drinking, smoking opium and falling into Ana’s bed.
He wanted Nia with him, at least for the first two things. She could find her own partner later if she wanted, when Hena went to find comfort in the arms of his lover who had been kicked out of the house not long before.
He wanted nothing to do with any of his family other than Nia. Though if he was honest, that wasn’t different from most days.
He made it to his room and quickly changed before he waited for Nia to meet him so they could go and drink. He didn’t think that she would argue with him, she likely needed a drink just as much as he did.
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What happened next happened fast, as Hena lunged at his sister with the knife, he was being pulled back and he could hear Nia’s soothing voice, Nenet was screaming and telling him to stop, looking absolutely terrified. She clearly understood the level of his anger, and how little control he had over it once it had started.
What ever Nef was saying was irrelevant and didn’t break through the red hot haze of his anger. She didn’t matter, he would have gone after her with the knife in an effort to get to Nenet if Nia hadn’t grabbed him first.
Luckily his best friend and sister knew that she was the only chance of calming him down and keeping him from hurting anyone in that room. He wouldn’t have listened to any other family member, wouldn’t have cared. His rage would have had him carry through with the violent actions his mind wanted him to so desperately do.
But Nia’s voice in his ear had the rage subsiding, he wasn’t aware of much else that went around as he came down from the rage, Nia’s grip on him grounding him back to reality. He missed his mother’s words, and her stabbing of the knife into the table, he missed the retreat of who ever the fuck Nenet had invited.
He dropped the knife and pulled himself from Nia’s grip. He flashed her a look that clearly said ‘Follow me.’ and he shot a glare at the rest of his family who remained in the room before he stormed out of the room. His intentions were to get changed and find himself to the nearest tavern where he would spend the rest of the night drinking, smoking opium and falling into Ana’s bed.
He wanted Nia with him, at least for the first two things. She could find her own partner later if she wanted, when Hena went to find comfort in the arms of his lover who had been kicked out of the house not long before.
He wanted nothing to do with any of his family other than Nia. Though if he was honest, that wasn’t different from most days.
He made it to his room and quickly changed before he waited for Nia to meet him so they could go and drink. He didn’t think that she would argue with him, she likely needed a drink just as much as he did.
What happened next happened fast, as Hena lunged at his sister with the knife, he was being pulled back and he could hear Nia’s soothing voice, Nenet was screaming and telling him to stop, looking absolutely terrified. She clearly understood the level of his anger, and how little control he had over it once it had started.
What ever Nef was saying was irrelevant and didn’t break through the red hot haze of his anger. She didn’t matter, he would have gone after her with the knife in an effort to get to Nenet if Nia hadn’t grabbed him first.
Luckily his best friend and sister knew that she was the only chance of calming him down and keeping him from hurting anyone in that room. He wouldn’t have listened to any other family member, wouldn’t have cared. His rage would have had him carry through with the violent actions his mind wanted him to so desperately do.
But Nia’s voice in his ear had the rage subsiding, he wasn’t aware of much else that went around as he came down from the rage, Nia’s grip on him grounding him back to reality. He missed his mother’s words, and her stabbing of the knife into the table, he missed the retreat of who ever the fuck Nenet had invited.
He dropped the knife and pulled himself from Nia’s grip. He flashed her a look that clearly said ‘Follow me.’ and he shot a glare at the rest of his family who remained in the room before he stormed out of the room. His intentions were to get changed and find himself to the nearest tavern where he would spend the rest of the night drinking, smoking opium and falling into Ana’s bed.
He wanted Nia with him, at least for the first two things. She could find her own partner later if she wanted, when Hena went to find comfort in the arms of his lover who had been kicked out of the house not long before.
He wanted nothing to do with any of his family other than Nia. Though if he was honest, that wasn’t different from most days.
He made it to his room and quickly changed before he waited for Nia to meet him so they could go and drink. He didn’t think that she would argue with him, she likely needed a drink just as much as he did.
“Sometimes things have to be said, Mother,” Nefertaari replied, seemingly unphased by the tone in her mother’s words. Oh, she knew she was playing with fire, but one did not simply reach into the pit of hell and pluck out a nice attitude. No, Nefertaari’s mannerisms were carefully honed and it was rare that she spoke out against either one of her parents. It was no secret though: Nefertaari greatly preferred her father’s presence to her mothers, if only because women passed a little extra judgment that she could do without.
Nefertaari watched as her mother’s mood played out before her, and she was glad that she wasn’t a table. The thud of the knife made her jump a small bit, and her heart pounded in her chest.
Akhenaten’s temper flare only served to annoy Nefertaari. She wasn’t scared of him, though mayhap she ought to be. She had this notion, likely wrong, that her family wouldn’t actually harm one another. Sure, they had their spats and maybe they were a bit more violent than another family’s, but they did have it good… didn’t they?
When Hena put the knife back down at Nia’s behest, she was glad. It took a load off her, and she exhaled a slow sigh. Her mother’s anger, she could survive, but a knife? Nef was only mortal, and she wasn’t quite done with the pleasantries of life to think about how she would be buried. Maybe if she were Pharaoh, she’d have started an elaborate burial temple—but alas, that was not her fate.
Hell, Nef couldn’t even get a man to take her to bed. Did she intimidate them? She wondered about that sometimes, but this wasn’t the time nor place and suddenly she realized that with the knife put down, there was nothing else to amuse her but her own thoughts. She’d pissed their mother off and had no desire to actually talk to her.
“I think, this is where I’ll go back to my room. Mother, if you want me to go to Thebes, I will. The gods know this war is slaughtering my wanderlust. I’ll begin packing my necessities,” she said, then rose from her seat and… “Unless you’d rather I remain.” For once, Nefertaari didn’t have the need to stay and badger one parent or sibling; she needed out of the house and to be quite frank, she was sick of being stuck in Egypt.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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“Sometimes things have to be said, Mother,” Nefertaari replied, seemingly unphased by the tone in her mother’s words. Oh, she knew she was playing with fire, but one did not simply reach into the pit of hell and pluck out a nice attitude. No, Nefertaari’s mannerisms were carefully honed and it was rare that she spoke out against either one of her parents. It was no secret though: Nefertaari greatly preferred her father’s presence to her mothers, if only because women passed a little extra judgment that she could do without.
Nefertaari watched as her mother’s mood played out before her, and she was glad that she wasn’t a table. The thud of the knife made her jump a small bit, and her heart pounded in her chest.
Akhenaten’s temper flare only served to annoy Nefertaari. She wasn’t scared of him, though mayhap she ought to be. She had this notion, likely wrong, that her family wouldn’t actually harm one another. Sure, they had their spats and maybe they were a bit more violent than another family’s, but they did have it good… didn’t they?
When Hena put the knife back down at Nia’s behest, she was glad. It took a load off her, and she exhaled a slow sigh. Her mother’s anger, she could survive, but a knife? Nef was only mortal, and she wasn’t quite done with the pleasantries of life to think about how she would be buried. Maybe if she were Pharaoh, she’d have started an elaborate burial temple—but alas, that was not her fate.
Hell, Nef couldn’t even get a man to take her to bed. Did she intimidate them? She wondered about that sometimes, but this wasn’t the time nor place and suddenly she realized that with the knife put down, there was nothing else to amuse her but her own thoughts. She’d pissed their mother off and had no desire to actually talk to her.
“I think, this is where I’ll go back to my room. Mother, if you want me to go to Thebes, I will. The gods know this war is slaughtering my wanderlust. I’ll begin packing my necessities,” she said, then rose from her seat and… “Unless you’d rather I remain.” For once, Nefertaari didn’t have the need to stay and badger one parent or sibling; she needed out of the house and to be quite frank, she was sick of being stuck in Egypt.
“Sometimes things have to be said, Mother,” Nefertaari replied, seemingly unphased by the tone in her mother’s words. Oh, she knew she was playing with fire, but one did not simply reach into the pit of hell and pluck out a nice attitude. No, Nefertaari’s mannerisms were carefully honed and it was rare that she spoke out against either one of her parents. It was no secret though: Nefertaari greatly preferred her father’s presence to her mothers, if only because women passed a little extra judgment that she could do without.
Nefertaari watched as her mother’s mood played out before her, and she was glad that she wasn’t a table. The thud of the knife made her jump a small bit, and her heart pounded in her chest.
Akhenaten’s temper flare only served to annoy Nefertaari. She wasn’t scared of him, though mayhap she ought to be. She had this notion, likely wrong, that her family wouldn’t actually harm one another. Sure, they had their spats and maybe they were a bit more violent than another family’s, but they did have it good… didn’t they?
When Hena put the knife back down at Nia’s behest, she was glad. It took a load off her, and she exhaled a slow sigh. Her mother’s anger, she could survive, but a knife? Nef was only mortal, and she wasn’t quite done with the pleasantries of life to think about how she would be buried. Maybe if she were Pharaoh, she’d have started an elaborate burial temple—but alas, that was not her fate.
Hell, Nef couldn’t even get a man to take her to bed. Did she intimidate them? She wondered about that sometimes, but this wasn’t the time nor place and suddenly she realized that with the knife put down, there was nothing else to amuse her but her own thoughts. She’d pissed their mother off and had no desire to actually talk to her.
“I think, this is where I’ll go back to my room. Mother, if you want me to go to Thebes, I will. The gods know this war is slaughtering my wanderlust. I’ll begin packing my necessities,” she said, then rose from her seat and… “Unless you’d rather I remain.” For once, Nefertaari didn’t have the need to stay and badger one parent or sibling; she needed out of the house and to be quite frank, she was sick of being stuck in Egypt.
