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"Live a little. All work and no play makes for a sour performer, Nem."
It was strange, hearing lessons he'd expect from a parent from Delia, but... she wasn't wrong. Amenemhat had spent five years of his life in the circus, years that a boy of his means might've spent throwing himself into parties and drinking the night away. Which, to Nem's credit, wasn't for a lack of alcohol. He'd had his nights in other tents, but the world outside of the circus? Unexplored. Disregarded. The fantasy that Amenemhat carried with him for years was fulfilled, if tainted and cleansed of the wonderment and awe that might've gleamed in child-like eyes.
At seventeen, Amenemhat could not relate to that child, any longer. Exposed to the dark realities of his father's circus even then, he saw the reality of his existence and decided that it wasn't yet enough. Cradling ambitions of a darker future, the heir to the Tempest of Set, as of yet, had no tried to... mingle. And he decided that Delia was right. It was time, and a sour performer did not work in the means in which Nem needed to. Deception was not amantra that his country mates held dearly to. Grudges were meant to be aired out, taken as challenges and amusing diversions in the power play that was politics.
But, this wasn't politics and Amenemhat was not destined to tread that partcular line.
No, deception would be his mask, and it began with tonight.
Live a little.
He heard it again, as sweat was cleansed from his body, dirt and fur alike eased from his flesh before he emerged from the water and dried himself off. Carefully, he brought the blade to his chin, carefully shaving stubble from his youthful countenance before cleansing his features once more. The kohl was next, carefully rimmed around chocolate orbs before he clothed himself. With a shendyt that fell to his knees and fitted tightly around his waist, he asked for a slave to brush over his back with a tone similar to his skin, the tattoo that indefinitely bound him to his destiny obscured.
Tonight, I need not me Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. There's a party peeling people away from the circus' show. It would raise... questions.
He wasn't due to participate tonight, his efforts covered by another man of a similar build. Surely, the show wouldn't fall apart without his... nominal contribution.
That was a grudge for later. Tonight, Nem was all smiles, carefully crafted and followed with a haughty grace that defined his station. The son of some warlord aiming to become the next great sirdar. The nephew of a merchant lord aiming to support those efforts. Names were... irrelevant, so much as the swagger and the proper... vernacular, he supposed.
The circus heir completed his disguise before he stepped through the threshhold, clasping strangers on the back before he made his way through a crowd of people and towards the centre of attention. Mead, wine, and opium passed around a circular bar. Really, Nem was quite impressed. Familiar beats of unfamiliar drums pounded through the room, if it could be called that. Walled off only in part, it looked that someone had purchased several properties and gutted them.
How the other half lives, I suppose, he mused just as he made his way through.
With a dash of opium under his palm and a tall tankard of mead to wash it down, Amenemhat arched his brow as a vision caught his attention. So many women around him, but none seemed to catch his eye. At least, not until he had what he wanted. Several gulps of mead were quickly taken and replenished, the heir handing the bar man a gratuity and his compensation for the poppy before he decided to draw closer.
"Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems," he noted. The haze in the room couldn't be ignored. Poppy... hash... it was exactly what he'd imagined this sort of life to be.
Interesting, but... unsatisfying in the end.
It'd been too easy, to find himself inside. He wanted more.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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"Live a little. All work and no play makes for a sour performer, Nem."
It was strange, hearing lessons he'd expect from a parent from Delia, but... she wasn't wrong. Amenemhat had spent five years of his life in the circus, years that a boy of his means might've spent throwing himself into parties and drinking the night away. Which, to Nem's credit, wasn't for a lack of alcohol. He'd had his nights in other tents, but the world outside of the circus? Unexplored. Disregarded. The fantasy that Amenemhat carried with him for years was fulfilled, if tainted and cleansed of the wonderment and awe that might've gleamed in child-like eyes.
At seventeen, Amenemhat could not relate to that child, any longer. Exposed to the dark realities of his father's circus even then, he saw the reality of his existence and decided that it wasn't yet enough. Cradling ambitions of a darker future, the heir to the Tempest of Set, as of yet, had no tried to... mingle. And he decided that Delia was right. It was time, and a sour performer did not work in the means in which Nem needed to. Deception was not amantra that his country mates held dearly to. Grudges were meant to be aired out, taken as challenges and amusing diversions in the power play that was politics.
But, this wasn't politics and Amenemhat was not destined to tread that partcular line.
No, deception would be his mask, and it began with tonight.
Live a little.
He heard it again, as sweat was cleansed from his body, dirt and fur alike eased from his flesh before he emerged from the water and dried himself off. Carefully, he brought the blade to his chin, carefully shaving stubble from his youthful countenance before cleansing his features once more. The kohl was next, carefully rimmed around chocolate orbs before he clothed himself. With a shendyt that fell to his knees and fitted tightly around his waist, he asked for a slave to brush over his back with a tone similar to his skin, the tattoo that indefinitely bound him to his destiny obscured.
Tonight, I need not me Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. There's a party peeling people away from the circus' show. It would raise... questions.
He wasn't due to participate tonight, his efforts covered by another man of a similar build. Surely, the show wouldn't fall apart without his... nominal contribution.
That was a grudge for later. Tonight, Nem was all smiles, carefully crafted and followed with a haughty grace that defined his station. The son of some warlord aiming to become the next great sirdar. The nephew of a merchant lord aiming to support those efforts. Names were... irrelevant, so much as the swagger and the proper... vernacular, he supposed.
The circus heir completed his disguise before he stepped through the threshhold, clasping strangers on the back before he made his way through a crowd of people and towards the centre of attention. Mead, wine, and opium passed around a circular bar. Really, Nem was quite impressed. Familiar beats of unfamiliar drums pounded through the room, if it could be called that. Walled off only in part, it looked that someone had purchased several properties and gutted them.
How the other half lives, I suppose, he mused just as he made his way through.
With a dash of opium under his palm and a tall tankard of mead to wash it down, Amenemhat arched his brow as a vision caught his attention. So many women around him, but none seemed to catch his eye. At least, not until he had what he wanted. Several gulps of mead were quickly taken and replenished, the heir handing the bar man a gratuity and his compensation for the poppy before he decided to draw closer.
"Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems," he noted. The haze in the room couldn't be ignored. Poppy... hash... it was exactly what he'd imagined this sort of life to be.
Interesting, but... unsatisfying in the end.
It'd been too easy, to find himself inside. He wanted more.
"Live a little. All work and no play makes for a sour performer, Nem."
It was strange, hearing lessons he'd expect from a parent from Delia, but... she wasn't wrong. Amenemhat had spent five years of his life in the circus, years that a boy of his means might've spent throwing himself into parties and drinking the night away. Which, to Nem's credit, wasn't for a lack of alcohol. He'd had his nights in other tents, but the world outside of the circus? Unexplored. Disregarded. The fantasy that Amenemhat carried with him for years was fulfilled, if tainted and cleansed of the wonderment and awe that might've gleamed in child-like eyes.
At seventeen, Amenemhat could not relate to that child, any longer. Exposed to the dark realities of his father's circus even then, he saw the reality of his existence and decided that it wasn't yet enough. Cradling ambitions of a darker future, the heir to the Tempest of Set, as of yet, had no tried to... mingle. And he decided that Delia was right. It was time, and a sour performer did not work in the means in which Nem needed to. Deception was not amantra that his country mates held dearly to. Grudges were meant to be aired out, taken as challenges and amusing diversions in the power play that was politics.
But, this wasn't politics and Amenemhat was not destined to tread that partcular line.
No, deception would be his mask, and it began with tonight.
Live a little.
He heard it again, as sweat was cleansed from his body, dirt and fur alike eased from his flesh before he emerged from the water and dried himself off. Carefully, he brought the blade to his chin, carefully shaving stubble from his youthful countenance before cleansing his features once more. The kohl was next, carefully rimmed around chocolate orbs before he clothed himself. With a shendyt that fell to his knees and fitted tightly around his waist, he asked for a slave to brush over his back with a tone similar to his skin, the tattoo that indefinitely bound him to his destiny obscured.
Tonight, I need not me Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. There's a party peeling people away from the circus' show. It would raise... questions.
He wasn't due to participate tonight, his efforts covered by another man of a similar build. Surely, the show wouldn't fall apart without his... nominal contribution.
That was a grudge for later. Tonight, Nem was all smiles, carefully crafted and followed with a haughty grace that defined his station. The son of some warlord aiming to become the next great sirdar. The nephew of a merchant lord aiming to support those efforts. Names were... irrelevant, so much as the swagger and the proper... vernacular, he supposed.
The circus heir completed his disguise before he stepped through the threshhold, clasping strangers on the back before he made his way through a crowd of people and towards the centre of attention. Mead, wine, and opium passed around a circular bar. Really, Nem was quite impressed. Familiar beats of unfamiliar drums pounded through the room, if it could be called that. Walled off only in part, it looked that someone had purchased several properties and gutted them.
How the other half lives, I suppose, he mused just as he made his way through.
With a dash of opium under his palm and a tall tankard of mead to wash it down, Amenemhat arched his brow as a vision caught his attention. So many women around him, but none seemed to catch his eye. At least, not until he had what he wanted. Several gulps of mead were quickly taken and replenished, the heir handing the bar man a gratuity and his compensation for the poppy before he decided to draw closer.
"Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems," he noted. The haze in the room couldn't be ignored. Poppy... hash... it was exactly what he'd imagined this sort of life to be.
Interesting, but... unsatisfying in the end.
It'd been too easy, to find himself inside. He wanted more.
Mayet *lived* for nights such as this. Beautiful people in their finery, the wine, the music. She felt alive with the promise of it all, so far removed from the drab everyday world she had been born into.
It had taken some preparation for her to be able to be here this evening. Some excuses, some white lies about where she was going, and agreeing to come on the arm of the most wretched excuse for a man. He’d spent most of the journey here with his clammy hands trying to slide up her thigh, and Mayet could not have been more delighted to have plied him with wine until he sat groggily now against a pillar. Let him stay there. She had her sights set higher than some jumped up merchant’s son.
Some would say she -a humble farmer’s daughter - should be grateful to win the attention of a man such as he. There was no denying that his family outranked her own, Mayet’s father was a simple man, with simple wants and desires. Enough food for his family and to pay the man whose land they farmed.
But even since she was small, Mayet had known she wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be one of those bright and shiny women who passed through sometimes on the arms of rich and powerful men. Who dripped gold and moved in clouds of exotic perfume. She wanted it more than anything. And Bomani the Flour Merchant’s son could not offer her that.
Blessed by an uncommon beauty, the girl had done her best to accentuate it in the hope of attracting a man more in line with her ambitions. A Sirdar, or a young Commander perhaps. Someone who could take her out of Obsor and the life she felt so stifled by. Dark lines of kohl painted her eyes, accentuating the already feline slant, and her long hair was braided in a single tale that fell down her back. Skin laid bare by a gown she’d had to save months for the fabric for was golden and burnished by the low light. Mayet knew she had to make the most of her strongest asset, and that was her face and body to be sure.
Her hand was wrapped around a cup of mead, but she did not drink more than the odd sip to keep her lips wet. Making sure to stand somewhere it was easy for others to approach, she had already noted the young man as he entered and looked around. Too young perhaps she thought, with a tinge of regret. Or...perhaps just young enough that he had not come into his power yet…
That would be no bad thing, to be by a man’s side as he rose in wealth, to have that loyalty before a hundred others were clamouring to offer themselves. Perhaps then...
She let her gaze linger a little as he got himself a drink, then glanced away, let the smallest smile curl at her lips as if embarrassed that he had caught her staring. If it worked, he would come to her. If it did not...well then she would find some other way to bring his attention to her.
Mayet could not have been more pleased when a moment later, she heard a low voice at her side, and the girl turned to look upon his face more closely. It was a fine face, much more worthy of her attention than the greasy nothing of a man she had arrived with.
‘Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems.’
“Not everyone’s” she replied, slanting a gaze toward him. “Not mine, anyway. What of yours?” She let her attention fall to his mouth for a moment, before looking up and into his eyes. He was too handsome, really, but Mayet could not deny how refreshing it was to look upon an attractive man after the earlier portion of her evening. “What is on your mind this night?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Mayet *lived* for nights such as this. Beautiful people in their finery, the wine, the music. She felt alive with the promise of it all, so far removed from the drab everyday world she had been born into.
It had taken some preparation for her to be able to be here this evening. Some excuses, some white lies about where she was going, and agreeing to come on the arm of the most wretched excuse for a man. He’d spent most of the journey here with his clammy hands trying to slide up her thigh, and Mayet could not have been more delighted to have plied him with wine until he sat groggily now against a pillar. Let him stay there. She had her sights set higher than some jumped up merchant’s son.
Some would say she -a humble farmer’s daughter - should be grateful to win the attention of a man such as he. There was no denying that his family outranked her own, Mayet’s father was a simple man, with simple wants and desires. Enough food for his family and to pay the man whose land they farmed.
But even since she was small, Mayet had known she wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be one of those bright and shiny women who passed through sometimes on the arms of rich and powerful men. Who dripped gold and moved in clouds of exotic perfume. She wanted it more than anything. And Bomani the Flour Merchant’s son could not offer her that.
Blessed by an uncommon beauty, the girl had done her best to accentuate it in the hope of attracting a man more in line with her ambitions. A Sirdar, or a young Commander perhaps. Someone who could take her out of Obsor and the life she felt so stifled by. Dark lines of kohl painted her eyes, accentuating the already feline slant, and her long hair was braided in a single tale that fell down her back. Skin laid bare by a gown she’d had to save months for the fabric for was golden and burnished by the low light. Mayet knew she had to make the most of her strongest asset, and that was her face and body to be sure.
Her hand was wrapped around a cup of mead, but she did not drink more than the odd sip to keep her lips wet. Making sure to stand somewhere it was easy for others to approach, she had already noted the young man as he entered and looked around. Too young perhaps she thought, with a tinge of regret. Or...perhaps just young enough that he had not come into his power yet…
That would be no bad thing, to be by a man’s side as he rose in wealth, to have that loyalty before a hundred others were clamouring to offer themselves. Perhaps then...
She let her gaze linger a little as he got himself a drink, then glanced away, let the smallest smile curl at her lips as if embarrassed that he had caught her staring. If it worked, he would come to her. If it did not...well then she would find some other way to bring his attention to her.
Mayet could not have been more pleased when a moment later, she heard a low voice at her side, and the girl turned to look upon his face more closely. It was a fine face, much more worthy of her attention than the greasy nothing of a man she had arrived with.
‘Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems.’
“Not everyone’s” she replied, slanting a gaze toward him. “Not mine, anyway. What of yours?” She let her attention fall to his mouth for a moment, before looking up and into his eyes. He was too handsome, really, but Mayet could not deny how refreshing it was to look upon an attractive man after the earlier portion of her evening. “What is on your mind this night?”
Mayet *lived* for nights such as this. Beautiful people in their finery, the wine, the music. She felt alive with the promise of it all, so far removed from the drab everyday world she had been born into.
It had taken some preparation for her to be able to be here this evening. Some excuses, some white lies about where she was going, and agreeing to come on the arm of the most wretched excuse for a man. He’d spent most of the journey here with his clammy hands trying to slide up her thigh, and Mayet could not have been more delighted to have plied him with wine until he sat groggily now against a pillar. Let him stay there. She had her sights set higher than some jumped up merchant’s son.
Some would say she -a humble farmer’s daughter - should be grateful to win the attention of a man such as he. There was no denying that his family outranked her own, Mayet’s father was a simple man, with simple wants and desires. Enough food for his family and to pay the man whose land they farmed.
But even since she was small, Mayet had known she wanted more. So much more. She wanted to be one of those bright and shiny women who passed through sometimes on the arms of rich and powerful men. Who dripped gold and moved in clouds of exotic perfume. She wanted it more than anything. And Bomani the Flour Merchant’s son could not offer her that.
Blessed by an uncommon beauty, the girl had done her best to accentuate it in the hope of attracting a man more in line with her ambitions. A Sirdar, or a young Commander perhaps. Someone who could take her out of Obsor and the life she felt so stifled by. Dark lines of kohl painted her eyes, accentuating the already feline slant, and her long hair was braided in a single tale that fell down her back. Skin laid bare by a gown she’d had to save months for the fabric for was golden and burnished by the low light. Mayet knew she had to make the most of her strongest asset, and that was her face and body to be sure.
Her hand was wrapped around a cup of mead, but she did not drink more than the odd sip to keep her lips wet. Making sure to stand somewhere it was easy for others to approach, she had already noted the young man as he entered and looked around. Too young perhaps she thought, with a tinge of regret. Or...perhaps just young enough that he had not come into his power yet…
That would be no bad thing, to be by a man’s side as he rose in wealth, to have that loyalty before a hundred others were clamouring to offer themselves. Perhaps then...
She let her gaze linger a little as he got himself a drink, then glanced away, let the smallest smile curl at her lips as if embarrassed that he had caught her staring. If it worked, he would come to her. If it did not...well then she would find some other way to bring his attention to her.
Mayet could not have been more pleased when a moment later, she heard a low voice at her side, and the girl turned to look upon his face more closely. It was a fine face, much more worthy of her attention than the greasy nothing of a man she had arrived with.
‘Have you had any yet? The poppy's on everyone lips and everyone's mind tonight, it seems.’
“Not everyone’s” she replied, slanting a gaze toward him. “Not mine, anyway. What of yours?” She let her attention fall to his mouth for a moment, before looking up and into his eyes. He was too handsome, really, but Mayet could not deny how refreshing it was to look upon an attractive man after the earlier portion of her evening. “What is on your mind this night?”
If Amenemhat was instructed to live, it was what he intended to do. The tingle of poppy shooting through his body, flaring the senses and then, all of a sudden, the drop. He knew it all too well, reveling in the pleasure of substances and how the exotic feelings served to stoke the creativity and elevate both spectation and performance. Even as he talked to the girl, his mind went to that feeling, just as he set it down on the table and let his mind drift to other things.
The woman in front of him. There was no denying her beauty. And clearly, she knew it, too. Her glance from before, glittered with the tiniest of smiles. Was it meant to show demureness? Was that a quality that other men found... endearing? He could not fault her for her efforts, for the reciprocation of attention was more than enough recompense for the condescension that this sort of manipulation offered. With the way he dressed himself, and the particular... swagger he held himself with, he was well aware that he'd be the target of some coy tactics to win him over. But, was it Mayet, or someone else?
In any case, she'd be his. When he drew nearer and broke their silence, he studied her carefully, not overtly staring at her, or at least... keeping his gaze a wandering one. It was only natural for someone to look when such beauty was offered freely for the eyes to feast on. He shifted between the length of her and the bar top, then the drinks in their hands before at last meeting her gaze once again. As she spoke, his gaze found the wrinkles of her lips just as her words raised a brow. It was uncommon to find someone who abstained from offered substances, and surely, a girl like this one would be offered again and again.
Perhaps she hadn't been here for very long. After all, neither had he. So, he took solace in what was given to him, a heady desire catching the back of his mind as he considered her words. It was fitting, that she asked that. Not one to glitter her words with idle chatter, it seemed. Nem let his gaze drift to the drum players, banging in the distance, the sounds of chatter, groans of pleasure and fits of coughing in the distance... he decided his answer.
"I was just thinking, actually, how loud it is. You see, where I come from, we take these parties to the desert. IT lets the sound out."
It was true enough. The Tempest of Set did erupt in its travel reveries in desert encampments. Amenemhat nearly laughed as he imagined the pile of bodies that just hours before had been leaping and flying around the tent.
"But, I was also curious. What brings a stunning Egyptian girl here, one so cautious in her drink? Abstaining from substances. Do you chase a different high?" he wondered. In the end, everyone liked to get high. Whether it was on the suffering of their enemies, or the ecstasy of orgasm, or the kick of drugs... everyone had those impulses that lived in their heart, begging to be released. At least, anyone he'd ever met. Perhaps Amenemhat's perceptions were slanted, believing every person the same sort of creature that he was.
He drew closer to her, the hand at his goblet prying itself away to brush along the frame of her jawline. His lips curved into a smile as lips pressed just beneath her ear. His words were whispered, meant for her alone as he asked,
"Is it... pleasure? Notoriety? Exhibitionism?"
Everyone had their tastes, and it just so happened that this stranger, this creature had caught the ringmaster's exactly. Once he was finished toying with her with his proximity, he drew back, taking another sip before he placed a tablet on the section of the bar in front of her. For his own, he placed it between his lips, winking at the woman before he chewed on it and washed it down with one more drink.
It'd take some time for the poppy to set in, but the girl would serve the distraction nicely enough.
"I'm sorry, I've gotten ahead of myself, haven't I? My name is Akhentep, of Mirsa El Nasr."
The province might've caught her attention, well-known for its gold mines. It spoke of power and wealth, all of which the circus heir possessed without such illusions. But, persist they would, because it amused him to play this somewhat unnecessary deception.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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If Amenemhat was instructed to live, it was what he intended to do. The tingle of poppy shooting through his body, flaring the senses and then, all of a sudden, the drop. He knew it all too well, reveling in the pleasure of substances and how the exotic feelings served to stoke the creativity and elevate both spectation and performance. Even as he talked to the girl, his mind went to that feeling, just as he set it down on the table and let his mind drift to other things.
The woman in front of him. There was no denying her beauty. And clearly, she knew it, too. Her glance from before, glittered with the tiniest of smiles. Was it meant to show demureness? Was that a quality that other men found... endearing? He could not fault her for her efforts, for the reciprocation of attention was more than enough recompense for the condescension that this sort of manipulation offered. With the way he dressed himself, and the particular... swagger he held himself with, he was well aware that he'd be the target of some coy tactics to win him over. But, was it Mayet, or someone else?
In any case, she'd be his. When he drew nearer and broke their silence, he studied her carefully, not overtly staring at her, or at least... keeping his gaze a wandering one. It was only natural for someone to look when such beauty was offered freely for the eyes to feast on. He shifted between the length of her and the bar top, then the drinks in their hands before at last meeting her gaze once again. As she spoke, his gaze found the wrinkles of her lips just as her words raised a brow. It was uncommon to find someone who abstained from offered substances, and surely, a girl like this one would be offered again and again.
Perhaps she hadn't been here for very long. After all, neither had he. So, he took solace in what was given to him, a heady desire catching the back of his mind as he considered her words. It was fitting, that she asked that. Not one to glitter her words with idle chatter, it seemed. Nem let his gaze drift to the drum players, banging in the distance, the sounds of chatter, groans of pleasure and fits of coughing in the distance... he decided his answer.
"I was just thinking, actually, how loud it is. You see, where I come from, we take these parties to the desert. IT lets the sound out."
It was true enough. The Tempest of Set did erupt in its travel reveries in desert encampments. Amenemhat nearly laughed as he imagined the pile of bodies that just hours before had been leaping and flying around the tent.
"But, I was also curious. What brings a stunning Egyptian girl here, one so cautious in her drink? Abstaining from substances. Do you chase a different high?" he wondered. In the end, everyone liked to get high. Whether it was on the suffering of their enemies, or the ecstasy of orgasm, or the kick of drugs... everyone had those impulses that lived in their heart, begging to be released. At least, anyone he'd ever met. Perhaps Amenemhat's perceptions were slanted, believing every person the same sort of creature that he was.
He drew closer to her, the hand at his goblet prying itself away to brush along the frame of her jawline. His lips curved into a smile as lips pressed just beneath her ear. His words were whispered, meant for her alone as he asked,
"Is it... pleasure? Notoriety? Exhibitionism?"
Everyone had their tastes, and it just so happened that this stranger, this creature had caught the ringmaster's exactly. Once he was finished toying with her with his proximity, he drew back, taking another sip before he placed a tablet on the section of the bar in front of her. For his own, he placed it between his lips, winking at the woman before he chewed on it and washed it down with one more drink.
It'd take some time for the poppy to set in, but the girl would serve the distraction nicely enough.
"I'm sorry, I've gotten ahead of myself, haven't I? My name is Akhentep, of Mirsa El Nasr."
The province might've caught her attention, well-known for its gold mines. It spoke of power and wealth, all of which the circus heir possessed without such illusions. But, persist they would, because it amused him to play this somewhat unnecessary deception.
If Amenemhat was instructed to live, it was what he intended to do. The tingle of poppy shooting through his body, flaring the senses and then, all of a sudden, the drop. He knew it all too well, reveling in the pleasure of substances and how the exotic feelings served to stoke the creativity and elevate both spectation and performance. Even as he talked to the girl, his mind went to that feeling, just as he set it down on the table and let his mind drift to other things.
The woman in front of him. There was no denying her beauty. And clearly, she knew it, too. Her glance from before, glittered with the tiniest of smiles. Was it meant to show demureness? Was that a quality that other men found... endearing? He could not fault her for her efforts, for the reciprocation of attention was more than enough recompense for the condescension that this sort of manipulation offered. With the way he dressed himself, and the particular... swagger he held himself with, he was well aware that he'd be the target of some coy tactics to win him over. But, was it Mayet, or someone else?
In any case, she'd be his. When he drew nearer and broke their silence, he studied her carefully, not overtly staring at her, or at least... keeping his gaze a wandering one. It was only natural for someone to look when such beauty was offered freely for the eyes to feast on. He shifted between the length of her and the bar top, then the drinks in their hands before at last meeting her gaze once again. As she spoke, his gaze found the wrinkles of her lips just as her words raised a brow. It was uncommon to find someone who abstained from offered substances, and surely, a girl like this one would be offered again and again.
Perhaps she hadn't been here for very long. After all, neither had he. So, he took solace in what was given to him, a heady desire catching the back of his mind as he considered her words. It was fitting, that she asked that. Not one to glitter her words with idle chatter, it seemed. Nem let his gaze drift to the drum players, banging in the distance, the sounds of chatter, groans of pleasure and fits of coughing in the distance... he decided his answer.
"I was just thinking, actually, how loud it is. You see, where I come from, we take these parties to the desert. IT lets the sound out."
It was true enough. The Tempest of Set did erupt in its travel reveries in desert encampments. Amenemhat nearly laughed as he imagined the pile of bodies that just hours before had been leaping and flying around the tent.
"But, I was also curious. What brings a stunning Egyptian girl here, one so cautious in her drink? Abstaining from substances. Do you chase a different high?" he wondered. In the end, everyone liked to get high. Whether it was on the suffering of their enemies, or the ecstasy of orgasm, or the kick of drugs... everyone had those impulses that lived in their heart, begging to be released. At least, anyone he'd ever met. Perhaps Amenemhat's perceptions were slanted, believing every person the same sort of creature that he was.
He drew closer to her, the hand at his goblet prying itself away to brush along the frame of her jawline. His lips curved into a smile as lips pressed just beneath her ear. His words were whispered, meant for her alone as he asked,
"Is it... pleasure? Notoriety? Exhibitionism?"
Everyone had their tastes, and it just so happened that this stranger, this creature had caught the ringmaster's exactly. Once he was finished toying with her with his proximity, he drew back, taking another sip before he placed a tablet on the section of the bar in front of her. For his own, he placed it between his lips, winking at the woman before he chewed on it and washed it down with one more drink.
It'd take some time for the poppy to set in, but the girl would serve the distraction nicely enough.
"I'm sorry, I've gotten ahead of myself, haven't I? My name is Akhentep, of Mirsa El Nasr."
The province might've caught her attention, well-known for its gold mines. It spoke of power and wealth, all of which the circus heir possessed without such illusions. But, persist they would, because it amused him to play this somewhat unnecessary deception.
Mayet glowed under his attention, reassured that her efforts to gild her beauty had not been wasted this night. And whether or not he saw through her coquettishness or not, it had brought him to her side, which is what she had intended anyway. Tilting her head a little as if she were considering her words, Mayet gave him the benefit of the long line of her neck, the warm fragrance of the amber and jasmine oils she had smoothed over her skin.
“Do you prefer the quiet?” she asked,” It is warmer here at least than the desert, no?”
And it was warm. With braziers burning to chase away the chill of the desert nights, there was a balmy heat that lent itself well to the expanse of skin that most of the attendees had favoured. When she had arrived, Mayet had looked enviously at those women who could drape themselves in jewels. She had no such options available to her, her understated gown a rather stark contrast to those more embellished. However, she knew the gold leant a dusky warmth to her skin, and she was young enough that she did not need the false sparkle of gems and metal to make her luminous.
When her companion moved so much closer, ghosted his fingers along the line of her jaw, the girl smiled, turned so that he pressed against her, and when he drew back, she met his gaze steadily. “Am I so cautious? Or just waiting for the right company” she asked, looking up at him. “These...intoxicants are meant to enhance enjoyment are they not? If you overindulge too early, then the night is wasted” She gestured towards her unfortunate escort, now snoring slightly on the plush lounger her reclined upon. Not that thats was by anything other than her design. The man was a bore and a letch, and it was most convenient that he was out of her way.
Her attention was no longer with him, though, it was with this new stranger. And when he set a tablet on the bar before her, she hesitated only a moment before licking her finger and picking it up to place it on her tongue. It had a bitter taste, and she followed his lead in chasing it away with a sip of mead.
His confidence was attractive, she had decided, and when he revealed where he hailed from, that had the potential to be attractive too. But he didn’t offer a family name...she had not memorised all of the noble houses for fun, after all. Still, he was well- dressed, obviously wealthy enough to indulge himself in the vices on offer at such a gathering, so she would not dismiss him just yet.
“Mayet” she offered in return. “I am glad to meet you, Akhentep of Mirsa el Nasr.”
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Mayet glowed under his attention, reassured that her efforts to gild her beauty had not been wasted this night. And whether or not he saw through her coquettishness or not, it had brought him to her side, which is what she had intended anyway. Tilting her head a little as if she were considering her words, Mayet gave him the benefit of the long line of her neck, the warm fragrance of the amber and jasmine oils she had smoothed over her skin.
“Do you prefer the quiet?” she asked,” It is warmer here at least than the desert, no?”
And it was warm. With braziers burning to chase away the chill of the desert nights, there was a balmy heat that lent itself well to the expanse of skin that most of the attendees had favoured. When she had arrived, Mayet had looked enviously at those women who could drape themselves in jewels. She had no such options available to her, her understated gown a rather stark contrast to those more embellished. However, she knew the gold leant a dusky warmth to her skin, and she was young enough that she did not need the false sparkle of gems and metal to make her luminous.
When her companion moved so much closer, ghosted his fingers along the line of her jaw, the girl smiled, turned so that he pressed against her, and when he drew back, she met his gaze steadily. “Am I so cautious? Or just waiting for the right company” she asked, looking up at him. “These...intoxicants are meant to enhance enjoyment are they not? If you overindulge too early, then the night is wasted” She gestured towards her unfortunate escort, now snoring slightly on the plush lounger her reclined upon. Not that thats was by anything other than her design. The man was a bore and a letch, and it was most convenient that he was out of her way.
Her attention was no longer with him, though, it was with this new stranger. And when he set a tablet on the bar before her, she hesitated only a moment before licking her finger and picking it up to place it on her tongue. It had a bitter taste, and she followed his lead in chasing it away with a sip of mead.
His confidence was attractive, she had decided, and when he revealed where he hailed from, that had the potential to be attractive too. But he didn’t offer a family name...she had not memorised all of the noble houses for fun, after all. Still, he was well- dressed, obviously wealthy enough to indulge himself in the vices on offer at such a gathering, so she would not dismiss him just yet.
“Mayet” she offered in return. “I am glad to meet you, Akhentep of Mirsa el Nasr.”
Mayet glowed under his attention, reassured that her efforts to gild her beauty had not been wasted this night. And whether or not he saw through her coquettishness or not, it had brought him to her side, which is what she had intended anyway. Tilting her head a little as if she were considering her words, Mayet gave him the benefit of the long line of her neck, the warm fragrance of the amber and jasmine oils she had smoothed over her skin.
“Do you prefer the quiet?” she asked,” It is warmer here at least than the desert, no?”
And it was warm. With braziers burning to chase away the chill of the desert nights, there was a balmy heat that lent itself well to the expanse of skin that most of the attendees had favoured. When she had arrived, Mayet had looked enviously at those women who could drape themselves in jewels. She had no such options available to her, her understated gown a rather stark contrast to those more embellished. However, she knew the gold leant a dusky warmth to her skin, and she was young enough that she did not need the false sparkle of gems and metal to make her luminous.
When her companion moved so much closer, ghosted his fingers along the line of her jaw, the girl smiled, turned so that he pressed against her, and when he drew back, she met his gaze steadily. “Am I so cautious? Or just waiting for the right company” she asked, looking up at him. “These...intoxicants are meant to enhance enjoyment are they not? If you overindulge too early, then the night is wasted” She gestured towards her unfortunate escort, now snoring slightly on the plush lounger her reclined upon. Not that thats was by anything other than her design. The man was a bore and a letch, and it was most convenient that he was out of her way.
Her attention was no longer with him, though, it was with this new stranger. And when he set a tablet on the bar before her, she hesitated only a moment before licking her finger and picking it up to place it on her tongue. It had a bitter taste, and she followed his lead in chasing it away with a sip of mead.
His confidence was attractive, she had decided, and when he revealed where he hailed from, that had the potential to be attractive too. But he didn’t offer a family name...she had not memorised all of the noble houses for fun, after all. Still, he was well- dressed, obviously wealthy enough to indulge himself in the vices on offer at such a gathering, so she would not dismiss him just yet.
“Mayet” she offered in return. “I am glad to meet you, Akhentep of Mirsa el Nasr.”
The question had him wondering. The proper thing to say, perhaps, was no. To play the charade of a city boy living under daddy's wealth and influence, but in the end, he decided that a bit of himself can spill into the facade.
"I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions."
And she was right. While the desert could grow very warm through the day, there were measures to inhibit the effects the heat had. Here, where the heat captured within walls, swirling sensation from the narcotics, the wafting smoke within the air... it was suffocating in a way.
Is this living? he wondered, even as the subconscious thrill of the experience waxed in him. His lips curved into a wider smile as he nodded,
"You're right. It is colder, but..." Amenemhat shifted his hand, letting his palm rest just above the woman's knee, fingertips dancing along her thigh,
"Another's warmth banishes such a chill."
He winked at Mayet before the conversation moved on. Dark eyes took in the stark contrast between her and the others. Mayet did not embellish her beauty with hanging jewels and shiny metals. There was the scent, and the familiar kohl that gave that feline look to the women of Egypt. But without malachite on her eyelids, she stood out. While clothes were not the adornment Egyptians generally favoured, the glitter and sheen of jewels and makeup made the woman in front of him stand out even further.
"I think that depends on temperament," he began, answering her sentiment as his gaze followed the shift of her hand, waving to some sleeping stranger. Already, she'd tried her hand, and succeeded. It was interesting to find one so determined.
"Clearly, your 'friend' is weak. With me, you need not fear such a result."
When offered the woman's name, next, she did not elaborate further. Given just a name added an aspect of mystery to the woman, to add to the other qualities that made her other. The circus heir raised the woman's hand to place a kiss upon her wrist, the free hand loosing itself from her thigh. Taking another sip of his mead, he turned in place to face towards the crowd of bodies moving with the beat of the drums.
"Would you prefer to join them, Mayet? Or shall we take our niceties somewhere they can be heard more easily?"
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The question had him wondering. The proper thing to say, perhaps, was no. To play the charade of a city boy living under daddy's wealth and influence, but in the end, he decided that a bit of himself can spill into the facade.
"I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions."
And she was right. While the desert could grow very warm through the day, there were measures to inhibit the effects the heat had. Here, where the heat captured within walls, swirling sensation from the narcotics, the wafting smoke within the air... it was suffocating in a way.
Is this living? he wondered, even as the subconscious thrill of the experience waxed in him. His lips curved into a wider smile as he nodded,
"You're right. It is colder, but..." Amenemhat shifted his hand, letting his palm rest just above the woman's knee, fingertips dancing along her thigh,
"Another's warmth banishes such a chill."
He winked at Mayet before the conversation moved on. Dark eyes took in the stark contrast between her and the others. Mayet did not embellish her beauty with hanging jewels and shiny metals. There was the scent, and the familiar kohl that gave that feline look to the women of Egypt. But without malachite on her eyelids, she stood out. While clothes were not the adornment Egyptians generally favoured, the glitter and sheen of jewels and makeup made the woman in front of him stand out even further.
"I think that depends on temperament," he began, answering her sentiment as his gaze followed the shift of her hand, waving to some sleeping stranger. Already, she'd tried her hand, and succeeded. It was interesting to find one so determined.
"Clearly, your 'friend' is weak. With me, you need not fear such a result."
When offered the woman's name, next, she did not elaborate further. Given just a name added an aspect of mystery to the woman, to add to the other qualities that made her other. The circus heir raised the woman's hand to place a kiss upon her wrist, the free hand loosing itself from her thigh. Taking another sip of his mead, he turned in place to face towards the crowd of bodies moving with the beat of the drums.
"Would you prefer to join them, Mayet? Or shall we take our niceties somewhere they can be heard more easily?"
The question had him wondering. The proper thing to say, perhaps, was no. To play the charade of a city boy living under daddy's wealth and influence, but in the end, he decided that a bit of himself can spill into the facade.
"I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions."
And she was right. While the desert could grow very warm through the day, there were measures to inhibit the effects the heat had. Here, where the heat captured within walls, swirling sensation from the narcotics, the wafting smoke within the air... it was suffocating in a way.
Is this living? he wondered, even as the subconscious thrill of the experience waxed in him. His lips curved into a wider smile as he nodded,
"You're right. It is colder, but..." Amenemhat shifted his hand, letting his palm rest just above the woman's knee, fingertips dancing along her thigh,
"Another's warmth banishes such a chill."
He winked at Mayet before the conversation moved on. Dark eyes took in the stark contrast between her and the others. Mayet did not embellish her beauty with hanging jewels and shiny metals. There was the scent, and the familiar kohl that gave that feline look to the women of Egypt. But without malachite on her eyelids, she stood out. While clothes were not the adornment Egyptians generally favoured, the glitter and sheen of jewels and makeup made the woman in front of him stand out even further.
"I think that depends on temperament," he began, answering her sentiment as his gaze followed the shift of her hand, waving to some sleeping stranger. Already, she'd tried her hand, and succeeded. It was interesting to find one so determined.
"Clearly, your 'friend' is weak. With me, you need not fear such a result."
When offered the woman's name, next, she did not elaborate further. Given just a name added an aspect of mystery to the woman, to add to the other qualities that made her other. The circus heir raised the woman's hand to place a kiss upon her wrist, the free hand loosing itself from her thigh. Taking another sip of his mead, he turned in place to face towards the crowd of bodies moving with the beat of the drums.
"Would you prefer to join them, Mayet? Or shall we take our niceties somewhere they can be heard more easily?"
‘ I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions’
The man’s words were a little dismissive of their current venue, she thought, and Mayet wondered why he had come then. Why seek such an occasion if it was just to be unhappy about the noise and the clamour?
About to ask him, her attention was stolen by the warm brush of his fingers across her thigh and she smiled slightly, looking up at him fron under dark fringed lashed. “Ah then it is some distractions that are welcomed” she said, thinking she should not be so surprised. There were not many men who would pass up certain pleasures, and this man, well he did not look like who would. Not with that wink and his casual touches. He was too handsome, she should cast him back out, for he would attract women’s attention enough that he might be hard to hold. But after enduring the less pleasing visage of the merchant’s son, Mayet thought she had earned herself a little treat, and perhaps this one might be it.
Rolling her eyes at the word ‘friend’, it was her turn to be dismissive. “ He needed a shiny bauble to arrive on his arm, I needed a ride here. Nothing more” she asserted, taking another sip of mead and letting him absorb the fact that she had just declared herself available. “ I would hope not” was the slightly arch answer to his promise not to be so weak. “ I should not be here talking to you if I believed it so.”
His kiss to her hand was charming, and Mayet missed the warmth on his palm on her thigh as soon as it was gone. It gave her only a moment’s pause before she made her decision as to where they should head next, her eyes lifting only briefly to where people danced.
“And subject you to such a noise? Surely not, now I know your preference,wasim. The gardens here are supposed to be very beautiful, but I have yet to see them. Maybe there we will find some of that quiet you like so much.”
Keeping his fingers entwined with her own Mayet pulled him along behind her as she headed through the dancers,through a low stone hallway and then beyond the swathes of silks that seperated the inside from out. They ended on a small terrace, bordered by a shallow pool. The gardens turned grey in the darkness, but here, braziers burned and limned everything in gold.
The girl turned to look over her shoulder at him, tilting her head a little. “Here? Or would you like to wander further?”
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‘ I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions’
The man’s words were a little dismissive of their current venue, she thought, and Mayet wondered why he had come then. Why seek such an occasion if it was just to be unhappy about the noise and the clamour?
About to ask him, her attention was stolen by the warm brush of his fingers across her thigh and she smiled slightly, looking up at him fron under dark fringed lashed. “Ah then it is some distractions that are welcomed” she said, thinking she should not be so surprised. There were not many men who would pass up certain pleasures, and this man, well he did not look like who would. Not with that wink and his casual touches. He was too handsome, she should cast him back out, for he would attract women’s attention enough that he might be hard to hold. But after enduring the less pleasing visage of the merchant’s son, Mayet thought she had earned herself a little treat, and perhaps this one might be it.
Rolling her eyes at the word ‘friend’, it was her turn to be dismissive. “ He needed a shiny bauble to arrive on his arm, I needed a ride here. Nothing more” she asserted, taking another sip of mead and letting him absorb the fact that she had just declared herself available. “ I would hope not” was the slightly arch answer to his promise not to be so weak. “ I should not be here talking to you if I believed it so.”
His kiss to her hand was charming, and Mayet missed the warmth on his palm on her thigh as soon as it was gone. It gave her only a moment’s pause before she made her decision as to where they should head next, her eyes lifting only briefly to where people danced.
“And subject you to such a noise? Surely not, now I know your preference,wasim. The gardens here are supposed to be very beautiful, but I have yet to see them. Maybe there we will find some of that quiet you like so much.”
Keeping his fingers entwined with her own Mayet pulled him along behind her as she headed through the dancers,through a low stone hallway and then beyond the swathes of silks that seperated the inside from out. They ended on a small terrace, bordered by a shallow pool. The gardens turned grey in the darkness, but here, braziers burned and limned everything in gold.
The girl turned to look over her shoulder at him, tilting her head a little. “Here? Or would you like to wander further?”
‘ I prefer echoes to a cacophony of dribble. Too much sound creates unwanted distractions’
The man’s words were a little dismissive of their current venue, she thought, and Mayet wondered why he had come then. Why seek such an occasion if it was just to be unhappy about the noise and the clamour?
About to ask him, her attention was stolen by the warm brush of his fingers across her thigh and she smiled slightly, looking up at him fron under dark fringed lashed. “Ah then it is some distractions that are welcomed” she said, thinking she should not be so surprised. There were not many men who would pass up certain pleasures, and this man, well he did not look like who would. Not with that wink and his casual touches. He was too handsome, she should cast him back out, for he would attract women’s attention enough that he might be hard to hold. But after enduring the less pleasing visage of the merchant’s son, Mayet thought she had earned herself a little treat, and perhaps this one might be it.
Rolling her eyes at the word ‘friend’, it was her turn to be dismissive. “ He needed a shiny bauble to arrive on his arm, I needed a ride here. Nothing more” she asserted, taking another sip of mead and letting him absorb the fact that she had just declared herself available. “ I would hope not” was the slightly arch answer to his promise not to be so weak. “ I should not be here talking to you if I believed it so.”
His kiss to her hand was charming, and Mayet missed the warmth on his palm on her thigh as soon as it was gone. It gave her only a moment’s pause before she made her decision as to where they should head next, her eyes lifting only briefly to where people danced.
“And subject you to such a noise? Surely not, now I know your preference,wasim. The gardens here are supposed to be very beautiful, but I have yet to see them. Maybe there we will find some of that quiet you like so much.”
Keeping his fingers entwined with her own Mayet pulled him along behind her as she headed through the dancers,through a low stone hallway and then beyond the swathes of silks that seperated the inside from out. They ended on a small terrace, bordered by a shallow pool. The gardens turned grey in the darkness, but here, braziers burned and limned everything in gold.
The girl turned to look over her shoulder at him, tilting her head a little. “Here? Or would you like to wander further?”
