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The night was pitch black, and someone was following her.
Darkness crept into the tavern district of Cairo, blinding Neithotep to the footsteps that trailed in her wake. At first, she hadn’t even noticed; after all, it was common enough for there to be drunks roaming around at this hour. That one should be near to her didn’t strike her as odd, and she initially shrugged it off. But the farther she walked, the more she came to be aware of it.
They were quiet at first, these steps, accompanied by the occasional exhale of breath and rustle of clothing. Nervous glances were stolen over her shoulder, but she couldn’t seem to find their source. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Nia sped her pace as best she could with the effects of the alcohol and opium that lingered yet in her system. Was that why she couldn’t spot them, whoever it was that was on her trail? Or was she just being paranoid?
Given the places she’d been that night, it wouldn’t be too surprising that someone had followed her. She was a pretty girl with well-made clothing; if they weren’t after what was between her legs, they’d certainly be after whatever was in her purse. This was precisely why she preferred to walk home with her brother or a lover in tow, but with Akhenaten under the eye of her parents and Nia expressly forbidden to take anyone else to her bed, here she was. Alone. Vulnerable. Increasingly frightened.
Rounding the corner, she finally stopped, turning on shaky legs to survey the surrounding area. Men staggering in and out of brothels, a couple beggars resting against decrepit walls, but no signs of her follower were anywhere to be found. Maybe she really was paranoid. Or perhaps it was one of the many eyes Iahotep threatened to keep trained on her. Whatever it was, she was not keen on finding out, and so increased her steps again until she was nearly running down the road.
As Nia sped up, so did the one behind her. Her ears picked up the rhythm of footfalls in sync with her own, the young lady of Hei Sheifa only barely restraining a scream. Who were they? Why couldn’t she see them? And why didn’t they just show themselves already?
Speeding up even further, she rounded another bend until she heard panting behind her. Coming to an abrupt stop, she turned on her heel just in time to see a flash of bronze and feel a searing heat burn through her shoulder.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The night was pitch black, and someone was following her.
Darkness crept into the tavern district of Cairo, blinding Neithotep to the footsteps that trailed in her wake. At first, she hadn’t even noticed; after all, it was common enough for there to be drunks roaming around at this hour. That one should be near to her didn’t strike her as odd, and she initially shrugged it off. But the farther she walked, the more she came to be aware of it.
They were quiet at first, these steps, accompanied by the occasional exhale of breath and rustle of clothing. Nervous glances were stolen over her shoulder, but she couldn’t seem to find their source. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Nia sped her pace as best she could with the effects of the alcohol and opium that lingered yet in her system. Was that why she couldn’t spot them, whoever it was that was on her trail? Or was she just being paranoid?
Given the places she’d been that night, it wouldn’t be too surprising that someone had followed her. She was a pretty girl with well-made clothing; if they weren’t after what was between her legs, they’d certainly be after whatever was in her purse. This was precisely why she preferred to walk home with her brother or a lover in tow, but with Akhenaten under the eye of her parents and Nia expressly forbidden to take anyone else to her bed, here she was. Alone. Vulnerable. Increasingly frightened.
Rounding the corner, she finally stopped, turning on shaky legs to survey the surrounding area. Men staggering in and out of brothels, a couple beggars resting against decrepit walls, but no signs of her follower were anywhere to be found. Maybe she really was paranoid. Or perhaps it was one of the many eyes Iahotep threatened to keep trained on her. Whatever it was, she was not keen on finding out, and so increased her steps again until she was nearly running down the road.
As Nia sped up, so did the one behind her. Her ears picked up the rhythm of footfalls in sync with her own, the young lady of Hei Sheifa only barely restraining a scream. Who were they? Why couldn’t she see them? And why didn’t they just show themselves already?
Speeding up even further, she rounded another bend until she heard panting behind her. Coming to an abrupt stop, she turned on her heel just in time to see a flash of bronze and feel a searing heat burn through her shoulder.
The night was pitch black, and someone was following her.
Darkness crept into the tavern district of Cairo, blinding Neithotep to the footsteps that trailed in her wake. At first, she hadn’t even noticed; after all, it was common enough for there to be drunks roaming around at this hour. That one should be near to her didn’t strike her as odd, and she initially shrugged it off. But the farther she walked, the more she came to be aware of it.
They were quiet at first, these steps, accompanied by the occasional exhale of breath and rustle of clothing. Nervous glances were stolen over her shoulder, but she couldn’t seem to find their source. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Nia sped her pace as best she could with the effects of the alcohol and opium that lingered yet in her system. Was that why she couldn’t spot them, whoever it was that was on her trail? Or was she just being paranoid?
Given the places she’d been that night, it wouldn’t be too surprising that someone had followed her. She was a pretty girl with well-made clothing; if they weren’t after what was between her legs, they’d certainly be after whatever was in her purse. This was precisely why she preferred to walk home with her brother or a lover in tow, but with Akhenaten under the eye of her parents and Nia expressly forbidden to take anyone else to her bed, here she was. Alone. Vulnerable. Increasingly frightened.
Rounding the corner, she finally stopped, turning on shaky legs to survey the surrounding area. Men staggering in and out of brothels, a couple beggars resting against decrepit walls, but no signs of her follower were anywhere to be found. Maybe she really was paranoid. Or perhaps it was one of the many eyes Iahotep threatened to keep trained on her. Whatever it was, she was not keen on finding out, and so increased her steps again until she was nearly running down the road.
As Nia sped up, so did the one behind her. Her ears picked up the rhythm of footfalls in sync with her own, the young lady of Hei Sheifa only barely restraining a scream. Who were they? Why couldn’t she see them? And why didn’t they just show themselves already?
Speeding up even further, she rounded another bend until she heard panting behind her. Coming to an abrupt stop, she turned on her heel just in time to see a flash of bronze and feel a searing heat burn through her shoulder.
''Fuckin' whores and prick-rotted ruffians...'', a respectably dressed drunkard fumbled alone through the streets, flailing his half empty bottle and uttering self-important profanities as if there were an entourage of captive listeners in agreement with his bitter grievances. ''Who'dhey... think they are... tossin me, me, out? Pffft.'', a deep hark saw him spitting heartily to the side. Every other bypasser through the district that came his way gave the man a rather wide berth.
He had been neatly excused from the brothel by its guards on account of a purse too thinned on booze to afford him a woman for the night, and an attitude too foul for any self-respecting madamme to entrust one of her girls to him... And on no occasion does famished lust mix well with drink, thus his attitude turned fouler yet... So it was, his blurring gaze came across a figure rather pleasant. Petite and curvy, even observed from beneath a cloak and through a haze of alcohol...
Biting his low lip through a low groan, with very little in the way of second thoughts, the man let the bottle slip from his grasp and gave himself into a purposeful stride in the girl's wake... Little bitch kept moving through well-lit streets, and there was always some pesky crowd of cocksuckers chattering or dillydalying around the corner... and when she noticed him and sped up her pace, the man's patience had been licked away into a paper-thin sheet of brittle ice, and he gave chase. Finally she made a wrong turn, and tried to tuck herself away behind an alley corner, and that was when he pulled the knife from his belt.
A good, deep cut on the shoulder would make just about anyone less likely to fend off an assailant, he reckoned, so that was where he struck her, and a moment afterward, he'd clawed his free hand to a grip beneath her chin, his other pressing the bronze blade's flat side against her neck with very little regard for the prospect of slipping up and slashing her throat open without intent.
''Make a... hrrr... sound and I'll...hg... I'll cut you so bad they won't fuckin recognize you come the morning.'', his breath was hot with lust and a copious amount of cheap beer as he grunted the words into the back of her neck whilst he dragged her deeper into the alley.
There, Neithothep would be hurled and pressed up against a damp wall, one hand still pressing the knife to her throat without any subtlety, whilst another went down, squeezing at her breast as if in attempt to squish the soft flesh into paste. Her assailant brought his mouth to her cheek, yet he seldom kissed her, what he did was more akin to rubbing his face against hers belike some rabid animal, growling very much like one as well. The liqor in her attacker's blood kept him limp even with a buxom girl freshly at his mercy, and that would only add to the arguous length of what was to come.
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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''Fuckin' whores and prick-rotted ruffians...'', a respectably dressed drunkard fumbled alone through the streets, flailing his half empty bottle and uttering self-important profanities as if there were an entourage of captive listeners in agreement with his bitter grievances. ''Who'dhey... think they are... tossin me, me, out? Pffft.'', a deep hark saw him spitting heartily to the side. Every other bypasser through the district that came his way gave the man a rather wide berth.
He had been neatly excused from the brothel by its guards on account of a purse too thinned on booze to afford him a woman for the night, and an attitude too foul for any self-respecting madamme to entrust one of her girls to him... And on no occasion does famished lust mix well with drink, thus his attitude turned fouler yet... So it was, his blurring gaze came across a figure rather pleasant. Petite and curvy, even observed from beneath a cloak and through a haze of alcohol...
Biting his low lip through a low groan, with very little in the way of second thoughts, the man let the bottle slip from his grasp and gave himself into a purposeful stride in the girl's wake... Little bitch kept moving through well-lit streets, and there was always some pesky crowd of cocksuckers chattering or dillydalying around the corner... and when she noticed him and sped up her pace, the man's patience had been licked away into a paper-thin sheet of brittle ice, and he gave chase. Finally she made a wrong turn, and tried to tuck herself away behind an alley corner, and that was when he pulled the knife from his belt.
A good, deep cut on the shoulder would make just about anyone less likely to fend off an assailant, he reckoned, so that was where he struck her, and a moment afterward, he'd clawed his free hand to a grip beneath her chin, his other pressing the bronze blade's flat side against her neck with very little regard for the prospect of slipping up and slashing her throat open without intent.
''Make a... hrrr... sound and I'll...hg... I'll cut you so bad they won't fuckin recognize you come the morning.'', his breath was hot with lust and a copious amount of cheap beer as he grunted the words into the back of her neck whilst he dragged her deeper into the alley.
There, Neithothep would be hurled and pressed up against a damp wall, one hand still pressing the knife to her throat without any subtlety, whilst another went down, squeezing at her breast as if in attempt to squish the soft flesh into paste. Her assailant brought his mouth to her cheek, yet he seldom kissed her, what he did was more akin to rubbing his face against hers belike some rabid animal, growling very much like one as well. The liqor in her attacker's blood kept him limp even with a buxom girl freshly at his mercy, and that would only add to the arguous length of what was to come.
''Fuckin' whores and prick-rotted ruffians...'', a respectably dressed drunkard fumbled alone through the streets, flailing his half empty bottle and uttering self-important profanities as if there were an entourage of captive listeners in agreement with his bitter grievances. ''Who'dhey... think they are... tossin me, me, out? Pffft.'', a deep hark saw him spitting heartily to the side. Every other bypasser through the district that came his way gave the man a rather wide berth.
He had been neatly excused from the brothel by its guards on account of a purse too thinned on booze to afford him a woman for the night, and an attitude too foul for any self-respecting madamme to entrust one of her girls to him... And on no occasion does famished lust mix well with drink, thus his attitude turned fouler yet... So it was, his blurring gaze came across a figure rather pleasant. Petite and curvy, even observed from beneath a cloak and through a haze of alcohol...
Biting his low lip through a low groan, with very little in the way of second thoughts, the man let the bottle slip from his grasp and gave himself into a purposeful stride in the girl's wake... Little bitch kept moving through well-lit streets, and there was always some pesky crowd of cocksuckers chattering or dillydalying around the corner... and when she noticed him and sped up her pace, the man's patience had been licked away into a paper-thin sheet of brittle ice, and he gave chase. Finally she made a wrong turn, and tried to tuck herself away behind an alley corner, and that was when he pulled the knife from his belt.
A good, deep cut on the shoulder would make just about anyone less likely to fend off an assailant, he reckoned, so that was where he struck her, and a moment afterward, he'd clawed his free hand to a grip beneath her chin, his other pressing the bronze blade's flat side against her neck with very little regard for the prospect of slipping up and slashing her throat open without intent.
''Make a... hrrr... sound and I'll...hg... I'll cut you so bad they won't fuckin recognize you come the morning.'', his breath was hot with lust and a copious amount of cheap beer as he grunted the words into the back of her neck whilst he dragged her deeper into the alley.
There, Neithothep would be hurled and pressed up against a damp wall, one hand still pressing the knife to her throat without any subtlety, whilst another went down, squeezing at her breast as if in attempt to squish the soft flesh into paste. Her assailant brought his mouth to her cheek, yet he seldom kissed her, what he did was more akin to rubbing his face against hers belike some rabid animal, growling very much like one as well. The liqor in her attacker's blood kept him limp even with a buxom girl freshly at his mercy, and that would only add to the arguous length of what was to come.
The Pharaoh always threatened to keep eyes on her wherever she was, so either he was lying, or those eyes just didn’t care. Nia wasn’t sure which option she preferred, but for all she knew, these could even be his promised eyes, sent to teach her a lesson for some imaginary transgression. There was little she’d put past Iahotep anymore.
Fear was stark in Neithotep’s eyes as the vagabond pushed her into the alleyway, her face hot, but her skin clammy cold. Her heart seemed like it might pound out of her chest, unable to stop the trembling that started in her toes and worked its way up her body. She should’ve run as soon as she heard the steps. She should have screamed while she still could.
Maybe I should just stop going out alone.
Pressed helplessly against the wall with a blade at her throat, Nia stared into crazed eyes that held foul promises so depraved, they almost made her wish for Iahotep. Blood ran sluggishly from her shoulder, but the pain was nothing more than an afterthought at this point. She was used to pain. She was used to fear. She doubted her assailant was prepared for that.
Screwing her eyes closed tight when she felt the lecherous hand that clasped at her breast, she sent up a desperate prayer to whatever god might listen and respond. Why did it seem she was constantly being punished? What horrible transgressions had she committed to deserve the lot that she always received?
There was a fleeting thought that this man might as well kill her, that his knife wasn’t the threat he thought it was. What did it matter any more if she lived or died? Her life was no longer her own, and it hadn’t been for a long time. Wouldn’t it be better to just goad him into ending it than sit back and let him do as he wished while she screamed and pled for help that would never come?
But Nia knew to give in to despair would be to give in to death. And she still had some spirit left to crush.
He was drunk, that much she could tell. It seeped through his pores and lingered in the stench of his breath, and that, at least, could be used to her advantage. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t exactly sober, either. But hopefully, she was more sober than he was.
“Look at you, you can’t even get it up,” she taunted, keeping her eyes on the drunk’s trembling hold on the knife. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”
“You li’l bitch,” the man hissed in response, reaching up to slap her. “I’ll show you what you should be scared of…”
His grip loosened on the knife, his attention shifting as his other hand reached between his legs to try and encourage some of the limpness from his member. Neithotep used that momentary distraction to her advantage, pushing violently at the man’s arm while her knee slammed up upward to connect with his groin.
A howl of pain was Nia’s reward, the drunkard losing his grip and doubling over in pain. Pushing away from the wall and stumbling toward another figure passing in front of the alley, she cried out, “You over there, please! Help me!”
Approaching the mouth of the alley, Nia was caught by surprise when her attacker recovered much faster than she thought. “You’ll pay for that, you prissy li’l cunt,” he swore at her as his arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her backward and nearly pulling her off her feet.
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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The Pharaoh always threatened to keep eyes on her wherever she was, so either he was lying, or those eyes just didn’t care. Nia wasn’t sure which option she preferred, but for all she knew, these could even be his promised eyes, sent to teach her a lesson for some imaginary transgression. There was little she’d put past Iahotep anymore.
Fear was stark in Neithotep’s eyes as the vagabond pushed her into the alleyway, her face hot, but her skin clammy cold. Her heart seemed like it might pound out of her chest, unable to stop the trembling that started in her toes and worked its way up her body. She should’ve run as soon as she heard the steps. She should have screamed while she still could.
Maybe I should just stop going out alone.
Pressed helplessly against the wall with a blade at her throat, Nia stared into crazed eyes that held foul promises so depraved, they almost made her wish for Iahotep. Blood ran sluggishly from her shoulder, but the pain was nothing more than an afterthought at this point. She was used to pain. She was used to fear. She doubted her assailant was prepared for that.
Screwing her eyes closed tight when she felt the lecherous hand that clasped at her breast, she sent up a desperate prayer to whatever god might listen and respond. Why did it seem she was constantly being punished? What horrible transgressions had she committed to deserve the lot that she always received?
There was a fleeting thought that this man might as well kill her, that his knife wasn’t the threat he thought it was. What did it matter any more if she lived or died? Her life was no longer her own, and it hadn’t been for a long time. Wouldn’t it be better to just goad him into ending it than sit back and let him do as he wished while she screamed and pled for help that would never come?
But Nia knew to give in to despair would be to give in to death. And she still had some spirit left to crush.
He was drunk, that much she could tell. It seeped through his pores and lingered in the stench of his breath, and that, at least, could be used to her advantage. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t exactly sober, either. But hopefully, she was more sober than he was.
“Look at you, you can’t even get it up,” she taunted, keeping her eyes on the drunk’s trembling hold on the knife. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”
“You li’l bitch,” the man hissed in response, reaching up to slap her. “I’ll show you what you should be scared of…”
His grip loosened on the knife, his attention shifting as his other hand reached between his legs to try and encourage some of the limpness from his member. Neithotep used that momentary distraction to her advantage, pushing violently at the man’s arm while her knee slammed up upward to connect with his groin.
A howl of pain was Nia’s reward, the drunkard losing his grip and doubling over in pain. Pushing away from the wall and stumbling toward another figure passing in front of the alley, she cried out, “You over there, please! Help me!”
Approaching the mouth of the alley, Nia was caught by surprise when her attacker recovered much faster than she thought. “You’ll pay for that, you prissy li’l cunt,” he swore at her as his arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her backward and nearly pulling her off her feet.
The Pharaoh always threatened to keep eyes on her wherever she was, so either he was lying, or those eyes just didn’t care. Nia wasn’t sure which option she preferred, but for all she knew, these could even be his promised eyes, sent to teach her a lesson for some imaginary transgression. There was little she’d put past Iahotep anymore.
Fear was stark in Neithotep’s eyes as the vagabond pushed her into the alleyway, her face hot, but her skin clammy cold. Her heart seemed like it might pound out of her chest, unable to stop the trembling that started in her toes and worked its way up her body. She should’ve run as soon as she heard the steps. She should have screamed while she still could.
Maybe I should just stop going out alone.
Pressed helplessly against the wall with a blade at her throat, Nia stared into crazed eyes that held foul promises so depraved, they almost made her wish for Iahotep. Blood ran sluggishly from her shoulder, but the pain was nothing more than an afterthought at this point. She was used to pain. She was used to fear. She doubted her assailant was prepared for that.
Screwing her eyes closed tight when she felt the lecherous hand that clasped at her breast, she sent up a desperate prayer to whatever god might listen and respond. Why did it seem she was constantly being punished? What horrible transgressions had she committed to deserve the lot that she always received?
There was a fleeting thought that this man might as well kill her, that his knife wasn’t the threat he thought it was. What did it matter any more if she lived or died? Her life was no longer her own, and it hadn’t been for a long time. Wouldn’t it be better to just goad him into ending it than sit back and let him do as he wished while she screamed and pled for help that would never come?
But Nia knew to give in to despair would be to give in to death. And she still had some spirit left to crush.
He was drunk, that much she could tell. It seeped through his pores and lingered in the stench of his breath, and that, at least, could be used to her advantage. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t exactly sober, either. But hopefully, she was more sober than he was.
“Look at you, you can’t even get it up,” she taunted, keeping her eyes on the drunk’s trembling hold on the knife. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”
“You li’l bitch,” the man hissed in response, reaching up to slap her. “I’ll show you what you should be scared of…”
His grip loosened on the knife, his attention shifting as his other hand reached between his legs to try and encourage some of the limpness from his member. Neithotep used that momentary distraction to her advantage, pushing violently at the man’s arm while her knee slammed up upward to connect with his groin.
A howl of pain was Nia’s reward, the drunkard losing his grip and doubling over in pain. Pushing away from the wall and stumbling toward another figure passing in front of the alley, she cried out, “You over there, please! Help me!”
Approaching the mouth of the alley, Nia was caught by surprise when her attacker recovered much faster than she thought. “You’ll pay for that, you prissy li’l cunt,” he swore at her as his arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her backward and nearly pulling her off her feet.
The drunken assailant was not the only one that night denied entry to a brothel. As it turned out, the madammes did not care much for deciphering Nyrlathotep's sign language that particular evening, so now here she was, grumpy and anxious, striding the darkening streets. Was she going to have to pick up some dull tramp again? To settle for a beggar she'd scrape out of the dirt at some early morning hour?...
Some ruckus grazed her ears as she passed by the outskirts of the district, she paid it no mind, another raunchy couple getting it on before they could find a proper room, she'd have nothing for them but envy... And then she heard a plea for help and stopped dead in her tracks.
A few long, struggling moments after grabbing hold of the feistly little bitch, he did manage to hurl her to the ground, and seat himself atop of her, facing the way she attempted to escape. Soon enough, his hands came clutching about her throat, thumbs digging in, so hard he squeezed, nearly frothing at the mouth amidst his enraged panting.
''See if they can get you up in the morning, little cunt, eh?''
There was more abhorrence he wished to voice, yet he found his tongue lapping quiet when a sandaled foot slammed its heel between his eyes. His posture bolted backwards, head recoling, his grip loosening on Nia's neck... And then he was hurled off of her when Nyrlathotep's other foot introduced itself to the side of his head. A drunken fool can very well delude themselv into ignoring the dull pain that comes from a bruised groin, but no amount of alcohol in a man's blood is going to keep him afoot when his brain starts shaking in his skull. And Nyrla wasn't rightly done. The scene she got to witness in this alley was awfully reminiscent of the years she'd most eagerly forget if she could... And kicking and stomping away at this random drunken rapist she stumbled into upon the street brought her more closure than laying down with six dozen passing lovers.
Once the man was reduced to a bloodied, whimpering mess, gasping for air in the dirt and coiling over five different ways at once, Nyrla turned away from him and to the poor lass he'd assaulted, had the girl not bolted away by that point.
Nyrla would help the lass up into a seat or a stand and proceed to examine her bloodied shoulder, tearing off any cloth that might have ended up hanging loose about it, and using either said cloth or the pressure of her spare hand to stop the bleeding as best as she could, while helping the lass stay on her feet if need be with the other. A reassuring grunt and a nod vaguely pointing southward down the street was all she would spare, before setting off to walk the lass to her tent.
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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The drunken assailant was not the only one that night denied entry to a brothel. As it turned out, the madammes did not care much for deciphering Nyrlathotep's sign language that particular evening, so now here she was, grumpy and anxious, striding the darkening streets. Was she going to have to pick up some dull tramp again? To settle for a beggar she'd scrape out of the dirt at some early morning hour?...
Some ruckus grazed her ears as she passed by the outskirts of the district, she paid it no mind, another raunchy couple getting it on before they could find a proper room, she'd have nothing for them but envy... And then she heard a plea for help and stopped dead in her tracks.
A few long, struggling moments after grabbing hold of the feistly little bitch, he did manage to hurl her to the ground, and seat himself atop of her, facing the way she attempted to escape. Soon enough, his hands came clutching about her throat, thumbs digging in, so hard he squeezed, nearly frothing at the mouth amidst his enraged panting.
''See if they can get you up in the morning, little cunt, eh?''
There was more abhorrence he wished to voice, yet he found his tongue lapping quiet when a sandaled foot slammed its heel between his eyes. His posture bolted backwards, head recoling, his grip loosening on Nia's neck... And then he was hurled off of her when Nyrlathotep's other foot introduced itself to the side of his head. A drunken fool can very well delude themselv into ignoring the dull pain that comes from a bruised groin, but no amount of alcohol in a man's blood is going to keep him afoot when his brain starts shaking in his skull. And Nyrla wasn't rightly done. The scene she got to witness in this alley was awfully reminiscent of the years she'd most eagerly forget if she could... And kicking and stomping away at this random drunken rapist she stumbled into upon the street brought her more closure than laying down with six dozen passing lovers.
Once the man was reduced to a bloodied, whimpering mess, gasping for air in the dirt and coiling over five different ways at once, Nyrla turned away from him and to the poor lass he'd assaulted, had the girl not bolted away by that point.
Nyrla would help the lass up into a seat or a stand and proceed to examine her bloodied shoulder, tearing off any cloth that might have ended up hanging loose about it, and using either said cloth or the pressure of her spare hand to stop the bleeding as best as she could, while helping the lass stay on her feet if need be with the other. A reassuring grunt and a nod vaguely pointing southward down the street was all she would spare, before setting off to walk the lass to her tent.
The drunken assailant was not the only one that night denied entry to a brothel. As it turned out, the madammes did not care much for deciphering Nyrlathotep's sign language that particular evening, so now here she was, grumpy and anxious, striding the darkening streets. Was she going to have to pick up some dull tramp again? To settle for a beggar she'd scrape out of the dirt at some early morning hour?...
Some ruckus grazed her ears as she passed by the outskirts of the district, she paid it no mind, another raunchy couple getting it on before they could find a proper room, she'd have nothing for them but envy... And then she heard a plea for help and stopped dead in her tracks.
A few long, struggling moments after grabbing hold of the feistly little bitch, he did manage to hurl her to the ground, and seat himself atop of her, facing the way she attempted to escape. Soon enough, his hands came clutching about her throat, thumbs digging in, so hard he squeezed, nearly frothing at the mouth amidst his enraged panting.
''See if they can get you up in the morning, little cunt, eh?''
There was more abhorrence he wished to voice, yet he found his tongue lapping quiet when a sandaled foot slammed its heel between his eyes. His posture bolted backwards, head recoling, his grip loosening on Nia's neck... And then he was hurled off of her when Nyrlathotep's other foot introduced itself to the side of his head. A drunken fool can very well delude themselv into ignoring the dull pain that comes from a bruised groin, but no amount of alcohol in a man's blood is going to keep him afoot when his brain starts shaking in his skull. And Nyrla wasn't rightly done. The scene she got to witness in this alley was awfully reminiscent of the years she'd most eagerly forget if she could... And kicking and stomping away at this random drunken rapist she stumbled into upon the street brought her more closure than laying down with six dozen passing lovers.
Once the man was reduced to a bloodied, whimpering mess, gasping for air in the dirt and coiling over five different ways at once, Nyrla turned away from him and to the poor lass he'd assaulted, had the girl not bolted away by that point.
Nyrla would help the lass up into a seat or a stand and proceed to examine her bloodied shoulder, tearing off any cloth that might have ended up hanging loose about it, and using either said cloth or the pressure of her spare hand to stop the bleeding as best as she could, while helping the lass stay on her feet if need be with the other. A reassuring grunt and a nod vaguely pointing southward down the street was all she would spare, before setting off to walk the lass to her tent.
The ground came hurtling at her at an alarming speed and all Neithotep could do was close her eyes and brace for the impact.
As soon as her back connected with the dirt, the man was on her again, her poppy haze slowing her movements and dulling her reaction time. She screeched and clawed at him, twisting her body to try and dislodge his weight, but there was little she could do to stop him. Before long, she found fingers wrapped around her throat and her head pushed back to the ground with alarming force. Her fingernails scrabbled uselessly at his ever-tightening grip, mouth opening and closing while she struggled to draw in breath.
Darkness was creeping across her vision, and her lungs felt like they might collapse. Her writhing weakened, hands falling back to the dirt with a useless thump as her struggles started to slow. Staring uselessly into a gaze that promised her death, Nia was almost ready to accept her fate before suddenly, his face was gone, and she was able to breathe again.
Gasping and coughing as she desperately swallowed massive lungfuls of air, it took her several moments to realize what had just happened. The person she’d called out for had to come to her rescue, after all, her attacker soon reduced to a gory and macabre mess on the ground several feet away from her. Fearful eyes flicked his way until she realized he wouldn’t be getting up again any time soon, gratefully looking up at the woman who’d intervened.
A woman. She hadn’t expected that, especially considering her rescuer’s size. Large arms supported Nia to her feet, shakily wrapping her hand around her heroine’s waist and taking a moment to regain her bearings. She had hardly even noticed the wound in her shoulder at first, but now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, she hissed and recoiled from the other woman’s touch. Quickly realizing she meant to help her, Nia held herself still and averted her eyes while her unknown savior did her best to stymy the blood flow from the painful gash.
“Thank you,” Nia murmured, catching the woman’s eye and offering her best attempt at a smile. “Truly, thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I… well… I don’t want to think about what would have happened then.”
Realizing her rescuer was guiding her off somewhere else, she looked at her curiously, but continued to follow along. Simply grateful not to be alone in the wake of such an experience, she wasn’t about to complain, but neither was she sure that she should simply traipse off with yet another stranger in the middle of the night. “Where are we going?” she asked, wondering at the other’s peculiar silence.
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The ground came hurtling at her at an alarming speed and all Neithotep could do was close her eyes and brace for the impact.
As soon as her back connected with the dirt, the man was on her again, her poppy haze slowing her movements and dulling her reaction time. She screeched and clawed at him, twisting her body to try and dislodge his weight, but there was little she could do to stop him. Before long, she found fingers wrapped around her throat and her head pushed back to the ground with alarming force. Her fingernails scrabbled uselessly at his ever-tightening grip, mouth opening and closing while she struggled to draw in breath.
Darkness was creeping across her vision, and her lungs felt like they might collapse. Her writhing weakened, hands falling back to the dirt with a useless thump as her struggles started to slow. Staring uselessly into a gaze that promised her death, Nia was almost ready to accept her fate before suddenly, his face was gone, and she was able to breathe again.
Gasping and coughing as she desperately swallowed massive lungfuls of air, it took her several moments to realize what had just happened. The person she’d called out for had to come to her rescue, after all, her attacker soon reduced to a gory and macabre mess on the ground several feet away from her. Fearful eyes flicked his way until she realized he wouldn’t be getting up again any time soon, gratefully looking up at the woman who’d intervened.
A woman. She hadn’t expected that, especially considering her rescuer’s size. Large arms supported Nia to her feet, shakily wrapping her hand around her heroine’s waist and taking a moment to regain her bearings. She had hardly even noticed the wound in her shoulder at first, but now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, she hissed and recoiled from the other woman’s touch. Quickly realizing she meant to help her, Nia held herself still and averted her eyes while her unknown savior did her best to stymy the blood flow from the painful gash.
“Thank you,” Nia murmured, catching the woman’s eye and offering her best attempt at a smile. “Truly, thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I… well… I don’t want to think about what would have happened then.”
Realizing her rescuer was guiding her off somewhere else, she looked at her curiously, but continued to follow along. Simply grateful not to be alone in the wake of such an experience, she wasn’t about to complain, but neither was she sure that she should simply traipse off with yet another stranger in the middle of the night. “Where are we going?” she asked, wondering at the other’s peculiar silence.
The ground came hurtling at her at an alarming speed and all Neithotep could do was close her eyes and brace for the impact.
As soon as her back connected with the dirt, the man was on her again, her poppy haze slowing her movements and dulling her reaction time. She screeched and clawed at him, twisting her body to try and dislodge his weight, but there was little she could do to stop him. Before long, she found fingers wrapped around her throat and her head pushed back to the ground with alarming force. Her fingernails scrabbled uselessly at his ever-tightening grip, mouth opening and closing while she struggled to draw in breath.
Darkness was creeping across her vision, and her lungs felt like they might collapse. Her writhing weakened, hands falling back to the dirt with a useless thump as her struggles started to slow. Staring uselessly into a gaze that promised her death, Nia was almost ready to accept her fate before suddenly, his face was gone, and she was able to breathe again.
Gasping and coughing as she desperately swallowed massive lungfuls of air, it took her several moments to realize what had just happened. The person she’d called out for had to come to her rescue, after all, her attacker soon reduced to a gory and macabre mess on the ground several feet away from her. Fearful eyes flicked his way until she realized he wouldn’t be getting up again any time soon, gratefully looking up at the woman who’d intervened.
A woman. She hadn’t expected that, especially considering her rescuer’s size. Large arms supported Nia to her feet, shakily wrapping her hand around her heroine’s waist and taking a moment to regain her bearings. She had hardly even noticed the wound in her shoulder at first, but now that the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off, she hissed and recoiled from the other woman’s touch. Quickly realizing she meant to help her, Nia held herself still and averted her eyes while her unknown savior did her best to stymy the blood flow from the painful gash.
“Thank you,” Nia murmured, catching the woman’s eye and offering her best attempt at a smile. “Truly, thank you. If you hadn’t come along, I… well… I don’t want to think about what would have happened then.”
Realizing her rescuer was guiding her off somewhere else, she looked at her curiously, but continued to follow along. Simply grateful not to be alone in the wake of such an experience, she wasn’t about to complain, but neither was she sure that she should simply traipse off with yet another stranger in the middle of the night. “Where are we going?” she asked, wondering at the other’s peculiar silence.
They had already made it down a couple alleys, huddled together in their stride, when the girl finall found the breath to speak up, and apart from base gratitude, her voice gave off concern.
Nyrla waited a while before finding a chance to attempt and reply. She figured the girl didn't need any further frights... yet the ink-scribed fortune teller also figured this woman would seldom know the language of signs used by those who hadn't the luxury of speech... So Nyrla led them on, looking at the girl a couple times, trying to show that she'd acknowledged her question and merely sought to leave it lingering for a moment. She found her chance for a reply in the candle-light by a window on an empty alley corner.
Nyrla let go of the woman with the arm she'd wrapped around her to help her walk and turned to face her, still keeping pressure upon her injured shoulder with the other hand. She tried to have the candle-light catch her face as best as she could, before opening her mouth and pointing to the tongueless darkness within with the finger of her free hand. She'd wait to make sure the girl saw her impairment, before making it a point to heartily pat the palm of her own hand against the flat of her chest, with a resounding ''Hm, hm!''
Then she would go on to wrap her arm around the troubled lass, and pull her in for a brief, reassuring embrace, not knowing how else to profess good intentions. The hug would be brief and fleeting, followed by a ponient nod, and then a sideways tilt of her head to urge the woman to haste again. They weren't far off now. Hopefully that brief display would have been enough to have the poor woman stumble along long enough for them to reach Nyrla's present place of residence.
If Nia would have obliged, they would soon come to turn upon a rather peculiar corner, from which the scent of incense and fruit-scented wax melting away rolled out into the street. And upon turning the corner, the street would end, and Nyrla's tent, sprung between the walls of neighboring alley walls, would begin.
On fine, layered rugs Nyrla would help the lass stumble into the cavernous complex of silk, exotic pillows and coushins, before leaving her alone for but a moment, for that would be what she needed to bring over a lit candle, a piece of silken cloth, and some clean spirit. Only briefly would the woman look at Nia before moving in to wash out her wound with the stinging liquid.
Pleasantries were among Nyrla's favored ways of spending times, but they could wait until this woman wasn't bleeding.
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They had already made it down a couple alleys, huddled together in their stride, when the girl finall found the breath to speak up, and apart from base gratitude, her voice gave off concern.
Nyrla waited a while before finding a chance to attempt and reply. She figured the girl didn't need any further frights... yet the ink-scribed fortune teller also figured this woman would seldom know the language of signs used by those who hadn't the luxury of speech... So Nyrla led them on, looking at the girl a couple times, trying to show that she'd acknowledged her question and merely sought to leave it lingering for a moment. She found her chance for a reply in the candle-light by a window on an empty alley corner.
Nyrla let go of the woman with the arm she'd wrapped around her to help her walk and turned to face her, still keeping pressure upon her injured shoulder with the other hand. She tried to have the candle-light catch her face as best as she could, before opening her mouth and pointing to the tongueless darkness within with the finger of her free hand. She'd wait to make sure the girl saw her impairment, before making it a point to heartily pat the palm of her own hand against the flat of her chest, with a resounding ''Hm, hm!''
Then she would go on to wrap her arm around the troubled lass, and pull her in for a brief, reassuring embrace, not knowing how else to profess good intentions. The hug would be brief and fleeting, followed by a ponient nod, and then a sideways tilt of her head to urge the woman to haste again. They weren't far off now. Hopefully that brief display would have been enough to have the poor woman stumble along long enough for them to reach Nyrla's present place of residence.
If Nia would have obliged, they would soon come to turn upon a rather peculiar corner, from which the scent of incense and fruit-scented wax melting away rolled out into the street. And upon turning the corner, the street would end, and Nyrla's tent, sprung between the walls of neighboring alley walls, would begin.
On fine, layered rugs Nyrla would help the lass stumble into the cavernous complex of silk, exotic pillows and coushins, before leaving her alone for but a moment, for that would be what she needed to bring over a lit candle, a piece of silken cloth, and some clean spirit. Only briefly would the woman look at Nia before moving in to wash out her wound with the stinging liquid.
Pleasantries were among Nyrla's favored ways of spending times, but they could wait until this woman wasn't bleeding.
They had already made it down a couple alleys, huddled together in their stride, when the girl finall found the breath to speak up, and apart from base gratitude, her voice gave off concern.
Nyrla waited a while before finding a chance to attempt and reply. She figured the girl didn't need any further frights... yet the ink-scribed fortune teller also figured this woman would seldom know the language of signs used by those who hadn't the luxury of speech... So Nyrla led them on, looking at the girl a couple times, trying to show that she'd acknowledged her question and merely sought to leave it lingering for a moment. She found her chance for a reply in the candle-light by a window on an empty alley corner.
Nyrla let go of the woman with the arm she'd wrapped around her to help her walk and turned to face her, still keeping pressure upon her injured shoulder with the other hand. She tried to have the candle-light catch her face as best as she could, before opening her mouth and pointing to the tongueless darkness within with the finger of her free hand. She'd wait to make sure the girl saw her impairment, before making it a point to heartily pat the palm of her own hand against the flat of her chest, with a resounding ''Hm, hm!''
Then she would go on to wrap her arm around the troubled lass, and pull her in for a brief, reassuring embrace, not knowing how else to profess good intentions. The hug would be brief and fleeting, followed by a ponient nod, and then a sideways tilt of her head to urge the woman to haste again. They weren't far off now. Hopefully that brief display would have been enough to have the poor woman stumble along long enough for them to reach Nyrla's present place of residence.
If Nia would have obliged, they would soon come to turn upon a rather peculiar corner, from which the scent of incense and fruit-scented wax melting away rolled out into the street. And upon turning the corner, the street would end, and Nyrla's tent, sprung between the walls of neighboring alley walls, would begin.
On fine, layered rugs Nyrla would help the lass stumble into the cavernous complex of silk, exotic pillows and coushins, before leaving her alone for but a moment, for that would be what she needed to bring over a lit candle, a piece of silken cloth, and some clean spirit. Only briefly would the woman look at Nia before moving in to wash out her wound with the stinging liquid.
Pleasantries were among Nyrla's favored ways of spending times, but they could wait until this woman wasn't bleeding.
They kept walking and still her companion didn’t speak, which only served to make Nia suspicious. Did this woman have even crueler intentions than her attacker? Why wouldn’t she utter a single word?
A paranoid gaze lingered on the woman who’d rescued her, concocting new ideas and theories with each step they took. Perhaps she was not a woman at all, but a man in disguise who was sent to kidnap her for some nefarious end. She discarded that possibility rather quickly, but the next chilled her even more. Perhaps this was one of Iahotep’s spies, sent to punish her for some imagined transgression—maybe he’d even blame her own attack on her, claiming she’d seduced her unknown assailant from afar. As crazy as it sounded, there was little she’d put past the pharaoh, including such a ludicrous theory.
However, when they were able to step into a pool of light, the stranger put Nia’s mind at ease by pointing into her tongue-less mouth. Ah, a mute. She nodded in understanding and gently patted her shoulder in sympathy. As much as Nia tended to babble, she couldn’t imagine that ability being taken away from her.
Though she was relieved that the stranger’s reason for not speaking was so innocuous, she couldn’t help but wonder how she’d become that way in the first place. Was she born deformed or made that way later? And if she was made that way… why? What had she done to deserve such a cruel punishment? Considering the swift and decisive way the woman had dealt with Nia’s attacker, something told her the mute was dangerous, and perhaps the ‘punishment’ had been deserved. For what woman knew how to fight like that?
But Nia had no room to complain or question the woman’s motives. If it hadn’t been for her, she had no doubt that her attack would have been far worse, and gods only knew what would have become of her after. Would the man simply have had his way with her and left her broken body in the alley? Or would he have dealt with her a little more permanently? She shuddered at the thought, the shuddering soon turning to a deep-seated trembling she couldn’t seem to halt. In the wake of the night’s events, it shouldn’t be surprising that her body was going into shock, but even at the cruel hands of the pharaoh, she’d never reacted in such a way. Then again, he'd never taken a knife to her before.
She followed without protest as the woman led her to a tent Nia assumed belonged to her, her rescuer’s touch surprisingly gentle as she led her inside. Laying on the cushions that she was nudged toward, she sighed softly while she got as comfortable as she could. Wary eyes watched the woman gather her supplies and return to her, hissing softly under breath as the stinging alcohol bathed her wounded shoulder. She didn’t flinch away like she wanted to, though—she knew it was better dealt with now than later before it started to fester. Though explaining this fresh wound to her family, or worse, Iahotep… she suspected that would be even worse than receiving it in the first place.
“Thank you,” she finally said again, closely watching the other’s tattooed face. “For saving me and for tending me. You didn’t have to do this. Most wouldn’t have put themselves in danger for a woman they’ve never met.” Tilting her head curiously to the side, she regarded her makeshift nurse, wincing as another fresh waterfall of spirits flooded down her arm. “Why did you help me? It would have been much easier to just continue on your way.”
She wasn’t sure how the woman was supposed to answer her, what with a lack of tongue and all, but she figured if she’d made it this far in life, she had to have some way of communicating. Nia was interested to see what exactly that was.
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They kept walking and still her companion didn’t speak, which only served to make Nia suspicious. Did this woman have even crueler intentions than her attacker? Why wouldn’t she utter a single word?
A paranoid gaze lingered on the woman who’d rescued her, concocting new ideas and theories with each step they took. Perhaps she was not a woman at all, but a man in disguise who was sent to kidnap her for some nefarious end. She discarded that possibility rather quickly, but the next chilled her even more. Perhaps this was one of Iahotep’s spies, sent to punish her for some imagined transgression—maybe he’d even blame her own attack on her, claiming she’d seduced her unknown assailant from afar. As crazy as it sounded, there was little she’d put past the pharaoh, including such a ludicrous theory.
However, when they were able to step into a pool of light, the stranger put Nia’s mind at ease by pointing into her tongue-less mouth. Ah, a mute. She nodded in understanding and gently patted her shoulder in sympathy. As much as Nia tended to babble, she couldn’t imagine that ability being taken away from her.
Though she was relieved that the stranger’s reason for not speaking was so innocuous, she couldn’t help but wonder how she’d become that way in the first place. Was she born deformed or made that way later? And if she was made that way… why? What had she done to deserve such a cruel punishment? Considering the swift and decisive way the woman had dealt with Nia’s attacker, something told her the mute was dangerous, and perhaps the ‘punishment’ had been deserved. For what woman knew how to fight like that?
But Nia had no room to complain or question the woman’s motives. If it hadn’t been for her, she had no doubt that her attack would have been far worse, and gods only knew what would have become of her after. Would the man simply have had his way with her and left her broken body in the alley? Or would he have dealt with her a little more permanently? She shuddered at the thought, the shuddering soon turning to a deep-seated trembling she couldn’t seem to halt. In the wake of the night’s events, it shouldn’t be surprising that her body was going into shock, but even at the cruel hands of the pharaoh, she’d never reacted in such a way. Then again, he'd never taken a knife to her before.
She followed without protest as the woman led her to a tent Nia assumed belonged to her, her rescuer’s touch surprisingly gentle as she led her inside. Laying on the cushions that she was nudged toward, she sighed softly while she got as comfortable as she could. Wary eyes watched the woman gather her supplies and return to her, hissing softly under breath as the stinging alcohol bathed her wounded shoulder. She didn’t flinch away like she wanted to, though—she knew it was better dealt with now than later before it started to fester. Though explaining this fresh wound to her family, or worse, Iahotep… she suspected that would be even worse than receiving it in the first place.
“Thank you,” she finally said again, closely watching the other’s tattooed face. “For saving me and for tending me. You didn’t have to do this. Most wouldn’t have put themselves in danger for a woman they’ve never met.” Tilting her head curiously to the side, she regarded her makeshift nurse, wincing as another fresh waterfall of spirits flooded down her arm. “Why did you help me? It would have been much easier to just continue on your way.”
She wasn’t sure how the woman was supposed to answer her, what with a lack of tongue and all, but she figured if she’d made it this far in life, she had to have some way of communicating. Nia was interested to see what exactly that was.
They kept walking and still her companion didn’t speak, which only served to make Nia suspicious. Did this woman have even crueler intentions than her attacker? Why wouldn’t she utter a single word?
A paranoid gaze lingered on the woman who’d rescued her, concocting new ideas and theories with each step they took. Perhaps she was not a woman at all, but a man in disguise who was sent to kidnap her for some nefarious end. She discarded that possibility rather quickly, but the next chilled her even more. Perhaps this was one of Iahotep’s spies, sent to punish her for some imagined transgression—maybe he’d even blame her own attack on her, claiming she’d seduced her unknown assailant from afar. As crazy as it sounded, there was little she’d put past the pharaoh, including such a ludicrous theory.
However, when they were able to step into a pool of light, the stranger put Nia’s mind at ease by pointing into her tongue-less mouth. Ah, a mute. She nodded in understanding and gently patted her shoulder in sympathy. As much as Nia tended to babble, she couldn’t imagine that ability being taken away from her.
Though she was relieved that the stranger’s reason for not speaking was so innocuous, she couldn’t help but wonder how she’d become that way in the first place. Was she born deformed or made that way later? And if she was made that way… why? What had she done to deserve such a cruel punishment? Considering the swift and decisive way the woman had dealt with Nia’s attacker, something told her the mute was dangerous, and perhaps the ‘punishment’ had been deserved. For what woman knew how to fight like that?
But Nia had no room to complain or question the woman’s motives. If it hadn’t been for her, she had no doubt that her attack would have been far worse, and gods only knew what would have become of her after. Would the man simply have had his way with her and left her broken body in the alley? Or would he have dealt with her a little more permanently? She shuddered at the thought, the shuddering soon turning to a deep-seated trembling she couldn’t seem to halt. In the wake of the night’s events, it shouldn’t be surprising that her body was going into shock, but even at the cruel hands of the pharaoh, she’d never reacted in such a way. Then again, he'd never taken a knife to her before.
She followed without protest as the woman led her to a tent Nia assumed belonged to her, her rescuer’s touch surprisingly gentle as she led her inside. Laying on the cushions that she was nudged toward, she sighed softly while she got as comfortable as she could. Wary eyes watched the woman gather her supplies and return to her, hissing softly under breath as the stinging alcohol bathed her wounded shoulder. She didn’t flinch away like she wanted to, though—she knew it was better dealt with now than later before it started to fester. Though explaining this fresh wound to her family, or worse, Iahotep… she suspected that would be even worse than receiving it in the first place.
“Thank you,” she finally said again, closely watching the other’s tattooed face. “For saving me and for tending me. You didn’t have to do this. Most wouldn’t have put themselves in danger for a woman they’ve never met.” Tilting her head curiously to the side, she regarded her makeshift nurse, wincing as another fresh waterfall of spirits flooded down her arm. “Why did you help me? It would have been much easier to just continue on your way.”
She wasn’t sure how the woman was supposed to answer her, what with a lack of tongue and all, but she figured if she’d made it this far in life, she had to have some way of communicating. Nia was interested to see what exactly that was.
It was after the girl's bleeding had been staunched that Nyrla finally began to show signs of anxiety herself. A sigh escaped her, her shoulders briefly trembled and dropped... and she retaliated by taking a long swig from the flask of medicinal spirit... and offering it to the girl.
At her inquiries, Nyrla rose a disapproving brow. Why did she help? Why even ask such nonsense? She merely stared at the lass a moment before putting her thumb and middle finger to the corners of her mouth, turning over toward the depths of her tent, and letting loose a hollow but melodic whistle. She figured this dollie wouldn't know the first thing about the language of hand-signs, but she was rather well prepared for such guests.
It was only a couple of moments before an urchin, no older than eight, came trottling out from deeper within a tent, a round-faced little girl of shaven head and dressed in ragged clothing.
The brawny woman crossed her fingers at odd angles a couple times, and the child nodded and came closer toward them. Then Nyrla turned to their guest, and began rapidly speaking in the silent tongue of hand signs, and the child began to speak for her, lacking any context, yet still peerlessly translating.
''I helped because I could. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it, and because that man was a swine-bastard and deserved every ounce of what he got.''
There was a brief pause, in which Nyrla proceeded to proudly rub her hand across the top of the child's head, to which the girl shyly rubbed the ball of her foot into the rug on which she stood. Then there were more signs.
''Most would have continued on their way. Yes. Because most are craven if outright not swine themselves. Don't ask silly questions, lass.''
The strange woman smiled at the urchin, and the urchin smiled back. Then Nyrla gave a brief, inquisitive look into her guest's injury, clean, unbleeding, but still unbound. More signs.
''Go and...
There was a brief shake of Nyrla's head at the girl's suddenly awkward translation.
''Oh.'', the urchin uttered as the woman finished whatever she had to state, at which the child nodded, briefly glanced at Nia's injury, and hurried away deeper into the tent. Not a full minute passed before she was back, wearing a wet, cold pledget, neatly rolled-up lengths of clean cloth and a satchel of some kind.
Having taken up the pledget and the satchel, Nyrla began pulling out small handfuls of bundled herbal powder and dispersing it across the pledget, mid-way she turned to her guest again, patting away whatever had stuck to her hands.
''What's your name, lass? Tell us about you.'', the child once again peerlessly translated.
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It was after the girl's bleeding had been staunched that Nyrla finally began to show signs of anxiety herself. A sigh escaped her, her shoulders briefly trembled and dropped... and she retaliated by taking a long swig from the flask of medicinal spirit... and offering it to the girl.
At her inquiries, Nyrla rose a disapproving brow. Why did she help? Why even ask such nonsense? She merely stared at the lass a moment before putting her thumb and middle finger to the corners of her mouth, turning over toward the depths of her tent, and letting loose a hollow but melodic whistle. She figured this dollie wouldn't know the first thing about the language of hand-signs, but she was rather well prepared for such guests.
It was only a couple of moments before an urchin, no older than eight, came trottling out from deeper within a tent, a round-faced little girl of shaven head and dressed in ragged clothing.
The brawny woman crossed her fingers at odd angles a couple times, and the child nodded and came closer toward them. Then Nyrla turned to their guest, and began rapidly speaking in the silent tongue of hand signs, and the child began to speak for her, lacking any context, yet still peerlessly translating.
''I helped because I could. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it, and because that man was a swine-bastard and deserved every ounce of what he got.''
There was a brief pause, in which Nyrla proceeded to proudly rub her hand across the top of the child's head, to which the girl shyly rubbed the ball of her foot into the rug on which she stood. Then there were more signs.
''Most would have continued on their way. Yes. Because most are craven if outright not swine themselves. Don't ask silly questions, lass.''
The strange woman smiled at the urchin, and the urchin smiled back. Then Nyrla gave a brief, inquisitive look into her guest's injury, clean, unbleeding, but still unbound. More signs.
''Go and...
There was a brief shake of Nyrla's head at the girl's suddenly awkward translation.
''Oh.'', the urchin uttered as the woman finished whatever she had to state, at which the child nodded, briefly glanced at Nia's injury, and hurried away deeper into the tent. Not a full minute passed before she was back, wearing a wet, cold pledget, neatly rolled-up lengths of clean cloth and a satchel of some kind.
Having taken up the pledget and the satchel, Nyrla began pulling out small handfuls of bundled herbal powder and dispersing it across the pledget, mid-way she turned to her guest again, patting away whatever had stuck to her hands.
''What's your name, lass? Tell us about you.'', the child once again peerlessly translated.
It was after the girl's bleeding had been staunched that Nyrla finally began to show signs of anxiety herself. A sigh escaped her, her shoulders briefly trembled and dropped... and she retaliated by taking a long swig from the flask of medicinal spirit... and offering it to the girl.
At her inquiries, Nyrla rose a disapproving brow. Why did she help? Why even ask such nonsense? She merely stared at the lass a moment before putting her thumb and middle finger to the corners of her mouth, turning over toward the depths of her tent, and letting loose a hollow but melodic whistle. She figured this dollie wouldn't know the first thing about the language of hand-signs, but she was rather well prepared for such guests.
It was only a couple of moments before an urchin, no older than eight, came trottling out from deeper within a tent, a round-faced little girl of shaven head and dressed in ragged clothing.
The brawny woman crossed her fingers at odd angles a couple times, and the child nodded and came closer toward them. Then Nyrla turned to their guest, and began rapidly speaking in the silent tongue of hand signs, and the child began to speak for her, lacking any context, yet still peerlessly translating.
''I helped because I could. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it, and because that man was a swine-bastard and deserved every ounce of what he got.''
There was a brief pause, in which Nyrla proceeded to proudly rub her hand across the top of the child's head, to which the girl shyly rubbed the ball of her foot into the rug on which she stood. Then there were more signs.
''Most would have continued on their way. Yes. Because most are craven if outright not swine themselves. Don't ask silly questions, lass.''
The strange woman smiled at the urchin, and the urchin smiled back. Then Nyrla gave a brief, inquisitive look into her guest's injury, clean, unbleeding, but still unbound. More signs.
''Go and...
There was a brief shake of Nyrla's head at the girl's suddenly awkward translation.
''Oh.'', the urchin uttered as the woman finished whatever she had to state, at which the child nodded, briefly glanced at Nia's injury, and hurried away deeper into the tent. Not a full minute passed before she was back, wearing a wet, cold pledget, neatly rolled-up lengths of clean cloth and a satchel of some kind.
Having taken up the pledget and the satchel, Nyrla began pulling out small handfuls of bundled herbal powder and dispersing it across the pledget, mid-way she turned to her guest again, patting away whatever had stuck to her hands.
''What's your name, lass? Tell us about you.'', the child once again peerlessly translated.
Nia looked over at the child in surprise before she understood why it was the mute had brought her in. A translator for the hand signals that the noblewoman had no idea how to interpret. Intently, she watched the other woman’s fingers, trying to work out some sort of pattern in their movement, but she was woefully out of her depth. Though, she did find that she would like to learn.
The child explained her companion’s reasons for intervening, Nia throwing a grateful smile in both their directions. Such altruism was unexpected, to say the least, especially from a total stranger. She did not find most so willing to put their lives at risk for someone they didn’t know. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it. These were not usually acceptable reasons on their own, but Nia wasn’t going to complain. She was right. She had needed it. Gods only knew what would have happened to her if the woman hadn’t shown up when she did.
Don’t ask silly questions, lass.
At that, the young lady of Hei Sheifa couldn’t help but laugh. She did not think they were such silly questions, especially when the snakes of the Court pressed on all sides. People did not simply help each other without the expectation of reciprocation, and that was a mindset it was hard to pull herself out of. She would help a stranger in need, but those that surrounded her? Not usually the case.
“Regardless of if I needed it or not, I thank you,” she told the tattooed woman with a small smile, graciously inclining her head. “I probably would have died without you. I’m in your debt. Anything you ask that is within my power to give, it is yours.”
Watching with mild interest as the child returned to their part of the tent, her hands laden with medical supplies, she offered the little girl a smile of her own. She wondered at the relationship between the two, that the little urchin should be so willing to follow the woman’s beck and call. Had she saved her life too? Or perhaps this was even her daughter…?
Abruptly, Nia realized she’d been asked a question, repeating it in her head to recall what had been said. Her name? Of course, she knew her name. This night may have been especially traumatic, but there were a few things she could hold onto with the assurance that they would always remain hers. “I’m Nia,” she introduced herself, placing her hand against her chest. “Or Neithotep. Nia is a bit less of a mouthful, but I suppose it won’t matter much to you either way, huh?” Her teasing was light and playful, gently nudging her mute companion. “And I don’t think there’s too much to say about me, really. Just a woman with a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
And what a sad truth that was, especially lately. Nia was certain if she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all.
“Truthfully, I’m sure the both of you are far more interesting than I am. What are your names? How did you meet?” Looking at the little girl again, Nia smiled and nodded to the tattooed woman. “Is that your mother?”
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Nia looked over at the child in surprise before she understood why it was the mute had brought her in. A translator for the hand signals that the noblewoman had no idea how to interpret. Intently, she watched the other woman’s fingers, trying to work out some sort of pattern in their movement, but she was woefully out of her depth. Though, she did find that she would like to learn.
The child explained her companion’s reasons for intervening, Nia throwing a grateful smile in both their directions. Such altruism was unexpected, to say the least, especially from a total stranger. She did not find most so willing to put their lives at risk for someone they didn’t know. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it. These were not usually acceptable reasons on their own, but Nia wasn’t going to complain. She was right. She had needed it. Gods only knew what would have happened to her if the woman hadn’t shown up when she did.
Don’t ask silly questions, lass.
At that, the young lady of Hei Sheifa couldn’t help but laugh. She did not think they were such silly questions, especially when the snakes of the Court pressed on all sides. People did not simply help each other without the expectation of reciprocation, and that was a mindset it was hard to pull herself out of. She would help a stranger in need, but those that surrounded her? Not usually the case.
“Regardless of if I needed it or not, I thank you,” she told the tattooed woman with a small smile, graciously inclining her head. “I probably would have died without you. I’m in your debt. Anything you ask that is within my power to give, it is yours.”
Watching with mild interest as the child returned to their part of the tent, her hands laden with medical supplies, she offered the little girl a smile of her own. She wondered at the relationship between the two, that the little urchin should be so willing to follow the woman’s beck and call. Had she saved her life too? Or perhaps this was even her daughter…?
Abruptly, Nia realized she’d been asked a question, repeating it in her head to recall what had been said. Her name? Of course, she knew her name. This night may have been especially traumatic, but there were a few things she could hold onto with the assurance that they would always remain hers. “I’m Nia,” she introduced herself, placing her hand against her chest. “Or Neithotep. Nia is a bit less of a mouthful, but I suppose it won’t matter much to you either way, huh?” Her teasing was light and playful, gently nudging her mute companion. “And I don’t think there’s too much to say about me, really. Just a woman with a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
And what a sad truth that was, especially lately. Nia was certain if she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all.
“Truthfully, I’m sure the both of you are far more interesting than I am. What are your names? How did you meet?” Looking at the little girl again, Nia smiled and nodded to the tattooed woman. “Is that your mother?”
Nia looked over at the child in surprise before she understood why it was the mute had brought her in. A translator for the hand signals that the noblewoman had no idea how to interpret. Intently, she watched the other woman’s fingers, trying to work out some sort of pattern in their movement, but she was woefully out of her depth. Though, she did find that she would like to learn.
The child explained her companion’s reasons for intervening, Nia throwing a grateful smile in both their directions. Such altruism was unexpected, to say the least, especially from a total stranger. She did not find most so willing to put their lives at risk for someone they didn’t know. Because I wanted to. Because you needed it. These were not usually acceptable reasons on their own, but Nia wasn’t going to complain. She was right. She had needed it. Gods only knew what would have happened to her if the woman hadn’t shown up when she did.
Don’t ask silly questions, lass.
At that, the young lady of Hei Sheifa couldn’t help but laugh. She did not think they were such silly questions, especially when the snakes of the Court pressed on all sides. People did not simply help each other without the expectation of reciprocation, and that was a mindset it was hard to pull herself out of. She would help a stranger in need, but those that surrounded her? Not usually the case.
“Regardless of if I needed it or not, I thank you,” she told the tattooed woman with a small smile, graciously inclining her head. “I probably would have died without you. I’m in your debt. Anything you ask that is within my power to give, it is yours.”
Watching with mild interest as the child returned to their part of the tent, her hands laden with medical supplies, she offered the little girl a smile of her own. She wondered at the relationship between the two, that the little urchin should be so willing to follow the woman’s beck and call. Had she saved her life too? Or perhaps this was even her daughter…?
Abruptly, Nia realized she’d been asked a question, repeating it in her head to recall what had been said. Her name? Of course, she knew her name. This night may have been especially traumatic, but there were a few things she could hold onto with the assurance that they would always remain hers. “I’m Nia,” she introduced herself, placing her hand against her chest. “Or Neithotep. Nia is a bit less of a mouthful, but I suppose it won’t matter much to you either way, huh?” Her teasing was light and playful, gently nudging her mute companion. “And I don’t think there’s too much to say about me, really. Just a woman with a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
And what a sad truth that was, especially lately. Nia was certain if she didn’t have bad luck, she’d have no luck at all.
“Truthfully, I’m sure the both of you are far more interesting than I am. What are your names? How did you meet?” Looking at the little girl again, Nia smiled and nodded to the tattooed woman. “Is that your mother?”
Nryla snorted with a faint smile and sign of approval at the girl's tease. Her hands remained still, listening to what her guest had to say and inquire in turn. The urchin, on the other hand, perked up anxiously, eyes widening an ounce at the mention of a mother... and seemingly distressed an ounce further when Nyrlathotep gestured for her to talk of her own accord instead of giving her signs to translate.
''I, um... no... We... uh...'', the child stuttered for a moment, before the etched woman playfully put a hand on her shoulder and shook her.
The little girl gave a quivering half smile and nodded, an ounce relieved, at least.
''Miss Nyrlath... Nyrlatho... Miss Nyrla.'', the child decided, slightly frustrated, much to the tall woman's amusement.''Miss Nyrla helps us kids without a home. She lets us sleep in her tent, gives us clothes and foods and... and, yeah, and we help her around, and those of us with the knack help her talk to people like you, yeah.''
Finally, Nyrlathotep took the little lassie up and brought her to sit in her lap, gently combing fingers through her hair as the child pondered what to say next, visibly not used to speaking for herself.
''Y-yeah... Miss Nyrla isn't our mum.'', she nuzzled a bit more comfortably in the woman's lap. ''But she takes care of us. And we help her around. And she teaches us things... And, and when we grow up she lets us leave to live by ourselves if we like. A month ago, when Ebo and Chike turned fifteen, Nyrla gave them this big, big sack of silver.''
Nyrlathotep giggled for a moment as the child made exaggerated hand motions to simulate the size of the pouch in question.
''Uh, uh... I'm Annipe, I didn't say that yet.'', she gingerly extended a hand out for Nia to shake.
Once the two'd exchanged that greeting, Nyrla would finally put her hands to rest in front of the child sat on her lap, and began to speak with her fingers again, to which Annipe frowned a bit as the angle wasn't the usual one she translated from, but she spoke up after a moment none the less.
''She asks if you...'', she obliviously pondered how to arrange the specific words given to her, ''...She asks if you at least had fun in the district before she found you?''
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Nryla snorted with a faint smile and sign of approval at the girl's tease. Her hands remained still, listening to what her guest had to say and inquire in turn. The urchin, on the other hand, perked up anxiously, eyes widening an ounce at the mention of a mother... and seemingly distressed an ounce further when Nyrlathotep gestured for her to talk of her own accord instead of giving her signs to translate.
''I, um... no... We... uh...'', the child stuttered for a moment, before the etched woman playfully put a hand on her shoulder and shook her.
The little girl gave a quivering half smile and nodded, an ounce relieved, at least.
''Miss Nyrlath... Nyrlatho... Miss Nyrla.'', the child decided, slightly frustrated, much to the tall woman's amusement.''Miss Nyrla helps us kids without a home. She lets us sleep in her tent, gives us clothes and foods and... and, yeah, and we help her around, and those of us with the knack help her talk to people like you, yeah.''
Finally, Nyrlathotep took the little lassie up and brought her to sit in her lap, gently combing fingers through her hair as the child pondered what to say next, visibly not used to speaking for herself.
''Y-yeah... Miss Nyrla isn't our mum.'', she nuzzled a bit more comfortably in the woman's lap. ''But she takes care of us. And we help her around. And she teaches us things... And, and when we grow up she lets us leave to live by ourselves if we like. A month ago, when Ebo and Chike turned fifteen, Nyrla gave them this big, big sack of silver.''
Nyrlathotep giggled for a moment as the child made exaggerated hand motions to simulate the size of the pouch in question.
''Uh, uh... I'm Annipe, I didn't say that yet.'', she gingerly extended a hand out for Nia to shake.
Once the two'd exchanged that greeting, Nyrla would finally put her hands to rest in front of the child sat on her lap, and began to speak with her fingers again, to which Annipe frowned a bit as the angle wasn't the usual one she translated from, but she spoke up after a moment none the less.
''She asks if you...'', she obliviously pondered how to arrange the specific words given to her, ''...She asks if you at least had fun in the district before she found you?''
Nryla snorted with a faint smile and sign of approval at the girl's tease. Her hands remained still, listening to what her guest had to say and inquire in turn. The urchin, on the other hand, perked up anxiously, eyes widening an ounce at the mention of a mother... and seemingly distressed an ounce further when Nyrlathotep gestured for her to talk of her own accord instead of giving her signs to translate.
''I, um... no... We... uh...'', the child stuttered for a moment, before the etched woman playfully put a hand on her shoulder and shook her.
The little girl gave a quivering half smile and nodded, an ounce relieved, at least.
''Miss Nyrlath... Nyrlatho... Miss Nyrla.'', the child decided, slightly frustrated, much to the tall woman's amusement.''Miss Nyrla helps us kids without a home. She lets us sleep in her tent, gives us clothes and foods and... and, yeah, and we help her around, and those of us with the knack help her talk to people like you, yeah.''
Finally, Nyrlathotep took the little lassie up and brought her to sit in her lap, gently combing fingers through her hair as the child pondered what to say next, visibly not used to speaking for herself.
''Y-yeah... Miss Nyrla isn't our mum.'', she nuzzled a bit more comfortably in the woman's lap. ''But she takes care of us. And we help her around. And she teaches us things... And, and when we grow up she lets us leave to live by ourselves if we like. A month ago, when Ebo and Chike turned fifteen, Nyrla gave them this big, big sack of silver.''
Nyrlathotep giggled for a moment as the child made exaggerated hand motions to simulate the size of the pouch in question.
''Uh, uh... I'm Annipe, I didn't say that yet.'', she gingerly extended a hand out for Nia to shake.
Once the two'd exchanged that greeting, Nyrla would finally put her hands to rest in front of the child sat on her lap, and began to speak with her fingers again, to which Annipe frowned a bit as the angle wasn't the usual one she translated from, but she spoke up after a moment none the less.
''She asks if you...'', she obliviously pondered how to arrange the specific words given to her, ''...She asks if you at least had fun in the district before she found you?''
Thoughtfully listening to the child speak, Nia tilted her head at the one she called ‘Miss Nyrla,’ a newfound respect in her eyes. While she was already eternally grateful for the saving of her own life, it was a different thing entirely to sponsor the city’s orphans. Truly, this woman must have a kind heart to show such kindness where most would turn the other cheek. For such a rough-looking creature who couldn’t utter a word, she showed more depth of character than most of Cairo.
“You are all very lucky to have her, Annipe,” she told the child with a warm smile, gently clutching and shaking her outstretched hand. Whether Nyrlathotep was her true mother or not, she was likely the closest thing the girl had. Turning her attention to the other woman, her smile deepened. “And you are very kind. I don’t know anyone who would go out of their way like that for street urchins or strangers. The children aren’t the only ones lucky to have you.”
How many countless others had this tattooed woman rescued without thought or want of a reward? How many still walked the streets of Cairo because of her? Nia, at least, was certainly grateful to be among them. And even if she hadn’t saved her with hope of a reward, she would receive one anyway. Nia was noble, after all. The least she could do was help make Nyrla’s life a little easier.
But that would have to come later. The young noblewoman didn’t have much on her in the way of wealth, and she wanted to give her something that would more than compensate for what she’d done. Something she could use to help the children. She needed time to think of what that could be, but after that time was up, she’d certainly be coming to pay this woman another visit.
Laughing at Annipe’s latest translation, Nia nodded. “Yes, I had a good time, but I’d say the events that followed rather outweigh it. I barely even remember what happened earlier in the night. Definitely nothing of note.”
She looked at Nyrla curiously. “What were you doing in the tavern district?” Cutting herself off, she rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Well, I suppose that’s actually a rather stupid question, isn’t it? I’m sure you were doing the same thing as the rest of us. Why else would someone be down there?”
Shaking her head, she snorted. “Sorry, my head’s still a bit scrambled. I promise I’m usually better at carrying on a conversation.” Winking, she added, “Though, I’ll admit, they’re not usually quite this one-sided.”
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Thoughtfully listening to the child speak, Nia tilted her head at the one she called ‘Miss Nyrla,’ a newfound respect in her eyes. While she was already eternally grateful for the saving of her own life, it was a different thing entirely to sponsor the city’s orphans. Truly, this woman must have a kind heart to show such kindness where most would turn the other cheek. For such a rough-looking creature who couldn’t utter a word, she showed more depth of character than most of Cairo.
“You are all very lucky to have her, Annipe,” she told the child with a warm smile, gently clutching and shaking her outstretched hand. Whether Nyrlathotep was her true mother or not, she was likely the closest thing the girl had. Turning her attention to the other woman, her smile deepened. “And you are very kind. I don’t know anyone who would go out of their way like that for street urchins or strangers. The children aren’t the only ones lucky to have you.”
How many countless others had this tattooed woman rescued without thought or want of a reward? How many still walked the streets of Cairo because of her? Nia, at least, was certainly grateful to be among them. And even if she hadn’t saved her with hope of a reward, she would receive one anyway. Nia was noble, after all. The least she could do was help make Nyrla’s life a little easier.
But that would have to come later. The young noblewoman didn’t have much on her in the way of wealth, and she wanted to give her something that would more than compensate for what she’d done. Something she could use to help the children. She needed time to think of what that could be, but after that time was up, she’d certainly be coming to pay this woman another visit.
Laughing at Annipe’s latest translation, Nia nodded. “Yes, I had a good time, but I’d say the events that followed rather outweigh it. I barely even remember what happened earlier in the night. Definitely nothing of note.”
She looked at Nyrla curiously. “What were you doing in the tavern district?” Cutting herself off, she rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Well, I suppose that’s actually a rather stupid question, isn’t it? I’m sure you were doing the same thing as the rest of us. Why else would someone be down there?”
Shaking her head, she snorted. “Sorry, my head’s still a bit scrambled. I promise I’m usually better at carrying on a conversation.” Winking, she added, “Though, I’ll admit, they’re not usually quite this one-sided.”
Thoughtfully listening to the child speak, Nia tilted her head at the one she called ‘Miss Nyrla,’ a newfound respect in her eyes. While she was already eternally grateful for the saving of her own life, it was a different thing entirely to sponsor the city’s orphans. Truly, this woman must have a kind heart to show such kindness where most would turn the other cheek. For such a rough-looking creature who couldn’t utter a word, she showed more depth of character than most of Cairo.
“You are all very lucky to have her, Annipe,” she told the child with a warm smile, gently clutching and shaking her outstretched hand. Whether Nyrlathotep was her true mother or not, she was likely the closest thing the girl had. Turning her attention to the other woman, her smile deepened. “And you are very kind. I don’t know anyone who would go out of their way like that for street urchins or strangers. The children aren’t the only ones lucky to have you.”
How many countless others had this tattooed woman rescued without thought or want of a reward? How many still walked the streets of Cairo because of her? Nia, at least, was certainly grateful to be among them. And even if she hadn’t saved her with hope of a reward, she would receive one anyway. Nia was noble, after all. The least she could do was help make Nyrla’s life a little easier.
But that would have to come later. The young noblewoman didn’t have much on her in the way of wealth, and she wanted to give her something that would more than compensate for what she’d done. Something she could use to help the children. She needed time to think of what that could be, but after that time was up, she’d certainly be coming to pay this woman another visit.
Laughing at Annipe’s latest translation, Nia nodded. “Yes, I had a good time, but I’d say the events that followed rather outweigh it. I barely even remember what happened earlier in the night. Definitely nothing of note.”
She looked at Nyrla curiously. “What were you doing in the tavern district?” Cutting herself off, she rolled her eyes with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Well, I suppose that’s actually a rather stupid question, isn’t it? I’m sure you were doing the same thing as the rest of us. Why else would someone be down there?”
Shaking her head, she snorted. “Sorry, my head’s still a bit scrambled. I promise I’m usually better at carrying on a conversation.” Winking, she added, “Though, I’ll admit, they’re not usually quite this one-sided.”
Nyrla gave a dismissive wave of her hand at the talk of the urchins being lucky to have her, and not being the only ones at that... Really, for how tall, toned and imposing the etched woman could be, in that moment she seemed almost... shy. Though there was still something stern in her gaze. Nyrla's hands made a swift chain of rather complex motions, and the child stuttered for a moment trying to catch and translate everything.
''Um... she says that she doesn't know how many people you hang out with, but that they're... um... probably big, big dummies... if they wouldn't normally help someone out like she did for you.'', Annipe's eyes darted to the side as she obviously censored whatever vulgarity Nyrla's hand motions had addressed the folk in question with, to which the etched woman gave a warm, gutteral ounce of laughter, and put a warm kiss and several fond pats atop the child's head.
Finally, upon having their talkative guest return her question back to her, it was Nyrla's turn to snort a sigh of dismissive laughter. Another rapid set of motions, and a coy smirk.
''Sheee... says that you wouldn't know the half of it...?'', the child translated, quirking a slightly frustrated, insecure brow, as she was out of the loop on the present meaning of conversation and looked up at Nyrla, seeking after confirmation on whether or not she'd actually translated well, to which more affirmative head pats ensued, and the little girl nodded to herself proudly.
Nyrla shook a jokingly stern finger at Nia's latest jest on account of the etched woman's inability to speak, though at no point was there real gives of taking offense to that particular teasing become apparent. More motions.
''She says that its okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.'', Annipe paused, as new motions ran along with what translating she'd already begun. ''Oh, oh, and if you'd like, you can stay the night here, we've plenty of room. And, and, she asks if you'd like something to drink?'', the latest question, oddly enough was followed by an expecting, almost hopeful gleaming look from the little translator.
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Nyrla gave a dismissive wave of her hand at the talk of the urchins being lucky to have her, and not being the only ones at that... Really, for how tall, toned and imposing the etched woman could be, in that moment she seemed almost... shy. Though there was still something stern in her gaze. Nyrla's hands made a swift chain of rather complex motions, and the child stuttered for a moment trying to catch and translate everything.
''Um... she says that she doesn't know how many people you hang out with, but that they're... um... probably big, big dummies... if they wouldn't normally help someone out like she did for you.'', Annipe's eyes darted to the side as she obviously censored whatever vulgarity Nyrla's hand motions had addressed the folk in question with, to which the etched woman gave a warm, gutteral ounce of laughter, and put a warm kiss and several fond pats atop the child's head.
Finally, upon having their talkative guest return her question back to her, it was Nyrla's turn to snort a sigh of dismissive laughter. Another rapid set of motions, and a coy smirk.
''Sheee... says that you wouldn't know the half of it...?'', the child translated, quirking a slightly frustrated, insecure brow, as she was out of the loop on the present meaning of conversation and looked up at Nyrla, seeking after confirmation on whether or not she'd actually translated well, to which more affirmative head pats ensued, and the little girl nodded to herself proudly.
Nyrla shook a jokingly stern finger at Nia's latest jest on account of the etched woman's inability to speak, though at no point was there real gives of taking offense to that particular teasing become apparent. More motions.
''She says that its okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.'', Annipe paused, as new motions ran along with what translating she'd already begun. ''Oh, oh, and if you'd like, you can stay the night here, we've plenty of room. And, and, she asks if you'd like something to drink?'', the latest question, oddly enough was followed by an expecting, almost hopeful gleaming look from the little translator.
Nyrla gave a dismissive wave of her hand at the talk of the urchins being lucky to have her, and not being the only ones at that... Really, for how tall, toned and imposing the etched woman could be, in that moment she seemed almost... shy. Though there was still something stern in her gaze. Nyrla's hands made a swift chain of rather complex motions, and the child stuttered for a moment trying to catch and translate everything.
''Um... she says that she doesn't know how many people you hang out with, but that they're... um... probably big, big dummies... if they wouldn't normally help someone out like she did for you.'', Annipe's eyes darted to the side as she obviously censored whatever vulgarity Nyrla's hand motions had addressed the folk in question with, to which the etched woman gave a warm, gutteral ounce of laughter, and put a warm kiss and several fond pats atop the child's head.
Finally, upon having their talkative guest return her question back to her, it was Nyrla's turn to snort a sigh of dismissive laughter. Another rapid set of motions, and a coy smirk.
''Sheee... says that you wouldn't know the half of it...?'', the child translated, quirking a slightly frustrated, insecure brow, as she was out of the loop on the present meaning of conversation and looked up at Nyrla, seeking after confirmation on whether or not she'd actually translated well, to which more affirmative head pats ensued, and the little girl nodded to herself proudly.
Nyrla shook a jokingly stern finger at Nia's latest jest on account of the etched woman's inability to speak, though at no point was there real gives of taking offense to that particular teasing become apparent. More motions.
''She says that its okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.'', Annipe paused, as new motions ran along with what translating she'd already begun. ''Oh, oh, and if you'd like, you can stay the night here, we've plenty of room. And, and, she asks if you'd like something to drink?'', the latest question, oddly enough was followed by an expecting, almost hopeful gleaming look from the little translator.
Nia couldn’t help but laugh at the little girl’s obvious cleaning up of Nyrlathotep’s ‘language’; already she liked this woman, even if she couldn’t properly understand her without a translator. Many wouldn’t dare to be so openly crass in front of a noblewoman, and she always adored those who would. The lady of Hei Sheifa appreciated people who were not afraid to be their most genuine selves.
She says that it’s okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.
She laughed again at that, shaking her head with a grin. “I’m nothing if not a tease,” she replied with a wink, which was certainly true in more ways than one. “It’s easy to weed out potential friends if they can’t even crack a smile at a joke.”
The Egyptian noblewoman was a girl of bright humor, quick to laugh and even quicker to smile. She couldn’t get along with anyone who had no sense of humor—what was the point of life if you couldn’t have fun with it? Granted, that humor had been quelled recently, forcing the woman into a more somber and paranoid mold than she’d ever fit before, but buried beneath it all was still the same vivacious woman, if a bit rougher around the edges.
At the woman’s offer of a place to stay, Nia made a regretful face. There were many reasons she couldn’t do such a thing; namely, if the Pharaoh’s spies found her here, what would they think? Would they cause harm to Nyrla? She simply couldn’t take that risk, shaking her head in denial.
“I’m sorry, but I must decline, though you’re very kind to offer. If I don’t come home tonight, and I show up in the morning with fresh knife wounds… well, that will raise a lot of questions I’d rather not answer. A noble’s life is a luxurious one, but not very free.”
Rising to her feet, she first took Annipe’s hand and then Nyrlathotep’s, gently squeezing them both in kind. “Thank you, again. Both of you. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t found me tonight.” Nia’s shudder was subtle, but profound, goosebumps racing up and down her back. “But, I think it’s probably time I took my leave before it gets any later.” Peeking at the early morning sunlight filtering in under the tent’s flap, she chuckled. “Or earlier, I suppose, depending on your definition.”
Turning back to Nyrlathotep, her face was warm. “But I will be back, I promise you that. I will not let such a deed go unrewarded, whether you like it or not.” Her hand rested briefly on the woman’s shoulder. “Demur all you want, but you’re doing great work down here amongst the forgotten children of Cairo. I would do what I can to help you.”
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Nia couldn’t help but laugh at the little girl’s obvious cleaning up of Nyrlathotep’s ‘language’; already she liked this woman, even if she couldn’t properly understand her without a translator. Many wouldn’t dare to be so openly crass in front of a noblewoman, and she always adored those who would. The lady of Hei Sheifa appreciated people who were not afraid to be their most genuine selves.
She says that it’s okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.
She laughed again at that, shaking her head with a grin. “I’m nothing if not a tease,” she replied with a wink, which was certainly true in more ways than one. “It’s easy to weed out potential friends if they can’t even crack a smile at a joke.”
The Egyptian noblewoman was a girl of bright humor, quick to laugh and even quicker to smile. She couldn’t get along with anyone who had no sense of humor—what was the point of life if you couldn’t have fun with it? Granted, that humor had been quelled recently, forcing the woman into a more somber and paranoid mold than she’d ever fit before, but buried beneath it all was still the same vivacious woman, if a bit rougher around the edges.
At the woman’s offer of a place to stay, Nia made a regretful face. There were many reasons she couldn’t do such a thing; namely, if the Pharaoh’s spies found her here, what would they think? Would they cause harm to Nyrla? She simply couldn’t take that risk, shaking her head in denial.
“I’m sorry, but I must decline, though you’re very kind to offer. If I don’t come home tonight, and I show up in the morning with fresh knife wounds… well, that will raise a lot of questions I’d rather not answer. A noble’s life is a luxurious one, but not very free.”
Rising to her feet, she first took Annipe’s hand and then Nyrlathotep’s, gently squeezing them both in kind. “Thank you, again. Both of you. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t found me tonight.” Nia’s shudder was subtle, but profound, goosebumps racing up and down her back. “But, I think it’s probably time I took my leave before it gets any later.” Peeking at the early morning sunlight filtering in under the tent’s flap, she chuckled. “Or earlier, I suppose, depending on your definition.”
Turning back to Nyrlathotep, her face was warm. “But I will be back, I promise you that. I will not let such a deed go unrewarded, whether you like it or not.” Her hand rested briefly on the woman’s shoulder. “Demur all you want, but you’re doing great work down here amongst the forgotten children of Cairo. I would do what I can to help you.”
Nia couldn’t help but laugh at the little girl’s obvious cleaning up of Nyrlathotep’s ‘language’; already she liked this woman, even if she couldn’t properly understand her without a translator. Many wouldn’t dare to be so openly crass in front of a noblewoman, and she always adored those who would. The lady of Hei Sheifa appreciated people who were not afraid to be their most genuine selves.
She says that it’s okay and that she actually quite likes talkative people like you... Even naughty ones who tease.
She laughed again at that, shaking her head with a grin. “I’m nothing if not a tease,” she replied with a wink, which was certainly true in more ways than one. “It’s easy to weed out potential friends if they can’t even crack a smile at a joke.”
The Egyptian noblewoman was a girl of bright humor, quick to laugh and even quicker to smile. She couldn’t get along with anyone who had no sense of humor—what was the point of life if you couldn’t have fun with it? Granted, that humor had been quelled recently, forcing the woman into a more somber and paranoid mold than she’d ever fit before, but buried beneath it all was still the same vivacious woman, if a bit rougher around the edges.
At the woman’s offer of a place to stay, Nia made a regretful face. There were many reasons she couldn’t do such a thing; namely, if the Pharaoh’s spies found her here, what would they think? Would they cause harm to Nyrla? She simply couldn’t take that risk, shaking her head in denial.
“I’m sorry, but I must decline, though you’re very kind to offer. If I don’t come home tonight, and I show up in the morning with fresh knife wounds… well, that will raise a lot of questions I’d rather not answer. A noble’s life is a luxurious one, but not very free.”
Rising to her feet, she first took Annipe’s hand and then Nyrlathotep’s, gently squeezing them both in kind. “Thank you, again. Both of you. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t found me tonight.” Nia’s shudder was subtle, but profound, goosebumps racing up and down her back. “But, I think it’s probably time I took my leave before it gets any later.” Peeking at the early morning sunlight filtering in under the tent’s flap, she chuckled. “Or earlier, I suppose, depending on your definition.”
Turning back to Nyrlathotep, her face was warm. “But I will be back, I promise you that. I will not let such a deed go unrewarded, whether you like it or not.” Her hand rested briefly on the woman’s shoulder. “Demur all you want, but you’re doing great work down here amongst the forgotten children of Cairo. I would do what I can to help you.”
Nothing if not a tease.
Nyrla coyly bit at her lower lip, eyes narrowing into smiling slits at the remark. Within a moment of measuring her guest up and down, the etched woman dreamt up a myriad of ways to tease, tantalize bend and draw taut that lithe little noblewoman’s body…
A noble…?
The mute’s brow furrowed briefly, before rising up in bemusement. Pretty, helpless, vulnerable, outwardly kind and a noble to boot, if she were telling the truth. This was low hanging fruit that appeared so ripe and juicy… it almost felt wrong to try and pluck.
Impulsive as she may have been, though, Nyrlathotep still had a modicum of sense and self-control, unlike certain tavern district drunkards. For all that went on in her mind, she only let a couple of… admiring glances slip through. Her guest had been through more than enough for one night, what with how the poor girl still shook while speaking.
‘’She says you’ll make her blush if you fuss on about it.’’, Annipe translated some more of Nyrla’s somatics once the gentle locking of hands was through, and Nyrla went on to wave off Nia’s praises. ’’And, and, if you don’t want to stay, she’ll have to accompany you back home to make sure you get there without more trouble…’’, the child paused, glancing at Nyrlathotep who finished a set of motions with an intense, firm look in her eyes and a stern posture in the back. ’’She uh… Insists.’’
What would ensue was either a solid half hour of Nia having to talk her host out of escorting her back home, or an expedient walk to wherever the girl might’ve lived should she have obliged the etched woman’s request as a sensible lass would. Nyrla would look to accompany her guest in relaxed silence, far enough to see the girl cross the threshold of her home, not imposing to meet any of Nia’s existing acquaintances or family or cause any such stir.
Motivation being part self-indulgence in keeping Nia’s company, partly out of genuine sympathetic concern, regardless, Nyrla would see the young woman back home, give a brief embrace and some silent regards, and head back to her own patchwork den and family.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Nothing if not a tease.
Nyrla coyly bit at her lower lip, eyes narrowing into smiling slits at the remark. Within a moment of measuring her guest up and down, the etched woman dreamt up a myriad of ways to tease, tantalize bend and draw taut that lithe little noblewoman’s body…
A noble…?
The mute’s brow furrowed briefly, before rising up in bemusement. Pretty, helpless, vulnerable, outwardly kind and a noble to boot, if she were telling the truth. This was low hanging fruit that appeared so ripe and juicy… it almost felt wrong to try and pluck.
Impulsive as she may have been, though, Nyrlathotep still had a modicum of sense and self-control, unlike certain tavern district drunkards. For all that went on in her mind, she only let a couple of… admiring glances slip through. Her guest had been through more than enough for one night, what with how the poor girl still shook while speaking.
‘’She says you’ll make her blush if you fuss on about it.’’, Annipe translated some more of Nyrla’s somatics once the gentle locking of hands was through, and Nyrla went on to wave off Nia’s praises. ’’And, and, if you don’t want to stay, she’ll have to accompany you back home to make sure you get there without more trouble…’’, the child paused, glancing at Nyrlathotep who finished a set of motions with an intense, firm look in her eyes and a stern posture in the back. ’’She uh… Insists.’’
What would ensue was either a solid half hour of Nia having to talk her host out of escorting her back home, or an expedient walk to wherever the girl might’ve lived should she have obliged the etched woman’s request as a sensible lass would. Nyrla would look to accompany her guest in relaxed silence, far enough to see the girl cross the threshold of her home, not imposing to meet any of Nia’s existing acquaintances or family or cause any such stir.
Motivation being part self-indulgence in keeping Nia’s company, partly out of genuine sympathetic concern, regardless, Nyrla would see the young woman back home, give a brief embrace and some silent regards, and head back to her own patchwork den and family.
Nothing if not a tease.
Nyrla coyly bit at her lower lip, eyes narrowing into smiling slits at the remark. Within a moment of measuring her guest up and down, the etched woman dreamt up a myriad of ways to tease, tantalize bend and draw taut that lithe little noblewoman’s body…
A noble…?
The mute’s brow furrowed briefly, before rising up in bemusement. Pretty, helpless, vulnerable, outwardly kind and a noble to boot, if she were telling the truth. This was low hanging fruit that appeared so ripe and juicy… it almost felt wrong to try and pluck.
Impulsive as she may have been, though, Nyrlathotep still had a modicum of sense and self-control, unlike certain tavern district drunkards. For all that went on in her mind, she only let a couple of… admiring glances slip through. Her guest had been through more than enough for one night, what with how the poor girl still shook while speaking.
‘’She says you’ll make her blush if you fuss on about it.’’, Annipe translated some more of Nyrla’s somatics once the gentle locking of hands was through, and Nyrla went on to wave off Nia’s praises. ’’And, and, if you don’t want to stay, she’ll have to accompany you back home to make sure you get there without more trouble…’’, the child paused, glancing at Nyrlathotep who finished a set of motions with an intense, firm look in her eyes and a stern posture in the back. ’’She uh… Insists.’’
What would ensue was either a solid half hour of Nia having to talk her host out of escorting her back home, or an expedient walk to wherever the girl might’ve lived should she have obliged the etched woman’s request as a sensible lass would. Nyrla would look to accompany her guest in relaxed silence, far enough to see the girl cross the threshold of her home, not imposing to meet any of Nia’s existing acquaintances or family or cause any such stir.
Motivation being part self-indulgence in keeping Nia’s company, partly out of genuine sympathetic concern, regardless, Nyrla would see the young woman back home, give a brief embrace and some silent regards, and head back to her own patchwork den and family.