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Saro had been with the Bedoan group for a couple weeks now, once the worst of the sandstorm had passed, they had packed up their camp and prepared to move on. Saro had come to an agreement with his new friend Hasani, he would be allowed to travel with them and experience the lifestyle of the nomadic group as long as he pitched in his fair share of work to earn his keep. Saro had agreed, he wasn’t used to a life on dry land, but he wasn’t a stranger to hard work. A ship didn’t sail itself, and despite his father being the Captain, he would not have been afforded a place on the crew if he did not earn his keep.
He had been slowly learning a few words in their language, hoping to soon be able to communicate with others on his own for the most part, instead of having to rely on Hasani to translate for him. Hasani’s wife had agreed to help teach the foreigner their language, probably because the two of them had a fairly large misunderstanding when he had first arrived and tried to find a place to set up his tent, though he had to admit once it had been figured out what had gone wrong in the conversation, it was actually rather amusing.
They had settled in for a while, having set up a temporary camp for how ever long Hasani decided that they would stay. Saro had helped with the setup and what ever else was asked of him. He was young and capable, so he pitched in where ever he was asked, though he had to admit that he wasn’t quite used to as much work as it took. He would never complain and his duties on the ship after he was put through the ringer here.
Now the work was done, at least for a while and Saro sought out Tanishe, hoping she had some time to spare to teach him some of their language. He headed towards where he thought he would find her, the tent that was used for medical purposes. She was often there since she was the healer of the band, or so he was told.
He stepped into the tent, and just as he entered, two beautiful young girls were stepping out. He was distracted from his purpose for a moment as he locked eyes with one of them, and Saro flashed the woman a flirty smile. She giggled and returned the smile of the handsome stranger, and gave him a little wave before ducking her head and continuing out of the tent, her pace a bit more hurried as she and her friend whispered in their language together, glancing back once more at Saro as he stood there and continued to watch them walk away. He had all but forgotten where he was or why he was there in the first place as his eyes remained on the women until they were out of sight.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Saro had been with the Bedoan group for a couple weeks now, once the worst of the sandstorm had passed, they had packed up their camp and prepared to move on. Saro had come to an agreement with his new friend Hasani, he would be allowed to travel with them and experience the lifestyle of the nomadic group as long as he pitched in his fair share of work to earn his keep. Saro had agreed, he wasn’t used to a life on dry land, but he wasn’t a stranger to hard work. A ship didn’t sail itself, and despite his father being the Captain, he would not have been afforded a place on the crew if he did not earn his keep.
He had been slowly learning a few words in their language, hoping to soon be able to communicate with others on his own for the most part, instead of having to rely on Hasani to translate for him. Hasani’s wife had agreed to help teach the foreigner their language, probably because the two of them had a fairly large misunderstanding when he had first arrived and tried to find a place to set up his tent, though he had to admit once it had been figured out what had gone wrong in the conversation, it was actually rather amusing.
They had settled in for a while, having set up a temporary camp for how ever long Hasani decided that they would stay. Saro had helped with the setup and what ever else was asked of him. He was young and capable, so he pitched in where ever he was asked, though he had to admit that he wasn’t quite used to as much work as it took. He would never complain and his duties on the ship after he was put through the ringer here.
Now the work was done, at least for a while and Saro sought out Tanishe, hoping she had some time to spare to teach him some of their language. He headed towards where he thought he would find her, the tent that was used for medical purposes. She was often there since she was the healer of the band, or so he was told.
He stepped into the tent, and just as he entered, two beautiful young girls were stepping out. He was distracted from his purpose for a moment as he locked eyes with one of them, and Saro flashed the woman a flirty smile. She giggled and returned the smile of the handsome stranger, and gave him a little wave before ducking her head and continuing out of the tent, her pace a bit more hurried as she and her friend whispered in their language together, glancing back once more at Saro as he stood there and continued to watch them walk away. He had all but forgotten where he was or why he was there in the first place as his eyes remained on the women until they were out of sight.
Saro had been with the Bedoan group for a couple weeks now, once the worst of the sandstorm had passed, they had packed up their camp and prepared to move on. Saro had come to an agreement with his new friend Hasani, he would be allowed to travel with them and experience the lifestyle of the nomadic group as long as he pitched in his fair share of work to earn his keep. Saro had agreed, he wasn’t used to a life on dry land, but he wasn’t a stranger to hard work. A ship didn’t sail itself, and despite his father being the Captain, he would not have been afforded a place on the crew if he did not earn his keep.
He had been slowly learning a few words in their language, hoping to soon be able to communicate with others on his own for the most part, instead of having to rely on Hasani to translate for him. Hasani’s wife had agreed to help teach the foreigner their language, probably because the two of them had a fairly large misunderstanding when he had first arrived and tried to find a place to set up his tent, though he had to admit once it had been figured out what had gone wrong in the conversation, it was actually rather amusing.
They had settled in for a while, having set up a temporary camp for how ever long Hasani decided that they would stay. Saro had helped with the setup and what ever else was asked of him. He was young and capable, so he pitched in where ever he was asked, though he had to admit that he wasn’t quite used to as much work as it took. He would never complain and his duties on the ship after he was put through the ringer here.
Now the work was done, at least for a while and Saro sought out Tanishe, hoping she had some time to spare to teach him some of their language. He headed towards where he thought he would find her, the tent that was used for medical purposes. She was often there since she was the healer of the band, or so he was told.
He stepped into the tent, and just as he entered, two beautiful young girls were stepping out. He was distracted from his purpose for a moment as he locked eyes with one of them, and Saro flashed the woman a flirty smile. She giggled and returned the smile of the handsome stranger, and gave him a little wave before ducking her head and continuing out of the tent, her pace a bit more hurried as she and her friend whispered in their language together, glancing back once more at Saro as he stood there and continued to watch them walk away. He had all but forgotten where he was or why he was there in the first place as his eyes remained on the women until they were out of sight.
The medical tent, or hawe, was easily the largest tent in the entire encampment. It was also the most visible, with its sunbleached hues of purple and intermittent stripes of faded blue. Bedoans loved nothing so much as color, and this tent, when new, had been brilliant. The thought process was that, if the patient has something spirit lifting, their earthly ailments wouldn’t be as burdensome. Sometimes this was true, sometimes it wasn’t, though Tanishe had learned that the better her patient’s mental outlook, usually they recovered quicker. If someone was bound and determined to die? There was naught all she could do to aid them, except make them comfortable.
Today they had only two patients, and neither of them were in need of anything more than monitoring and sleep, for the present. In the center of the tent had been dug out a little hollow where a smoldering bed of embers heated a massive cauldron. Inside the cauldron, water boiled away, ready for whatever use the Leierin needed. She ladled water into an earthen cup that had crushed medicinal herbs in the bottom. This was set beside her first patient to be taken when the man awoke. She did the same for her second patient, but his ailment was something more pain related in his bones. Sometimes the herbs worked for him, and sometimes they didn’t. He was growing weaker and thinner by the day, though there were spaces of a month or so where he was perfectly fine. Whatever was the matter with him was not contagious, and thankfully, highly uncommon, but if it was as she suspected, it was fatal all the same.
Tanishe was just placing the tea into the second man’s hand when she heard a giggle and the tent rustling. Two of her helpers were leaving and she glanced up at the tall shadow that momentarily darkened the tent’s opening. “Saro,” she greeted softly with a smile, and then turned back to her task of helping the patient sit up enough to be able to drink his tea.
Once she was ready, she swiped her hands against the turquoise cloth of her Kaftan. The many bracelets she wore clinked as her arms moved and she finally looked Saro over, not asking him anything at all. He wouldn’t be able to understand, but unlike him, she definitely remembered the reason for his visit. Though she was not a linguist herself, she thought that it couldn’t be terribly difficult to teach someone a new language. After all, now that their purposes were aligned and they had the same goal, and knew what the other was doing, the confusion should be limited to nonexistent. At least, that was her naive thinking.
Tanishe had very little interaction with outsiders, either among the other Bedoan tribes, or among the populace of the world. Saro was the only person she’d ever spent this much time around who was not Bedoan. Of course she’d met Egyptians before, but no Greeks, and certainly hadn’t ever spoken to them or sat around the fire with them. He was rather like an adorable pet that her husband had adopted and she smiled at him as fondly as she would have a puppy once he turned toward her.
“Come,” she held out a hand, though not for him to take. Her gesture was to bring him further into the tent. As her two helpers had just left, she didn’t want to go just yet. They needed to come back. The entire tent’s floor was covered with rugs so that they could limit the amount of dirt in here. Should the embers somehow flare out of control, the floor, the walls, and roof of the tent would go up in flames within a matter of seconds, leaving her patients with no ability to leave by themselves.
“Sit,” she invited, motioning to an unoccupied cot. The tent walls were lined with several of these cots. Near the middle pole holding up the tent’s roof, there was a single piece of real, valuable furniture the tent could boast of: a wooden cabinet that housed balls of linen and linen towels and rags, and a few other things that needed an actual place to be housed. After all, there weren’t many shelves. Wood was scarce and a valuable commodity. Not only that, it was not easily transported, which was what the Bedoans needed most. They moved so often that heavy furniture was more of a burden than a blessing.
Looking at Saro expectantly, she pushed the long braids of her hair over her slim shoulder and waited. Mainly she was trying to think of how to start this little lesson, so she did the most obvious thing, pointing to herself and saying her name, then putting her fingers to his chest and saying his. Tanishe smiled at him, hoping he got the subtle joke, and now acutely more aware than ever that almost no one would call her ‘funny’. “Woman,” she said, pointing again to herself and then miming suggestive curves. Then she said, “Man,” and pointed to him, and the other two men in the beds, who were both watching this little oddness with extreme interest.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The medical tent, or hawe, was easily the largest tent in the entire encampment. It was also the most visible, with its sunbleached hues of purple and intermittent stripes of faded blue. Bedoans loved nothing so much as color, and this tent, when new, had been brilliant. The thought process was that, if the patient has something spirit lifting, their earthly ailments wouldn’t be as burdensome. Sometimes this was true, sometimes it wasn’t, though Tanishe had learned that the better her patient’s mental outlook, usually they recovered quicker. If someone was bound and determined to die? There was naught all she could do to aid them, except make them comfortable.
Today they had only two patients, and neither of them were in need of anything more than monitoring and sleep, for the present. In the center of the tent had been dug out a little hollow where a smoldering bed of embers heated a massive cauldron. Inside the cauldron, water boiled away, ready for whatever use the Leierin needed. She ladled water into an earthen cup that had crushed medicinal herbs in the bottom. This was set beside her first patient to be taken when the man awoke. She did the same for her second patient, but his ailment was something more pain related in his bones. Sometimes the herbs worked for him, and sometimes they didn’t. He was growing weaker and thinner by the day, though there were spaces of a month or so where he was perfectly fine. Whatever was the matter with him was not contagious, and thankfully, highly uncommon, but if it was as she suspected, it was fatal all the same.
Tanishe was just placing the tea into the second man’s hand when she heard a giggle and the tent rustling. Two of her helpers were leaving and she glanced up at the tall shadow that momentarily darkened the tent’s opening. “Saro,” she greeted softly with a smile, and then turned back to her task of helping the patient sit up enough to be able to drink his tea.
Once she was ready, she swiped her hands against the turquoise cloth of her Kaftan. The many bracelets she wore clinked as her arms moved and she finally looked Saro over, not asking him anything at all. He wouldn’t be able to understand, but unlike him, she definitely remembered the reason for his visit. Though she was not a linguist herself, she thought that it couldn’t be terribly difficult to teach someone a new language. After all, now that their purposes were aligned and they had the same goal, and knew what the other was doing, the confusion should be limited to nonexistent. At least, that was her naive thinking.
Tanishe had very little interaction with outsiders, either among the other Bedoan tribes, or among the populace of the world. Saro was the only person she’d ever spent this much time around who was not Bedoan. Of course she’d met Egyptians before, but no Greeks, and certainly hadn’t ever spoken to them or sat around the fire with them. He was rather like an adorable pet that her husband had adopted and she smiled at him as fondly as she would have a puppy once he turned toward her.
“Come,” she held out a hand, though not for him to take. Her gesture was to bring him further into the tent. As her two helpers had just left, she didn’t want to go just yet. They needed to come back. The entire tent’s floor was covered with rugs so that they could limit the amount of dirt in here. Should the embers somehow flare out of control, the floor, the walls, and roof of the tent would go up in flames within a matter of seconds, leaving her patients with no ability to leave by themselves.
“Sit,” she invited, motioning to an unoccupied cot. The tent walls were lined with several of these cots. Near the middle pole holding up the tent’s roof, there was a single piece of real, valuable furniture the tent could boast of: a wooden cabinet that housed balls of linen and linen towels and rags, and a few other things that needed an actual place to be housed. After all, there weren’t many shelves. Wood was scarce and a valuable commodity. Not only that, it was not easily transported, which was what the Bedoans needed most. They moved so often that heavy furniture was more of a burden than a blessing.
Looking at Saro expectantly, she pushed the long braids of her hair over her slim shoulder and waited. Mainly she was trying to think of how to start this little lesson, so she did the most obvious thing, pointing to herself and saying her name, then putting her fingers to his chest and saying his. Tanishe smiled at him, hoping he got the subtle joke, and now acutely more aware than ever that almost no one would call her ‘funny’. “Woman,” she said, pointing again to herself and then miming suggestive curves. Then she said, “Man,” and pointed to him, and the other two men in the beds, who were both watching this little oddness with extreme interest.
The medical tent, or hawe, was easily the largest tent in the entire encampment. It was also the most visible, with its sunbleached hues of purple and intermittent stripes of faded blue. Bedoans loved nothing so much as color, and this tent, when new, had been brilliant. The thought process was that, if the patient has something spirit lifting, their earthly ailments wouldn’t be as burdensome. Sometimes this was true, sometimes it wasn’t, though Tanishe had learned that the better her patient’s mental outlook, usually they recovered quicker. If someone was bound and determined to die? There was naught all she could do to aid them, except make them comfortable.
Today they had only two patients, and neither of them were in need of anything more than monitoring and sleep, for the present. In the center of the tent had been dug out a little hollow where a smoldering bed of embers heated a massive cauldron. Inside the cauldron, water boiled away, ready for whatever use the Leierin needed. She ladled water into an earthen cup that had crushed medicinal herbs in the bottom. This was set beside her first patient to be taken when the man awoke. She did the same for her second patient, but his ailment was something more pain related in his bones. Sometimes the herbs worked for him, and sometimes they didn’t. He was growing weaker and thinner by the day, though there were spaces of a month or so where he was perfectly fine. Whatever was the matter with him was not contagious, and thankfully, highly uncommon, but if it was as she suspected, it was fatal all the same.
Tanishe was just placing the tea into the second man’s hand when she heard a giggle and the tent rustling. Two of her helpers were leaving and she glanced up at the tall shadow that momentarily darkened the tent’s opening. “Saro,” she greeted softly with a smile, and then turned back to her task of helping the patient sit up enough to be able to drink his tea.
Once she was ready, she swiped her hands against the turquoise cloth of her Kaftan. The many bracelets she wore clinked as her arms moved and she finally looked Saro over, not asking him anything at all. He wouldn’t be able to understand, but unlike him, she definitely remembered the reason for his visit. Though she was not a linguist herself, she thought that it couldn’t be terribly difficult to teach someone a new language. After all, now that their purposes were aligned and they had the same goal, and knew what the other was doing, the confusion should be limited to nonexistent. At least, that was her naive thinking.
Tanishe had very little interaction with outsiders, either among the other Bedoan tribes, or among the populace of the world. Saro was the only person she’d ever spent this much time around who was not Bedoan. Of course she’d met Egyptians before, but no Greeks, and certainly hadn’t ever spoken to them or sat around the fire with them. He was rather like an adorable pet that her husband had adopted and she smiled at him as fondly as she would have a puppy once he turned toward her.
“Come,” she held out a hand, though not for him to take. Her gesture was to bring him further into the tent. As her two helpers had just left, she didn’t want to go just yet. They needed to come back. The entire tent’s floor was covered with rugs so that they could limit the amount of dirt in here. Should the embers somehow flare out of control, the floor, the walls, and roof of the tent would go up in flames within a matter of seconds, leaving her patients with no ability to leave by themselves.
“Sit,” she invited, motioning to an unoccupied cot. The tent walls were lined with several of these cots. Near the middle pole holding up the tent’s roof, there was a single piece of real, valuable furniture the tent could boast of: a wooden cabinet that housed balls of linen and linen towels and rags, and a few other things that needed an actual place to be housed. After all, there weren’t many shelves. Wood was scarce and a valuable commodity. Not only that, it was not easily transported, which was what the Bedoans needed most. They moved so often that heavy furniture was more of a burden than a blessing.
Looking at Saro expectantly, she pushed the long braids of her hair over her slim shoulder and waited. Mainly she was trying to think of how to start this little lesson, so she did the most obvious thing, pointing to herself and saying her name, then putting her fingers to his chest and saying his. Tanishe smiled at him, hoping he got the subtle joke, and now acutely more aware than ever that almost no one would call her ‘funny’. “Woman,” she said, pointing again to herself and then miming suggestive curves. Then she said, “Man,” and pointed to him, and the other two men in the beds, who were both watching this little oddness with extreme interest.
Saro was snapped back to reality as Tanishe spoke again, a word he didn’t recognize, but it reminded him why he had come to the tent in the first place. His thoughts had all but been forgotten at the sight of the two young women. He stepped further into the tent as she motioned for him to do so and cleared his mind of thoughts of women and instead tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed to learn their language, especially if he planned on travelling with them for nearly a year. It would make it much easier if he could speak with people beyond Hasani.
He sat when she motioned to one of the cots, resisting the urge to lay down and relax as he wanted to. The tent was warm and cozy and made him feel like he could just lay here and sleep the day away. If he did not think that would be frowned on, and if he did not have other things to do, he might have done just that instead.
Saro wasn’t sure what to say, no words he spoke would matter as she would not understand them, and just as he was trying to come up with some way to begin all of this, she was stating their names. He nodded, thinking to himself that they already knew their names, so he wasn’t sure why that was what she had started with. He pointed to himself, said his name then pointed to her and repeated hers, to show her that he had a grasp on that already.
Saro was glad when the actual lesson seemed to start, and he watched her hand motions, listening carefully to the words she spoke as she gestured. He pointed to her, doing his best to repeat the word she had spoke without butchering it too badly, sounding a bit odd coming from him and his foreign accent, and then pointed to himself and repeated the other word as best as he could as well.
He was quick to pick up languages once he got the hang of the basics, it was getting used to the basics of the language that was tough at first. The sounds felt strange on his lips, and he knew that he was going to end up spending time in his tent alone, just repeating the words until they sounded natural on his tongue. For now, the best he could do would be trying to repeat and memorize her words so he could play them back for himself later.
He knew eventually he would get it, and at least he had time. Hasani had said that the trip would take half a year at least, so he was not concerned with running out of time before he could get a hang of their language. He figured he would probably be fluent by the time they parted ways, which would make any future visits so much easier to handle for the pirate.
Saro repeated the words a few more times before falling silent and waiting to see what she would say next.
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Saro was snapped back to reality as Tanishe spoke again, a word he didn’t recognize, but it reminded him why he had come to the tent in the first place. His thoughts had all but been forgotten at the sight of the two young women. He stepped further into the tent as she motioned for him to do so and cleared his mind of thoughts of women and instead tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed to learn their language, especially if he planned on travelling with them for nearly a year. It would make it much easier if he could speak with people beyond Hasani.
He sat when she motioned to one of the cots, resisting the urge to lay down and relax as he wanted to. The tent was warm and cozy and made him feel like he could just lay here and sleep the day away. If he did not think that would be frowned on, and if he did not have other things to do, he might have done just that instead.
Saro wasn’t sure what to say, no words he spoke would matter as she would not understand them, and just as he was trying to come up with some way to begin all of this, she was stating their names. He nodded, thinking to himself that they already knew their names, so he wasn’t sure why that was what she had started with. He pointed to himself, said his name then pointed to her and repeated hers, to show her that he had a grasp on that already.
Saro was glad when the actual lesson seemed to start, and he watched her hand motions, listening carefully to the words she spoke as she gestured. He pointed to her, doing his best to repeat the word she had spoke without butchering it too badly, sounding a bit odd coming from him and his foreign accent, and then pointed to himself and repeated the other word as best as he could as well.
He was quick to pick up languages once he got the hang of the basics, it was getting used to the basics of the language that was tough at first. The sounds felt strange on his lips, and he knew that he was going to end up spending time in his tent alone, just repeating the words until they sounded natural on his tongue. For now, the best he could do would be trying to repeat and memorize her words so he could play them back for himself later.
He knew eventually he would get it, and at least he had time. Hasani had said that the trip would take half a year at least, so he was not concerned with running out of time before he could get a hang of their language. He figured he would probably be fluent by the time they parted ways, which would make any future visits so much easier to handle for the pirate.
Saro repeated the words a few more times before falling silent and waiting to see what she would say next.
Saro was snapped back to reality as Tanishe spoke again, a word he didn’t recognize, but it reminded him why he had come to the tent in the first place. His thoughts had all but been forgotten at the sight of the two young women. He stepped further into the tent as she motioned for him to do so and cleared his mind of thoughts of women and instead tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed to learn their language, especially if he planned on travelling with them for nearly a year. It would make it much easier if he could speak with people beyond Hasani.
He sat when she motioned to one of the cots, resisting the urge to lay down and relax as he wanted to. The tent was warm and cozy and made him feel like he could just lay here and sleep the day away. If he did not think that would be frowned on, and if he did not have other things to do, he might have done just that instead.
Saro wasn’t sure what to say, no words he spoke would matter as she would not understand them, and just as he was trying to come up with some way to begin all of this, she was stating their names. He nodded, thinking to himself that they already knew their names, so he wasn’t sure why that was what she had started with. He pointed to himself, said his name then pointed to her and repeated hers, to show her that he had a grasp on that already.
Saro was glad when the actual lesson seemed to start, and he watched her hand motions, listening carefully to the words she spoke as she gestured. He pointed to her, doing his best to repeat the word she had spoke without butchering it too badly, sounding a bit odd coming from him and his foreign accent, and then pointed to himself and repeated the other word as best as he could as well.
He was quick to pick up languages once he got the hang of the basics, it was getting used to the basics of the language that was tough at first. The sounds felt strange on his lips, and he knew that he was going to end up spending time in his tent alone, just repeating the words until they sounded natural on his tongue. For now, the best he could do would be trying to repeat and memorize her words so he could play them back for himself later.
He knew eventually he would get it, and at least he had time. Hasani had said that the trip would take half a year at least, so he was not concerned with running out of time before he could get a hang of their language. He figured he would probably be fluent by the time they parted ways, which would make any future visits so much easier to handle for the pirate.
Saro repeated the words a few more times before falling silent and waiting to see what she would say next.
Tanishe smiled at his butchering of her language, but didn’t laugh. He’d have to do something truly ridiculous for her to laugh at him. Trained up from birth to understand that men were above her, even foreign ones, she also understood the innate power women had over men, in their turn. Though she knew the man across from her had no intention of ever seducing her, and she held the same morals, she knew he wouldn’t want to be seen as ‘less than’ by her, either. So her smile was kind, rather than snarky, and she patiently waited for him to understand what she meant.
They bandied those back and forth for a little while, until Saro appeared to grow bored of the exercise, but she was certain he understood what ‘man’ and ‘woman’ meant, now. She decided the very, very best way for him to learn would be to order him about. Commands, repetitive ones, would be best, and so she said “Come,” while giving a single, gentle tug to his clothes and made her way over to the center of the tent where the cauldron was bubbling away.
In the cauldron was nothing but water, but in this case, she decided that it would be best if she showed him chores to do so that he could make himself useful to people if he chose. “We’re going to do laundry,” she said, using the full sentence, though taking care to speak slowly. On the ground a little ways off, against one of the tent walls, was a huge white ball of linen bandages. They were all soiled and used and were waiting to be washed. Tanishe went to fetch them and held them up for Saro to inspect.
“Linen,” she said in her native tongue and held up the strip. Then she wrinkled her nose. They were brown and crusted in places from someone’s blood. Shaking her head, she said, “Dirty. So dirty.” And then, she dumped them in the boiling water. Inside the cauldron was a long handled stick and she took hold of it. “This is the paddle. Paddle?” she repeated, shaking it and gesturing to it. Then, in huge, exaggerated motions, she looked to her charge and said, “Stir.”
Taking Saro by the wrist, she set his hand on the handle and made the motion with him. “Stir,” she repeated, not thinking much of touching him. There was no way to know if he liked or didn’t like to be touched, but since her intentions were innocent, she assumed he would not take offense. After all, she was simply teaching him. Once he was doing what she wanted, however long that took, she left his side and went to the one piece of truly valuable wooden furniture in this tent and got out a clay box. In it was sprinkles of lye. She smiled up at Saro and showed him the box’s contents, trying to get him to smell the flakey ashes in the box. “Lye,” she said and then sprinkled that in.
“Keep stirring,” she said brightly and turned to return the box to where its place, and then came back with a box of soap flakes, which were easier to use than just a bar of soap. When the servants made the soap, they shaved it, and then brought some to the medical tent. Tanishe put a few of these lardy, oily, fatty flakes. The water bubbled and the whole thing smelled gross. Tanishe then wandered to the cabinet a third time and brought out a very small jar from which she drew a small spoon-like utensil and let clear oil dribble from the end and into the water. Instantly it quelled the lard stench and gave off something more akin to cross between lemons, oranges, and cedar. Potentially all three.
“Clean,” Tanishe smiled at Saro and held this up for him to smell as well. She liked his face and was still treating him affectionately like she would a real pet.
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Tanishe smiled at his butchering of her language, but didn’t laugh. He’d have to do something truly ridiculous for her to laugh at him. Trained up from birth to understand that men were above her, even foreign ones, she also understood the innate power women had over men, in their turn. Though she knew the man across from her had no intention of ever seducing her, and she held the same morals, she knew he wouldn’t want to be seen as ‘less than’ by her, either. So her smile was kind, rather than snarky, and she patiently waited for him to understand what she meant.
They bandied those back and forth for a little while, until Saro appeared to grow bored of the exercise, but she was certain he understood what ‘man’ and ‘woman’ meant, now. She decided the very, very best way for him to learn would be to order him about. Commands, repetitive ones, would be best, and so she said “Come,” while giving a single, gentle tug to his clothes and made her way over to the center of the tent where the cauldron was bubbling away.
In the cauldron was nothing but water, but in this case, she decided that it would be best if she showed him chores to do so that he could make himself useful to people if he chose. “We’re going to do laundry,” she said, using the full sentence, though taking care to speak slowly. On the ground a little ways off, against one of the tent walls, was a huge white ball of linen bandages. They were all soiled and used and were waiting to be washed. Tanishe went to fetch them and held them up for Saro to inspect.
“Linen,” she said in her native tongue and held up the strip. Then she wrinkled her nose. They were brown and crusted in places from someone’s blood. Shaking her head, she said, “Dirty. So dirty.” And then, she dumped them in the boiling water. Inside the cauldron was a long handled stick and she took hold of it. “This is the paddle. Paddle?” she repeated, shaking it and gesturing to it. Then, in huge, exaggerated motions, she looked to her charge and said, “Stir.”
Taking Saro by the wrist, she set his hand on the handle and made the motion with him. “Stir,” she repeated, not thinking much of touching him. There was no way to know if he liked or didn’t like to be touched, but since her intentions were innocent, she assumed he would not take offense. After all, she was simply teaching him. Once he was doing what she wanted, however long that took, she left his side and went to the one piece of truly valuable wooden furniture in this tent and got out a clay box. In it was sprinkles of lye. She smiled up at Saro and showed him the box’s contents, trying to get him to smell the flakey ashes in the box. “Lye,” she said and then sprinkled that in.
“Keep stirring,” she said brightly and turned to return the box to where its place, and then came back with a box of soap flakes, which were easier to use than just a bar of soap. When the servants made the soap, they shaved it, and then brought some to the medical tent. Tanishe put a few of these lardy, oily, fatty flakes. The water bubbled and the whole thing smelled gross. Tanishe then wandered to the cabinet a third time and brought out a very small jar from which she drew a small spoon-like utensil and let clear oil dribble from the end and into the water. Instantly it quelled the lard stench and gave off something more akin to cross between lemons, oranges, and cedar. Potentially all three.
“Clean,” Tanishe smiled at Saro and held this up for him to smell as well. She liked his face and was still treating him affectionately like she would a real pet.
Tanishe smiled at his butchering of her language, but didn’t laugh. He’d have to do something truly ridiculous for her to laugh at him. Trained up from birth to understand that men were above her, even foreign ones, she also understood the innate power women had over men, in their turn. Though she knew the man across from her had no intention of ever seducing her, and she held the same morals, she knew he wouldn’t want to be seen as ‘less than’ by her, either. So her smile was kind, rather than snarky, and she patiently waited for him to understand what she meant.
They bandied those back and forth for a little while, until Saro appeared to grow bored of the exercise, but she was certain he understood what ‘man’ and ‘woman’ meant, now. She decided the very, very best way for him to learn would be to order him about. Commands, repetitive ones, would be best, and so she said “Come,” while giving a single, gentle tug to his clothes and made her way over to the center of the tent where the cauldron was bubbling away.
In the cauldron was nothing but water, but in this case, she decided that it would be best if she showed him chores to do so that he could make himself useful to people if he chose. “We’re going to do laundry,” she said, using the full sentence, though taking care to speak slowly. On the ground a little ways off, against one of the tent walls, was a huge white ball of linen bandages. They were all soiled and used and were waiting to be washed. Tanishe went to fetch them and held them up for Saro to inspect.
“Linen,” she said in her native tongue and held up the strip. Then she wrinkled her nose. They were brown and crusted in places from someone’s blood. Shaking her head, she said, “Dirty. So dirty.” And then, she dumped them in the boiling water. Inside the cauldron was a long handled stick and she took hold of it. “This is the paddle. Paddle?” she repeated, shaking it and gesturing to it. Then, in huge, exaggerated motions, she looked to her charge and said, “Stir.”
Taking Saro by the wrist, she set his hand on the handle and made the motion with him. “Stir,” she repeated, not thinking much of touching him. There was no way to know if he liked or didn’t like to be touched, but since her intentions were innocent, she assumed he would not take offense. After all, she was simply teaching him. Once he was doing what she wanted, however long that took, she left his side and went to the one piece of truly valuable wooden furniture in this tent and got out a clay box. In it was sprinkles of lye. She smiled up at Saro and showed him the box’s contents, trying to get him to smell the flakey ashes in the box. “Lye,” she said and then sprinkled that in.
“Keep stirring,” she said brightly and turned to return the box to where its place, and then came back with a box of soap flakes, which were easier to use than just a bar of soap. When the servants made the soap, they shaved it, and then brought some to the medical tent. Tanishe put a few of these lardy, oily, fatty flakes. The water bubbled and the whole thing smelled gross. Tanishe then wandered to the cabinet a third time and brought out a very small jar from which she drew a small spoon-like utensil and let clear oil dribble from the end and into the water. Instantly it quelled the lard stench and gave off something more akin to cross between lemons, oranges, and cedar. Potentially all three.
“Clean,” Tanishe smiled at Saro and held this up for him to smell as well. She liked his face and was still treating him affectionately like she would a real pet.
Saro stood when Tanishe tugged on his shirt and went to walk away, he wasn’t sure what word she spoke, but he understood the context from her actions. He followed her to the center of the tent where there was a pot of water boiling. Again, she said something, though he had no idea what she said, and he stood there, unsure of what was going on. Though she had seemed to slow her words down for him, he knew the meaning of none of them.
Saro looked at the unpleasant bundle of bandages as she brought them over, now he was really confused what they were doing. His knowledge of medical practices was minimum, in his experience there was nothing that a strong drink and some sleep couldn’t fix. He assumed the word that she spoke was the word for bandage, and he repeated it to her a couple times, committing it to his mind as he watched her dump them into the boiling water. He knew now that they were cleaning the bandages, and it all made a little more sense.
He did the same for the word paddle, and stir as well, though with the last word, he did the action as well as repeating the word, beginning to stir the soiled linens in the water, though it wasn’t a particularly fun job.
Definitely not one that he would be quick to volunteer help with in the future. He didn’t mind her touching him, it wasn’t intended to be anything more than helpful guidance in his actions, and he didn’t take it as any more than exactly that.
He smelled the box as she offered it, it wasn’t a pleasant scent but it wasn’t awful either. He had no idea what its purpose was or anything, but he assumed it served one. He watched as she added what seemed to the soap to the mixture, and he kept gently stirring the pot and the linen within it, doing his best to ignore the smell coming from the water.
He was given relief from the awfulness of the smell when she brought yet another thing over, placing some in. It made the water smell like some sort of citrus, and it was actually a rather pleasant smell, one that reminded him of some lands he had once visited as a boy, and a woman there who smelled much the same as the lemony scent now wafting up towards him.
“Clean.” He repeated in the Bedoan language, and then just for fun he said it again in Coptic, wondering if she would care to pick up a few words of it, perhaps she would learn a few things from him and then surprise her husband with it at some point. Or perhaps she had plenty of chances to learn it and simply didn’t care about doing so. Either way, he was grateful for her efforts in teaching him her language, even if it did mean having to wash some disgusting used bandages along the way.
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Saro stood when Tanishe tugged on his shirt and went to walk away, he wasn’t sure what word she spoke, but he understood the context from her actions. He followed her to the center of the tent where there was a pot of water boiling. Again, she said something, though he had no idea what she said, and he stood there, unsure of what was going on. Though she had seemed to slow her words down for him, he knew the meaning of none of them.
Saro looked at the unpleasant bundle of bandages as she brought them over, now he was really confused what they were doing. His knowledge of medical practices was minimum, in his experience there was nothing that a strong drink and some sleep couldn’t fix. He assumed the word that she spoke was the word for bandage, and he repeated it to her a couple times, committing it to his mind as he watched her dump them into the boiling water. He knew now that they were cleaning the bandages, and it all made a little more sense.
He did the same for the word paddle, and stir as well, though with the last word, he did the action as well as repeating the word, beginning to stir the soiled linens in the water, though it wasn’t a particularly fun job.
Definitely not one that he would be quick to volunteer help with in the future. He didn’t mind her touching him, it wasn’t intended to be anything more than helpful guidance in his actions, and he didn’t take it as any more than exactly that.
He smelled the box as she offered it, it wasn’t a pleasant scent but it wasn’t awful either. He had no idea what its purpose was or anything, but he assumed it served one. He watched as she added what seemed to the soap to the mixture, and he kept gently stirring the pot and the linen within it, doing his best to ignore the smell coming from the water.
He was given relief from the awfulness of the smell when she brought yet another thing over, placing some in. It made the water smell like some sort of citrus, and it was actually a rather pleasant smell, one that reminded him of some lands he had once visited as a boy, and a woman there who smelled much the same as the lemony scent now wafting up towards him.
“Clean.” He repeated in the Bedoan language, and then just for fun he said it again in Coptic, wondering if she would care to pick up a few words of it, perhaps she would learn a few things from him and then surprise her husband with it at some point. Or perhaps she had plenty of chances to learn it and simply didn’t care about doing so. Either way, he was grateful for her efforts in teaching him her language, even if it did mean having to wash some disgusting used bandages along the way.
Saro stood when Tanishe tugged on his shirt and went to walk away, he wasn’t sure what word she spoke, but he understood the context from her actions. He followed her to the center of the tent where there was a pot of water boiling. Again, she said something, though he had no idea what she said, and he stood there, unsure of what was going on. Though she had seemed to slow her words down for him, he knew the meaning of none of them.
Saro looked at the unpleasant bundle of bandages as she brought them over, now he was really confused what they were doing. His knowledge of medical practices was minimum, in his experience there was nothing that a strong drink and some sleep couldn’t fix. He assumed the word that she spoke was the word for bandage, and he repeated it to her a couple times, committing it to his mind as he watched her dump them into the boiling water. He knew now that they were cleaning the bandages, and it all made a little more sense.
He did the same for the word paddle, and stir as well, though with the last word, he did the action as well as repeating the word, beginning to stir the soiled linens in the water, though it wasn’t a particularly fun job.
Definitely not one that he would be quick to volunteer help with in the future. He didn’t mind her touching him, it wasn’t intended to be anything more than helpful guidance in his actions, and he didn’t take it as any more than exactly that.
He smelled the box as she offered it, it wasn’t a pleasant scent but it wasn’t awful either. He had no idea what its purpose was or anything, but he assumed it served one. He watched as she added what seemed to the soap to the mixture, and he kept gently stirring the pot and the linen within it, doing his best to ignore the smell coming from the water.
He was given relief from the awfulness of the smell when she brought yet another thing over, placing some in. It made the water smell like some sort of citrus, and it was actually a rather pleasant smell, one that reminded him of some lands he had once visited as a boy, and a woman there who smelled much the same as the lemony scent now wafting up towards him.
“Clean.” He repeated in the Bedoan language, and then just for fun he said it again in Coptic, wondering if she would care to pick up a few words of it, perhaps she would learn a few things from him and then surprise her husband with it at some point. Or perhaps she had plenty of chances to learn it and simply didn’t care about doing so. Either way, he was grateful for her efforts in teaching him her language, even if it did mean having to wash some disgusting used bandages along the way.
Tanishe didn’t bend over the cauldron to inhale the scent of citrus, but she didn’t need to. It filled the tent and, like it did for Saro, it brought to mind pleasant images. There were other oils she could have used to scent the water, but she liked this one. She’d never left Bedoa before, but she’d seen things on the border of Egypt that had been pretty enough. One of those things had been an orange tree that was for sale in the marketplace. That was the first time she’d seen a potted tree. It stood taller than her in an absolutely mind bogglingly big planter pot. The pot was painted in a bright turquoise which was what had drawn her to it in the first place. She’d begged her father for the tree. Its leaves were lush and broad and achingly green. The fruit hanging from its thin branches were small, but round and beautiful and perfect. She’d thought that if she could have a wagon, they could cart this thing with them on their journeys. It never needed to leave the cart.
”Tanishe, see sense, daughter!” the Leier had arched his black eyebrow at her and twisted his mouth in a way that cowed her immediately. She knew full well she’d never get the tree right then. Her father hadn’t explained his reasons to her then, but her mother did that night in the tent, while unworking the braids in Tanishe’s hair and beginning the long process of redoing them.
”The tree could have tipped over, and the vessel break into a thousand pieces,” Lindiwe said. ”There would never be enough water to sustain it and us. Let it live in your memory. You’ll like it better there,” her mother promised and now, as an adult, Tanishe knew Lindiwe had been right. Now the Leierin of the tribe herself, she better understood the resources that were and were not at their disposal. Such a tree would not even have borne fruit under her care. Too much movement, not enough nourishment for the soil, and too little water. If it had lived, it would have been sickly.
Saro’s pronunciation of their word for ‘clean’ drew her back out of her reverie and she smiled at him. Then he switched to what she knew to be Coptic, but she didn’t immediately understand what he said. She repeated the Coptic word back to him in confusion, trying to piece together what he’d said. Learning a new language was a lot more difficult than people tended to give it credit for. It took a while and not only that, the human species had developed so many different ways to say the same thing, that it was easy to get oneself turned around.
While he stirred, she looked down into the cauldron, checking to see how he was getting on. This wasn’t the whole process, but it was the beginning of it. The rest would involve some serious scrubbing, but they had tribe slaves for that.
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Tanishe didn’t bend over the cauldron to inhale the scent of citrus, but she didn’t need to. It filled the tent and, like it did for Saro, it brought to mind pleasant images. There were other oils she could have used to scent the water, but she liked this one. She’d never left Bedoa before, but she’d seen things on the border of Egypt that had been pretty enough. One of those things had been an orange tree that was for sale in the marketplace. That was the first time she’d seen a potted tree. It stood taller than her in an absolutely mind bogglingly big planter pot. The pot was painted in a bright turquoise which was what had drawn her to it in the first place. She’d begged her father for the tree. Its leaves were lush and broad and achingly green. The fruit hanging from its thin branches were small, but round and beautiful and perfect. She’d thought that if she could have a wagon, they could cart this thing with them on their journeys. It never needed to leave the cart.
”Tanishe, see sense, daughter!” the Leier had arched his black eyebrow at her and twisted his mouth in a way that cowed her immediately. She knew full well she’d never get the tree right then. Her father hadn’t explained his reasons to her then, but her mother did that night in the tent, while unworking the braids in Tanishe’s hair and beginning the long process of redoing them.
”The tree could have tipped over, and the vessel break into a thousand pieces,” Lindiwe said. ”There would never be enough water to sustain it and us. Let it live in your memory. You’ll like it better there,” her mother promised and now, as an adult, Tanishe knew Lindiwe had been right. Now the Leierin of the tribe herself, she better understood the resources that were and were not at their disposal. Such a tree would not even have borne fruit under her care. Too much movement, not enough nourishment for the soil, and too little water. If it had lived, it would have been sickly.
Saro’s pronunciation of their word for ‘clean’ drew her back out of her reverie and she smiled at him. Then he switched to what she knew to be Coptic, but she didn’t immediately understand what he said. She repeated the Coptic word back to him in confusion, trying to piece together what he’d said. Learning a new language was a lot more difficult than people tended to give it credit for. It took a while and not only that, the human species had developed so many different ways to say the same thing, that it was easy to get oneself turned around.
While he stirred, she looked down into the cauldron, checking to see how he was getting on. This wasn’t the whole process, but it was the beginning of it. The rest would involve some serious scrubbing, but they had tribe slaves for that.
Tanishe didn’t bend over the cauldron to inhale the scent of citrus, but she didn’t need to. It filled the tent and, like it did for Saro, it brought to mind pleasant images. There were other oils she could have used to scent the water, but she liked this one. She’d never left Bedoa before, but she’d seen things on the border of Egypt that had been pretty enough. One of those things had been an orange tree that was for sale in the marketplace. That was the first time she’d seen a potted tree. It stood taller than her in an absolutely mind bogglingly big planter pot. The pot was painted in a bright turquoise which was what had drawn her to it in the first place. She’d begged her father for the tree. Its leaves were lush and broad and achingly green. The fruit hanging from its thin branches were small, but round and beautiful and perfect. She’d thought that if she could have a wagon, they could cart this thing with them on their journeys. It never needed to leave the cart.
”Tanishe, see sense, daughter!” the Leier had arched his black eyebrow at her and twisted his mouth in a way that cowed her immediately. She knew full well she’d never get the tree right then. Her father hadn’t explained his reasons to her then, but her mother did that night in the tent, while unworking the braids in Tanishe’s hair and beginning the long process of redoing them.
”The tree could have tipped over, and the vessel break into a thousand pieces,” Lindiwe said. ”There would never be enough water to sustain it and us. Let it live in your memory. You’ll like it better there,” her mother promised and now, as an adult, Tanishe knew Lindiwe had been right. Now the Leierin of the tribe herself, she better understood the resources that were and were not at their disposal. Such a tree would not even have borne fruit under her care. Too much movement, not enough nourishment for the soil, and too little water. If it had lived, it would have been sickly.
Saro’s pronunciation of their word for ‘clean’ drew her back out of her reverie and she smiled at him. Then he switched to what she knew to be Coptic, but she didn’t immediately understand what he said. She repeated the Coptic word back to him in confusion, trying to piece together what he’d said. Learning a new language was a lot more difficult than people tended to give it credit for. It took a while and not only that, the human species had developed so many different ways to say the same thing, that it was easy to get oneself turned around.
While he stirred, she looked down into the cauldron, checking to see how he was getting on. This wasn’t the whole process, but it was the beginning of it. The rest would involve some serious scrubbing, but they had tribe slaves for that.
Saro didn’t miss that Tanishe seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, a state that he had been in often enough himself, especially lately with his thoughts turning more often to Adre and their past relationship. He didn’t bother her, save for practicing the words she was attempting to teach him. He would leave her to what ever had captured her attention for as long as she wanted, content to mull over the words he had been taught already as he stirred the new disgusting looking water.
He smiled as she attempted to repeat the Coptic word back to him. She seemed to have a hard time with it, and he didn’t blame her. He had learned enough of a lot of languages to at least get what he needed, and they were all so vastly different yet some how similar, it was confusing at times, and he was glad that for the most part he only needed to be fluent in a few to get his job done. Most of the time he didn’t even interact with anyone at any of the docks, he just helped sail the ships and haul the product out.
He wasn’t sure how long he was expected to stir the water for, he had never had to really clean bandages. He thought that there was a better use for a young man with a strong back, but he would help in what ever way was asked of him, especially since she was teaching him words at the same time.
He wished he knew more words in her language, as it was hard to really say much to each other with his limited range, perhaps he should have just stuck with learning from Hasani, at least he could explain in Coptic what exactly the words meant, and conversation could be carried beyond the occasional word as something was demonstrated.
He wished to ask her how long he would need to stir for, he wasn’t sure the bandages were going to get any cleaner in the water they currently swam. Though, he wasn’t sure what the next step was, he was sure it was taking the bandages out of the water, and he was really hoping to avoid any sort of close contact with it. Though the citrus scent covered the smell, there was nothing to cover the sight and uneasy disgust he felt looking at it.
Instead he looked at Tanishe as he stirred, not stopping until he was told. Hopefully his next task and words to learn would include a lot less dried blood and dirt.
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Saro didn’t miss that Tanishe seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, a state that he had been in often enough himself, especially lately with his thoughts turning more often to Adre and their past relationship. He didn’t bother her, save for practicing the words she was attempting to teach him. He would leave her to what ever had captured her attention for as long as she wanted, content to mull over the words he had been taught already as he stirred the new disgusting looking water.
He smiled as she attempted to repeat the Coptic word back to him. She seemed to have a hard time with it, and he didn’t blame her. He had learned enough of a lot of languages to at least get what he needed, and they were all so vastly different yet some how similar, it was confusing at times, and he was glad that for the most part he only needed to be fluent in a few to get his job done. Most of the time he didn’t even interact with anyone at any of the docks, he just helped sail the ships and haul the product out.
He wasn’t sure how long he was expected to stir the water for, he had never had to really clean bandages. He thought that there was a better use for a young man with a strong back, but he would help in what ever way was asked of him, especially since she was teaching him words at the same time.
He wished he knew more words in her language, as it was hard to really say much to each other with his limited range, perhaps he should have just stuck with learning from Hasani, at least he could explain in Coptic what exactly the words meant, and conversation could be carried beyond the occasional word as something was demonstrated.
He wished to ask her how long he would need to stir for, he wasn’t sure the bandages were going to get any cleaner in the water they currently swam. Though, he wasn’t sure what the next step was, he was sure it was taking the bandages out of the water, and he was really hoping to avoid any sort of close contact with it. Though the citrus scent covered the smell, there was nothing to cover the sight and uneasy disgust he felt looking at it.
Instead he looked at Tanishe as he stirred, not stopping until he was told. Hopefully his next task and words to learn would include a lot less dried blood and dirt.
Saro didn’t miss that Tanishe seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, a state that he had been in often enough himself, especially lately with his thoughts turning more often to Adre and their past relationship. He didn’t bother her, save for practicing the words she was attempting to teach him. He would leave her to what ever had captured her attention for as long as she wanted, content to mull over the words he had been taught already as he stirred the new disgusting looking water.
He smiled as she attempted to repeat the Coptic word back to him. She seemed to have a hard time with it, and he didn’t blame her. He had learned enough of a lot of languages to at least get what he needed, and they were all so vastly different yet some how similar, it was confusing at times, and he was glad that for the most part he only needed to be fluent in a few to get his job done. Most of the time he didn’t even interact with anyone at any of the docks, he just helped sail the ships and haul the product out.
He wasn’t sure how long he was expected to stir the water for, he had never had to really clean bandages. He thought that there was a better use for a young man with a strong back, but he would help in what ever way was asked of him, especially since she was teaching him words at the same time.
He wished he knew more words in her language, as it was hard to really say much to each other with his limited range, perhaps he should have just stuck with learning from Hasani, at least he could explain in Coptic what exactly the words meant, and conversation could be carried beyond the occasional word as something was demonstrated.
He wished to ask her how long he would need to stir for, he wasn’t sure the bandages were going to get any cleaner in the water they currently swam. Though, he wasn’t sure what the next step was, he was sure it was taking the bandages out of the water, and he was really hoping to avoid any sort of close contact with it. Though the citrus scent covered the smell, there was nothing to cover the sight and uneasy disgust he felt looking at it.
Instead he looked at Tanishe as he stirred, not stopping until he was told. Hopefully his next task and words to learn would include a lot less dried blood and dirt.
There was no way that Tanishe was reaching into that disgusting water. She merely watched Saro stirring, not totally sure herself how long he needed to do that for. The slaves usually did this task and she was just as interested as he was to see the outcome. The murky water spun around and around the interior of the cauldron, bubbling and emitting visible fumes. She nearly propped her elbows on the rim so that she could rest her chin on her fists, but stopped herself in the last moment. That was a great way to get burned. Because Saro said nothing, Tanishe was growing truly impressed with his stirring abilities.
“Pale men are tireless, I see,” she murmured to him, reaching out to squeeze his arm again. She gave him a frowning smile and then grinned. “So strong.” A tiny bit of patronizing in her tone, laced with true pride in him. Like he was related to her in some way. Then, the tent flap ahead of them flew back and a middle aged woman strode through. In her arms was a wide basket whose interior was empty.
“Washer woman,” Tanishe said to Saro, giving his back a pat between his shoulder blades, indicating to him that he needed to stop stirring. Honestly, the man was truly impressive. She planned to tell Hasani about what a formidable warrior Saro would make. Or a wonderful slave. Either way. “Stop,” she said lightly, putting a hand over his briefly to get him to let go of the long wooden handle. Repeating to him the term ‘washer woman’ and pantomiming the act of laundering, she waved at Saro to come with her.
“We are going now,” she told him. Turning back around, she pushed the tent flap aside. If the washer woman was there, that meant that another physician was on their way and she was right. One of the male healers brushed past them, giving Tanishe a short bow, eyeing Saro with blatant mistrust, and then entered the medical hawe. She had him follow her making little comments to him here and there, but eventually, they ended up back at the Leirin’s tent. She pointed to the bed of coals that had held her cooking fire this morning.
“Fire,” she said and motioned for him to sit. “Sit, sit. I’ll feed you. Hasani will come home soon,” she promised. “You will help me cook,” she chattered away to him as she wandered inside to get the bowls and slab of shale stone that she would use to heat the strips of meat Hasani would bring her. “It’s too bad you’re not a sister wife,” she said to him as she settled back down at the fire. “I miss Neena. She was my sister wife. We used to do this together and we’d chat the day away.”
Tanishe knew perfectly well that her companion would only be catching this and that of what she was saying but she figured that the more she spoke to him, the more he’d learn sounds and piece together the language on his own.
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There was no way that Tanishe was reaching into that disgusting water. She merely watched Saro stirring, not totally sure herself how long he needed to do that for. The slaves usually did this task and she was just as interested as he was to see the outcome. The murky water spun around and around the interior of the cauldron, bubbling and emitting visible fumes. She nearly propped her elbows on the rim so that she could rest her chin on her fists, but stopped herself in the last moment. That was a great way to get burned. Because Saro said nothing, Tanishe was growing truly impressed with his stirring abilities.
“Pale men are tireless, I see,” she murmured to him, reaching out to squeeze his arm again. She gave him a frowning smile and then grinned. “So strong.” A tiny bit of patronizing in her tone, laced with true pride in him. Like he was related to her in some way. Then, the tent flap ahead of them flew back and a middle aged woman strode through. In her arms was a wide basket whose interior was empty.
“Washer woman,” Tanishe said to Saro, giving his back a pat between his shoulder blades, indicating to him that he needed to stop stirring. Honestly, the man was truly impressive. She planned to tell Hasani about what a formidable warrior Saro would make. Or a wonderful slave. Either way. “Stop,” she said lightly, putting a hand over his briefly to get him to let go of the long wooden handle. Repeating to him the term ‘washer woman’ and pantomiming the act of laundering, she waved at Saro to come with her.
“We are going now,” she told him. Turning back around, she pushed the tent flap aside. If the washer woman was there, that meant that another physician was on their way and she was right. One of the male healers brushed past them, giving Tanishe a short bow, eyeing Saro with blatant mistrust, and then entered the medical hawe. She had him follow her making little comments to him here and there, but eventually, they ended up back at the Leirin’s tent. She pointed to the bed of coals that had held her cooking fire this morning.
“Fire,” she said and motioned for him to sit. “Sit, sit. I’ll feed you. Hasani will come home soon,” she promised. “You will help me cook,” she chattered away to him as she wandered inside to get the bowls and slab of shale stone that she would use to heat the strips of meat Hasani would bring her. “It’s too bad you’re not a sister wife,” she said to him as she settled back down at the fire. “I miss Neena. She was my sister wife. We used to do this together and we’d chat the day away.”
Tanishe knew perfectly well that her companion would only be catching this and that of what she was saying but she figured that the more she spoke to him, the more he’d learn sounds and piece together the language on his own.
There was no way that Tanishe was reaching into that disgusting water. She merely watched Saro stirring, not totally sure herself how long he needed to do that for. The slaves usually did this task and she was just as interested as he was to see the outcome. The murky water spun around and around the interior of the cauldron, bubbling and emitting visible fumes. She nearly propped her elbows on the rim so that she could rest her chin on her fists, but stopped herself in the last moment. That was a great way to get burned. Because Saro said nothing, Tanishe was growing truly impressed with his stirring abilities.
“Pale men are tireless, I see,” she murmured to him, reaching out to squeeze his arm again. She gave him a frowning smile and then grinned. “So strong.” A tiny bit of patronizing in her tone, laced with true pride in him. Like he was related to her in some way. Then, the tent flap ahead of them flew back and a middle aged woman strode through. In her arms was a wide basket whose interior was empty.
“Washer woman,” Tanishe said to Saro, giving his back a pat between his shoulder blades, indicating to him that he needed to stop stirring. Honestly, the man was truly impressive. She planned to tell Hasani about what a formidable warrior Saro would make. Or a wonderful slave. Either way. “Stop,” she said lightly, putting a hand over his briefly to get him to let go of the long wooden handle. Repeating to him the term ‘washer woman’ and pantomiming the act of laundering, she waved at Saro to come with her.
“We are going now,” she told him. Turning back around, she pushed the tent flap aside. If the washer woman was there, that meant that another physician was on their way and she was right. One of the male healers brushed past them, giving Tanishe a short bow, eyeing Saro with blatant mistrust, and then entered the medical hawe. She had him follow her making little comments to him here and there, but eventually, they ended up back at the Leirin’s tent. She pointed to the bed of coals that had held her cooking fire this morning.
“Fire,” she said and motioned for him to sit. “Sit, sit. I’ll feed you. Hasani will come home soon,” she promised. “You will help me cook,” she chattered away to him as she wandered inside to get the bowls and slab of shale stone that she would use to heat the strips of meat Hasani would bring her. “It’s too bad you’re not a sister wife,” she said to him as she settled back down at the fire. “I miss Neena. She was my sister wife. We used to do this together and we’d chat the day away.”
Tanishe knew perfectly well that her companion would only be catching this and that of what she was saying but she figured that the more she spoke to him, the more he’d learn sounds and piece together the language on his own.
Saro had no idea what most of the words were that Tanishe said to him, and he supposed that she probably knew that, but she spoke anyways. She seemed to be happy to touch him at random moments, touching his arm and his back and his hand. He wondered if that was just how the people of her tribe were, he knew it wasn’t anything beyond friendly, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that. He had no intentions of attempting to flirt with her, he wasn’t quite dumb enough to try and sleep with the wife of the man who had taken him in so graciously. In fact, he had been good and kept his hands to himself in general, at least until he knew more about them and their language, he didn’t want to end up pissing someone off by sleeping with someones wife or daughter or anything like that.
He stopped when she motioned for him to do so, taking his hands away from the wooden paddle, he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hang out near the disgusting water for much longer, and there was only so much stirring he could do, he didn’t think that it was really helping much now that the water was completely dark with blood and what ever else had been on the bandages. He gave the washer woman a smile as Tanishe lead him out, nodding to the male healer who passed them, though the look Saro was given was less than friendly, he didn’t expect anything else before he had a chance to prove himself.
He sat when he was told to, recognizing the word and the word fire, he wasn’t sure what her plan was, but he was going to go along with what ever was happening.
He had no idea what she was saying as she continued to speak, he attempted to catch some of the words and work out their context, but there was very little that he had understood of what she said. He was looking forward to the day when he was fluent in their language, and he could converse with her without the awkwardness of the moment now, where he sat there silently, not knowing what to say to her since he had no idea what topic of conversation she was on.
He gathered from the stuff she had brought out that she intended to cook, which he was grateful for, because he was actually hungry now that he had a moment to think about it. He wasn’t sure how he could help, but he was there and willing to assist her if she needed anything from him.
He had caught Hasani’s name in what she had said earlier, so he assumed that the man would be joining them. That would make the lessons so much easier, as Hasani spoke both languages. It was easier to learn a language when you had a word to compare it to. Tanishe’s effort was appreciated, but much like trying to get his point across in their first meeting, this lesson was not going well.
He decided he would repeat the words that she had taught him so far, to show that he had retained them, and to help improve the chances of him remembering them beyond that night.
Once he had repeated all the words he knew in Bedoan, he looked at her and shrugged, laughing a little, hoping she would see the humour in their attempts at spending time together without knowing how to talk to one another.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Saro had no idea what most of the words were that Tanishe said to him, and he supposed that she probably knew that, but she spoke anyways. She seemed to be happy to touch him at random moments, touching his arm and his back and his hand. He wondered if that was just how the people of her tribe were, he knew it wasn’t anything beyond friendly, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that. He had no intentions of attempting to flirt with her, he wasn’t quite dumb enough to try and sleep with the wife of the man who had taken him in so graciously. In fact, he had been good and kept his hands to himself in general, at least until he knew more about them and their language, he didn’t want to end up pissing someone off by sleeping with someones wife or daughter or anything like that.
He stopped when she motioned for him to do so, taking his hands away from the wooden paddle, he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hang out near the disgusting water for much longer, and there was only so much stirring he could do, he didn’t think that it was really helping much now that the water was completely dark with blood and what ever else had been on the bandages. He gave the washer woman a smile as Tanishe lead him out, nodding to the male healer who passed them, though the look Saro was given was less than friendly, he didn’t expect anything else before he had a chance to prove himself.
He sat when he was told to, recognizing the word and the word fire, he wasn’t sure what her plan was, but he was going to go along with what ever was happening.
He had no idea what she was saying as she continued to speak, he attempted to catch some of the words and work out their context, but there was very little that he had understood of what she said. He was looking forward to the day when he was fluent in their language, and he could converse with her without the awkwardness of the moment now, where he sat there silently, not knowing what to say to her since he had no idea what topic of conversation she was on.
He gathered from the stuff she had brought out that she intended to cook, which he was grateful for, because he was actually hungry now that he had a moment to think about it. He wasn’t sure how he could help, but he was there and willing to assist her if she needed anything from him.
He had caught Hasani’s name in what she had said earlier, so he assumed that the man would be joining them. That would make the lessons so much easier, as Hasani spoke both languages. It was easier to learn a language when you had a word to compare it to. Tanishe’s effort was appreciated, but much like trying to get his point across in their first meeting, this lesson was not going well.
He decided he would repeat the words that she had taught him so far, to show that he had retained them, and to help improve the chances of him remembering them beyond that night.
Once he had repeated all the words he knew in Bedoan, he looked at her and shrugged, laughing a little, hoping she would see the humour in their attempts at spending time together without knowing how to talk to one another.
Saro had no idea what most of the words were that Tanishe said to him, and he supposed that she probably knew that, but she spoke anyways. She seemed to be happy to touch him at random moments, touching his arm and his back and his hand. He wondered if that was just how the people of her tribe were, he knew it wasn’t anything beyond friendly, he wasn’t foolish enough to think that. He had no intentions of attempting to flirt with her, he wasn’t quite dumb enough to try and sleep with the wife of the man who had taken him in so graciously. In fact, he had been good and kept his hands to himself in general, at least until he knew more about them and their language, he didn’t want to end up pissing someone off by sleeping with someones wife or daughter or anything like that.
He stopped when she motioned for him to do so, taking his hands away from the wooden paddle, he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hang out near the disgusting water for much longer, and there was only so much stirring he could do, he didn’t think that it was really helping much now that the water was completely dark with blood and what ever else had been on the bandages. He gave the washer woman a smile as Tanishe lead him out, nodding to the male healer who passed them, though the look Saro was given was less than friendly, he didn’t expect anything else before he had a chance to prove himself.
He sat when he was told to, recognizing the word and the word fire, he wasn’t sure what her plan was, but he was going to go along with what ever was happening.
He had no idea what she was saying as she continued to speak, he attempted to catch some of the words and work out their context, but there was very little that he had understood of what she said. He was looking forward to the day when he was fluent in their language, and he could converse with her without the awkwardness of the moment now, where he sat there silently, not knowing what to say to her since he had no idea what topic of conversation she was on.
He gathered from the stuff she had brought out that she intended to cook, which he was grateful for, because he was actually hungry now that he had a moment to think about it. He wasn’t sure how he could help, but he was there and willing to assist her if she needed anything from him.
He had caught Hasani’s name in what she had said earlier, so he assumed that the man would be joining them. That would make the lessons so much easier, as Hasani spoke both languages. It was easier to learn a language when you had a word to compare it to. Tanishe’s effort was appreciated, but much like trying to get his point across in their first meeting, this lesson was not going well.
He decided he would repeat the words that she had taught him so far, to show that he had retained them, and to help improve the chances of him remembering them beyond that night.
Once he had repeated all the words he knew in Bedoan, he looked at her and shrugged, laughing a little, hoping she would see the humour in their attempts at spending time together without knowing how to talk to one another.
She listened to him repeating the random words and laughed a little along with him because it was ridiculous. The words didn’t go together in any real order and even when she did understand what he was saying, it was gibberish. Glancing at him, she tilted her head, eyeing the lines of his face highlighted in red by the glowing bed of hot embers before them. His skin was so pale.
“You know,” she said idly as she handed him a slab of meat to prepare. That was fairly straight forward, she felt. Surely he could cook since he had no woman to do it for him? “Your skin reminds me of a story we have. When people die, their skin fades to this...gray hue? Anyway,” she waved the knife for a moment, warding off the tangent she’d been about to go on. “It is said that when a spirit passes into the realm of the ancestors, that they are pale. A bit like you, I think.” Glancing over at him, she shrugged. “Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re an ancestor walking among us or a man unfortunate enough not to have been born where you should be.” Where he should have been born, obviously was among the Bedoans, as he seemed to have the same wanderlust that the tribes all shared.
“I wish you could tell me where you come from,” she mused aloud as her hands kneaded flour and water and a little salt in the shallow dish in front of her. It was a wide wooden bowl used for several generations and it was where she made the flat bread that they used as plates for the often spicy stews and mashes they went on them. Bedoan food wasn’t for everyone, but those who did enjoy the strength of the flavors were usually not disappointed.
Every so often, Tanishe would look up, waiting for her husband but he kept being later and later. The food was done and though she encouraged Saro to eat, she touched nothing while she waited for Hasani. Though he probably wouldn’t have minded too terribly, women didn’t generally eat before the men and she felt her stomach growling. Finally, when it became apparent that whatever was keeping Hasani meant that he would likely come home to cold food, Tanishe ate. While they waited, she’d been telling Saro any and all the stories she could think of, attempting to get him used to the sounds of the language, as well as hoping to at least imbibe him a little bit with the power of the stories. Not being a prophet, she wasn’t totally sure if he could reap the benefits of the ancestors without either being related to any of them, or understanding them. However, she opted to try anyway.
At last Hasani came, but Tanishe had long shooed Saro away, making sure to use the words ‘Morning’ and ‘teach’, ones she hoped he understood. They would be practicing his language skills every day, in a similar manner as this one. Not that she was going to use him as a work donkey, but it was the best way that she could think of to learn something. By doing. She’d followed along behind someone else to learn healing, Saro could follow along behind her to learn both practical skills and the language in the process. She...hoped. If this didn’t work, she was fresh out of ideas.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She listened to him repeating the random words and laughed a little along with him because it was ridiculous. The words didn’t go together in any real order and even when she did understand what he was saying, it was gibberish. Glancing at him, she tilted her head, eyeing the lines of his face highlighted in red by the glowing bed of hot embers before them. His skin was so pale.
“You know,” she said idly as she handed him a slab of meat to prepare. That was fairly straight forward, she felt. Surely he could cook since he had no woman to do it for him? “Your skin reminds me of a story we have. When people die, their skin fades to this...gray hue? Anyway,” she waved the knife for a moment, warding off the tangent she’d been about to go on. “It is said that when a spirit passes into the realm of the ancestors, that they are pale. A bit like you, I think.” Glancing over at him, she shrugged. “Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re an ancestor walking among us or a man unfortunate enough not to have been born where you should be.” Where he should have been born, obviously was among the Bedoans, as he seemed to have the same wanderlust that the tribes all shared.
“I wish you could tell me where you come from,” she mused aloud as her hands kneaded flour and water and a little salt in the shallow dish in front of her. It was a wide wooden bowl used for several generations and it was where she made the flat bread that they used as plates for the often spicy stews and mashes they went on them. Bedoan food wasn’t for everyone, but those who did enjoy the strength of the flavors were usually not disappointed.
Every so often, Tanishe would look up, waiting for her husband but he kept being later and later. The food was done and though she encouraged Saro to eat, she touched nothing while she waited for Hasani. Though he probably wouldn’t have minded too terribly, women didn’t generally eat before the men and she felt her stomach growling. Finally, when it became apparent that whatever was keeping Hasani meant that he would likely come home to cold food, Tanishe ate. While they waited, she’d been telling Saro any and all the stories she could think of, attempting to get him used to the sounds of the language, as well as hoping to at least imbibe him a little bit with the power of the stories. Not being a prophet, she wasn’t totally sure if he could reap the benefits of the ancestors without either being related to any of them, or understanding them. However, she opted to try anyway.
At last Hasani came, but Tanishe had long shooed Saro away, making sure to use the words ‘Morning’ and ‘teach’, ones she hoped he understood. They would be practicing his language skills every day, in a similar manner as this one. Not that she was going to use him as a work donkey, but it was the best way that she could think of to learn something. By doing. She’d followed along behind someone else to learn healing, Saro could follow along behind her to learn both practical skills and the language in the process. She...hoped. If this didn’t work, she was fresh out of ideas.
She listened to him repeating the random words and laughed a little along with him because it was ridiculous. The words didn’t go together in any real order and even when she did understand what he was saying, it was gibberish. Glancing at him, she tilted her head, eyeing the lines of his face highlighted in red by the glowing bed of hot embers before them. His skin was so pale.
“You know,” she said idly as she handed him a slab of meat to prepare. That was fairly straight forward, she felt. Surely he could cook since he had no woman to do it for him? “Your skin reminds me of a story we have. When people die, their skin fades to this...gray hue? Anyway,” she waved the knife for a moment, warding off the tangent she’d been about to go on. “It is said that when a spirit passes into the realm of the ancestors, that they are pale. A bit like you, I think.” Glancing over at him, she shrugged. “Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re an ancestor walking among us or a man unfortunate enough not to have been born where you should be.” Where he should have been born, obviously was among the Bedoans, as he seemed to have the same wanderlust that the tribes all shared.
“I wish you could tell me where you come from,” she mused aloud as her hands kneaded flour and water and a little salt in the shallow dish in front of her. It was a wide wooden bowl used for several generations and it was where she made the flat bread that they used as plates for the often spicy stews and mashes they went on them. Bedoan food wasn’t for everyone, but those who did enjoy the strength of the flavors were usually not disappointed.
Every so often, Tanishe would look up, waiting for her husband but he kept being later and later. The food was done and though she encouraged Saro to eat, she touched nothing while she waited for Hasani. Though he probably wouldn’t have minded too terribly, women didn’t generally eat before the men and she felt her stomach growling. Finally, when it became apparent that whatever was keeping Hasani meant that he would likely come home to cold food, Tanishe ate. While they waited, she’d been telling Saro any and all the stories she could think of, attempting to get him used to the sounds of the language, as well as hoping to at least imbibe him a little bit with the power of the stories. Not being a prophet, she wasn’t totally sure if he could reap the benefits of the ancestors without either being related to any of them, or understanding them. However, she opted to try anyway.
At last Hasani came, but Tanishe had long shooed Saro away, making sure to use the words ‘Morning’ and ‘teach’, ones she hoped he understood. They would be practicing his language skills every day, in a similar manner as this one. Not that she was going to use him as a work donkey, but it was the best way that she could think of to learn something. By doing. She’d followed along behind someone else to learn healing, Saro could follow along behind her to learn both practical skills and the language in the process. She...hoped. If this didn’t work, she was fresh out of ideas.