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Somra heard tell of hot springs in Midas, and of course she had to go and find them herself. The idea of being able to relax in some hot water was very appealing to her, especially after spending so much time in the lower quarters of the city. She had sought a life of luxury and here she was, inhabiting abandoned houses and wearing common dresses. This was not the life she had wanted, she just had to keep telling herself that this was a means to an end. She would make her fortune with the group and then she would retire into a life of luxury and indulgence.
For now, she would take any chance for a bit of a break that life would hand her, including sneaking to the hot springs in the middle of the night in the hopes that no one else would be there and she could just relax in the quiet on her own.
Luckily that night when she arrived, she found the pools empty. It did not take her long to slip out of her plain black dress, the cool night air felt cooler without the fabric covering her skin. She was used to that feeling, her usual dresses covered a lot less than the ones she was forced to wear to remain inconspicuous. She took a moment to take a deep breath and stretch out, standing there naked she felt more like her old self than she had since the night they arrived in Midas.
She could still remember it with a terrifying clarity, and the now fading bruises on her jaw served to remind her of Khanh’s actions if her memory had failed her. She shivered a little, not from the cold of the night, but from the thought of how easily he could have chosen to just kill her right then and there.
She put the thought from her mind and dropped her dress on the stone, taking the few steps over to the nearest pool, she sat on the edge and stuck her feet in, sighing a little as the hot water felt overwhelming and amazing all at once. She let her feet and legs get used to the heat for a few moments before she slipped herself fully down into it.
She sunk herself into the water up to her neck, letting her head rest back against the hard stone side, she let her eyes close as she just let herself go, relaxing for the first time in a very long time.
Somra breathed in deeply, taking in the hot and humid air as she enjoyed a moment of solitude before she would need to return to the band of thieves she now called companions. Something that she was not particularly looking forward to.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Somra heard tell of hot springs in Midas, and of course she had to go and find them herself. The idea of being able to relax in some hot water was very appealing to her, especially after spending so much time in the lower quarters of the city. She had sought a life of luxury and here she was, inhabiting abandoned houses and wearing common dresses. This was not the life she had wanted, she just had to keep telling herself that this was a means to an end. She would make her fortune with the group and then she would retire into a life of luxury and indulgence.
For now, she would take any chance for a bit of a break that life would hand her, including sneaking to the hot springs in the middle of the night in the hopes that no one else would be there and she could just relax in the quiet on her own.
Luckily that night when she arrived, she found the pools empty. It did not take her long to slip out of her plain black dress, the cool night air felt cooler without the fabric covering her skin. She was used to that feeling, her usual dresses covered a lot less than the ones she was forced to wear to remain inconspicuous. She took a moment to take a deep breath and stretch out, standing there naked she felt more like her old self than she had since the night they arrived in Midas.
She could still remember it with a terrifying clarity, and the now fading bruises on her jaw served to remind her of Khanh’s actions if her memory had failed her. She shivered a little, not from the cold of the night, but from the thought of how easily he could have chosen to just kill her right then and there.
She put the thought from her mind and dropped her dress on the stone, taking the few steps over to the nearest pool, she sat on the edge and stuck her feet in, sighing a little as the hot water felt overwhelming and amazing all at once. She let her feet and legs get used to the heat for a few moments before she slipped herself fully down into it.
She sunk herself into the water up to her neck, letting her head rest back against the hard stone side, she let her eyes close as she just let herself go, relaxing for the first time in a very long time.
Somra breathed in deeply, taking in the hot and humid air as she enjoyed a moment of solitude before she would need to return to the band of thieves she now called companions. Something that she was not particularly looking forward to.
Somra heard tell of hot springs in Midas, and of course she had to go and find them herself. The idea of being able to relax in some hot water was very appealing to her, especially after spending so much time in the lower quarters of the city. She had sought a life of luxury and here she was, inhabiting abandoned houses and wearing common dresses. This was not the life she had wanted, she just had to keep telling herself that this was a means to an end. She would make her fortune with the group and then she would retire into a life of luxury and indulgence.
For now, she would take any chance for a bit of a break that life would hand her, including sneaking to the hot springs in the middle of the night in the hopes that no one else would be there and she could just relax in the quiet on her own.
Luckily that night when she arrived, she found the pools empty. It did not take her long to slip out of her plain black dress, the cool night air felt cooler without the fabric covering her skin. She was used to that feeling, her usual dresses covered a lot less than the ones she was forced to wear to remain inconspicuous. She took a moment to take a deep breath and stretch out, standing there naked she felt more like her old self than she had since the night they arrived in Midas.
She could still remember it with a terrifying clarity, and the now fading bruises on her jaw served to remind her of Khanh’s actions if her memory had failed her. She shivered a little, not from the cold of the night, but from the thought of how easily he could have chosen to just kill her right then and there.
She put the thought from her mind and dropped her dress on the stone, taking the few steps over to the nearest pool, she sat on the edge and stuck her feet in, sighing a little as the hot water felt overwhelming and amazing all at once. She let her feet and legs get used to the heat for a few moments before she slipped herself fully down into it.
She sunk herself into the water up to her neck, letting her head rest back against the hard stone side, she let her eyes close as she just let herself go, relaxing for the first time in a very long time.
Somra breathed in deeply, taking in the hot and humid air as she enjoyed a moment of solitude before she would need to return to the band of thieves she now called companions. Something that she was not particularly looking forward to.
It was rare for the Captain of the Damned to enjoy a moment of levity in the capital city of Midas. He was no stranger to the wealth and grandeur of the metropole, having enjoyed multiple nights of lavish flight of fancy at his local baron's ostentatiously gaudy manse, yet he was not well-acquainted with the streets of the city of kings. At most, given his position, he had spent most of his time in that sprawling city at its upper levels, enjoying the company of so-called nobles and royals. Truth be told, he would rather spend his time conspiring of sordid debauchery than to wallow at the dirt with the rest of the peasants he had erroneously been dubbed part of. There was much to be said about the amusement he gathered from those mud-witted aristocrats, particularly those that indeed looked down on him, much to their fault, but as it were, he had very little reason to stand part of palace intrigues as of now.
With little to do between his days at the center of Colchian life, Damocles supposed he could derive some modicum of pleasure from the city's famous hot springs. Even though he enjoyed most aspects of his career as a militant of his homeland, he still had to find some time to relax. besides, rumor has it that those thermal waters could put one in a total state of decompression, a sensation he would much appreciate, with how stressful his latest hours had been prior. Still, even if these waters were blessed by either Aphrodite or Poseidon's respective blessings, he had to admit that he would prefer to spend his hours by himself as were, alone and with none to keep him company. For the most part, he thrived amongst the company of others, be their circumstance low or high born, and would care to confess that he had ever preferred a feast or party to a meditative room, though even the most outgoing of people still warranted some time by themselves. He harbored little intentions towards explaining himself to others, and so, rather than taking part of the springs by daytime, he opted for a visit by dusk's settling nighttime arrival.
Given the lateness of the hour, he garbed himself in slightly heavier raiments, layering dark blue linen, knee-length exomie tunic with a darker himation he tied down by means of a single bronze broach that was pinned around the general area of his broad shoulders. A thick, heavy belt clasped fittingly around his waist, setting his pleating robes in their place so as to not slide away. Two bracelets and one armlet, equally fashioned out of the same material as his broach, adorned his outfit fitting themselves across his muscle-ridged limbs as they, raised his outfit's plainness to a more upper-classed demeanor. Even if he was born to filth and grime, Damocles had worked hard over the years, amassing just enough wealth to pass as someone well-passed his birthright. Yet, perhaps the most telling of his accessories was a single ruby ring secured by a band of solid gold. He wasn't much for jewelry, but the small item had cost him the better part of his savings as a means to unofficially secure a illusory place arguably higher than even the iron merchants that his province was known to host. Though his sandals cut out of leather, he stood every bit a man of wealth and taste, a self-made man completed through meritocratic industry, an image he was more than proud to showcase.
After waiting his time across the long, winding hours of the masonic day, the came upon those thermal waters. Those pools of crystal clear water contemplated the light of the kindly moon hanging above him and all of Greece in all of her majestic gleam. The sight of raised steam confirmed his suspicions of the heat of that body of water, yet still he dug an exposed toe at the surface so as to test the temperature for himself. It was simmering, but not hot, a perfect heat that pleasantly contrasted with the chill of the night. Pleased with the manner of the springs, the veteran soldier took his time unraveling his raiments, settling aside the tunics and robes that once hung from him, while hiding the bracelets and armlet amongst his clothes, topping the layered clothes with the belt that once circled about his sides. He kept a small dagger about him, though he left it sheathed and rested by the edge of the corner he would claim as his own. Exposed as he was, Damocles was cunning enough to know that even if he was naked and alone, their could always be use of a quickly-drawn blade so as to frighten away any who would try anything nefarious against him. Without reason to delay the occasion any longer, he made for the waters, submerging his heavily muscled form down on those springs.
An unexpected moan escaped him as those fresh, soothing waters tempered his olive flesh. As he laid back against the pool, with his arms widely spread over the stony borders, the silver-eyed man closed his striking eyes and came to behold the famed reasons for those springs. He felt a wave of relief awash inside of him, quelling his tensed muscles and weary limbs to an unmistakably calmed state. Maybe he had been skeptical at first, but after testing those springs for himself, he could not manifest any plausible defense against his suspicions. His reservations were voided, and happily so, taking form as the titanous man silently admitted to being corrected in the best way possible. He stretched and cracked his submerged limbs, only enjoying the experience even more, before figuring that ho harm could be done by totally burying himself inside the water. Even though his commanding height made it hard for him to dig down completely, he made do. Once he finished, he returned to his prior position and pushed his black locks of hair backwards, once more closing his eyes in absolute bliss as he allowed his thoughts to run wild without care.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It was rare for the Captain of the Damned to enjoy a moment of levity in the capital city of Midas. He was no stranger to the wealth and grandeur of the metropole, having enjoyed multiple nights of lavish flight of fancy at his local baron's ostentatiously gaudy manse, yet he was not well-acquainted with the streets of the city of kings. At most, given his position, he had spent most of his time in that sprawling city at its upper levels, enjoying the company of so-called nobles and royals. Truth be told, he would rather spend his time conspiring of sordid debauchery than to wallow at the dirt with the rest of the peasants he had erroneously been dubbed part of. There was much to be said about the amusement he gathered from those mud-witted aristocrats, particularly those that indeed looked down on him, much to their fault, but as it were, he had very little reason to stand part of palace intrigues as of now.
With little to do between his days at the center of Colchian life, Damocles supposed he could derive some modicum of pleasure from the city's famous hot springs. Even though he enjoyed most aspects of his career as a militant of his homeland, he still had to find some time to relax. besides, rumor has it that those thermal waters could put one in a total state of decompression, a sensation he would much appreciate, with how stressful his latest hours had been prior. Still, even if these waters were blessed by either Aphrodite or Poseidon's respective blessings, he had to admit that he would prefer to spend his hours by himself as were, alone and with none to keep him company. For the most part, he thrived amongst the company of others, be their circumstance low or high born, and would care to confess that he had ever preferred a feast or party to a meditative room, though even the most outgoing of people still warranted some time by themselves. He harbored little intentions towards explaining himself to others, and so, rather than taking part of the springs by daytime, he opted for a visit by dusk's settling nighttime arrival.
Given the lateness of the hour, he garbed himself in slightly heavier raiments, layering dark blue linen, knee-length exomie tunic with a darker himation he tied down by means of a single bronze broach that was pinned around the general area of his broad shoulders. A thick, heavy belt clasped fittingly around his waist, setting his pleating robes in their place so as to not slide away. Two bracelets and one armlet, equally fashioned out of the same material as his broach, adorned his outfit fitting themselves across his muscle-ridged limbs as they, raised his outfit's plainness to a more upper-classed demeanor. Even if he was born to filth and grime, Damocles had worked hard over the years, amassing just enough wealth to pass as someone well-passed his birthright. Yet, perhaps the most telling of his accessories was a single ruby ring secured by a band of solid gold. He wasn't much for jewelry, but the small item had cost him the better part of his savings as a means to unofficially secure a illusory place arguably higher than even the iron merchants that his province was known to host. Though his sandals cut out of leather, he stood every bit a man of wealth and taste, a self-made man completed through meritocratic industry, an image he was more than proud to showcase.
After waiting his time across the long, winding hours of the masonic day, the came upon those thermal waters. Those pools of crystal clear water contemplated the light of the kindly moon hanging above him and all of Greece in all of her majestic gleam. The sight of raised steam confirmed his suspicions of the heat of that body of water, yet still he dug an exposed toe at the surface so as to test the temperature for himself. It was simmering, but not hot, a perfect heat that pleasantly contrasted with the chill of the night. Pleased with the manner of the springs, the veteran soldier took his time unraveling his raiments, settling aside the tunics and robes that once hung from him, while hiding the bracelets and armlet amongst his clothes, topping the layered clothes with the belt that once circled about his sides. He kept a small dagger about him, though he left it sheathed and rested by the edge of the corner he would claim as his own. Exposed as he was, Damocles was cunning enough to know that even if he was naked and alone, their could always be use of a quickly-drawn blade so as to frighten away any who would try anything nefarious against him. Without reason to delay the occasion any longer, he made for the waters, submerging his heavily muscled form down on those springs.
An unexpected moan escaped him as those fresh, soothing waters tempered his olive flesh. As he laid back against the pool, with his arms widely spread over the stony borders, the silver-eyed man closed his striking eyes and came to behold the famed reasons for those springs. He felt a wave of relief awash inside of him, quelling his tensed muscles and weary limbs to an unmistakably calmed state. Maybe he had been skeptical at first, but after testing those springs for himself, he could not manifest any plausible defense against his suspicions. His reservations were voided, and happily so, taking form as the titanous man silently admitted to being corrected in the best way possible. He stretched and cracked his submerged limbs, only enjoying the experience even more, before figuring that ho harm could be done by totally burying himself inside the water. Even though his commanding height made it hard for him to dig down completely, he made do. Once he finished, he returned to his prior position and pushed his black locks of hair backwards, once more closing his eyes in absolute bliss as he allowed his thoughts to run wild without care.
It was rare for the Captain of the Damned to enjoy a moment of levity in the capital city of Midas. He was no stranger to the wealth and grandeur of the metropole, having enjoyed multiple nights of lavish flight of fancy at his local baron's ostentatiously gaudy manse, yet he was not well-acquainted with the streets of the city of kings. At most, given his position, he had spent most of his time in that sprawling city at its upper levels, enjoying the company of so-called nobles and royals. Truth be told, he would rather spend his time conspiring of sordid debauchery than to wallow at the dirt with the rest of the peasants he had erroneously been dubbed part of. There was much to be said about the amusement he gathered from those mud-witted aristocrats, particularly those that indeed looked down on him, much to their fault, but as it were, he had very little reason to stand part of palace intrigues as of now.
With little to do between his days at the center of Colchian life, Damocles supposed he could derive some modicum of pleasure from the city's famous hot springs. Even though he enjoyed most aspects of his career as a militant of his homeland, he still had to find some time to relax. besides, rumor has it that those thermal waters could put one in a total state of decompression, a sensation he would much appreciate, with how stressful his latest hours had been prior. Still, even if these waters were blessed by either Aphrodite or Poseidon's respective blessings, he had to admit that he would prefer to spend his hours by himself as were, alone and with none to keep him company. For the most part, he thrived amongst the company of others, be their circumstance low or high born, and would care to confess that he had ever preferred a feast or party to a meditative room, though even the most outgoing of people still warranted some time by themselves. He harbored little intentions towards explaining himself to others, and so, rather than taking part of the springs by daytime, he opted for a visit by dusk's settling nighttime arrival.
Given the lateness of the hour, he garbed himself in slightly heavier raiments, layering dark blue linen, knee-length exomie tunic with a darker himation he tied down by means of a single bronze broach that was pinned around the general area of his broad shoulders. A thick, heavy belt clasped fittingly around his waist, setting his pleating robes in their place so as to not slide away. Two bracelets and one armlet, equally fashioned out of the same material as his broach, adorned his outfit fitting themselves across his muscle-ridged limbs as they, raised his outfit's plainness to a more upper-classed demeanor. Even if he was born to filth and grime, Damocles had worked hard over the years, amassing just enough wealth to pass as someone well-passed his birthright. Yet, perhaps the most telling of his accessories was a single ruby ring secured by a band of solid gold. He wasn't much for jewelry, but the small item had cost him the better part of his savings as a means to unofficially secure a illusory place arguably higher than even the iron merchants that his province was known to host. Though his sandals cut out of leather, he stood every bit a man of wealth and taste, a self-made man completed through meritocratic industry, an image he was more than proud to showcase.
After waiting his time across the long, winding hours of the masonic day, the came upon those thermal waters. Those pools of crystal clear water contemplated the light of the kindly moon hanging above him and all of Greece in all of her majestic gleam. The sight of raised steam confirmed his suspicions of the heat of that body of water, yet still he dug an exposed toe at the surface so as to test the temperature for himself. It was simmering, but not hot, a perfect heat that pleasantly contrasted with the chill of the night. Pleased with the manner of the springs, the veteran soldier took his time unraveling his raiments, settling aside the tunics and robes that once hung from him, while hiding the bracelets and armlet amongst his clothes, topping the layered clothes with the belt that once circled about his sides. He kept a small dagger about him, though he left it sheathed and rested by the edge of the corner he would claim as his own. Exposed as he was, Damocles was cunning enough to know that even if he was naked and alone, their could always be use of a quickly-drawn blade so as to frighten away any who would try anything nefarious against him. Without reason to delay the occasion any longer, he made for the waters, submerging his heavily muscled form down on those springs.
An unexpected moan escaped him as those fresh, soothing waters tempered his olive flesh. As he laid back against the pool, with his arms widely spread over the stony borders, the silver-eyed man closed his striking eyes and came to behold the famed reasons for those springs. He felt a wave of relief awash inside of him, quelling his tensed muscles and weary limbs to an unmistakably calmed state. Maybe he had been skeptical at first, but after testing those springs for himself, he could not manifest any plausible defense against his suspicions. His reservations were voided, and happily so, taking form as the titanous man silently admitted to being corrected in the best way possible. He stretched and cracked his submerged limbs, only enjoying the experience even more, before figuring that ho harm could be done by totally burying himself inside the water. Even though his commanding height made it hard for him to dig down completely, he made do. Once he finished, he returned to his prior position and pushed his black locks of hair backwards, once more closing his eyes in absolute bliss as he allowed his thoughts to run wild without care.
As Somra relaxed in the waters, she let her mind wander. To the life of luxury, she wanted so badly, the life that she nearly had a few years ago. She had come so close she could taste it, and it had slipped through her fingers. She could imagine herself wearing the finest dresses, bathed in gold and jewels that would make any god jealous of her beauty. She deserved that life, so blessed with her petite figure and looks, she would have made the perfect wife for any man of nobility. Sadly, fate had saw to it that her bastard, common blood birth would not have it so. But one day, she knew she would defy fate and she would achieve the dreams that kept her company all those hard days and cold nights at the brothel when her mother had still been alive.
Her mother, another direction her thoughts wandered. She had loved that woman, the whore who had done her best to provide for the child she had decided to keep. She wondered what it was that had made her mother want to birth her instead of doing what whores normally did and ridding themselves of their babies. Whether it was the gods, or fate, or just a bad decision, she had not had a happy childhood. As much as she loved her mother, there had been many times in her younger years that she had cursed her for ever bringing her into the world.
Now? Well, she missed her mother, but she was determined to make something of herself other than what was expected of her. And it was that drive that had brought her here to Colchis, the newest recruit in a band of thieves.
Her wandering thoughts were ended as she heard the sounds of someone approaching, she ducked down a little, though she knew there would be no time to get up and get out of the water and dress herself before the person showed up. She watched as he walked by her without seeming to notice her, and she kept silent, not daring to move until she saw what he was doing. To her surprise he stripped right down and got into the water without a second thought. Clearly he truly had not seen her.
She weighed her options, she could make herself known and try to avoid surprising him and potentially putting him on edge, or she could try to slip out of the pool of water, grab her clothes and slip out into the night and hope that he remained unobservant.
She thought she ought not to try her luck, if he hadn’t noticed her yet, she was sure the sound of her movement in the water would give her away, and it might look more suspicious if she was caught trying to sneak off.
“A lot on your mind?” She called out, her voice sweet, soft and feminine as she spoke in her charming way, an attempt to seem sweet and innocent, to not spook him with her words. She flashed him a charming smile and waited for his reaction.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As Somra relaxed in the waters, she let her mind wander. To the life of luxury, she wanted so badly, the life that she nearly had a few years ago. She had come so close she could taste it, and it had slipped through her fingers. She could imagine herself wearing the finest dresses, bathed in gold and jewels that would make any god jealous of her beauty. She deserved that life, so blessed with her petite figure and looks, she would have made the perfect wife for any man of nobility. Sadly, fate had saw to it that her bastard, common blood birth would not have it so. But one day, she knew she would defy fate and she would achieve the dreams that kept her company all those hard days and cold nights at the brothel when her mother had still been alive.
Her mother, another direction her thoughts wandered. She had loved that woman, the whore who had done her best to provide for the child she had decided to keep. She wondered what it was that had made her mother want to birth her instead of doing what whores normally did and ridding themselves of their babies. Whether it was the gods, or fate, or just a bad decision, she had not had a happy childhood. As much as she loved her mother, there had been many times in her younger years that she had cursed her for ever bringing her into the world.
Now? Well, she missed her mother, but she was determined to make something of herself other than what was expected of her. And it was that drive that had brought her here to Colchis, the newest recruit in a band of thieves.
Her wandering thoughts were ended as she heard the sounds of someone approaching, she ducked down a little, though she knew there would be no time to get up and get out of the water and dress herself before the person showed up. She watched as he walked by her without seeming to notice her, and she kept silent, not daring to move until she saw what he was doing. To her surprise he stripped right down and got into the water without a second thought. Clearly he truly had not seen her.
She weighed her options, she could make herself known and try to avoid surprising him and potentially putting him on edge, or she could try to slip out of the pool of water, grab her clothes and slip out into the night and hope that he remained unobservant.
She thought she ought not to try her luck, if he hadn’t noticed her yet, she was sure the sound of her movement in the water would give her away, and it might look more suspicious if she was caught trying to sneak off.
“A lot on your mind?” She called out, her voice sweet, soft and feminine as she spoke in her charming way, an attempt to seem sweet and innocent, to not spook him with her words. She flashed him a charming smile and waited for his reaction.
As Somra relaxed in the waters, she let her mind wander. To the life of luxury, she wanted so badly, the life that she nearly had a few years ago. She had come so close she could taste it, and it had slipped through her fingers. She could imagine herself wearing the finest dresses, bathed in gold and jewels that would make any god jealous of her beauty. She deserved that life, so blessed with her petite figure and looks, she would have made the perfect wife for any man of nobility. Sadly, fate had saw to it that her bastard, common blood birth would not have it so. But one day, she knew she would defy fate and she would achieve the dreams that kept her company all those hard days and cold nights at the brothel when her mother had still been alive.
Her mother, another direction her thoughts wandered. She had loved that woman, the whore who had done her best to provide for the child she had decided to keep. She wondered what it was that had made her mother want to birth her instead of doing what whores normally did and ridding themselves of their babies. Whether it was the gods, or fate, or just a bad decision, she had not had a happy childhood. As much as she loved her mother, there had been many times in her younger years that she had cursed her for ever bringing her into the world.
Now? Well, she missed her mother, but she was determined to make something of herself other than what was expected of her. And it was that drive that had brought her here to Colchis, the newest recruit in a band of thieves.
Her wandering thoughts were ended as she heard the sounds of someone approaching, she ducked down a little, though she knew there would be no time to get up and get out of the water and dress herself before the person showed up. She watched as he walked by her without seeming to notice her, and she kept silent, not daring to move until she saw what he was doing. To her surprise he stripped right down and got into the water without a second thought. Clearly he truly had not seen her.
She weighed her options, she could make herself known and try to avoid surprising him and potentially putting him on edge, or she could try to slip out of the pool of water, grab her clothes and slip out into the night and hope that he remained unobservant.
She thought she ought not to try her luck, if he hadn’t noticed her yet, she was sure the sound of her movement in the water would give her away, and it might look more suspicious if she was caught trying to sneak off.
“A lot on your mind?” She called out, her voice sweet, soft and feminine as she spoke in her charming way, an attempt to seem sweet and innocent, to not spook him with her words. She flashed him a charming smile and waited for his reaction.
As he laid back against the thermal waters of the hotsprings, Damocles felt a sense of impending ease wash by him, captivating him, like a lover’s gentle, soft honeyed words towards caressing respite. Much had happened since he had found time to enjoy himself in such a manner. He had much to worry about as it was. His unit, while still organized and firmly in control to his whim and vigor, was still nominally outside of his legitimate authority. Furthermore, Stalios, that little shit, was still poking around, despite his lowered standing with his family. For years, since that incident with the Mikaelidas cousins, the silver-eyed man had tried to cut off this idiot from any semblance or glory, depriving him of his once-preordained place as captain after guaranteeing his ascendancy. There was little reason for him to worry about that idiot boy causing any trouble for him as of late. Yet still, it bothered him immensely how perfectly precise everything had to be just for him to carve a place out for his own and his descendants
Further complicating matters was the issue of his brother, Nikolaus. The man was wise and had a good head on his shoulders, but still, his outburst were becoming more and more frequent. He had hoped that time and age would quell his passions down to moderate levels. Yet too in this front, the Gods had not smiled brightly to him. He had dreams for the man, desires and ambitions that required his active participation, not to mention a certain care that only brothers could explain amongst them. It wasn’t a secret that with his further rise, Damocles would allot his captaincy to his brother. This was his wish and most immediate, short-term objective. He thought the other silver-eyed man capable and willing to do the part, not solely due to his connection as his only living relative, but also upon a fair assessment of his skills. He would build his dynasty, whether the aristocracy willed it or not. Still, his would not be a bloodline of merchants and money-lenders, but warriors and commanders, of statesmen and politicians, not sycophants and followers.
A noticeable snarl escaped him as he kept reflecting on his thoughts. Why was Fate such a fickle and selfish mistress? Had it all been as he willed, he would be servant to none and master of all, with, perchace, some few individuals allowed to surround him in accompanying greatness. But seldom were complaints ever rewarded with meritorious award. He knew what he wanted and would not stop until it all came to fruition. In time, everyone that had every jeered and heckled and dismissed him would come ot know his vengeance Patience however would be his greatest asset nonetheless. And so, he let out a frustrated sigh, kicking his head back as he tried to find comfort in the pleasantness of these thermal waters.
Suddenly, his ears were perked, raised to attention by a soft, feminine voice that rung against his meditations. First instincts would have spurred him to jump into action, but he was not at much of a present state to find such strength in his fingers. Thus, rather than reacting by a galvanized rush, he slowly opened his eyes and paid attention to the general direction of the voice, smirking to himself as he recalled the words said.
“You could say that. It’s been a difficult few couple of weeks.” He responded, noticing that indeed it was a woman who had called out to him. She was fairly fetching, with long, raven-black hair and a slightly darker, exotic complexion that was not common in Greece. He returned her gentle smile with one of his own, more playful and inquisitive in nature, but still, outwardly inviting as he relaxed his shoulders against the water. “What about you? What brings you to these waters, o fair lady of foreign lands?”
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As he laid back against the thermal waters of the hotsprings, Damocles felt a sense of impending ease wash by him, captivating him, like a lover’s gentle, soft honeyed words towards caressing respite. Much had happened since he had found time to enjoy himself in such a manner. He had much to worry about as it was. His unit, while still organized and firmly in control to his whim and vigor, was still nominally outside of his legitimate authority. Furthermore, Stalios, that little shit, was still poking around, despite his lowered standing with his family. For years, since that incident with the Mikaelidas cousins, the silver-eyed man had tried to cut off this idiot from any semblance or glory, depriving him of his once-preordained place as captain after guaranteeing his ascendancy. There was little reason for him to worry about that idiot boy causing any trouble for him as of late. Yet still, it bothered him immensely how perfectly precise everything had to be just for him to carve a place out for his own and his descendants
Further complicating matters was the issue of his brother, Nikolaus. The man was wise and had a good head on his shoulders, but still, his outburst were becoming more and more frequent. He had hoped that time and age would quell his passions down to moderate levels. Yet too in this front, the Gods had not smiled brightly to him. He had dreams for the man, desires and ambitions that required his active participation, not to mention a certain care that only brothers could explain amongst them. It wasn’t a secret that with his further rise, Damocles would allot his captaincy to his brother. This was his wish and most immediate, short-term objective. He thought the other silver-eyed man capable and willing to do the part, not solely due to his connection as his only living relative, but also upon a fair assessment of his skills. He would build his dynasty, whether the aristocracy willed it or not. Still, his would not be a bloodline of merchants and money-lenders, but warriors and commanders, of statesmen and politicians, not sycophants and followers.
A noticeable snarl escaped him as he kept reflecting on his thoughts. Why was Fate such a fickle and selfish mistress? Had it all been as he willed, he would be servant to none and master of all, with, perchace, some few individuals allowed to surround him in accompanying greatness. But seldom were complaints ever rewarded with meritorious award. He knew what he wanted and would not stop until it all came to fruition. In time, everyone that had every jeered and heckled and dismissed him would come ot know his vengeance Patience however would be his greatest asset nonetheless. And so, he let out a frustrated sigh, kicking his head back as he tried to find comfort in the pleasantness of these thermal waters.
Suddenly, his ears were perked, raised to attention by a soft, feminine voice that rung against his meditations. First instincts would have spurred him to jump into action, but he was not at much of a present state to find such strength in his fingers. Thus, rather than reacting by a galvanized rush, he slowly opened his eyes and paid attention to the general direction of the voice, smirking to himself as he recalled the words said.
“You could say that. It’s been a difficult few couple of weeks.” He responded, noticing that indeed it was a woman who had called out to him. She was fairly fetching, with long, raven-black hair and a slightly darker, exotic complexion that was not common in Greece. He returned her gentle smile with one of his own, more playful and inquisitive in nature, but still, outwardly inviting as he relaxed his shoulders against the water. “What about you? What brings you to these waters, o fair lady of foreign lands?”
As he laid back against the thermal waters of the hotsprings, Damocles felt a sense of impending ease wash by him, captivating him, like a lover’s gentle, soft honeyed words towards caressing respite. Much had happened since he had found time to enjoy himself in such a manner. He had much to worry about as it was. His unit, while still organized and firmly in control to his whim and vigor, was still nominally outside of his legitimate authority. Furthermore, Stalios, that little shit, was still poking around, despite his lowered standing with his family. For years, since that incident with the Mikaelidas cousins, the silver-eyed man had tried to cut off this idiot from any semblance or glory, depriving him of his once-preordained place as captain after guaranteeing his ascendancy. There was little reason for him to worry about that idiot boy causing any trouble for him as of late. Yet still, it bothered him immensely how perfectly precise everything had to be just for him to carve a place out for his own and his descendants
Further complicating matters was the issue of his brother, Nikolaus. The man was wise and had a good head on his shoulders, but still, his outburst were becoming more and more frequent. He had hoped that time and age would quell his passions down to moderate levels. Yet too in this front, the Gods had not smiled brightly to him. He had dreams for the man, desires and ambitions that required his active participation, not to mention a certain care that only brothers could explain amongst them. It wasn’t a secret that with his further rise, Damocles would allot his captaincy to his brother. This was his wish and most immediate, short-term objective. He thought the other silver-eyed man capable and willing to do the part, not solely due to his connection as his only living relative, but also upon a fair assessment of his skills. He would build his dynasty, whether the aristocracy willed it or not. Still, his would not be a bloodline of merchants and money-lenders, but warriors and commanders, of statesmen and politicians, not sycophants and followers.
A noticeable snarl escaped him as he kept reflecting on his thoughts. Why was Fate such a fickle and selfish mistress? Had it all been as he willed, he would be servant to none and master of all, with, perchace, some few individuals allowed to surround him in accompanying greatness. But seldom were complaints ever rewarded with meritorious award. He knew what he wanted and would not stop until it all came to fruition. In time, everyone that had every jeered and heckled and dismissed him would come ot know his vengeance Patience however would be his greatest asset nonetheless. And so, he let out a frustrated sigh, kicking his head back as he tried to find comfort in the pleasantness of these thermal waters.
Suddenly, his ears were perked, raised to attention by a soft, feminine voice that rung against his meditations. First instincts would have spurred him to jump into action, but he was not at much of a present state to find such strength in his fingers. Thus, rather than reacting by a galvanized rush, he slowly opened his eyes and paid attention to the general direction of the voice, smirking to himself as he recalled the words said.
“You could say that. It’s been a difficult few couple of weeks.” He responded, noticing that indeed it was a woman who had called out to him. She was fairly fetching, with long, raven-black hair and a slightly darker, exotic complexion that was not common in Greece. He returned her gentle smile with one of his own, more playful and inquisitive in nature, but still, outwardly inviting as he relaxed his shoulders against the water. “What about you? What brings you to these waters, o fair lady of foreign lands?”
Somra would have been content watching the man’s weird facial expressions as he sat there, most likely lost in his own thoughts as the hot water relaxed his muscles. Unfortunately, the hot water often did little to relax the mind. This man was a prime example, submerged in the warming embrace of the water, he still seemed to struggle against his own thoughts. A struggle that many men found themselves in, and one that Somra herself often fought against. Thoughts were dangerous if left to roam unchecked, she had learned that lesson a few times, and was careful now not to lose the real world to the world in her head.
He seemed surprised to learn of her company in the hot springs, confirming for the raven-haired woman that he had in fact not seen her upon arriving there. She thought if he had anything valuable on him, he would have made a prime target, yet sadly he had nothing on him that was worth the potential of being caught. Her life would be on the line, either from the law if she was caught, or from her group if she gave herself away as a thief before they were able to do what ever job they were doing and skip town.
She thought it was better simply to talk to him, to be an exotic stranger in his life for a few moments, see if he was worth pursuing for information, and then slipping off into the night to be a mere memory for the man. She turned to face him, resting her arms on the stone so she could rest her chin on them, her near black eyes wide and innocent, one of her best features. They always seemed to draw people in, get them lost in their dark depths and make them forget themselves. She loved that something as simple as a look could do such things to a person.
He seemed to be playing along at the very least, flashing her a charming smile. He was handsome, she couldn’t deny that, and perhaps if her situation was different, she might have taken her flirting a little further. The way he had dressed had made him look as if he was someone important, someone with at least a bit of money to his name. The type of man that Somra would normally dig further into, to see if he would be the husband she craved, a strong man who would provide her with the luxuries she wanted.
Alas, she was a thief now, and so her flirting would remain surface, and her interests would need to remain geared towards seeing if he had any information that might be worth something to her. She had given up the idea of a husband and family, at least for the moment. Until the right situation came along, she would bide her time with the Sariqas and hope to find her own golden fortune some where along the way. Though so far the group hadn’t really proved to be what she hoped. She had the fading bruises on her jaw to prove that things had taken a turn, and she was still thinking about her future in the group. Violence and no money in her pockets so far had not made a great combination for her.
She giggled a little as he called her a fair lady, willing a small blush on her cheeks to continue with her cute, innocent and feminine charade. She was a master of acting, able to play the innocent maiden at the drop of a hat, though she was less than innocent when it came right down to it. For the most part, men seemed to like the idea of a young woman who was innocent to the ways of the world, someone they could guide and corrupt in their own way. She had never come across a man who preferred a strong woman, one who had seen the world for what it was and carved her own way. So, she had learned to put on a mask, play the part of the innocent woman that men wanted.
“I am called Akhita.” She stated, giving one of her many fake names. She tried not to give the same fake name to more than one person in the same area, in case they talked about her to each other, or her one of her names got out in the local gossip. And she never gave her real name, at least not to people that were temporary in her life. It had become a defense mechanism, a way to shroud herself in some mystery and remain a stranger where ever she went. She could recall times when she would hear stories of herself, though people did not know they were speaking to the person that they were speaking of. It was rather hilarious to her when she thought about it.
“The need for hot water and to feel clean once more. My travels here had left me feeling rather dirty.” She said, the words sounding innocent and yet some how not full innocent at the same time as she kept a steady gaze locked on him. She wondered if he would be as easy to enchant as most men were. Usually she had them tied around her fingers in a matter of seconds. Men were savage beasts, easy to manipulate if you were pretty and had all the right curves. Or at least most of them were, not all of them were that way. In her experience, the majority of them were.
Though once in awhile she came across a man who was not so easily charmed, and she wondered which type of man this one would be. Would he fall for her beauty and wide-eyed innocence, or would he see through it and resist her charms? For Somra it was almost like a game. If things did not go her way, she would simply remove herself from the water, grab her clothes and be on her way.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Somra would have been content watching the man’s weird facial expressions as he sat there, most likely lost in his own thoughts as the hot water relaxed his muscles. Unfortunately, the hot water often did little to relax the mind. This man was a prime example, submerged in the warming embrace of the water, he still seemed to struggle against his own thoughts. A struggle that many men found themselves in, and one that Somra herself often fought against. Thoughts were dangerous if left to roam unchecked, she had learned that lesson a few times, and was careful now not to lose the real world to the world in her head.
He seemed surprised to learn of her company in the hot springs, confirming for the raven-haired woman that he had in fact not seen her upon arriving there. She thought if he had anything valuable on him, he would have made a prime target, yet sadly he had nothing on him that was worth the potential of being caught. Her life would be on the line, either from the law if she was caught, or from her group if she gave herself away as a thief before they were able to do what ever job they were doing and skip town.
She thought it was better simply to talk to him, to be an exotic stranger in his life for a few moments, see if he was worth pursuing for information, and then slipping off into the night to be a mere memory for the man. She turned to face him, resting her arms on the stone so she could rest her chin on them, her near black eyes wide and innocent, one of her best features. They always seemed to draw people in, get them lost in their dark depths and make them forget themselves. She loved that something as simple as a look could do such things to a person.
He seemed to be playing along at the very least, flashing her a charming smile. He was handsome, she couldn’t deny that, and perhaps if her situation was different, she might have taken her flirting a little further. The way he had dressed had made him look as if he was someone important, someone with at least a bit of money to his name. The type of man that Somra would normally dig further into, to see if he would be the husband she craved, a strong man who would provide her with the luxuries she wanted.
Alas, she was a thief now, and so her flirting would remain surface, and her interests would need to remain geared towards seeing if he had any information that might be worth something to her. She had given up the idea of a husband and family, at least for the moment. Until the right situation came along, she would bide her time with the Sariqas and hope to find her own golden fortune some where along the way. Though so far the group hadn’t really proved to be what she hoped. She had the fading bruises on her jaw to prove that things had taken a turn, and she was still thinking about her future in the group. Violence and no money in her pockets so far had not made a great combination for her.
She giggled a little as he called her a fair lady, willing a small blush on her cheeks to continue with her cute, innocent and feminine charade. She was a master of acting, able to play the innocent maiden at the drop of a hat, though she was less than innocent when it came right down to it. For the most part, men seemed to like the idea of a young woman who was innocent to the ways of the world, someone they could guide and corrupt in their own way. She had never come across a man who preferred a strong woman, one who had seen the world for what it was and carved her own way. So, she had learned to put on a mask, play the part of the innocent woman that men wanted.
“I am called Akhita.” She stated, giving one of her many fake names. She tried not to give the same fake name to more than one person in the same area, in case they talked about her to each other, or her one of her names got out in the local gossip. And she never gave her real name, at least not to people that were temporary in her life. It had become a defense mechanism, a way to shroud herself in some mystery and remain a stranger where ever she went. She could recall times when she would hear stories of herself, though people did not know they were speaking to the person that they were speaking of. It was rather hilarious to her when she thought about it.
“The need for hot water and to feel clean once more. My travels here had left me feeling rather dirty.” She said, the words sounding innocent and yet some how not full innocent at the same time as she kept a steady gaze locked on him. She wondered if he would be as easy to enchant as most men were. Usually she had them tied around her fingers in a matter of seconds. Men were savage beasts, easy to manipulate if you were pretty and had all the right curves. Or at least most of them were, not all of them were that way. In her experience, the majority of them were.
Though once in awhile she came across a man who was not so easily charmed, and she wondered which type of man this one would be. Would he fall for her beauty and wide-eyed innocence, or would he see through it and resist her charms? For Somra it was almost like a game. If things did not go her way, she would simply remove herself from the water, grab her clothes and be on her way.
Somra would have been content watching the man’s weird facial expressions as he sat there, most likely lost in his own thoughts as the hot water relaxed his muscles. Unfortunately, the hot water often did little to relax the mind. This man was a prime example, submerged in the warming embrace of the water, he still seemed to struggle against his own thoughts. A struggle that many men found themselves in, and one that Somra herself often fought against. Thoughts were dangerous if left to roam unchecked, she had learned that lesson a few times, and was careful now not to lose the real world to the world in her head.
He seemed surprised to learn of her company in the hot springs, confirming for the raven-haired woman that he had in fact not seen her upon arriving there. She thought if he had anything valuable on him, he would have made a prime target, yet sadly he had nothing on him that was worth the potential of being caught. Her life would be on the line, either from the law if she was caught, or from her group if she gave herself away as a thief before they were able to do what ever job they were doing and skip town.
She thought it was better simply to talk to him, to be an exotic stranger in his life for a few moments, see if he was worth pursuing for information, and then slipping off into the night to be a mere memory for the man. She turned to face him, resting her arms on the stone so she could rest her chin on them, her near black eyes wide and innocent, one of her best features. They always seemed to draw people in, get them lost in their dark depths and make them forget themselves. She loved that something as simple as a look could do such things to a person.
He seemed to be playing along at the very least, flashing her a charming smile. He was handsome, she couldn’t deny that, and perhaps if her situation was different, she might have taken her flirting a little further. The way he had dressed had made him look as if he was someone important, someone with at least a bit of money to his name. The type of man that Somra would normally dig further into, to see if he would be the husband she craved, a strong man who would provide her with the luxuries she wanted.
Alas, she was a thief now, and so her flirting would remain surface, and her interests would need to remain geared towards seeing if he had any information that might be worth something to her. She had given up the idea of a husband and family, at least for the moment. Until the right situation came along, she would bide her time with the Sariqas and hope to find her own golden fortune some where along the way. Though so far the group hadn’t really proved to be what she hoped. She had the fading bruises on her jaw to prove that things had taken a turn, and she was still thinking about her future in the group. Violence and no money in her pockets so far had not made a great combination for her.
She giggled a little as he called her a fair lady, willing a small blush on her cheeks to continue with her cute, innocent and feminine charade. She was a master of acting, able to play the innocent maiden at the drop of a hat, though she was less than innocent when it came right down to it. For the most part, men seemed to like the idea of a young woman who was innocent to the ways of the world, someone they could guide and corrupt in their own way. She had never come across a man who preferred a strong woman, one who had seen the world for what it was and carved her own way. So, she had learned to put on a mask, play the part of the innocent woman that men wanted.
“I am called Akhita.” She stated, giving one of her many fake names. She tried not to give the same fake name to more than one person in the same area, in case they talked about her to each other, or her one of her names got out in the local gossip. And she never gave her real name, at least not to people that were temporary in her life. It had become a defense mechanism, a way to shroud herself in some mystery and remain a stranger where ever she went. She could recall times when she would hear stories of herself, though people did not know they were speaking to the person that they were speaking of. It was rather hilarious to her when she thought about it.
“The need for hot water and to feel clean once more. My travels here had left me feeling rather dirty.” She said, the words sounding innocent and yet some how not full innocent at the same time as she kept a steady gaze locked on him. She wondered if he would be as easy to enchant as most men were. Usually she had them tied around her fingers in a matter of seconds. Men were savage beasts, easy to manipulate if you were pretty and had all the right curves. Or at least most of them were, not all of them were that way. In her experience, the majority of them were.
Though once in awhile she came across a man who was not so easily charmed, and she wondered which type of man this one would be. Would he fall for her beauty and wide-eyed innocence, or would he see through it and resist her charms? For Somra it was almost like a game. If things did not go her way, she would simply remove herself from the water, grab her clothes and be on her way.
There was much to be said about a moonlit conspiracy, about the dangers behind whispered silences and hushed intrigues that many would come to see as so uncommon in this otherwise quintessentially honor-bound society. To thrive, to grow and prosper against the bulwark of tradition and upheld customs that channeled his machinations by means of subtle manipulations and calculated efforts was so contrarian to the stereotypical image of a man of Colchis that he occasionally thought it odd how he was brought upon this, the land of mines and stoics.
Sure, he had taken to appreciate the militaristic glory that a life brought in these lands oft contributed, but he would be remised if he did not confess to feeling himself remotely superior to these unmovably ascetic people. Despite the heaviness of his muscles, he was an intellectual through and through, not some unsophisticated hound that barked only when ordered. And yet, still, here he was, contemplating his life and circumstance without the solitude that he had once thought companion now remaining.
He would not deny that he had been caught unaware by the raven-haired woman just a few feet away from his contemplated pool of tempering waters. He kept his silvery gaze firmly latched against her, studying her mystifying figure, her hypnotic gaze and her remote, unfounded foreign beauty. Yet, rather than confessing to a form of allurement or attraction, Damocles felt a menacing sense of dangerous captivation swell within him. Despite her superficial enthrallment, he was no juvenile boy, untested in the fields of seduction and confinement. This woman wanted something, that much was obvious, though he knew not what exactly she wished. His angular features returned her wayward smiles and allegedly innocuous blushes.
She was good, very good in fact. This woman probably knew of her skill and ability, of how to use the curves that the Gods, or whomever she prayed to had given her as gifts. He particularly felt her spell’s intensity by the shadows in her gaze. It was an almost cruel stare, a naughty exchange between naïve innocence and fatal impishness. How many poor devils had fallen prey to this siren? Were their fates simply material, or was this a master of charades that hid her poison between the slides of her wet tongue and the warmth of her exotic thighs? He had to learn, he had to collect more data. He might very well have put his hand at the veritable fire and risked letting his fingers burn, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to take. Besides, what fun was it to play by the rules?
He figured that this dark woman of the night had thought him figured out already. Away from that venomous stare lied a brain, he wagered, one that probably thought him easy to sway to cause and spur into action. It would be a safe bet, to make such precipitous judgement against the lady of the thermals waters. Yet, if he was a good inquisitor, then he was a better actor. If she had challenged him to a spar of disguises, he would not dissuade her from engagement or participation. Why would he? That would ruin mood. No, he would play along, follow along her mesmerizing hips so as to keep her unaware. He knew the part he had been silently assigned, it was a part that he had oft explored and exploited before.
“Akhita hmm. Well, that is a fascinating name. Tell me, where are you from, my beautiful Songbird?” he conceitedly asked, pretending to be some dull-brained, scarce-witted savage-of-a-man that only had but one functioning brain between his legs and not his eyes. His inner convictions told him to question everything, from the tone of her siren-esque voice, to the words that formed the name she provided him. He would not trust her, at least not now. And so, as a means to offer back to her courtesy, he forged an identity, a pretense that would allow him to change who he was without actually going through the hassle. “If it pleases you, my own name is Alexander of Pallopides. I am Baron of Laconia and Lord of my noble house.” He expertly lied, dipping his words in poisonous lies whilst keeping himself perfectly composed behind his smiles.
“Ah, what a most sincere line of reasoning. Have you traveled far Akhita?” he asked once more, digging into her name once more so as to keep it firmly memorized between the furrows of his mind. She kept her icy stare firmly fixated on his, forming a small lock between their eyes that indicated to more than just subtle intricacies. “One such as fair as you should not have undergone such an odyssey.”
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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There was much to be said about a moonlit conspiracy, about the dangers behind whispered silences and hushed intrigues that many would come to see as so uncommon in this otherwise quintessentially honor-bound society. To thrive, to grow and prosper against the bulwark of tradition and upheld customs that channeled his machinations by means of subtle manipulations and calculated efforts was so contrarian to the stereotypical image of a man of Colchis that he occasionally thought it odd how he was brought upon this, the land of mines and stoics.
Sure, he had taken to appreciate the militaristic glory that a life brought in these lands oft contributed, but he would be remised if he did not confess to feeling himself remotely superior to these unmovably ascetic people. Despite the heaviness of his muscles, he was an intellectual through and through, not some unsophisticated hound that barked only when ordered. And yet, still, here he was, contemplating his life and circumstance without the solitude that he had once thought companion now remaining.
He would not deny that he had been caught unaware by the raven-haired woman just a few feet away from his contemplated pool of tempering waters. He kept his silvery gaze firmly latched against her, studying her mystifying figure, her hypnotic gaze and her remote, unfounded foreign beauty. Yet, rather than confessing to a form of allurement or attraction, Damocles felt a menacing sense of dangerous captivation swell within him. Despite her superficial enthrallment, he was no juvenile boy, untested in the fields of seduction and confinement. This woman wanted something, that much was obvious, though he knew not what exactly she wished. His angular features returned her wayward smiles and allegedly innocuous blushes.
She was good, very good in fact. This woman probably knew of her skill and ability, of how to use the curves that the Gods, or whomever she prayed to had given her as gifts. He particularly felt her spell’s intensity by the shadows in her gaze. It was an almost cruel stare, a naughty exchange between naïve innocence and fatal impishness. How many poor devils had fallen prey to this siren? Were their fates simply material, or was this a master of charades that hid her poison between the slides of her wet tongue and the warmth of her exotic thighs? He had to learn, he had to collect more data. He might very well have put his hand at the veritable fire and risked letting his fingers burn, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to take. Besides, what fun was it to play by the rules?
He figured that this dark woman of the night had thought him figured out already. Away from that venomous stare lied a brain, he wagered, one that probably thought him easy to sway to cause and spur into action. It would be a safe bet, to make such precipitous judgement against the lady of the thermals waters. Yet, if he was a good inquisitor, then he was a better actor. If she had challenged him to a spar of disguises, he would not dissuade her from engagement or participation. Why would he? That would ruin mood. No, he would play along, follow along her mesmerizing hips so as to keep her unaware. He knew the part he had been silently assigned, it was a part that he had oft explored and exploited before.
“Akhita hmm. Well, that is a fascinating name. Tell me, where are you from, my beautiful Songbird?” he conceitedly asked, pretending to be some dull-brained, scarce-witted savage-of-a-man that only had but one functioning brain between his legs and not his eyes. His inner convictions told him to question everything, from the tone of her siren-esque voice, to the words that formed the name she provided him. He would not trust her, at least not now. And so, as a means to offer back to her courtesy, he forged an identity, a pretense that would allow him to change who he was without actually going through the hassle. “If it pleases you, my own name is Alexander of Pallopides. I am Baron of Laconia and Lord of my noble house.” He expertly lied, dipping his words in poisonous lies whilst keeping himself perfectly composed behind his smiles.
“Ah, what a most sincere line of reasoning. Have you traveled far Akhita?” he asked once more, digging into her name once more so as to keep it firmly memorized between the furrows of his mind. She kept her icy stare firmly fixated on his, forming a small lock between their eyes that indicated to more than just subtle intricacies. “One such as fair as you should not have undergone such an odyssey.”
There was much to be said about a moonlit conspiracy, about the dangers behind whispered silences and hushed intrigues that many would come to see as so uncommon in this otherwise quintessentially honor-bound society. To thrive, to grow and prosper against the bulwark of tradition and upheld customs that channeled his machinations by means of subtle manipulations and calculated efforts was so contrarian to the stereotypical image of a man of Colchis that he occasionally thought it odd how he was brought upon this, the land of mines and stoics.
Sure, he had taken to appreciate the militaristic glory that a life brought in these lands oft contributed, but he would be remised if he did not confess to feeling himself remotely superior to these unmovably ascetic people. Despite the heaviness of his muscles, he was an intellectual through and through, not some unsophisticated hound that barked only when ordered. And yet, still, here he was, contemplating his life and circumstance without the solitude that he had once thought companion now remaining.
He would not deny that he had been caught unaware by the raven-haired woman just a few feet away from his contemplated pool of tempering waters. He kept his silvery gaze firmly latched against her, studying her mystifying figure, her hypnotic gaze and her remote, unfounded foreign beauty. Yet, rather than confessing to a form of allurement or attraction, Damocles felt a menacing sense of dangerous captivation swell within him. Despite her superficial enthrallment, he was no juvenile boy, untested in the fields of seduction and confinement. This woman wanted something, that much was obvious, though he knew not what exactly she wished. His angular features returned her wayward smiles and allegedly innocuous blushes.
She was good, very good in fact. This woman probably knew of her skill and ability, of how to use the curves that the Gods, or whomever she prayed to had given her as gifts. He particularly felt her spell’s intensity by the shadows in her gaze. It was an almost cruel stare, a naughty exchange between naïve innocence and fatal impishness. How many poor devils had fallen prey to this siren? Were their fates simply material, or was this a master of charades that hid her poison between the slides of her wet tongue and the warmth of her exotic thighs? He had to learn, he had to collect more data. He might very well have put his hand at the veritable fire and risked letting his fingers burn, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to take. Besides, what fun was it to play by the rules?
He figured that this dark woman of the night had thought him figured out already. Away from that venomous stare lied a brain, he wagered, one that probably thought him easy to sway to cause and spur into action. It would be a safe bet, to make such precipitous judgement against the lady of the thermals waters. Yet, if he was a good inquisitor, then he was a better actor. If she had challenged him to a spar of disguises, he would not dissuade her from engagement or participation. Why would he? That would ruin mood. No, he would play along, follow along her mesmerizing hips so as to keep her unaware. He knew the part he had been silently assigned, it was a part that he had oft explored and exploited before.
“Akhita hmm. Well, that is a fascinating name. Tell me, where are you from, my beautiful Songbird?” he conceitedly asked, pretending to be some dull-brained, scarce-witted savage-of-a-man that only had but one functioning brain between his legs and not his eyes. His inner convictions told him to question everything, from the tone of her siren-esque voice, to the words that formed the name she provided him. He would not trust her, at least not now. And so, as a means to offer back to her courtesy, he forged an identity, a pretense that would allow him to change who he was without actually going through the hassle. “If it pleases you, my own name is Alexander of Pallopides. I am Baron of Laconia and Lord of my noble house.” He expertly lied, dipping his words in poisonous lies whilst keeping himself perfectly composed behind his smiles.
“Ah, what a most sincere line of reasoning. Have you traveled far Akhita?” he asked once more, digging into her name once more so as to keep it firmly memorized between the furrows of his mind. She kept her icy stare firmly fixated on his, forming a small lock between their eyes that indicated to more than just subtle intricacies. “One such as fair as you should not have undergone such an odyssey.”
The way he seemed to study her betrayed that perhaps he was not quite as easily swayed as most men, which was okay with her. Somra didn’t mind a challenge, not that she was sure what she even wanted from this man. Though they both were naked at the moment, she had no intentions of truly seducing him. Perhaps he would have some sort of information, though she had no idea what kind of information. Hell, she still had no idea what they were doing in Colchis in the first place. It was hard to information gather when she didn’t know the end goal, but perhaps he would have something interesting for her. Or at least something that could occupy her time while she waited to find out what their end goal was. At the very least, she would try to sneak something from the man that might lead her some where financially fulfilling.
She grinned more as he asked where she was from and called her beautiful, though she did not allow the compliment to truly go to her head. She knew she was beautiful, she didn’t need this man to tell her as such, but in order to continue playing the part, she would need to give him a look as if he was the first man to ever call her beautiful instead of one in a long succession of many.
“Lands very very far from here.” She replied simply, doubting that he had ever heard of the lands from which she hailed, no one ever did. She had never met another person from her homeland her entire time being away from it, and frankly she would prefer that, lest someone come across her who knew of her status as a runaway slave. She could only be thankful that she had not been old enough to bear the brand of her master to mark her as obviously such.
She raised an eyebrow as he claimed himself as a Baron and Lord. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, his dress had not been like any noble she knew, even a Greek one. But as Akhita, she had no reason to question his status. She made a note of the places and names he mentioned, though she had a weird feeling that none of it was quite true. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to note and look further into in case it was the truth.
“Necessity has brought me to such lands. Without a husband to take care of me, I have found myself travelling in order to ply my trade. I am a seamstress.” She lied simply, having the sewing skills to back it up if she ever needed to, though she doubted he would have needle, thread and fabric laying around to test her with.
“My travels have brought me here, in hopes of finding work to keep my hands busy and my pockets with enough money to keep myself housed and fed.” She finished, figuring that was enough to keep him satisfied with her tale.
“What brings the Baron of Laconia to Midas then?” She questioned, wondering what sort of thing he would come up with for a reply. She still wasn’t entirely convinced he was telling her the truth, and so she would do her best to subtly dig and see if he would slip up any where. Everyone had a weakness.
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The way he seemed to study her betrayed that perhaps he was not quite as easily swayed as most men, which was okay with her. Somra didn’t mind a challenge, not that she was sure what she even wanted from this man. Though they both were naked at the moment, she had no intentions of truly seducing him. Perhaps he would have some sort of information, though she had no idea what kind of information. Hell, she still had no idea what they were doing in Colchis in the first place. It was hard to information gather when she didn’t know the end goal, but perhaps he would have something interesting for her. Or at least something that could occupy her time while she waited to find out what their end goal was. At the very least, she would try to sneak something from the man that might lead her some where financially fulfilling.
She grinned more as he asked where she was from and called her beautiful, though she did not allow the compliment to truly go to her head. She knew she was beautiful, she didn’t need this man to tell her as such, but in order to continue playing the part, she would need to give him a look as if he was the first man to ever call her beautiful instead of one in a long succession of many.
“Lands very very far from here.” She replied simply, doubting that he had ever heard of the lands from which she hailed, no one ever did. She had never met another person from her homeland her entire time being away from it, and frankly she would prefer that, lest someone come across her who knew of her status as a runaway slave. She could only be thankful that she had not been old enough to bear the brand of her master to mark her as obviously such.
She raised an eyebrow as he claimed himself as a Baron and Lord. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, his dress had not been like any noble she knew, even a Greek one. But as Akhita, she had no reason to question his status. She made a note of the places and names he mentioned, though she had a weird feeling that none of it was quite true. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to note and look further into in case it was the truth.
“Necessity has brought me to such lands. Without a husband to take care of me, I have found myself travelling in order to ply my trade. I am a seamstress.” She lied simply, having the sewing skills to back it up if she ever needed to, though she doubted he would have needle, thread and fabric laying around to test her with.
“My travels have brought me here, in hopes of finding work to keep my hands busy and my pockets with enough money to keep myself housed and fed.” She finished, figuring that was enough to keep him satisfied with her tale.
“What brings the Baron of Laconia to Midas then?” She questioned, wondering what sort of thing he would come up with for a reply. She still wasn’t entirely convinced he was telling her the truth, and so she would do her best to subtly dig and see if he would slip up any where. Everyone had a weakness.
The way he seemed to study her betrayed that perhaps he was not quite as easily swayed as most men, which was okay with her. Somra didn’t mind a challenge, not that she was sure what she even wanted from this man. Though they both were naked at the moment, she had no intentions of truly seducing him. Perhaps he would have some sort of information, though she had no idea what kind of information. Hell, she still had no idea what they were doing in Colchis in the first place. It was hard to information gather when she didn’t know the end goal, but perhaps he would have something interesting for her. Or at least something that could occupy her time while she waited to find out what their end goal was. At the very least, she would try to sneak something from the man that might lead her some where financially fulfilling.
She grinned more as he asked where she was from and called her beautiful, though she did not allow the compliment to truly go to her head. She knew she was beautiful, she didn’t need this man to tell her as such, but in order to continue playing the part, she would need to give him a look as if he was the first man to ever call her beautiful instead of one in a long succession of many.
“Lands very very far from here.” She replied simply, doubting that he had ever heard of the lands from which she hailed, no one ever did. She had never met another person from her homeland her entire time being away from it, and frankly she would prefer that, lest someone come across her who knew of her status as a runaway slave. She could only be thankful that she had not been old enough to bear the brand of her master to mark her as obviously such.
She raised an eyebrow as he claimed himself as a Baron and Lord. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, his dress had not been like any noble she knew, even a Greek one. But as Akhita, she had no reason to question his status. She made a note of the places and names he mentioned, though she had a weird feeling that none of it was quite true. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to note and look further into in case it was the truth.
“Necessity has brought me to such lands. Without a husband to take care of me, I have found myself travelling in order to ply my trade. I am a seamstress.” She lied simply, having the sewing skills to back it up if she ever needed to, though she doubted he would have needle, thread and fabric laying around to test her with.
“My travels have brought me here, in hopes of finding work to keep my hands busy and my pockets with enough money to keep myself housed and fed.” She finished, figuring that was enough to keep him satisfied with her tale.
“What brings the Baron of Laconia to Midas then?” She questioned, wondering what sort of thing he would come up with for a reply. She still wasn’t entirely convinced he was telling her the truth, and so she would do her best to subtly dig and see if he would slip up any where. Everyone had a weakness.
An interested smirk appeared across Damocles’s face as he heard the woman talk. It was interesting, to say the least, to behold the woman. Clearly, she was not native to Greece, given her sultry, but darker complexion and amusing, but subtle accent. It might have been a case of study and careful thought, but for as much as he wanted to fixate and unlock the secrets that this mystifying woman closed by lock and key, he knew that staring and analyzing would only get him so much. Thus, he took all that he could gather from her and put it in perspective.
Yes, it was obvious that she truly was from some far-removed land away from Colchis, but he could not come to understand where she had been from. Obviously, she was neither Greek or Egyptian, for in his many years of service in the military, he had come across many of those barbarians from the south. Furthermore, she was neither pale enough nor tall enough to be one of the Northern lands, thus discarding that area as a possibility. As far as he could tell, though her features were somewhat dark, they were not dark enough to make her an obvious Bedoan, and, judging by her openness in terms of appearance, she was far too free with her body to be a Judean.
He might not have been an expert in global distinctions, but Damocles liked to believe he was rather well-versed in several different realms and lands. Yes, it was true that he had preferred the company of loud, obnoxious men and questionable women for the most part, but he still liked to pay consideration to knowledge when he could His baron had been a well-read man after all, one with many, large, vast interests, so it wasn’t particularly out of place for him to ask for one or two different books about the different known realms of the world. Be that as it may however, he would not reveal his secrets to her yet. It would be far easier for him to gauge the truth of her words against his limited, but still available recollections about the world.
“I’m curious. What is the name of this land of which you speak. I am interested in many different kingdoms and empires far and wide. I would love to learn more about the place from which such a beautiful woman as yourself comes from.” He inquired, keeping his reserved biases to himself whilst subtly lying about his own interests through a coy smile and a fleeting stare of his odd, grey eyes. “Who knows, maybe I might take to traveling abroad in search of a wife as fair as yourself.” He teased, feining curiosity behind his flirtatious tone so as to pretend to be interested in this woman’s place of origin.
He truly did not care for this woman, or her stories. Yet, he was a captain, and his duty demanded protection and security across all the realm. True, traders and merchants came far and wide, but Damocles was never really one for letting things go by without inquiry. He needed to learn more, to ascertain whether or not this seductress was a threat or not. Her good looks be damned! Even if she did inspire carnal curiosity in the confines of his mind, his call for duty still beckoned him to gather more intelligence.
“Oh? And how has a woman with no husband or noted purse come to board a ship to Greece? Surely, it would have been easier to fare elsewhere closer to your very, very far home.” He inquired, using her own words to poke holes in her arguments and words so as to gather more from her. “A seamstress? Well, why have you come to Colchis then? We have no great industries for textiles or clothes here. If you had wished for a better life across that field, then perhaps Athenia or Taengea would have been a more profitable venue.” He once more questioned, smiling somewhat mockingly as he once more turned his handsome features to her, subtly letting her know that he was on to her.
“Military affairs, my lady. Affairs martial are my expertise, and my province is quite the bellicose one. Though we do have exports of grain and food, I fear these are but secondary to our armed fury. Alas, forgive me. Such tedious topics are certainly boring you. I do apologize for my rudeness." he once more stated, drawing on the knowledge he had of Laconia and his own background as a soldier to solidity his arguments and make them as believable as possible. "If you don't mind. Would you mind telling me to which Gods you pray to? I often find religious to be an interesting field of conversation." he asked, knowing that her answer would provide insight as to where she came from.
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An interested smirk appeared across Damocles’s face as he heard the woman talk. It was interesting, to say the least, to behold the woman. Clearly, she was not native to Greece, given her sultry, but darker complexion and amusing, but subtle accent. It might have been a case of study and careful thought, but for as much as he wanted to fixate and unlock the secrets that this mystifying woman closed by lock and key, he knew that staring and analyzing would only get him so much. Thus, he took all that he could gather from her and put it in perspective.
Yes, it was obvious that she truly was from some far-removed land away from Colchis, but he could not come to understand where she had been from. Obviously, she was neither Greek or Egyptian, for in his many years of service in the military, he had come across many of those barbarians from the south. Furthermore, she was neither pale enough nor tall enough to be one of the Northern lands, thus discarding that area as a possibility. As far as he could tell, though her features were somewhat dark, they were not dark enough to make her an obvious Bedoan, and, judging by her openness in terms of appearance, she was far too free with her body to be a Judean.
He might not have been an expert in global distinctions, but Damocles liked to believe he was rather well-versed in several different realms and lands. Yes, it was true that he had preferred the company of loud, obnoxious men and questionable women for the most part, but he still liked to pay consideration to knowledge when he could His baron had been a well-read man after all, one with many, large, vast interests, so it wasn’t particularly out of place for him to ask for one or two different books about the different known realms of the world. Be that as it may however, he would not reveal his secrets to her yet. It would be far easier for him to gauge the truth of her words against his limited, but still available recollections about the world.
“I’m curious. What is the name of this land of which you speak. I am interested in many different kingdoms and empires far and wide. I would love to learn more about the place from which such a beautiful woman as yourself comes from.” He inquired, keeping his reserved biases to himself whilst subtly lying about his own interests through a coy smile and a fleeting stare of his odd, grey eyes. “Who knows, maybe I might take to traveling abroad in search of a wife as fair as yourself.” He teased, feining curiosity behind his flirtatious tone so as to pretend to be interested in this woman’s place of origin.
He truly did not care for this woman, or her stories. Yet, he was a captain, and his duty demanded protection and security across all the realm. True, traders and merchants came far and wide, but Damocles was never really one for letting things go by without inquiry. He needed to learn more, to ascertain whether or not this seductress was a threat or not. Her good looks be damned! Even if she did inspire carnal curiosity in the confines of his mind, his call for duty still beckoned him to gather more intelligence.
“Oh? And how has a woman with no husband or noted purse come to board a ship to Greece? Surely, it would have been easier to fare elsewhere closer to your very, very far home.” He inquired, using her own words to poke holes in her arguments and words so as to gather more from her. “A seamstress? Well, why have you come to Colchis then? We have no great industries for textiles or clothes here. If you had wished for a better life across that field, then perhaps Athenia or Taengea would have been a more profitable venue.” He once more questioned, smiling somewhat mockingly as he once more turned his handsome features to her, subtly letting her know that he was on to her.
“Military affairs, my lady. Affairs martial are my expertise, and my province is quite the bellicose one. Though we do have exports of grain and food, I fear these are but secondary to our armed fury. Alas, forgive me. Such tedious topics are certainly boring you. I do apologize for my rudeness." he once more stated, drawing on the knowledge he had of Laconia and his own background as a soldier to solidity his arguments and make them as believable as possible. "If you don't mind. Would you mind telling me to which Gods you pray to? I often find religious to be an interesting field of conversation." he asked, knowing that her answer would provide insight as to where she came from.
An interested smirk appeared across Damocles’s face as he heard the woman talk. It was interesting, to say the least, to behold the woman. Clearly, she was not native to Greece, given her sultry, but darker complexion and amusing, but subtle accent. It might have been a case of study and careful thought, but for as much as he wanted to fixate and unlock the secrets that this mystifying woman closed by lock and key, he knew that staring and analyzing would only get him so much. Thus, he took all that he could gather from her and put it in perspective.
Yes, it was obvious that she truly was from some far-removed land away from Colchis, but he could not come to understand where she had been from. Obviously, she was neither Greek or Egyptian, for in his many years of service in the military, he had come across many of those barbarians from the south. Furthermore, she was neither pale enough nor tall enough to be one of the Northern lands, thus discarding that area as a possibility. As far as he could tell, though her features were somewhat dark, they were not dark enough to make her an obvious Bedoan, and, judging by her openness in terms of appearance, she was far too free with her body to be a Judean.
He might not have been an expert in global distinctions, but Damocles liked to believe he was rather well-versed in several different realms and lands. Yes, it was true that he had preferred the company of loud, obnoxious men and questionable women for the most part, but he still liked to pay consideration to knowledge when he could His baron had been a well-read man after all, one with many, large, vast interests, so it wasn’t particularly out of place for him to ask for one or two different books about the different known realms of the world. Be that as it may however, he would not reveal his secrets to her yet. It would be far easier for him to gauge the truth of her words against his limited, but still available recollections about the world.
“I’m curious. What is the name of this land of which you speak. I am interested in many different kingdoms and empires far and wide. I would love to learn more about the place from which such a beautiful woman as yourself comes from.” He inquired, keeping his reserved biases to himself whilst subtly lying about his own interests through a coy smile and a fleeting stare of his odd, grey eyes. “Who knows, maybe I might take to traveling abroad in search of a wife as fair as yourself.” He teased, feining curiosity behind his flirtatious tone so as to pretend to be interested in this woman’s place of origin.
He truly did not care for this woman, or her stories. Yet, he was a captain, and his duty demanded protection and security across all the realm. True, traders and merchants came far and wide, but Damocles was never really one for letting things go by without inquiry. He needed to learn more, to ascertain whether or not this seductress was a threat or not. Her good looks be damned! Even if she did inspire carnal curiosity in the confines of his mind, his call for duty still beckoned him to gather more intelligence.
“Oh? And how has a woman with no husband or noted purse come to board a ship to Greece? Surely, it would have been easier to fare elsewhere closer to your very, very far home.” He inquired, using her own words to poke holes in her arguments and words so as to gather more from her. “A seamstress? Well, why have you come to Colchis then? We have no great industries for textiles or clothes here. If you had wished for a better life across that field, then perhaps Athenia or Taengea would have been a more profitable venue.” He once more questioned, smiling somewhat mockingly as he once more turned his handsome features to her, subtly letting her know that he was on to her.
“Military affairs, my lady. Affairs martial are my expertise, and my province is quite the bellicose one. Though we do have exports of grain and food, I fear these are but secondary to our armed fury. Alas, forgive me. Such tedious topics are certainly boring you. I do apologize for my rudeness." he once more stated, drawing on the knowledge he had of Laconia and his own background as a soldier to solidity his arguments and make them as believable as possible. "If you don't mind. Would you mind telling me to which Gods you pray to? I often find religious to be an interesting field of conversation." he asked, knowing that her answer would provide insight as to where she came from.
Somra had several reasons to keep her homeland to herself, the biggest one being the fact that she was a runaway slave. Still technically owned by her master back in her homeland, she would face execution if anyone from her home were to find her. The second was the fact that she did not want anyone finding out a single thing about her past. There was no one who needed to know where she had been, or what she had done. Or some how trace her back to the group she was now with, and subsequently trace the group back to the crimes they had committed thus far. She needed to excuse herself from this situation, and mostly this conversation.
She remained calm as she did so, it would be easy enough to slip out of here and into the night, and the chances of her seeing this man again were slim. There were many people in this city, and she would likely be able to avoid him well enough.
She ignored his first question for the moment, laughing a little as he questioned why she would come to Colchis to ply her trade.
“Why, my Lord, I regretfully inform you that people do wear clothing here.” She said simply, turning it into a teasing joke. A seamstress could make money any where. Except maybe Egypt, most of the time those people wore little to no clothing. But the Greeks kept themselves clothed, and the nobles even more so. They were always looking to one-up each other with new fancy designs and such. Truly if she were a seamstress, she would have more than enough work in Midas to at least keep herself in a small house and with food in her stomach.
She moved out of the hot spring waters, not caring that her naked form was now on display, she took the few steps over to her clothing, careful to make her every movement seductive and sweet. She picked her dress up and slipped it on over her head, the sheer fabric clinging to her wet skin. She gave him a smile and a bow.
“And now, I must leave you to your curiosities. A lady must leave men wanting, for how else would she garner interest?” She said, an excuse to avoid his questions about her homeland and her Gods. If she ever saw that he was in the same area as her again, she would take care to avoid him. He asked far too many questions for her taste, and did not seem to copy most men in their blind acceptance of her words in the presence of her youthful beauty.
She was careful with her movements as she walked away, careful to keep her pace slow and regular, so as not to give off the hint of the fact that she held talents below her looks. She stepped out of his view and when she was sure she could not be seen, she quickly scaled a nearby cliff and took off across the uneven ground, choosing to take a path back that he would not be able to see her, nor follow her. If he were to look out to see where she had gone, he would find that she had magically disappeared from sight. No one would think that anyone would have climbed these steep and harsh cliff faces to get away.
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Somra had several reasons to keep her homeland to herself, the biggest one being the fact that she was a runaway slave. Still technically owned by her master back in her homeland, she would face execution if anyone from her home were to find her. The second was the fact that she did not want anyone finding out a single thing about her past. There was no one who needed to know where she had been, or what she had done. Or some how trace her back to the group she was now with, and subsequently trace the group back to the crimes they had committed thus far. She needed to excuse herself from this situation, and mostly this conversation.
She remained calm as she did so, it would be easy enough to slip out of here and into the night, and the chances of her seeing this man again were slim. There were many people in this city, and she would likely be able to avoid him well enough.
She ignored his first question for the moment, laughing a little as he questioned why she would come to Colchis to ply her trade.
“Why, my Lord, I regretfully inform you that people do wear clothing here.” She said simply, turning it into a teasing joke. A seamstress could make money any where. Except maybe Egypt, most of the time those people wore little to no clothing. But the Greeks kept themselves clothed, and the nobles even more so. They were always looking to one-up each other with new fancy designs and such. Truly if she were a seamstress, she would have more than enough work in Midas to at least keep herself in a small house and with food in her stomach.
She moved out of the hot spring waters, not caring that her naked form was now on display, she took the few steps over to her clothing, careful to make her every movement seductive and sweet. She picked her dress up and slipped it on over her head, the sheer fabric clinging to her wet skin. She gave him a smile and a bow.
“And now, I must leave you to your curiosities. A lady must leave men wanting, for how else would she garner interest?” She said, an excuse to avoid his questions about her homeland and her Gods. If she ever saw that he was in the same area as her again, she would take care to avoid him. He asked far too many questions for her taste, and did not seem to copy most men in their blind acceptance of her words in the presence of her youthful beauty.
She was careful with her movements as she walked away, careful to keep her pace slow and regular, so as not to give off the hint of the fact that she held talents below her looks. She stepped out of his view and when she was sure she could not be seen, she quickly scaled a nearby cliff and took off across the uneven ground, choosing to take a path back that he would not be able to see her, nor follow her. If he were to look out to see where she had gone, he would find that she had magically disappeared from sight. No one would think that anyone would have climbed these steep and harsh cliff faces to get away.
Somra had several reasons to keep her homeland to herself, the biggest one being the fact that she was a runaway slave. Still technically owned by her master back in her homeland, she would face execution if anyone from her home were to find her. The second was the fact that she did not want anyone finding out a single thing about her past. There was no one who needed to know where she had been, or what she had done. Or some how trace her back to the group she was now with, and subsequently trace the group back to the crimes they had committed thus far. She needed to excuse herself from this situation, and mostly this conversation.
She remained calm as she did so, it would be easy enough to slip out of here and into the night, and the chances of her seeing this man again were slim. There were many people in this city, and she would likely be able to avoid him well enough.
She ignored his first question for the moment, laughing a little as he questioned why she would come to Colchis to ply her trade.
“Why, my Lord, I regretfully inform you that people do wear clothing here.” She said simply, turning it into a teasing joke. A seamstress could make money any where. Except maybe Egypt, most of the time those people wore little to no clothing. But the Greeks kept themselves clothed, and the nobles even more so. They were always looking to one-up each other with new fancy designs and such. Truly if she were a seamstress, she would have more than enough work in Midas to at least keep herself in a small house and with food in her stomach.
She moved out of the hot spring waters, not caring that her naked form was now on display, she took the few steps over to her clothing, careful to make her every movement seductive and sweet. She picked her dress up and slipped it on over her head, the sheer fabric clinging to her wet skin. She gave him a smile and a bow.
“And now, I must leave you to your curiosities. A lady must leave men wanting, for how else would she garner interest?” She said, an excuse to avoid his questions about her homeland and her Gods. If she ever saw that he was in the same area as her again, she would take care to avoid him. He asked far too many questions for her taste, and did not seem to copy most men in their blind acceptance of her words in the presence of her youthful beauty.
She was careful with her movements as she walked away, careful to keep her pace slow and regular, so as not to give off the hint of the fact that she held talents below her looks. She stepped out of his view and when she was sure she could not be seen, she quickly scaled a nearby cliff and took off across the uneven ground, choosing to take a path back that he would not be able to see her, nor follow her. If he were to look out to see where she had gone, he would find that she had magically disappeared from sight. No one would think that anyone would have climbed these steep and harsh cliff faces to get away.
None of his interactions with the woman seemed to garner any sense of calmness to Damocles’s already unrulable sense of skepticism. This enigmatic woman made him weary and careful, though not enough for him to make fast on anything that could be remotely called a weapon and make for a strike. Instead, he kept his composure and relaxed against the thermal heat of the soothing waters (that did little to satisfy his cynical disbelief). His features might have signaled at a relatively tamed and cordial outlook, but deep down, the man was not-at-all-convinced that this woman was telling her entire tale.
She had given him a cunning retort in the form of an amusing joke, one that Damocles smirked and chuckled to, in part due to its somewhat humorous nature, but mostly in an effort to keep up appearances and dissuade from any of the questions his inquisitive head manufactured at a break-neck pace. “Well yes, we do wear clothes. That is entirely correct.” He answered back, not caring much for whether or not she was going to reply back to him with the same levity that had been previously raised between them.
Damocles was no fool. He knew that a seamstress could make a living anywhere, expect maybe in those savage lands down in Egypt where those barbarians dared to bare out their unsightly bodies unabashedly in a fashion so bold and crass to make even Aphrodite herself blush in shame. Perhaps he had been too bold to ask so many questions. Maybe his skepticism was unfounded and unreal. He wanted to believe that this rather quick conversation had no deeper meaning behind it…but then the woman stood up from the water, naked and comfortable in her own skin.
Though his masculine instincts caused him to stare at the pleasantness of her form, Damocles’s more trained inclinations shouted at him to no longer abandon this woman of the doubt and hesitation that momentarily plagued his mind. This woman was neither Greek nor of any land he knew. Only the Egyptians would be so bold in their nudity, and though she was exotic in looks, there was little to suggest she hailed from that land. Her movements were elegant, but calculative, suggesting to the militant that this was not the first time she had been this aggressive in her salacious endeavors. Whatever was this woman’s homeland it was none that he had heard of before, and he would much rather keep it that way. There were bigger fish to fry than that of a mystery girl from some odd, suggestive place.
“So soon?” he playfully, but falsely teased with a faux smirk on his face. “Ah, well if you must go, so be it. A Lord knows better than to demand the attention of a lady.” He responded, hiding his lust well behind a face that would not budge against such plain trickery as seduction. These were tools that he used and readily employed in the past. He had mastered the art of secret, wanton allurement and glamorous charming long before meeting her, and his co-equal interest in men and women had declared him able and ready for either of the two sexes to fall victim to his own plays. The girl was good at using her good looks, he would give her that. Alas, though she might have been some sort of seductive animal, he was well aware, though he doubted she knew of this, that he had been a monster instead. He thought about making a quick chase for the girl once she left, to ready himself and pursue her with interest and fascination so as to quell his curiosity and perchance bring her before any superiors who might quite enjoy learning about such an odd creature in the capital. Nevertheless, and to his own confession, Damocles frankly did not care for such a thing right now. He only wished to be alone in the presence of the waters that hug his body, away from distractions and dangers wherever they may be. Let this girl be another’s problem. He, himself, would focus on whatever it was he wanted now. And what he wanted now was to rest and ready himself for the growing ambitions of the coming morning.
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None of his interactions with the woman seemed to garner any sense of calmness to Damocles’s already unrulable sense of skepticism. This enigmatic woman made him weary and careful, though not enough for him to make fast on anything that could be remotely called a weapon and make for a strike. Instead, he kept his composure and relaxed against the thermal heat of the soothing waters (that did little to satisfy his cynical disbelief). His features might have signaled at a relatively tamed and cordial outlook, but deep down, the man was not-at-all-convinced that this woman was telling her entire tale.
She had given him a cunning retort in the form of an amusing joke, one that Damocles smirked and chuckled to, in part due to its somewhat humorous nature, but mostly in an effort to keep up appearances and dissuade from any of the questions his inquisitive head manufactured at a break-neck pace. “Well yes, we do wear clothes. That is entirely correct.” He answered back, not caring much for whether or not she was going to reply back to him with the same levity that had been previously raised between them.
Damocles was no fool. He knew that a seamstress could make a living anywhere, expect maybe in those savage lands down in Egypt where those barbarians dared to bare out their unsightly bodies unabashedly in a fashion so bold and crass to make even Aphrodite herself blush in shame. Perhaps he had been too bold to ask so many questions. Maybe his skepticism was unfounded and unreal. He wanted to believe that this rather quick conversation had no deeper meaning behind it…but then the woman stood up from the water, naked and comfortable in her own skin.
Though his masculine instincts caused him to stare at the pleasantness of her form, Damocles’s more trained inclinations shouted at him to no longer abandon this woman of the doubt and hesitation that momentarily plagued his mind. This woman was neither Greek nor of any land he knew. Only the Egyptians would be so bold in their nudity, and though she was exotic in looks, there was little to suggest she hailed from that land. Her movements were elegant, but calculative, suggesting to the militant that this was not the first time she had been this aggressive in her salacious endeavors. Whatever was this woman’s homeland it was none that he had heard of before, and he would much rather keep it that way. There were bigger fish to fry than that of a mystery girl from some odd, suggestive place.
“So soon?” he playfully, but falsely teased with a faux smirk on his face. “Ah, well if you must go, so be it. A Lord knows better than to demand the attention of a lady.” He responded, hiding his lust well behind a face that would not budge against such plain trickery as seduction. These were tools that he used and readily employed in the past. He had mastered the art of secret, wanton allurement and glamorous charming long before meeting her, and his co-equal interest in men and women had declared him able and ready for either of the two sexes to fall victim to his own plays. The girl was good at using her good looks, he would give her that. Alas, though she might have been some sort of seductive animal, he was well aware, though he doubted she knew of this, that he had been a monster instead. He thought about making a quick chase for the girl once she left, to ready himself and pursue her with interest and fascination so as to quell his curiosity and perchance bring her before any superiors who might quite enjoy learning about such an odd creature in the capital. Nevertheless, and to his own confession, Damocles frankly did not care for such a thing right now. He only wished to be alone in the presence of the waters that hug his body, away from distractions and dangers wherever they may be. Let this girl be another’s problem. He, himself, would focus on whatever it was he wanted now. And what he wanted now was to rest and ready himself for the growing ambitions of the coming morning.
None of his interactions with the woman seemed to garner any sense of calmness to Damocles’s already unrulable sense of skepticism. This enigmatic woman made him weary and careful, though not enough for him to make fast on anything that could be remotely called a weapon and make for a strike. Instead, he kept his composure and relaxed against the thermal heat of the soothing waters (that did little to satisfy his cynical disbelief). His features might have signaled at a relatively tamed and cordial outlook, but deep down, the man was not-at-all-convinced that this woman was telling her entire tale.
She had given him a cunning retort in the form of an amusing joke, one that Damocles smirked and chuckled to, in part due to its somewhat humorous nature, but mostly in an effort to keep up appearances and dissuade from any of the questions his inquisitive head manufactured at a break-neck pace. “Well yes, we do wear clothes. That is entirely correct.” He answered back, not caring much for whether or not she was going to reply back to him with the same levity that had been previously raised between them.
Damocles was no fool. He knew that a seamstress could make a living anywhere, expect maybe in those savage lands down in Egypt where those barbarians dared to bare out their unsightly bodies unabashedly in a fashion so bold and crass to make even Aphrodite herself blush in shame. Perhaps he had been too bold to ask so many questions. Maybe his skepticism was unfounded and unreal. He wanted to believe that this rather quick conversation had no deeper meaning behind it…but then the woman stood up from the water, naked and comfortable in her own skin.
Though his masculine instincts caused him to stare at the pleasantness of her form, Damocles’s more trained inclinations shouted at him to no longer abandon this woman of the doubt and hesitation that momentarily plagued his mind. This woman was neither Greek nor of any land he knew. Only the Egyptians would be so bold in their nudity, and though she was exotic in looks, there was little to suggest she hailed from that land. Her movements were elegant, but calculative, suggesting to the militant that this was not the first time she had been this aggressive in her salacious endeavors. Whatever was this woman’s homeland it was none that he had heard of before, and he would much rather keep it that way. There were bigger fish to fry than that of a mystery girl from some odd, suggestive place.
“So soon?” he playfully, but falsely teased with a faux smirk on his face. “Ah, well if you must go, so be it. A Lord knows better than to demand the attention of a lady.” He responded, hiding his lust well behind a face that would not budge against such plain trickery as seduction. These were tools that he used and readily employed in the past. He had mastered the art of secret, wanton allurement and glamorous charming long before meeting her, and his co-equal interest in men and women had declared him able and ready for either of the two sexes to fall victim to his own plays. The girl was good at using her good looks, he would give her that. Alas, though she might have been some sort of seductive animal, he was well aware, though he doubted she knew of this, that he had been a monster instead. He thought about making a quick chase for the girl once she left, to ready himself and pursue her with interest and fascination so as to quell his curiosity and perchance bring her before any superiors who might quite enjoy learning about such an odd creature in the capital. Nevertheless, and to his own confession, Damocles frankly did not care for such a thing right now. He only wished to be alone in the presence of the waters that hug his body, away from distractions and dangers wherever they may be. Let this girl be another’s problem. He, himself, would focus on whatever it was he wanted now. And what he wanted now was to rest and ready himself for the growing ambitions of the coming morning.