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Deshra was relieved that no one had seemed to argue with her desire to relieve this man of his coins. As the man was rolled over, she searched around for a moment before Spotting his coin purse which had managed to migrate a short distance away from him. Deshra snatched it up and tucked it into her belt. She gave another cursory glance at Anippe just to make sure no harm had come to the girl. Not that Deshra particularly cared, but she knew the madam would be upset if any damage had been done to her. Deshra made no move to share any of the money with the girl. Anippe would have to learn to be more bold in her decision making if she wanted to get ahead in life.
Her prize secure, Deshra turned to answer some of the questions that had been posed by a healer who had turned up to help. Personally she didn't understand why anyone would want to poke their nose into something that was so obviously none of their business, but who was Deshra to judge someone. She certainly didn't have the standing to do it out loud at the very least, Deshra shrugged at the priestess. "I don't have a clue why someone decided to hit him over the head. But he certainly deserved it, harassing poor Anippe like he did." It came with the territory in their line at work, but Deshra couldn't say that she didn't take some sort ofsatisfaction at the man receiving what he deserved.
Deshra looked over us the man who had ordered his men to turn over this unconscious man invited them over to share opium and wine. Deshra was not one to say no to free drink and drugs. Besides, that group seemed like a place where she might be able to find a willing client for the night. Still, she knew her station she would not leave her discussion with the priestess mid-conversation. She had not been dismissed, nor was the conversation over. She was not going to cause offense to someone as respected as a priestess by leaving in the middle of a conversation.
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Deshra was relieved that no one had seemed to argue with her desire to relieve this man of his coins. As the man was rolled over, she searched around for a moment before Spotting his coin purse which had managed to migrate a short distance away from him. Deshra snatched it up and tucked it into her belt. She gave another cursory glance at Anippe just to make sure no harm had come to the girl. Not that Deshra particularly cared, but she knew the madam would be upset if any damage had been done to her. Deshra made no move to share any of the money with the girl. Anippe would have to learn to be more bold in her decision making if she wanted to get ahead in life.
Her prize secure, Deshra turned to answer some of the questions that had been posed by a healer who had turned up to help. Personally she didn't understand why anyone would want to poke their nose into something that was so obviously none of their business, but who was Deshra to judge someone. She certainly didn't have the standing to do it out loud at the very least, Deshra shrugged at the priestess. "I don't have a clue why someone decided to hit him over the head. But he certainly deserved it, harassing poor Anippe like he did." It came with the territory in their line at work, but Deshra couldn't say that she didn't take some sort ofsatisfaction at the man receiving what he deserved.
Deshra looked over us the man who had ordered his men to turn over this unconscious man invited them over to share opium and wine. Deshra was not one to say no to free drink and drugs. Besides, that group seemed like a place where she might be able to find a willing client for the night. Still, she knew her station she would not leave her discussion with the priestess mid-conversation. She had not been dismissed, nor was the conversation over. She was not going to cause offense to someone as respected as a priestess by leaving in the middle of a conversation.
Deshra was relieved that no one had seemed to argue with her desire to relieve this man of his coins. As the man was rolled over, she searched around for a moment before Spotting his coin purse which had managed to migrate a short distance away from him. Deshra snatched it up and tucked it into her belt. She gave another cursory glance at Anippe just to make sure no harm had come to the girl. Not that Deshra particularly cared, but she knew the madam would be upset if any damage had been done to her. Deshra made no move to share any of the money with the girl. Anippe would have to learn to be more bold in her decision making if she wanted to get ahead in life.
Her prize secure, Deshra turned to answer some of the questions that had been posed by a healer who had turned up to help. Personally she didn't understand why anyone would want to poke their nose into something that was so obviously none of their business, but who was Deshra to judge someone. She certainly didn't have the standing to do it out loud at the very least, Deshra shrugged at the priestess. "I don't have a clue why someone decided to hit him over the head. But he certainly deserved it, harassing poor Anippe like he did." It came with the territory in their line at work, but Deshra couldn't say that she didn't take some sort ofsatisfaction at the man receiving what he deserved.
Deshra looked over us the man who had ordered his men to turn over this unconscious man invited them over to share opium and wine. Deshra was not one to say no to free drink and drugs. Besides, that group seemed like a place where she might be able to find a willing client for the night. Still, she knew her station she would not leave her discussion with the priestess mid-conversation. She had not been dismissed, nor was the conversation over. She was not going to cause offense to someone as respected as a priestess by leaving in the middle of a conversation.
“I’m not cold at all,” Hatshepsut replied, smiling over at her lady-in-waiting. Was Safiya’s arms getting tired from carrying her heavy cloak? She would tell her to drape it over her divan when they arrived at the pavilion unless she needed it then. Unfortunately, only a woman of noble birth was permitted to carry anything that pertained to the queen’s person. If not for that restriction, she would have told Safiya to hand it over to a slave.
Her gaze traversed the area as strolled toward her pavilion. The celebration was not yet in full swing and yet some people were already drinking quite heavily. One poor fellow had apparently passed out, surrounded by a few others who were either his friends or hoped to rob him. She knew better to interfere in the lives of the commoners. They loved her because of her kindness and compassion, but expected her to stay out of their personal affairs. There were guards patrolling up and down the river. Maybe one of hem would come to the man’s assistance.
The soft strains of music caught her attention and she saw a musician up ahead playing his lyre. A small group of people surrounded him, occasionally throwing a few coins into a bowl sitting next to him. He was quite good, and Hatshepsut stopped to listen, remaining a short distance away. She had hoped to remain unnoticed, but somebody recognized her and everyone fell to their knees and bowed to her. The lyre player stilled his instrument and did the same. She gave them permission to rise and told the musician how much she enjoyed his tune. The man beamed from ear to ear, especially when one of her slaves stepped forward and tipped a large handful of coins into his bowl.
By the time they arrived at the pavilion, she had collected a rather large bouquet from her subjects. The slaves waiting for her fluffed up the pillows upon the chaise before she reclined upon it. A tray of savory delicacies was set upon the table by her chair, and another slave handed her a glass of the finest wine. More stood by with fans in case she became too hot. Now that she was shaded from the rapidly setting sun, she could feel the chill of the evening. “I believe I can use that cloak now, Safiya,” she said, again smiling at the other girl.
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“I’m not cold at all,” Hatshepsut replied, smiling over at her lady-in-waiting. Was Safiya’s arms getting tired from carrying her heavy cloak? She would tell her to drape it over her divan when they arrived at the pavilion unless she needed it then. Unfortunately, only a woman of noble birth was permitted to carry anything that pertained to the queen’s person. If not for that restriction, she would have told Safiya to hand it over to a slave.
Her gaze traversed the area as strolled toward her pavilion. The celebration was not yet in full swing and yet some people were already drinking quite heavily. One poor fellow had apparently passed out, surrounded by a few others who were either his friends or hoped to rob him. She knew better to interfere in the lives of the commoners. They loved her because of her kindness and compassion, but expected her to stay out of their personal affairs. There were guards patrolling up and down the river. Maybe one of hem would come to the man’s assistance.
The soft strains of music caught her attention and she saw a musician up ahead playing his lyre. A small group of people surrounded him, occasionally throwing a few coins into a bowl sitting next to him. He was quite good, and Hatshepsut stopped to listen, remaining a short distance away. She had hoped to remain unnoticed, but somebody recognized her and everyone fell to their knees and bowed to her. The lyre player stilled his instrument and did the same. She gave them permission to rise and told the musician how much she enjoyed his tune. The man beamed from ear to ear, especially when one of her slaves stepped forward and tipped a large handful of coins into his bowl.
By the time they arrived at the pavilion, she had collected a rather large bouquet from her subjects. The slaves waiting for her fluffed up the pillows upon the chaise before she reclined upon it. A tray of savory delicacies was set upon the table by her chair, and another slave handed her a glass of the finest wine. More stood by with fans in case she became too hot. Now that she was shaded from the rapidly setting sun, she could feel the chill of the evening. “I believe I can use that cloak now, Safiya,” she said, again smiling at the other girl.
“I’m not cold at all,” Hatshepsut replied, smiling over at her lady-in-waiting. Was Safiya’s arms getting tired from carrying her heavy cloak? She would tell her to drape it over her divan when they arrived at the pavilion unless she needed it then. Unfortunately, only a woman of noble birth was permitted to carry anything that pertained to the queen’s person. If not for that restriction, she would have told Safiya to hand it over to a slave.
Her gaze traversed the area as strolled toward her pavilion. The celebration was not yet in full swing and yet some people were already drinking quite heavily. One poor fellow had apparently passed out, surrounded by a few others who were either his friends or hoped to rob him. She knew better to interfere in the lives of the commoners. They loved her because of her kindness and compassion, but expected her to stay out of their personal affairs. There were guards patrolling up and down the river. Maybe one of hem would come to the man’s assistance.
The soft strains of music caught her attention and she saw a musician up ahead playing his lyre. A small group of people surrounded him, occasionally throwing a few coins into a bowl sitting next to him. He was quite good, and Hatshepsut stopped to listen, remaining a short distance away. She had hoped to remain unnoticed, but somebody recognized her and everyone fell to their knees and bowed to her. The lyre player stilled his instrument and did the same. She gave them permission to rise and told the musician how much she enjoyed his tune. The man beamed from ear to ear, especially when one of her slaves stepped forward and tipped a large handful of coins into his bowl.
By the time they arrived at the pavilion, she had collected a rather large bouquet from her subjects. The slaves waiting for her fluffed up the pillows upon the chaise before she reclined upon it. A tray of savory delicacies was set upon the table by her chair, and another slave handed her a glass of the finest wine. More stood by with fans in case she became too hot. Now that she was shaded from the rapidly setting sun, she could feel the chill of the evening. “I believe I can use that cloak now, Safiya,” she said, again smiling at the other girl.
Nafretiri listened to everything both the girl and the man had to say before making a decision as to what should be done. "If he deserved it, it must be the will of the gods," she said to the girl, "and if this man says he will be fine, it's enough for me, though he should perhaps not be left in the middle of the street. " She was unsure exactly what to do about that. "Perhaps bring him to the nearest tent and leave him there- but bother no more than that." Her stomach quivered at what the girl's words implied might been done to the one called Anippe. If the man did die, Nafretiri wasn't sure she would feel any guilt for her own actions. After all, whatever happened to make the man pass out might have been because he was trying to hurt someone else the way Nafretiri herself had been hurt. Gods forgive me if I seem uncaring. I merely place more value on the attacked ones than on their attackers, she thought.
While Nafretiri had seen other priestesses of Hathor use opium in some of their rites, she herself had never been brave enough to try it, hearing tales of hallucinations.
Her past was horrible enough without possibly seeing it in a hallucination. Gods knew to see it in her imagination was bad enough.
However, she would have liked some wine, and she was honest enough to admit that- this time. Exposed as she always felt in public, these ceremonies frayed her nerves despite the fact that for her it was an honor to have been chosen to serve the goddess- even though her past made the fact that Hathor seemed to have chosen her for herself an irony.
She did feel an odd sense of pleasure at realizing that as a priestessm her words seemed to be worth listening to. Pleasure, but certainly not superiority, and she gave the girl a smile and the man a bow- because he looked important- before she joined her sister priestesses again.
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Nafretiri listened to everything both the girl and the man had to say before making a decision as to what should be done. "If he deserved it, it must be the will of the gods," she said to the girl, "and if this man says he will be fine, it's enough for me, though he should perhaps not be left in the middle of the street. " She was unsure exactly what to do about that. "Perhaps bring him to the nearest tent and leave him there- but bother no more than that." Her stomach quivered at what the girl's words implied might been done to the one called Anippe. If the man did die, Nafretiri wasn't sure she would feel any guilt for her own actions. After all, whatever happened to make the man pass out might have been because he was trying to hurt someone else the way Nafretiri herself had been hurt. Gods forgive me if I seem uncaring. I merely place more value on the attacked ones than on their attackers, she thought.
While Nafretiri had seen other priestesses of Hathor use opium in some of their rites, she herself had never been brave enough to try it, hearing tales of hallucinations.
Her past was horrible enough without possibly seeing it in a hallucination. Gods knew to see it in her imagination was bad enough.
However, she would have liked some wine, and she was honest enough to admit that- this time. Exposed as she always felt in public, these ceremonies frayed her nerves despite the fact that for her it was an honor to have been chosen to serve the goddess- even though her past made the fact that Hathor seemed to have chosen her for herself an irony.
She did feel an odd sense of pleasure at realizing that as a priestessm her words seemed to be worth listening to. Pleasure, but certainly not superiority, and she gave the girl a smile and the man a bow- because he looked important- before she joined her sister priestesses again.
Nafretiri listened to everything both the girl and the man had to say before making a decision as to what should be done. "If he deserved it, it must be the will of the gods," she said to the girl, "and if this man says he will be fine, it's enough for me, though he should perhaps not be left in the middle of the street. " She was unsure exactly what to do about that. "Perhaps bring him to the nearest tent and leave him there- but bother no more than that." Her stomach quivered at what the girl's words implied might been done to the one called Anippe. If the man did die, Nafretiri wasn't sure she would feel any guilt for her own actions. After all, whatever happened to make the man pass out might have been because he was trying to hurt someone else the way Nafretiri herself had been hurt. Gods forgive me if I seem uncaring. I merely place more value on the attacked ones than on their attackers, she thought.
While Nafretiri had seen other priestesses of Hathor use opium in some of their rites, she herself had never been brave enough to try it, hearing tales of hallucinations.
Her past was horrible enough without possibly seeing it in a hallucination. Gods knew to see it in her imagination was bad enough.
However, she would have liked some wine, and she was honest enough to admit that- this time. Exposed as she always felt in public, these ceremonies frayed her nerves despite the fact that for her it was an honor to have been chosen to serve the goddess- even though her past made the fact that Hathor seemed to have chosen her for herself an irony.
She did feel an odd sense of pleasure at realizing that as a priestessm her words seemed to be worth listening to. Pleasure, but certainly not superiority, and she gave the girl a smile and the man a bow- because he looked important- before she joined her sister priestesses again.
Akhenaten watched the woman, she seemed to have a positive attitude, which wasn’t something that the Egyptian Lord himself could claim. But it was a bit infectious, and her excitement at the sun going down had him laughing and grinning a little. Clearly she was easily amused, or perhaps already intoxicated, either way she made a great addition to his little gathering of friends who weren’t truly friends. She didn’t seem to hesitate in partaking in the opium, and it was then that he decided he liked the woman, or at least he did for the moment. Who knew where the celebration would leave them, Hena changed his mind quite quickly when it came to his opinions on others.
He laughed again as she asked him what happened until the sun rose the next morning, using some strange nickname she had decided to give him. He was in a good mood so he did not correct her and tell her to call him Lord or his full name. It was rare that he was in such a mood, to let a commoner call him by such an informal name, especially one that he had only just met, and one he barely knew.
“It depends on what parts you wish to partake in. Anything you want can be done through the night, but most commonly the drink flows, the opium is passed around, and there is plenty of intimacy.” He said, smirking a little. She was cute, and if no better prospects were found and she was receptive to it, he wouldn’t complain about the night being spent with her. But he wasn’t sure she cared for such things, or if someone more attractive would come along and steal his attention. Though he had to admit, he was rather attracted to her foreign looks. He had been with many Egyptian woman, they all seemed to blur together now, but she was just exotic enough that it caught his interest, at least a little bit.
“What’s mine is yours, I have more than enough wine and opium to last all of us through the night, food and water as well if you care for such things. Consider yourself a friend of mine, and I take good care of my friends.” He said with a snicker, it wasn’t entirely a lie, those who hung around Akhenaten had access to a lot of things if he was in a good mood, but the young man was so fickle that one never knew if he would offer you fine wine, or have you arrested for made up offences. It was a fine line that anyone who wanted to be his friend attempted to walk, to stay on his good side.
Hena took a cup of wine and lifted it into the air, his gaze still on the foreign woman across from him, he made a short toast.
“To a new year, new friends, and new experiences.” He said simply, when the toast was done, he emptied the cup of it’s contents quickly, feeling the intoxication start to creep in.
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Akhenaten watched the woman, she seemed to have a positive attitude, which wasn’t something that the Egyptian Lord himself could claim. But it was a bit infectious, and her excitement at the sun going down had him laughing and grinning a little. Clearly she was easily amused, or perhaps already intoxicated, either way she made a great addition to his little gathering of friends who weren’t truly friends. She didn’t seem to hesitate in partaking in the opium, and it was then that he decided he liked the woman, or at least he did for the moment. Who knew where the celebration would leave them, Hena changed his mind quite quickly when it came to his opinions on others.
He laughed again as she asked him what happened until the sun rose the next morning, using some strange nickname she had decided to give him. He was in a good mood so he did not correct her and tell her to call him Lord or his full name. It was rare that he was in such a mood, to let a commoner call him by such an informal name, especially one that he had only just met, and one he barely knew.
“It depends on what parts you wish to partake in. Anything you want can be done through the night, but most commonly the drink flows, the opium is passed around, and there is plenty of intimacy.” He said, smirking a little. She was cute, and if no better prospects were found and she was receptive to it, he wouldn’t complain about the night being spent with her. But he wasn’t sure she cared for such things, or if someone more attractive would come along and steal his attention. Though he had to admit, he was rather attracted to her foreign looks. He had been with many Egyptian woman, they all seemed to blur together now, but she was just exotic enough that it caught his interest, at least a little bit.
“What’s mine is yours, I have more than enough wine and opium to last all of us through the night, food and water as well if you care for such things. Consider yourself a friend of mine, and I take good care of my friends.” He said with a snicker, it wasn’t entirely a lie, those who hung around Akhenaten had access to a lot of things if he was in a good mood, but the young man was so fickle that one never knew if he would offer you fine wine, or have you arrested for made up offences. It was a fine line that anyone who wanted to be his friend attempted to walk, to stay on his good side.
Hena took a cup of wine and lifted it into the air, his gaze still on the foreign woman across from him, he made a short toast.
“To a new year, new friends, and new experiences.” He said simply, when the toast was done, he emptied the cup of it’s contents quickly, feeling the intoxication start to creep in.
Akhenaten watched the woman, she seemed to have a positive attitude, which wasn’t something that the Egyptian Lord himself could claim. But it was a bit infectious, and her excitement at the sun going down had him laughing and grinning a little. Clearly she was easily amused, or perhaps already intoxicated, either way she made a great addition to his little gathering of friends who weren’t truly friends. She didn’t seem to hesitate in partaking in the opium, and it was then that he decided he liked the woman, or at least he did for the moment. Who knew where the celebration would leave them, Hena changed his mind quite quickly when it came to his opinions on others.
He laughed again as she asked him what happened until the sun rose the next morning, using some strange nickname she had decided to give him. He was in a good mood so he did not correct her and tell her to call him Lord or his full name. It was rare that he was in such a mood, to let a commoner call him by such an informal name, especially one that he had only just met, and one he barely knew.
“It depends on what parts you wish to partake in. Anything you want can be done through the night, but most commonly the drink flows, the opium is passed around, and there is plenty of intimacy.” He said, smirking a little. She was cute, and if no better prospects were found and she was receptive to it, he wouldn’t complain about the night being spent with her. But he wasn’t sure she cared for such things, or if someone more attractive would come along and steal his attention. Though he had to admit, he was rather attracted to her foreign looks. He had been with many Egyptian woman, they all seemed to blur together now, but she was just exotic enough that it caught his interest, at least a little bit.
“What’s mine is yours, I have more than enough wine and opium to last all of us through the night, food and water as well if you care for such things. Consider yourself a friend of mine, and I take good care of my friends.” He said with a snicker, it wasn’t entirely a lie, those who hung around Akhenaten had access to a lot of things if he was in a good mood, but the young man was so fickle that one never knew if he would offer you fine wine, or have you arrested for made up offences. It was a fine line that anyone who wanted to be his friend attempted to walk, to stay on his good side.
Hena took a cup of wine and lifted it into the air, his gaze still on the foreign woman across from him, he made a short toast.
“To a new year, new friends, and new experiences.” He said simply, when the toast was done, he emptied the cup of it’s contents quickly, feeling the intoxication start to creep in.
Neena was quite comfortable having plonked herself down amongst the group that the Egyptian called his friends. She was quick, however, to discern that they were hardly companions that she would call friends. They were there and they were present and they partook in the young man's booze and smoke. But they didn't look at him much when he talked, unless his tone commanded attention, and they didn't smile at him in the way that close friends did. Instead, they seemed to just be hangers on to the man's noble presence...
Then again, Akie's attitude was clearly easy-going and he didn't seem unintelligent. So, perhaps he was well aware of the type of fair-weather friends he had accumulated for himself. She wondered if that didn't make him a little lonely?
Neena had so few friends compared to the large group that had clustered around the Egyptian. She passed through the kingdoms and provinces and lives of others so quickly that she rarely made a connection that could be considered stronger than a simple acquaintance. But the friends that she did make were the kind that stuck. They were the connections that would have her journeying across a kingdom to help out if they needed it or had them so solidly in her memory that she could recognise their face or voice at any point, in any incarnation and in any place in the known world.
And that made her feel connected to others. Even if she travelled alone for most of her life. She suspected that the shallow kind of relations that this man kept would have her feeling significantly more alone.
But then, Neena was no therapist, nor authority on how others should live their lives, so she mentioned nothing upon the subject. Instead, she accepted a little more smoke and then a cup of wine as Akie commented on the event and what was expected to happen in the hours between sunset and sunrise. She laughed outright as he listed the three scandalous acts that were most often committed during the festival.
"My kind of party!" She laughed, folding her legs up into a cross that had her feet on top of her knees, her tunic riding high on her thighs. She looked out over the torches on the beach and then towards a shaded dais that held a small group of people. One of them was dressed in supreme sort of manner, her carriage and jewels far more than any of the other potentially wealthy attendees.
Neena supposed that she had to be Queen. And yet she was very young to rule a kingdom.
Distracted by Akie's salutation over his drink - to a new year and experiences and such, Neena raised her cup in earnest to join him.
"New experiences indeed!" She insisted. "The only ones’ worth having!" For routine and uniformity was hardly the passion that drove Neena's life.
"Oh, Zeus's balls!" Neena cursed in Greek, her childhood and the cusses she had learnt upon a Grecian trade ship coming back to her in a moment of open realisation. She smacked the palm of her hand to her forehead. "I asked you a question!" She said with a wide grin and a rolling of eyes at her own stupidity. She had asked him what people did during the festival. "You get to make the request again..." She admitted, referring back to their original deal that had, last time, resulted in a man being knocked unconscious.
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Neena was quite comfortable having plonked herself down amongst the group that the Egyptian called his friends. She was quick, however, to discern that they were hardly companions that she would call friends. They were there and they were present and they partook in the young man's booze and smoke. But they didn't look at him much when he talked, unless his tone commanded attention, and they didn't smile at him in the way that close friends did. Instead, they seemed to just be hangers on to the man's noble presence...
Then again, Akie's attitude was clearly easy-going and he didn't seem unintelligent. So, perhaps he was well aware of the type of fair-weather friends he had accumulated for himself. She wondered if that didn't make him a little lonely?
Neena had so few friends compared to the large group that had clustered around the Egyptian. She passed through the kingdoms and provinces and lives of others so quickly that she rarely made a connection that could be considered stronger than a simple acquaintance. But the friends that she did make were the kind that stuck. They were the connections that would have her journeying across a kingdom to help out if they needed it or had them so solidly in her memory that she could recognise their face or voice at any point, in any incarnation and in any place in the known world.
And that made her feel connected to others. Even if she travelled alone for most of her life. She suspected that the shallow kind of relations that this man kept would have her feeling significantly more alone.
But then, Neena was no therapist, nor authority on how others should live their lives, so she mentioned nothing upon the subject. Instead, she accepted a little more smoke and then a cup of wine as Akie commented on the event and what was expected to happen in the hours between sunset and sunrise. She laughed outright as he listed the three scandalous acts that were most often committed during the festival.
"My kind of party!" She laughed, folding her legs up into a cross that had her feet on top of her knees, her tunic riding high on her thighs. She looked out over the torches on the beach and then towards a shaded dais that held a small group of people. One of them was dressed in supreme sort of manner, her carriage and jewels far more than any of the other potentially wealthy attendees.
Neena supposed that she had to be Queen. And yet she was very young to rule a kingdom.
Distracted by Akie's salutation over his drink - to a new year and experiences and such, Neena raised her cup in earnest to join him.
"New experiences indeed!" She insisted. "The only ones’ worth having!" For routine and uniformity was hardly the passion that drove Neena's life.
"Oh, Zeus's balls!" Neena cursed in Greek, her childhood and the cusses she had learnt upon a Grecian trade ship coming back to her in a moment of open realisation. She smacked the palm of her hand to her forehead. "I asked you a question!" She said with a wide grin and a rolling of eyes at her own stupidity. She had asked him what people did during the festival. "You get to make the request again..." She admitted, referring back to their original deal that had, last time, resulted in a man being knocked unconscious.
Neena was quite comfortable having plonked herself down amongst the group that the Egyptian called his friends. She was quick, however, to discern that they were hardly companions that she would call friends. They were there and they were present and they partook in the young man's booze and smoke. But they didn't look at him much when he talked, unless his tone commanded attention, and they didn't smile at him in the way that close friends did. Instead, they seemed to just be hangers on to the man's noble presence...
Then again, Akie's attitude was clearly easy-going and he didn't seem unintelligent. So, perhaps he was well aware of the type of fair-weather friends he had accumulated for himself. She wondered if that didn't make him a little lonely?
Neena had so few friends compared to the large group that had clustered around the Egyptian. She passed through the kingdoms and provinces and lives of others so quickly that she rarely made a connection that could be considered stronger than a simple acquaintance. But the friends that she did make were the kind that stuck. They were the connections that would have her journeying across a kingdom to help out if they needed it or had them so solidly in her memory that she could recognise their face or voice at any point, in any incarnation and in any place in the known world.
And that made her feel connected to others. Even if she travelled alone for most of her life. She suspected that the shallow kind of relations that this man kept would have her feeling significantly more alone.
But then, Neena was no therapist, nor authority on how others should live their lives, so she mentioned nothing upon the subject. Instead, she accepted a little more smoke and then a cup of wine as Akie commented on the event and what was expected to happen in the hours between sunset and sunrise. She laughed outright as he listed the three scandalous acts that were most often committed during the festival.
"My kind of party!" She laughed, folding her legs up into a cross that had her feet on top of her knees, her tunic riding high on her thighs. She looked out over the torches on the beach and then towards a shaded dais that held a small group of people. One of them was dressed in supreme sort of manner, her carriage and jewels far more than any of the other potentially wealthy attendees.
Neena supposed that she had to be Queen. And yet she was very young to rule a kingdom.
Distracted by Akie's salutation over his drink - to a new year and experiences and such, Neena raised her cup in earnest to join him.
"New experiences indeed!" She insisted. "The only ones’ worth having!" For routine and uniformity was hardly the passion that drove Neena's life.
"Oh, Zeus's balls!" Neena cursed in Greek, her childhood and the cusses she had learnt upon a Grecian trade ship coming back to her in a moment of open realisation. She smacked the palm of her hand to her forehead. "I asked you a question!" She said with a wide grin and a rolling of eyes at her own stupidity. She had asked him what people did during the festival. "You get to make the request again..." She admitted, referring back to their original deal that had, last time, resulted in a man being knocked unconscious.
It was of course, both her duty and honour to attend to the queen and frankly, it wasn't the hardest work she had ever done. Though Safiya was also aware that chasing after the royal cat was occasionally more work than she had been expecting, still with the knowledge of having the sure company of her sister alongside her it made sure that Safiya never felt lonely or overworked.
That and this was supposed to be fun. Which might be the case once she was no longer needed to stand around and attend so closely to the queen and her needs; there was always a chance to escape and find some amusement.
Safiya supposed it didn't marry well with her determination to do the best in her role here but then again, it was hard to be sensible and practical all of the time. She had her moments when she wanted to still be the young girl who had no cares in the world and all the time on her hands that she could ever want. However, she couldn't really allow that to happen forever, even in the stories eventually the hero had to grow up.
"Of course, it's right here. Shall I help settle it properly?" she asked, not wanting to presume that the queen wished to be touched or otherwise handled at this moment.
Being pregnant apparently made it hard to always feel comfortable even with the gentlest and most well-intentioned of touches. That and the mood swings, Safiya had learned to practise caution.
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It was of course, both her duty and honour to attend to the queen and frankly, it wasn't the hardest work she had ever done. Though Safiya was also aware that chasing after the royal cat was occasionally more work than she had been expecting, still with the knowledge of having the sure company of her sister alongside her it made sure that Safiya never felt lonely or overworked.
That and this was supposed to be fun. Which might be the case once she was no longer needed to stand around and attend so closely to the queen and her needs; there was always a chance to escape and find some amusement.
Safiya supposed it didn't marry well with her determination to do the best in her role here but then again, it was hard to be sensible and practical all of the time. She had her moments when she wanted to still be the young girl who had no cares in the world and all the time on her hands that she could ever want. However, she couldn't really allow that to happen forever, even in the stories eventually the hero had to grow up.
"Of course, it's right here. Shall I help settle it properly?" she asked, not wanting to presume that the queen wished to be touched or otherwise handled at this moment.
Being pregnant apparently made it hard to always feel comfortable even with the gentlest and most well-intentioned of touches. That and the mood swings, Safiya had learned to practise caution.
It was of course, both her duty and honour to attend to the queen and frankly, it wasn't the hardest work she had ever done. Though Safiya was also aware that chasing after the royal cat was occasionally more work than she had been expecting, still with the knowledge of having the sure company of her sister alongside her it made sure that Safiya never felt lonely or overworked.
That and this was supposed to be fun. Which might be the case once she was no longer needed to stand around and attend so closely to the queen and her needs; there was always a chance to escape and find some amusement.
Safiya supposed it didn't marry well with her determination to do the best in her role here but then again, it was hard to be sensible and practical all of the time. She had her moments when she wanted to still be the young girl who had no cares in the world and all the time on her hands that she could ever want. However, she couldn't really allow that to happen forever, even in the stories eventually the hero had to grow up.
"Of course, it's right here. Shall I help settle it properly?" she asked, not wanting to presume that the queen wished to be touched or otherwise handled at this moment.
Being pregnant apparently made it hard to always feel comfortable even with the gentlest and most well-intentioned of touches. That and the mood swings, Safiya had learned to practise caution.
Rubiah loved new year. It was possibly her favourite time of the year. There was drink. There was good. There was smoke. And there was more sex than a promiscuous little thing like herself knew what to do with. It was the most hedonistic and decadent of Egyptian events and she loved it. But what sent that love rising higher and hotter with a burning passion of opportunity was the fact that everyone else liked new years. They would get drunk, make merry and be off their heads so much that it took very little for Rubiah to suggest, edge and coerce others into providing her with all that she desired for absolutely free!
A drunkard was always willing to share his drink, a high fucker off their head would pass over their pipe. And people so loved up with the adrenaline of sex and the scent of passion around them were happy to just smile and say 'yes please, here you go.' It was a wonderous event!
Especially for someone who could enjoy all those things but at least keep a few of her Gods-given wits about her. Which was exactly what Rubiah was. A woman who had grown up on beer because it was cheaper than milk and barely near the taste of water, Rubiah could drink anyone under the table, regardless of her diminished and unassuming size. She had a head for alcohol and a nose for smoke and a... well, an appetite for sex. Despite her slightly Bedoan colouring, she was an Egyptian through and through when it came to the selfish manner in which she lived her life.
Which meant that she took an eager opportunity that befell her as she approached a small group of celebrators on the Nile's bank and overheard a Bedoan woman talking about questions and requests.
"I have a request." Rubiah stated, striding towards them with long bare legs and a waist hidden only in short silks and golden, braided belts. Her legs were long, despite her short stature and the ties on her hips were all that covered her sides as she swayed them to and fro. Her chest was bare of clothing but her hair pulled forwards into two bulks of black braids that hung to her navel, masking the swells of her shape from view. Her arms were uncovered too and her ink able to be seen. A golden, downward starburst could be seen from the centre of her nose.
Rubiah's full lips curled up in an arrogant smirk.
"You can go away."
And before anyone could stop her, Rubiah had shoved the Bedoan away from where she had sat next to Akhenaten, had moved down to her knees, swung one leg over and settled herself upon the Sheifa son's lap, facing him.
"This seat taken, Akhenaten?" She asked with a coy rise of her brow and a seductive tone to her simple enquiry, as she wiggled down against his pelvis.
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Rubiah loved new year. It was possibly her favourite time of the year. There was drink. There was good. There was smoke. And there was more sex than a promiscuous little thing like herself knew what to do with. It was the most hedonistic and decadent of Egyptian events and she loved it. But what sent that love rising higher and hotter with a burning passion of opportunity was the fact that everyone else liked new years. They would get drunk, make merry and be off their heads so much that it took very little for Rubiah to suggest, edge and coerce others into providing her with all that she desired for absolutely free!
A drunkard was always willing to share his drink, a high fucker off their head would pass over their pipe. And people so loved up with the adrenaline of sex and the scent of passion around them were happy to just smile and say 'yes please, here you go.' It was a wonderous event!
Especially for someone who could enjoy all those things but at least keep a few of her Gods-given wits about her. Which was exactly what Rubiah was. A woman who had grown up on beer because it was cheaper than milk and barely near the taste of water, Rubiah could drink anyone under the table, regardless of her diminished and unassuming size. She had a head for alcohol and a nose for smoke and a... well, an appetite for sex. Despite her slightly Bedoan colouring, she was an Egyptian through and through when it came to the selfish manner in which she lived her life.
Which meant that she took an eager opportunity that befell her as she approached a small group of celebrators on the Nile's bank and overheard a Bedoan woman talking about questions and requests.
"I have a request." Rubiah stated, striding towards them with long bare legs and a waist hidden only in short silks and golden, braided belts. Her legs were long, despite her short stature and the ties on her hips were all that covered her sides as she swayed them to and fro. Her chest was bare of clothing but her hair pulled forwards into two bulks of black braids that hung to her navel, masking the swells of her shape from view. Her arms were uncovered too and her ink able to be seen. A golden, downward starburst could be seen from the centre of her nose.
Rubiah's full lips curled up in an arrogant smirk.
"You can go away."
And before anyone could stop her, Rubiah had shoved the Bedoan away from where she had sat next to Akhenaten, had moved down to her knees, swung one leg over and settled herself upon the Sheifa son's lap, facing him.
"This seat taken, Akhenaten?" She asked with a coy rise of her brow and a seductive tone to her simple enquiry, as she wiggled down against his pelvis.
Rubiah loved new year. It was possibly her favourite time of the year. There was drink. There was good. There was smoke. And there was more sex than a promiscuous little thing like herself knew what to do with. It was the most hedonistic and decadent of Egyptian events and she loved it. But what sent that love rising higher and hotter with a burning passion of opportunity was the fact that everyone else liked new years. They would get drunk, make merry and be off their heads so much that it took very little for Rubiah to suggest, edge and coerce others into providing her with all that she desired for absolutely free!
A drunkard was always willing to share his drink, a high fucker off their head would pass over their pipe. And people so loved up with the adrenaline of sex and the scent of passion around them were happy to just smile and say 'yes please, here you go.' It was a wonderous event!
Especially for someone who could enjoy all those things but at least keep a few of her Gods-given wits about her. Which was exactly what Rubiah was. A woman who had grown up on beer because it was cheaper than milk and barely near the taste of water, Rubiah could drink anyone under the table, regardless of her diminished and unassuming size. She had a head for alcohol and a nose for smoke and a... well, an appetite for sex. Despite her slightly Bedoan colouring, she was an Egyptian through and through when it came to the selfish manner in which she lived her life.
Which meant that she took an eager opportunity that befell her as she approached a small group of celebrators on the Nile's bank and overheard a Bedoan woman talking about questions and requests.
"I have a request." Rubiah stated, striding towards them with long bare legs and a waist hidden only in short silks and golden, braided belts. Her legs were long, despite her short stature and the ties on her hips were all that covered her sides as she swayed them to and fro. Her chest was bare of clothing but her hair pulled forwards into two bulks of black braids that hung to her navel, masking the swells of her shape from view. Her arms were uncovered too and her ink able to be seen. A golden, downward starburst could be seen from the centre of her nose.
Rubiah's full lips curled up in an arrogant smirk.
"You can go away."
And before anyone could stop her, Rubiah had shoved the Bedoan away from where she had sat next to Akhenaten, had moved down to her knees, swung one leg over and settled herself upon the Sheifa son's lap, facing him.
"This seat taken, Akhenaten?" She asked with a coy rise of her brow and a seductive tone to her simple enquiry, as she wiggled down against his pelvis.
He laughed as the woman seemed to be perfectly okay with the way that the Egyptians celebrated the annual event, and Akhenaten decided fully that he did like her and she was just the type of friend he would enjoy. At least for now, his friendships never really withstood the test of time. But hey, perhaps the night would be interesting for the both of them. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea of sex at least, and while Hena didn’t plan on sticking to one partner for the night, she would at least be a good start if she so wished.
Akhenaten raised an eyebrow as the woman spoke a language that he could only assume was Greek. He had only heard it a few times before, but it sounded how he remembered it sounding. Which was interesting, considering her skin tone, the woman was not from Greece nor Egypt, and yet she seemed to know both languages. Where was she from and what was her story? He figured if it held his interest long enough that night, he would find such things out. Or perhaps it would be boring and he would lose interest in the story.
He laughed a little as she said that he got to make another request of her, and he had just such a request in mind, a little smirk on his face as he went to say exactly what he wanted to say.
But before he could get the words out, there was suddenly some woman pushing her aside and placing herself on his lap and the confusion was clear on his face. He did not recognize this woman, nor did he appreciate his conversation and enjoyment being interrupted as such. Where the noble was not usually one to complain of a woman in his lap, this one had been so abrupt and strange, he was not a fan.
“That’s Lord H’Sheifa to you.” He stated in a clearly unamused tone, not knowing who this woman was or where she had come from. He didn’t quite push her off his lap, because well, he was rather intoxicated and she was good looking, but he did grab her hips and move her off of him, standing from his spot, he moved a step back from this stranger.
“Do I know you?” He questioned, motioning for his slaves to come and make sure Neena was okay and to refill her cup as he tried to figure out who this woman was who had just planted herself in his lap and called him by his first name, as if she knew him personally. Hena wasn’t good with names and faces, but considering her looks and her tattoos, he was pretty sure he would remember her if they had ever met.
He then turned his attention back to Neena.
“Are you alright?” He asked, not genuinely caring if she was hurt, but more hoping that she wasn’t so the party wouldn’t be ruined. He was just starting and had no intentions of ending the fun this early.
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He laughed as the woman seemed to be perfectly okay with the way that the Egyptians celebrated the annual event, and Akhenaten decided fully that he did like her and she was just the type of friend he would enjoy. At least for now, his friendships never really withstood the test of time. But hey, perhaps the night would be interesting for the both of them. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea of sex at least, and while Hena didn’t plan on sticking to one partner for the night, she would at least be a good start if she so wished.
Akhenaten raised an eyebrow as the woman spoke a language that he could only assume was Greek. He had only heard it a few times before, but it sounded how he remembered it sounding. Which was interesting, considering her skin tone, the woman was not from Greece nor Egypt, and yet she seemed to know both languages. Where was she from and what was her story? He figured if it held his interest long enough that night, he would find such things out. Or perhaps it would be boring and he would lose interest in the story.
He laughed a little as she said that he got to make another request of her, and he had just such a request in mind, a little smirk on his face as he went to say exactly what he wanted to say.
But before he could get the words out, there was suddenly some woman pushing her aside and placing herself on his lap and the confusion was clear on his face. He did not recognize this woman, nor did he appreciate his conversation and enjoyment being interrupted as such. Where the noble was not usually one to complain of a woman in his lap, this one had been so abrupt and strange, he was not a fan.
“That’s Lord H’Sheifa to you.” He stated in a clearly unamused tone, not knowing who this woman was or where she had come from. He didn’t quite push her off his lap, because well, he was rather intoxicated and she was good looking, but he did grab her hips and move her off of him, standing from his spot, he moved a step back from this stranger.
“Do I know you?” He questioned, motioning for his slaves to come and make sure Neena was okay and to refill her cup as he tried to figure out who this woman was who had just planted herself in his lap and called him by his first name, as if she knew him personally. Hena wasn’t good with names and faces, but considering her looks and her tattoos, he was pretty sure he would remember her if they had ever met.
He then turned his attention back to Neena.
“Are you alright?” He asked, not genuinely caring if she was hurt, but more hoping that she wasn’t so the party wouldn’t be ruined. He was just starting and had no intentions of ending the fun this early.
He laughed as the woman seemed to be perfectly okay with the way that the Egyptians celebrated the annual event, and Akhenaten decided fully that he did like her and she was just the type of friend he would enjoy. At least for now, his friendships never really withstood the test of time. But hey, perhaps the night would be interesting for the both of them. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea of sex at least, and while Hena didn’t plan on sticking to one partner for the night, she would at least be a good start if she so wished.
Akhenaten raised an eyebrow as the woman spoke a language that he could only assume was Greek. He had only heard it a few times before, but it sounded how he remembered it sounding. Which was interesting, considering her skin tone, the woman was not from Greece nor Egypt, and yet she seemed to know both languages. Where was she from and what was her story? He figured if it held his interest long enough that night, he would find such things out. Or perhaps it would be boring and he would lose interest in the story.
He laughed a little as she said that he got to make another request of her, and he had just such a request in mind, a little smirk on his face as he went to say exactly what he wanted to say.
But before he could get the words out, there was suddenly some woman pushing her aside and placing herself on his lap and the confusion was clear on his face. He did not recognize this woman, nor did he appreciate his conversation and enjoyment being interrupted as such. Where the noble was not usually one to complain of a woman in his lap, this one had been so abrupt and strange, he was not a fan.
“That’s Lord H’Sheifa to you.” He stated in a clearly unamused tone, not knowing who this woman was or where she had come from. He didn’t quite push her off his lap, because well, he was rather intoxicated and she was good looking, but he did grab her hips and move her off of him, standing from his spot, he moved a step back from this stranger.
“Do I know you?” He questioned, motioning for his slaves to come and make sure Neena was okay and to refill her cup as he tried to figure out who this woman was who had just planted herself in his lap and called him by his first name, as if she knew him personally. Hena wasn’t good with names and faces, but considering her looks and her tattoos, he was pretty sure he would remember her if they had ever met.
He then turned his attention back to Neena.
“Are you alright?” He asked, not genuinely caring if she was hurt, but more hoping that she wasn’t so the party wouldn’t be ruined. He was just starting and had no intentions of ending the fun this early.
Neena was surprised at the shove from the other woman that had approached with a look of such determination that she should have expected it. As with any good dancer, acrobat and sailor, however, Neena just rolled with the motion. As her shoulder was shoved, she rolled back and away. The only casualty of such a push was the drink that had swayed and slopped from the rim of her cup. The rest of her was totally fine.
When the woman deposited herself on the Egyptian lord's lap, Neena blinked but was not entirely surprised by the action. She might have tried a similar tactic if she had known the man or was at least open to the technique being used by another. Looking at the way the hedonistic Egyptians like to celebrate their new year, it wasn't unexpected to see them astride one another. There were several already in similar positions, enjoying the motions and ecstasies of intimacy.
She was a little shocked - and sort of admiring - when it became clear, however, that the Egyptian didn't know the woman that had settled herself on his lap. She was a little envious of a girl that had enough confidence to do such a thing to a total stranger and knew the freedom of heart and mind that would lead to such actions. She found the admiration for such a thing dimming any hurt or offence that she might have taken at being pushed to nothing at all.
When the Sheifa lord insisted on his title, Neena watched the drama that unfolded with amusement and sipped the last of the wine that had remained within the chalice she held. It was like a theatrical show or something! Real life drama for her to witness with comedic relief. Her gaze followed the woman as she was quickly lifted and redistributed to the sands whilst Akhenaten came to his feet, questioning the tattooed lady.
He then ordered for Neena's drink to be filled and Neena brightly held up her cup. She had repositioned herself to be seated on the sands, cross-legged and she had no issues at all avoiding the splodges of wet sand where crimson wine had seeped into the grains.
"Don't mind if I do." She stated simply and was pleased to have a refill. Especially one that she didn't have to pay for.
When he asked if she was alright, Neena waved a hand of dismissal whilst she drank from the dented cup. She shook her head as she swallowed, her body language all easy acceptance.
"Hunky dory." She insisted, once her mouth was empty and she shrugged one shoulder. "Just enjoying the show."
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Neena was surprised at the shove from the other woman that had approached with a look of such determination that she should have expected it. As with any good dancer, acrobat and sailor, however, Neena just rolled with the motion. As her shoulder was shoved, she rolled back and away. The only casualty of such a push was the drink that had swayed and slopped from the rim of her cup. The rest of her was totally fine.
When the woman deposited herself on the Egyptian lord's lap, Neena blinked but was not entirely surprised by the action. She might have tried a similar tactic if she had known the man or was at least open to the technique being used by another. Looking at the way the hedonistic Egyptians like to celebrate their new year, it wasn't unexpected to see them astride one another. There were several already in similar positions, enjoying the motions and ecstasies of intimacy.
She was a little shocked - and sort of admiring - when it became clear, however, that the Egyptian didn't know the woman that had settled herself on his lap. She was a little envious of a girl that had enough confidence to do such a thing to a total stranger and knew the freedom of heart and mind that would lead to such actions. She found the admiration for such a thing dimming any hurt or offence that she might have taken at being pushed to nothing at all.
When the Sheifa lord insisted on his title, Neena watched the drama that unfolded with amusement and sipped the last of the wine that had remained within the chalice she held. It was like a theatrical show or something! Real life drama for her to witness with comedic relief. Her gaze followed the woman as she was quickly lifted and redistributed to the sands whilst Akhenaten came to his feet, questioning the tattooed lady.
He then ordered for Neena's drink to be filled and Neena brightly held up her cup. She had repositioned herself to be seated on the sands, cross-legged and she had no issues at all avoiding the splodges of wet sand where crimson wine had seeped into the grains.
"Don't mind if I do." She stated simply and was pleased to have a refill. Especially one that she didn't have to pay for.
When he asked if she was alright, Neena waved a hand of dismissal whilst she drank from the dented cup. She shook her head as she swallowed, her body language all easy acceptance.
"Hunky dory." She insisted, once her mouth was empty and she shrugged one shoulder. "Just enjoying the show."
Neena was surprised at the shove from the other woman that had approached with a look of such determination that she should have expected it. As with any good dancer, acrobat and sailor, however, Neena just rolled with the motion. As her shoulder was shoved, she rolled back and away. The only casualty of such a push was the drink that had swayed and slopped from the rim of her cup. The rest of her was totally fine.
When the woman deposited herself on the Egyptian lord's lap, Neena blinked but was not entirely surprised by the action. She might have tried a similar tactic if she had known the man or was at least open to the technique being used by another. Looking at the way the hedonistic Egyptians like to celebrate their new year, it wasn't unexpected to see them astride one another. There were several already in similar positions, enjoying the motions and ecstasies of intimacy.
She was a little shocked - and sort of admiring - when it became clear, however, that the Egyptian didn't know the woman that had settled herself on his lap. She was a little envious of a girl that had enough confidence to do such a thing to a total stranger and knew the freedom of heart and mind that would lead to such actions. She found the admiration for such a thing dimming any hurt or offence that she might have taken at being pushed to nothing at all.
When the Sheifa lord insisted on his title, Neena watched the drama that unfolded with amusement and sipped the last of the wine that had remained within the chalice she held. It was like a theatrical show or something! Real life drama for her to witness with comedic relief. Her gaze followed the woman as she was quickly lifted and redistributed to the sands whilst Akhenaten came to his feet, questioning the tattooed lady.
He then ordered for Neena's drink to be filled and Neena brightly held up her cup. She had repositioned herself to be seated on the sands, cross-legged and she had no issues at all avoiding the splodges of wet sand where crimson wine had seeped into the grains.
"Don't mind if I do." She stated simply and was pleased to have a refill. Especially one that she didn't have to pay for.
When he asked if she was alright, Neena waved a hand of dismissal whilst she drank from the dented cup. She shook her head as she swallowed, her body language all easy acceptance.
"Hunky dory." She insisted, once her mouth was empty and she shrugged one shoulder. "Just enjoying the show."
When she settled upon his lap, Rubiah had every confidence that a man of Akhenaten's reputation would enjoy the appearance of an attractive woman upon his person. Yet his tone changed to one that lacked amusement and he insisted that she use his appropriate title. Rubiah's eyes lit up with fire - a sign of her own enjoyment of the situation - and her full lips curved into a cocky smile. She had gotten to him. Whether that was in a good way or a bad way, she had made an impression nonetheless.
As he insisted that she use his title, Rubiah's head tilted a little, her braids falling down over her shoulder and brushing over his arms in a way that would tempt most men and she thought she had succeeded in doing so with him when his hands found her hips. Such a touch was neither seductive or arousing, however, as he simply held on with a simple and firm grip and then used it to move and deposit her away from him, onto the rugs that coated the sand.
Falling with the shift, a soft laugh on her lips, Rubiah leaned back on her elbows and one knee raised to split her skirts to her hip. Her hair hung down her back as she looked up at the man that now loomed over her. She tutted under her breath.
"I'm disappointed, Lord H'Sheifa." She insisted, her words right but her tone lacking respect. "Your reputation led me to believe that you were more fun." Her lower lip pouted outwards in mock disappointment. Her hips rocked a little on the blanket beneath her and her head tilted. She bit into her lower lip. "Come on... let's celebrate the new year."
Her eyes were wicked and trained on the man, who was handsome as Egyptians went and, as far as she was aware, a fan of promiscuity. Not that he was showing it much right now.
Those who were into the provocative natures of life were her favourite. They were people who were weak to what they desired and had passion ruling their heads. They were the right sort of people to get into your bed so that you could get into their good graces. And the more good graces you had, the more information you could get and the more you could ensure your way into things and places that your birth might not otherwise allow.
Rubiah had been born with so little going for her at any one moment, that she had learnt long ago how to use the basics that she did have. One of which was her appearance. A bitchin' body and a tempting stare...
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When she settled upon his lap, Rubiah had every confidence that a man of Akhenaten's reputation would enjoy the appearance of an attractive woman upon his person. Yet his tone changed to one that lacked amusement and he insisted that she use his appropriate title. Rubiah's eyes lit up with fire - a sign of her own enjoyment of the situation - and her full lips curved into a cocky smile. She had gotten to him. Whether that was in a good way or a bad way, she had made an impression nonetheless.
As he insisted that she use his title, Rubiah's head tilted a little, her braids falling down over her shoulder and brushing over his arms in a way that would tempt most men and she thought she had succeeded in doing so with him when his hands found her hips. Such a touch was neither seductive or arousing, however, as he simply held on with a simple and firm grip and then used it to move and deposit her away from him, onto the rugs that coated the sand.
Falling with the shift, a soft laugh on her lips, Rubiah leaned back on her elbows and one knee raised to split her skirts to her hip. Her hair hung down her back as she looked up at the man that now loomed over her. She tutted under her breath.
"I'm disappointed, Lord H'Sheifa." She insisted, her words right but her tone lacking respect. "Your reputation led me to believe that you were more fun." Her lower lip pouted outwards in mock disappointment. Her hips rocked a little on the blanket beneath her and her head tilted. She bit into her lower lip. "Come on... let's celebrate the new year."
Her eyes were wicked and trained on the man, who was handsome as Egyptians went and, as far as she was aware, a fan of promiscuity. Not that he was showing it much right now.
Those who were into the provocative natures of life were her favourite. They were people who were weak to what they desired and had passion ruling their heads. They were the right sort of people to get into your bed so that you could get into their good graces. And the more good graces you had, the more information you could get and the more you could ensure your way into things and places that your birth might not otherwise allow.
Rubiah had been born with so little going for her at any one moment, that she had learnt long ago how to use the basics that she did have. One of which was her appearance. A bitchin' body and a tempting stare...
When she settled upon his lap, Rubiah had every confidence that a man of Akhenaten's reputation would enjoy the appearance of an attractive woman upon his person. Yet his tone changed to one that lacked amusement and he insisted that she use his appropriate title. Rubiah's eyes lit up with fire - a sign of her own enjoyment of the situation - and her full lips curved into a cocky smile. She had gotten to him. Whether that was in a good way or a bad way, she had made an impression nonetheless.
As he insisted that she use his title, Rubiah's head tilted a little, her braids falling down over her shoulder and brushing over his arms in a way that would tempt most men and she thought she had succeeded in doing so with him when his hands found her hips. Such a touch was neither seductive or arousing, however, as he simply held on with a simple and firm grip and then used it to move and deposit her away from him, onto the rugs that coated the sand.
Falling with the shift, a soft laugh on her lips, Rubiah leaned back on her elbows and one knee raised to split her skirts to her hip. Her hair hung down her back as she looked up at the man that now loomed over her. She tutted under her breath.
"I'm disappointed, Lord H'Sheifa." She insisted, her words right but her tone lacking respect. "Your reputation led me to believe that you were more fun." Her lower lip pouted outwards in mock disappointment. Her hips rocked a little on the blanket beneath her and her head tilted. She bit into her lower lip. "Come on... let's celebrate the new year."
Her eyes were wicked and trained on the man, who was handsome as Egyptians went and, as far as she was aware, a fan of promiscuity. Not that he was showing it much right now.
Those who were into the provocative natures of life were her favourite. They were people who were weak to what they desired and had passion ruling their heads. They were the right sort of people to get into your bed so that you could get into their good graces. And the more good graces you had, the more information you could get and the more you could ensure your way into things and places that your birth might not otherwise allow.
Rubiah had been born with so little going for her at any one moment, that she had learnt long ago how to use the basics that she did have. One of which was her appearance. A bitchin' body and a tempting stare...
As water sifts through a clepsydra, times moves forward.
All across Egypt, there were those that followed the beat of the drum. Not just that of music, but the rhythmic pace of beating hearts and warm bodies. If there was one thing that Egypt enjoyed, it was the fire of life that was brought by a rousing party. Amenemhat was no different, but his definition of such included the stir of a show. The ringmaster of the Tempest of Set was not alone. All around him was the Clique, his personally groomed acrobats that formed the centerpiece of the famed show that his circus garnered its name from, their movements forming a rhythm accompanied by the drumming of his musicians.
If there was one thing that Amenemhat could give to the Gods and their mortal subjects this day, it was the sliver of the circus that drew eyes and garnered coin from pockets. This was no rehearsed offering, but nonetheless, the acrobats moved in a rhythm, pushing their hands against the sands in unison and lifting themselves back up in cartwheels that flourished violet shawls up and down in vibrant spins of colour. The pair behind him moved so that they walked backwards behind the ringmaster before tumbling away from him to leap back to their feet and vault backwards through the air towards him anew.
The drums grew louder still as Amenemhat brought his sister, Kesi closer to him. An arm snaked around her shoulder before he lifted her chin towards him, claiming the young woman in a kiss before he winked at her and pulled away. The performers continued to leap, engaging the crowd with like caresses along the chins of young men and women alike, pulling commoner and noble alike into their machinations. Amenemhat, of course, brought himself in the like violet fashions that alluded to his dominion over the Tempest of Set's performers. From the long, pleated skirts that hung over his hips to the shawl that draped over his own back, embossed with the vibrant dyed whirlpool that expanded outward and along the thicker fabric. His chest was bare, a thin golden chain at his throat keeping the shawl from flying away from his body.
The light breeze shifted the garment along the length of his body as gentle laughter escaped his lips. Of course, the man intended to engage, but the show went on behind him. Already, he could see a particular group that attracted his attention. There was the younger of the H'Sheifa men and the long-standing puppet-queen of Egypt, along with one of the younger daughters of House H'Haikaddad. Familiar by passing glances at best, Amenemhat did his utmost to keep those in the periphery of wealth and power known to him. Along with them, there were two commoners that he didn't know, but nevertheless, there were enough eyes to catch his attention.
Bring the dancers for free once, and it pays in dividends many times over. Charity should never be without its due publicity.
"Kesi, the dancers know what to do," he whispered in her ear as he made his way back over to her, for the moment. "If you'd like to participate with them, by all means. If not, go give them the signal to begin, then come and join me here."
Two suggestions, either as welcome as the last, as Amenemhat wove his machinations. Simply bringing in entertainment for the sake of it was... foolish. There needed to be some fun brought along. Having his dancer entrance and enthuse the people of Egypt came hand in hand with commanding them to steal from the people and place possessions in the hands of others. Having citizens accused of thievery, or making others question themselves and keep vigilant was all of the fun in a gathering of people. It was for that reason that he encouraged the presence of pickpockets in his circus as it performed, as well.
Tonight, however, performances were cancelled, the tent left not assembled and the slaves confined to their rooms and left under the supervision of overseers who were given enough lenience to drink and enjoy the passing of time, but not enough to join the festivities themselves.
"I hope that you all are enjoying the show," he said as he observed the H'Sheifa man and how his attention seemed to be fought between two women. The pitfalls of promiscuity, he thought to himself. For men so often allowed themselves to fall into lust and never got enough done. More than pleased to partake in what refreshments were supplied, Nem filled two cups with wine before he sat himself down a respectable enough distance away from the lord, his gaze kept trained on the queen. His lips curved into a wider smile, turned to a wink in a momentary lapse of propriety. Then, he took his sip of wine and allowed himself to lean back, one hand on the floor to support his bulk as he said,
"Another year passes over the cities of Egypt. Shall we raise a drink for many more? I am Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances."
He didn't give a fuck about the continued prosperity of the noble houses, but lip service was paid so that they might spend their money more liberally at his circus.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As water sifts through a clepsydra, times moves forward.
All across Egypt, there were those that followed the beat of the drum. Not just that of music, but the rhythmic pace of beating hearts and warm bodies. If there was one thing that Egypt enjoyed, it was the fire of life that was brought by a rousing party. Amenemhat was no different, but his definition of such included the stir of a show. The ringmaster of the Tempest of Set was not alone. All around him was the Clique, his personally groomed acrobats that formed the centerpiece of the famed show that his circus garnered its name from, their movements forming a rhythm accompanied by the drumming of his musicians.
If there was one thing that Amenemhat could give to the Gods and their mortal subjects this day, it was the sliver of the circus that drew eyes and garnered coin from pockets. This was no rehearsed offering, but nonetheless, the acrobats moved in a rhythm, pushing their hands against the sands in unison and lifting themselves back up in cartwheels that flourished violet shawls up and down in vibrant spins of colour. The pair behind him moved so that they walked backwards behind the ringmaster before tumbling away from him to leap back to their feet and vault backwards through the air towards him anew.
The drums grew louder still as Amenemhat brought his sister, Kesi closer to him. An arm snaked around her shoulder before he lifted her chin towards him, claiming the young woman in a kiss before he winked at her and pulled away. The performers continued to leap, engaging the crowd with like caresses along the chins of young men and women alike, pulling commoner and noble alike into their machinations. Amenemhat, of course, brought himself in the like violet fashions that alluded to his dominion over the Tempest of Set's performers. From the long, pleated skirts that hung over his hips to the shawl that draped over his own back, embossed with the vibrant dyed whirlpool that expanded outward and along the thicker fabric. His chest was bare, a thin golden chain at his throat keeping the shawl from flying away from his body.
The light breeze shifted the garment along the length of his body as gentle laughter escaped his lips. Of course, the man intended to engage, but the show went on behind him. Already, he could see a particular group that attracted his attention. There was the younger of the H'Sheifa men and the long-standing puppet-queen of Egypt, along with one of the younger daughters of House H'Haikaddad. Familiar by passing glances at best, Amenemhat did his utmost to keep those in the periphery of wealth and power known to him. Along with them, there were two commoners that he didn't know, but nevertheless, there were enough eyes to catch his attention.
Bring the dancers for free once, and it pays in dividends many times over. Charity should never be without its due publicity.
"Kesi, the dancers know what to do," he whispered in her ear as he made his way back over to her, for the moment. "If you'd like to participate with them, by all means. If not, go give them the signal to begin, then come and join me here."
Two suggestions, either as welcome as the last, as Amenemhat wove his machinations. Simply bringing in entertainment for the sake of it was... foolish. There needed to be some fun brought along. Having his dancer entrance and enthuse the people of Egypt came hand in hand with commanding them to steal from the people and place possessions in the hands of others. Having citizens accused of thievery, or making others question themselves and keep vigilant was all of the fun in a gathering of people. It was for that reason that he encouraged the presence of pickpockets in his circus as it performed, as well.
Tonight, however, performances were cancelled, the tent left not assembled and the slaves confined to their rooms and left under the supervision of overseers who were given enough lenience to drink and enjoy the passing of time, but not enough to join the festivities themselves.
"I hope that you all are enjoying the show," he said as he observed the H'Sheifa man and how his attention seemed to be fought between two women. The pitfalls of promiscuity, he thought to himself. For men so often allowed themselves to fall into lust and never got enough done. More than pleased to partake in what refreshments were supplied, Nem filled two cups with wine before he sat himself down a respectable enough distance away from the lord, his gaze kept trained on the queen. His lips curved into a wider smile, turned to a wink in a momentary lapse of propriety. Then, he took his sip of wine and allowed himself to lean back, one hand on the floor to support his bulk as he said,
"Another year passes over the cities of Egypt. Shall we raise a drink for many more? I am Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances."
He didn't give a fuck about the continued prosperity of the noble houses, but lip service was paid so that they might spend their money more liberally at his circus.
As water sifts through a clepsydra, times moves forward.
All across Egypt, there were those that followed the beat of the drum. Not just that of music, but the rhythmic pace of beating hearts and warm bodies. If there was one thing that Egypt enjoyed, it was the fire of life that was brought by a rousing party. Amenemhat was no different, but his definition of such included the stir of a show. The ringmaster of the Tempest of Set was not alone. All around him was the Clique, his personally groomed acrobats that formed the centerpiece of the famed show that his circus garnered its name from, their movements forming a rhythm accompanied by the drumming of his musicians.
If there was one thing that Amenemhat could give to the Gods and their mortal subjects this day, it was the sliver of the circus that drew eyes and garnered coin from pockets. This was no rehearsed offering, but nonetheless, the acrobats moved in a rhythm, pushing their hands against the sands in unison and lifting themselves back up in cartwheels that flourished violet shawls up and down in vibrant spins of colour. The pair behind him moved so that they walked backwards behind the ringmaster before tumbling away from him to leap back to their feet and vault backwards through the air towards him anew.
The drums grew louder still as Amenemhat brought his sister, Kesi closer to him. An arm snaked around her shoulder before he lifted her chin towards him, claiming the young woman in a kiss before he winked at her and pulled away. The performers continued to leap, engaging the crowd with like caresses along the chins of young men and women alike, pulling commoner and noble alike into their machinations. Amenemhat, of course, brought himself in the like violet fashions that alluded to his dominion over the Tempest of Set's performers. From the long, pleated skirts that hung over his hips to the shawl that draped over his own back, embossed with the vibrant dyed whirlpool that expanded outward and along the thicker fabric. His chest was bare, a thin golden chain at his throat keeping the shawl from flying away from his body.
The light breeze shifted the garment along the length of his body as gentle laughter escaped his lips. Of course, the man intended to engage, but the show went on behind him. Already, he could see a particular group that attracted his attention. There was the younger of the H'Sheifa men and the long-standing puppet-queen of Egypt, along with one of the younger daughters of House H'Haikaddad. Familiar by passing glances at best, Amenemhat did his utmost to keep those in the periphery of wealth and power known to him. Along with them, there were two commoners that he didn't know, but nevertheless, there were enough eyes to catch his attention.
Bring the dancers for free once, and it pays in dividends many times over. Charity should never be without its due publicity.
"Kesi, the dancers know what to do," he whispered in her ear as he made his way back over to her, for the moment. "If you'd like to participate with them, by all means. If not, go give them the signal to begin, then come and join me here."
Two suggestions, either as welcome as the last, as Amenemhat wove his machinations. Simply bringing in entertainment for the sake of it was... foolish. There needed to be some fun brought along. Having his dancer entrance and enthuse the people of Egypt came hand in hand with commanding them to steal from the people and place possessions in the hands of others. Having citizens accused of thievery, or making others question themselves and keep vigilant was all of the fun in a gathering of people. It was for that reason that he encouraged the presence of pickpockets in his circus as it performed, as well.
Tonight, however, performances were cancelled, the tent left not assembled and the slaves confined to their rooms and left under the supervision of overseers who were given enough lenience to drink and enjoy the passing of time, but not enough to join the festivities themselves.
"I hope that you all are enjoying the show," he said as he observed the H'Sheifa man and how his attention seemed to be fought between two women. The pitfalls of promiscuity, he thought to himself. For men so often allowed themselves to fall into lust and never got enough done. More than pleased to partake in what refreshments were supplied, Nem filled two cups with wine before he sat himself down a respectable enough distance away from the lord, his gaze kept trained on the queen. His lips curved into a wider smile, turned to a wink in a momentary lapse of propriety. Then, he took his sip of wine and allowed himself to lean back, one hand on the floor to support his bulk as he said,
"Another year passes over the cities of Egypt. Shall we raise a drink for many more? I am Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances."
He didn't give a fuck about the continued prosperity of the noble houses, but lip service was paid so that they might spend their money more liberally at his circus.
Kesi was floating. Her steps were light, and she moved at the natural rhythm of the drums behind her. In her hand, coiled around her arm, was Apep. The snake was to join the festivities and even put on a show perhaps. The charmer as always brought her pungi, ready to hypnotize and captivate and audience, lure them into the illusion that Apep so often fed into. The circus was coming to them today, and with their show, they will be transfixed, allured by the music, the acrobatics, and the performances.
It would be all to easy to find patrons on this night willing to follow them back to the circus. To be drawn in by illusion, to be presented a fantasy, was more addictive than any drug. An escape from reality, and a taste of chaos, that was all anyone every truly wanted. Even if those words never escaped a person’s lips, humanity was all the same. The tedium of life when there was order and peace was all too boring. It was in chaos that change would occur and excitement be found. This is what the Tempest of Set sold to Egypt, and the citizens were all too willing to pay for it.
Before Kesi could think further, she felt her brother’s arm move around her shoulder. His grasp was strong and warm, as were the lips that were placed upon her’s. Kesi felt her heart flutter a moment, loving each and every second of this. Amenemhat was her god, no one else. These were her lips to taste, and her arm to be pulled into. She was, as she had been, completely drawn in by her brother and everything he did. And then there was laughter, which brought her own very excited smile to her face. But when he whispered in her ear, goosebumps raised onto her skin and she bit her lip for one lustful moment.
She could not wait to be back home.
While performance was fun, and she was dying to give a show with Apep, Kesi would never pass up an opportunity to be with her brother. Kesi was drawn to the man, an innate need ran within her. She felt the need to always be close, glued to his side if he allowed it. She was raised to worship Amenemhat, and that she did with all of her heart.
So she went to the acrobats and gave the signal before returning to her brother. One eye would watch the clique to be sure they were performing up to standard, but the other would be left on her brother and the strangers he had led her to. She knew she should recognize two of them. They were rich, and it was important to know who was rich. The problem was with Kesi is that… names were useless to her. She rarely remembered them, and when she did it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Names only remained in her mind if the person of interest was of use for her or if she truly hated them. Names were her brother’s things, not Kesi’s.
Kesi glanced at the group and with a flourish, mimicked her brother’s introduction. “And I, Kesi of the Tempest of Set. Care for a show while you drink and welcome the new year?”
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Kesi was floating. Her steps were light, and she moved at the natural rhythm of the drums behind her. In her hand, coiled around her arm, was Apep. The snake was to join the festivities and even put on a show perhaps. The charmer as always brought her pungi, ready to hypnotize and captivate and audience, lure them into the illusion that Apep so often fed into. The circus was coming to them today, and with their show, they will be transfixed, allured by the music, the acrobatics, and the performances.
It would be all to easy to find patrons on this night willing to follow them back to the circus. To be drawn in by illusion, to be presented a fantasy, was more addictive than any drug. An escape from reality, and a taste of chaos, that was all anyone every truly wanted. Even if those words never escaped a person’s lips, humanity was all the same. The tedium of life when there was order and peace was all too boring. It was in chaos that change would occur and excitement be found. This is what the Tempest of Set sold to Egypt, and the citizens were all too willing to pay for it.
Before Kesi could think further, she felt her brother’s arm move around her shoulder. His grasp was strong and warm, as were the lips that were placed upon her’s. Kesi felt her heart flutter a moment, loving each and every second of this. Amenemhat was her god, no one else. These were her lips to taste, and her arm to be pulled into. She was, as she had been, completely drawn in by her brother and everything he did. And then there was laughter, which brought her own very excited smile to her face. But when he whispered in her ear, goosebumps raised onto her skin and she bit her lip for one lustful moment.
She could not wait to be back home.
While performance was fun, and she was dying to give a show with Apep, Kesi would never pass up an opportunity to be with her brother. Kesi was drawn to the man, an innate need ran within her. She felt the need to always be close, glued to his side if he allowed it. She was raised to worship Amenemhat, and that she did with all of her heart.
So she went to the acrobats and gave the signal before returning to her brother. One eye would watch the clique to be sure they were performing up to standard, but the other would be left on her brother and the strangers he had led her to. She knew she should recognize two of them. They were rich, and it was important to know who was rich. The problem was with Kesi is that… names were useless to her. She rarely remembered them, and when she did it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Names only remained in her mind if the person of interest was of use for her or if she truly hated them. Names were her brother’s things, not Kesi’s.
Kesi glanced at the group and with a flourish, mimicked her brother’s introduction. “And I, Kesi of the Tempest of Set. Care for a show while you drink and welcome the new year?”
Kesi was floating. Her steps were light, and she moved at the natural rhythm of the drums behind her. In her hand, coiled around her arm, was Apep. The snake was to join the festivities and even put on a show perhaps. The charmer as always brought her pungi, ready to hypnotize and captivate and audience, lure them into the illusion that Apep so often fed into. The circus was coming to them today, and with their show, they will be transfixed, allured by the music, the acrobatics, and the performances.
It would be all to easy to find patrons on this night willing to follow them back to the circus. To be drawn in by illusion, to be presented a fantasy, was more addictive than any drug. An escape from reality, and a taste of chaos, that was all anyone every truly wanted. Even if those words never escaped a person’s lips, humanity was all the same. The tedium of life when there was order and peace was all too boring. It was in chaos that change would occur and excitement be found. This is what the Tempest of Set sold to Egypt, and the citizens were all too willing to pay for it.
Before Kesi could think further, she felt her brother’s arm move around her shoulder. His grasp was strong and warm, as were the lips that were placed upon her’s. Kesi felt her heart flutter a moment, loving each and every second of this. Amenemhat was her god, no one else. These were her lips to taste, and her arm to be pulled into. She was, as she had been, completely drawn in by her brother and everything he did. And then there was laughter, which brought her own very excited smile to her face. But when he whispered in her ear, goosebumps raised onto her skin and she bit her lip for one lustful moment.
She could not wait to be back home.
While performance was fun, and she was dying to give a show with Apep, Kesi would never pass up an opportunity to be with her brother. Kesi was drawn to the man, an innate need ran within her. She felt the need to always be close, glued to his side if he allowed it. She was raised to worship Amenemhat, and that she did with all of her heart.
So she went to the acrobats and gave the signal before returning to her brother. One eye would watch the clique to be sure they were performing up to standard, but the other would be left on her brother and the strangers he had led her to. She knew she should recognize two of them. They were rich, and it was important to know who was rich. The problem was with Kesi is that… names were useless to her. She rarely remembered them, and when she did it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Names only remained in her mind if the person of interest was of use for her or if she truly hated them. Names were her brother’s things, not Kesi’s.
Kesi glanced at the group and with a flourish, mimicked her brother’s introduction. “And I, Kesi of the Tempest of Set. Care for a show while you drink and welcome the new year?”
Rubiah wasn't paying attention to the newcomers who approached their little group of the intoxicated. She was too busy watching the stars overhead now that the sun had drifted beyond the horizon and smiling at the way they flickered and sparkled in little colours. The smoke she had taken a little while ago had finally started to simmer on a low burn and the alcohol churned warmly in her belly. Despite barely wearing any clothing and her skin cloaked in little but her tattoos and the length of her braided hair, she was heated and kept warm by inner thoughts of decadence.
Resettling her elbows so that they supported her weight a little better, Rubiah only turned to appraise those that appeared on the edge of their blankets and rugs when the second voice offered something of a familiarity in the back of her mind. Had she met this person before? Passed her as life had gone on its merry way? Or perhaps she had simply run into another female that had held the same lilt and tone to her voice. It was familiar, even if it wasn't. And it caught Rubiah's foggy mind.
She looked around and then spotted the two newcomers, noting that she did not, in fact recognise the woman - nor the man for that matter - but she also didn't much care for them on immediate meet. They spoke with a sense of hubris over whatever their little haven, tempest thing was, and she wasn't interested in preening to those with arrogance. Pride was one thing - to rise from the ashes of nothing and attain your own security. To be arrogant of it was another. And Rubiah had no time or interest in wondering which of the two it might be with these ones. Their voices seemed to drip with the latter.
She tilted her head with consideration as she watched the pair, noting the way they seemed to operate as despite not touching. They moved almost symbiotically, When one swayed, the other lulled. Rubiah couldn't tell if they were family or lovers but they were clearly close. They worked off of each other despite not needing the cues and gestures that those less aware might require. Whoever they were, they were close. Had likely known each other for years. Beyond that, Rubiah would have to be a mind reader to know.
"The Tempest of what?" She asked, with a curling lip and a wincing eye. The girl was standing just in front of one of the spears of flame that had been pitched into the sands and it was turning her appearance to a silhouette for Rubiah, setting shafts of light around her head and forcing Rubiah to frown against the brightness in an otherwise dark night-time hush. "Are we supposed to know what that is?"
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Rubiah wasn't paying attention to the newcomers who approached their little group of the intoxicated. She was too busy watching the stars overhead now that the sun had drifted beyond the horizon and smiling at the way they flickered and sparkled in little colours. The smoke she had taken a little while ago had finally started to simmer on a low burn and the alcohol churned warmly in her belly. Despite barely wearing any clothing and her skin cloaked in little but her tattoos and the length of her braided hair, she was heated and kept warm by inner thoughts of decadence.
Resettling her elbows so that they supported her weight a little better, Rubiah only turned to appraise those that appeared on the edge of their blankets and rugs when the second voice offered something of a familiarity in the back of her mind. Had she met this person before? Passed her as life had gone on its merry way? Or perhaps she had simply run into another female that had held the same lilt and tone to her voice. It was familiar, even if it wasn't. And it caught Rubiah's foggy mind.
She looked around and then spotted the two newcomers, noting that she did not, in fact recognise the woman - nor the man for that matter - but she also didn't much care for them on immediate meet. They spoke with a sense of hubris over whatever their little haven, tempest thing was, and she wasn't interested in preening to those with arrogance. Pride was one thing - to rise from the ashes of nothing and attain your own security. To be arrogant of it was another. And Rubiah had no time or interest in wondering which of the two it might be with these ones. Their voices seemed to drip with the latter.
She tilted her head with consideration as she watched the pair, noting the way they seemed to operate as despite not touching. They moved almost symbiotically, When one swayed, the other lulled. Rubiah couldn't tell if they were family or lovers but they were clearly close. They worked off of each other despite not needing the cues and gestures that those less aware might require. Whoever they were, they were close. Had likely known each other for years. Beyond that, Rubiah would have to be a mind reader to know.
"The Tempest of what?" She asked, with a curling lip and a wincing eye. The girl was standing just in front of one of the spears of flame that had been pitched into the sands and it was turning her appearance to a silhouette for Rubiah, setting shafts of light around her head and forcing Rubiah to frown against the brightness in an otherwise dark night-time hush. "Are we supposed to know what that is?"
Rubiah wasn't paying attention to the newcomers who approached their little group of the intoxicated. She was too busy watching the stars overhead now that the sun had drifted beyond the horizon and smiling at the way they flickered and sparkled in little colours. The smoke she had taken a little while ago had finally started to simmer on a low burn and the alcohol churned warmly in her belly. Despite barely wearing any clothing and her skin cloaked in little but her tattoos and the length of her braided hair, she was heated and kept warm by inner thoughts of decadence.
Resettling her elbows so that they supported her weight a little better, Rubiah only turned to appraise those that appeared on the edge of their blankets and rugs when the second voice offered something of a familiarity in the back of her mind. Had she met this person before? Passed her as life had gone on its merry way? Or perhaps she had simply run into another female that had held the same lilt and tone to her voice. It was familiar, even if it wasn't. And it caught Rubiah's foggy mind.
She looked around and then spotted the two newcomers, noting that she did not, in fact recognise the woman - nor the man for that matter - but she also didn't much care for them on immediate meet. They spoke with a sense of hubris over whatever their little haven, tempest thing was, and she wasn't interested in preening to those with arrogance. Pride was one thing - to rise from the ashes of nothing and attain your own security. To be arrogant of it was another. And Rubiah had no time or interest in wondering which of the two it might be with these ones. Their voices seemed to drip with the latter.
She tilted her head with consideration as she watched the pair, noting the way they seemed to operate as despite not touching. They moved almost symbiotically, When one swayed, the other lulled. Rubiah couldn't tell if they were family or lovers but they were clearly close. They worked off of each other despite not needing the cues and gestures that those less aware might require. Whoever they were, they were close. Had likely known each other for years. Beyond that, Rubiah would have to be a mind reader to know.
"The Tempest of what?" She asked, with a curling lip and a wincing eye. The girl was standing just in front of one of the spears of flame that had been pitched into the sands and it was turning her appearance to a silhouette for Rubiah, setting shafts of light around her head and forcing Rubiah to frown against the brightness in an otherwise dark night-time hush. "Are we supposed to know what that is?"
Hena had to admit she was tempting, and under normal circumstances he would have likely taken the offer. But there was something about the way she had approached him, that she had known his first name and called him it that left a bad taste in his mouth. She would need more than being simply attractive to get what she wanted out of him. There were plenty of women who were out that night that were attractive after all, she wasn’t the only one.
But before he could really voice anything further to the woman, there was suddenly another man joining them, helping himself to Hena’s wine and a spot among his circle. He felt his rage rise up a little and he gritted his teeth before speaking.
“I had not realized there was an open invitation to my wine.” He said in a cold tone, his annoyance starting to poke through. It had been fun, with Neena. She was adventurous and entertaining and he hadn’t minded inviting her in to his little circle, but apparently that had meant that anyone who so felt inclined would join his group as well. He wanted to gain control of the situation, needed to do so if he wanted to keep his wine supply going for himself for the rest of the night without having to send for more.
Akhenaten held little to no interest in any of this, between the woman who thought herself good enough to sit in his lap and use his first name, to these two strangers who were helping themselves to his wine without care, he was over it.
He motioned his slave over, and whispered to him, commanding that no more wine be given to anyone unless he himself were to command such a thing. Any slave that disobeyed and handed out any of the wine, or the opium for that matter, would be met with harsh punishment. Akhenaten was not here to provide wine for every person at the celebration.
“I do not know of this Tempest of Set that you speak of, nor do I care to know.” He said simply, grabbing himself a fresh cup of wine and downing half of it in one go, trying to calm his own anger and return to celebration. He was not near drunk or high enough to not care about these strangers who barged in and began to take from him without the offer of anything good.
The idea of dancers was sort of interesting, but he wasn’t sure that it would be enough to make up for the intrusion on his celebration. Perhaps he ought to at least give them a chance, perhaps they would be worth sharing his wine with these people. He supposed it was a celebration, and he needed to loosen up a little.
“Fine. Bring these dancers, and if they are impressive enough, I would be happy to share my wine and food throughout the night.” He said, sitting himself back down on his cushioned seat on the ground, waiting to be impressed.
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Hena had to admit she was tempting, and under normal circumstances he would have likely taken the offer. But there was something about the way she had approached him, that she had known his first name and called him it that left a bad taste in his mouth. She would need more than being simply attractive to get what she wanted out of him. There were plenty of women who were out that night that were attractive after all, she wasn’t the only one.
But before he could really voice anything further to the woman, there was suddenly another man joining them, helping himself to Hena’s wine and a spot among his circle. He felt his rage rise up a little and he gritted his teeth before speaking.
“I had not realized there was an open invitation to my wine.” He said in a cold tone, his annoyance starting to poke through. It had been fun, with Neena. She was adventurous and entertaining and he hadn’t minded inviting her in to his little circle, but apparently that had meant that anyone who so felt inclined would join his group as well. He wanted to gain control of the situation, needed to do so if he wanted to keep his wine supply going for himself for the rest of the night without having to send for more.
Akhenaten held little to no interest in any of this, between the woman who thought herself good enough to sit in his lap and use his first name, to these two strangers who were helping themselves to his wine without care, he was over it.
He motioned his slave over, and whispered to him, commanding that no more wine be given to anyone unless he himself were to command such a thing. Any slave that disobeyed and handed out any of the wine, or the opium for that matter, would be met with harsh punishment. Akhenaten was not here to provide wine for every person at the celebration.
“I do not know of this Tempest of Set that you speak of, nor do I care to know.” He said simply, grabbing himself a fresh cup of wine and downing half of it in one go, trying to calm his own anger and return to celebration. He was not near drunk or high enough to not care about these strangers who barged in and began to take from him without the offer of anything good.
The idea of dancers was sort of interesting, but he wasn’t sure that it would be enough to make up for the intrusion on his celebration. Perhaps he ought to at least give them a chance, perhaps they would be worth sharing his wine with these people. He supposed it was a celebration, and he needed to loosen up a little.
“Fine. Bring these dancers, and if they are impressive enough, I would be happy to share my wine and food throughout the night.” He said, sitting himself back down on his cushioned seat on the ground, waiting to be impressed.
Hena had to admit she was tempting, and under normal circumstances he would have likely taken the offer. But there was something about the way she had approached him, that she had known his first name and called him it that left a bad taste in his mouth. She would need more than being simply attractive to get what she wanted out of him. There were plenty of women who were out that night that were attractive after all, she wasn’t the only one.
But before he could really voice anything further to the woman, there was suddenly another man joining them, helping himself to Hena’s wine and a spot among his circle. He felt his rage rise up a little and he gritted his teeth before speaking.
“I had not realized there was an open invitation to my wine.” He said in a cold tone, his annoyance starting to poke through. It had been fun, with Neena. She was adventurous and entertaining and he hadn’t minded inviting her in to his little circle, but apparently that had meant that anyone who so felt inclined would join his group as well. He wanted to gain control of the situation, needed to do so if he wanted to keep his wine supply going for himself for the rest of the night without having to send for more.
Akhenaten held little to no interest in any of this, between the woman who thought herself good enough to sit in his lap and use his first name, to these two strangers who were helping themselves to his wine without care, he was over it.
He motioned his slave over, and whispered to him, commanding that no more wine be given to anyone unless he himself were to command such a thing. Any slave that disobeyed and handed out any of the wine, or the opium for that matter, would be met with harsh punishment. Akhenaten was not here to provide wine for every person at the celebration.
“I do not know of this Tempest of Set that you speak of, nor do I care to know.” He said simply, grabbing himself a fresh cup of wine and downing half of it in one go, trying to calm his own anger and return to celebration. He was not near drunk or high enough to not care about these strangers who barged in and began to take from him without the offer of anything good.
The idea of dancers was sort of interesting, but he wasn’t sure that it would be enough to make up for the intrusion on his celebration. Perhaps he ought to at least give them a chance, perhaps they would be worth sharing his wine with these people. He supposed it was a celebration, and he needed to loosen up a little.
“Fine. Bring these dancers, and if they are impressive enough, I would be happy to share my wine and food throughout the night.” He said, sitting himself back down on his cushioned seat on the ground, waiting to be impressed.
Ignorant little girl.
The Tempest of Set had been a part of Egypt for longer than any of the people in this little circle had been alive, and it was a sign of the foolish to be so woefully unaware. Tours all across Egypt, including Cairo and Thebes were always the talk of the town. It was foolish to assume otherwise. Rumour milling of his patronage's and his slaves' creation ensured a full audience with every visit. If the girl with the strange hair or the noble that he recognized wished to be ignorant, it was their loss and not his.
But, it wasn't Amenemhat's place to berate them for being fools. It didn't matter to him whether they lied about their ignorance or if it existed and their meaningless lives were worse for it. The Tempest of Set would exist without them, and it would persist well after they were dead. Nem drank freely from his wine, uncaring of the noble's feelings on his taking without permission. That which was freely available was, by implication, free for the taking. Without anyone voicing any complaints on the matter, the young ringmaster drank deeply as he considered their words in earnest.
"A shame. I would say our solicitors aren't doing their jobs properly. But that simply isn't the case. The Tempest of Set is a circus, the premiere entertainment available over the African sands."
The truth wasn't arrogance and he admitted it without shame or misgivings about it. To lie and call his own circus a sham or mediocre was to discredit it and bring a sort of miserable self-deprecation that didn't benefit anyone. Least of all, himself. So, Amenemhat spoke earnestly, but left it at that, feeling little need to talk up his own circus to a camp of people who weren't the least bit interested. He was here to enjoy himself, and to bring similar enjoyment to cover over the machinations in place.
There was a delicate balance between chaos and wonderment. To give in too much to the chaos was to arouse suspicion and cause harm. To deny its existence was to push the name of Set into the mud and leave it there. Amenemhat would compromise on neither half, and allowed his lips to curve into a smile as he raised his hand to his lips. He turned away from the two and let out a steep whistle that pierced through the drums. The beat stopped for but a moment before it continued anew. Three dancers separated from the Clique, familiar faces that brought a smile wider to his lips at their approach.
Liu Feiyan and Lihua.
The two leaders of the Clique did well to answer Nem's call. He'd praise them for it later. However, in the moment, he merely ushered them over and said,
"The noble wants a show, my dears. Give it to them."
Soft giggles escaped the lips of the two dancers as they nodded, offering low bows to the Lord Akhenaten and the unnamed girl. He'd have found it rude that they never introduced themselves, but really, he knew the name of the one that mattered. The rude ignorant's identity was none of his concern.
As the foreign dancers made their way along, with the younger, Feiyan, brushing fingertips along his shoulders, the barest flicker of a flirtatious smile cast upon her lips before the both of them began to move. The elder sister, Lihua lowered the center of her weight, pushing back on the ground until she tipped over. Both arms raised over her head and folded back as she arched her body into a perfect arc. Then, she fell to the ground fully, positioning her feet beneath her hips as she squared her shoulders. Then, in a fluid movement, she lifted both of her legs, easily sliding them over her head before positioning them back on the ground. Within moments, the elder of the Liu sisters was standing as Feiyan let her slow, sensuous dance continue.
Feiyan settled herself between the two, her lips curved, her fuller figure than Lihua's bringing her to sway her hips and twist the pleated fabric of her skirts so that it carried on the gentle wind made from her movements.
"The Liu siblings are among the best of the circus' offerings. They are at the helm of its Clique," he informed the noble. Then, the ringmaster drank again from his goblet, as pleased as any other would be to watch, though perhaps with a tinge of pride that they wouldn't have.
Brilliant.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Ignorant little girl.
The Tempest of Set had been a part of Egypt for longer than any of the people in this little circle had been alive, and it was a sign of the foolish to be so woefully unaware. Tours all across Egypt, including Cairo and Thebes were always the talk of the town. It was foolish to assume otherwise. Rumour milling of his patronage's and his slaves' creation ensured a full audience with every visit. If the girl with the strange hair or the noble that he recognized wished to be ignorant, it was their loss and not his.
But, it wasn't Amenemhat's place to berate them for being fools. It didn't matter to him whether they lied about their ignorance or if it existed and their meaningless lives were worse for it. The Tempest of Set would exist without them, and it would persist well after they were dead. Nem drank freely from his wine, uncaring of the noble's feelings on his taking without permission. That which was freely available was, by implication, free for the taking. Without anyone voicing any complaints on the matter, the young ringmaster drank deeply as he considered their words in earnest.
"A shame. I would say our solicitors aren't doing their jobs properly. But that simply isn't the case. The Tempest of Set is a circus, the premiere entertainment available over the African sands."
The truth wasn't arrogance and he admitted it without shame or misgivings about it. To lie and call his own circus a sham or mediocre was to discredit it and bring a sort of miserable self-deprecation that didn't benefit anyone. Least of all, himself. So, Amenemhat spoke earnestly, but left it at that, feeling little need to talk up his own circus to a camp of people who weren't the least bit interested. He was here to enjoy himself, and to bring similar enjoyment to cover over the machinations in place.
There was a delicate balance between chaos and wonderment. To give in too much to the chaos was to arouse suspicion and cause harm. To deny its existence was to push the name of Set into the mud and leave it there. Amenemhat would compromise on neither half, and allowed his lips to curve into a smile as he raised his hand to his lips. He turned away from the two and let out a steep whistle that pierced through the drums. The beat stopped for but a moment before it continued anew. Three dancers separated from the Clique, familiar faces that brought a smile wider to his lips at their approach.
Liu Feiyan and Lihua.
The two leaders of the Clique did well to answer Nem's call. He'd praise them for it later. However, in the moment, he merely ushered them over and said,
"The noble wants a show, my dears. Give it to them."
Soft giggles escaped the lips of the two dancers as they nodded, offering low bows to the Lord Akhenaten and the unnamed girl. He'd have found it rude that they never introduced themselves, but really, he knew the name of the one that mattered. The rude ignorant's identity was none of his concern.
As the foreign dancers made their way along, with the younger, Feiyan, brushing fingertips along his shoulders, the barest flicker of a flirtatious smile cast upon her lips before the both of them began to move. The elder sister, Lihua lowered the center of her weight, pushing back on the ground until she tipped over. Both arms raised over her head and folded back as she arched her body into a perfect arc. Then, she fell to the ground fully, positioning her feet beneath her hips as she squared her shoulders. Then, in a fluid movement, she lifted both of her legs, easily sliding them over her head before positioning them back on the ground. Within moments, the elder of the Liu sisters was standing as Feiyan let her slow, sensuous dance continue.
Feiyan settled herself between the two, her lips curved, her fuller figure than Lihua's bringing her to sway her hips and twist the pleated fabric of her skirts so that it carried on the gentle wind made from her movements.
"The Liu siblings are among the best of the circus' offerings. They are at the helm of its Clique," he informed the noble. Then, the ringmaster drank again from his goblet, as pleased as any other would be to watch, though perhaps with a tinge of pride that they wouldn't have.
Brilliant.
Ignorant little girl.
The Tempest of Set had been a part of Egypt for longer than any of the people in this little circle had been alive, and it was a sign of the foolish to be so woefully unaware. Tours all across Egypt, including Cairo and Thebes were always the talk of the town. It was foolish to assume otherwise. Rumour milling of his patronage's and his slaves' creation ensured a full audience with every visit. If the girl with the strange hair or the noble that he recognized wished to be ignorant, it was their loss and not his.
But, it wasn't Amenemhat's place to berate them for being fools. It didn't matter to him whether they lied about their ignorance or if it existed and their meaningless lives were worse for it. The Tempest of Set would exist without them, and it would persist well after they were dead. Nem drank freely from his wine, uncaring of the noble's feelings on his taking without permission. That which was freely available was, by implication, free for the taking. Without anyone voicing any complaints on the matter, the young ringmaster drank deeply as he considered their words in earnest.
"A shame. I would say our solicitors aren't doing their jobs properly. But that simply isn't the case. The Tempest of Set is a circus, the premiere entertainment available over the African sands."
The truth wasn't arrogance and he admitted it without shame or misgivings about it. To lie and call his own circus a sham or mediocre was to discredit it and bring a sort of miserable self-deprecation that didn't benefit anyone. Least of all, himself. So, Amenemhat spoke earnestly, but left it at that, feeling little need to talk up his own circus to a camp of people who weren't the least bit interested. He was here to enjoy himself, and to bring similar enjoyment to cover over the machinations in place.
There was a delicate balance between chaos and wonderment. To give in too much to the chaos was to arouse suspicion and cause harm. To deny its existence was to push the name of Set into the mud and leave it there. Amenemhat would compromise on neither half, and allowed his lips to curve into a smile as he raised his hand to his lips. He turned away from the two and let out a steep whistle that pierced through the drums. The beat stopped for but a moment before it continued anew. Three dancers separated from the Clique, familiar faces that brought a smile wider to his lips at their approach.
Liu Feiyan and Lihua.
The two leaders of the Clique did well to answer Nem's call. He'd praise them for it later. However, in the moment, he merely ushered them over and said,
"The noble wants a show, my dears. Give it to them."
Soft giggles escaped the lips of the two dancers as they nodded, offering low bows to the Lord Akhenaten and the unnamed girl. He'd have found it rude that they never introduced themselves, but really, he knew the name of the one that mattered. The rude ignorant's identity was none of his concern.
As the foreign dancers made their way along, with the younger, Feiyan, brushing fingertips along his shoulders, the barest flicker of a flirtatious smile cast upon her lips before the both of them began to move. The elder sister, Lihua lowered the center of her weight, pushing back on the ground until she tipped over. Both arms raised over her head and folded back as she arched her body into a perfect arc. Then, she fell to the ground fully, positioning her feet beneath her hips as she squared her shoulders. Then, in a fluid movement, she lifted both of her legs, easily sliding them over her head before positioning them back on the ground. Within moments, the elder of the Liu sisters was standing as Feiyan let her slow, sensuous dance continue.
Feiyan settled herself between the two, her lips curved, her fuller figure than Lihua's bringing her to sway her hips and twist the pleated fabric of her skirts so that it carried on the gentle wind made from her movements.
"The Liu siblings are among the best of the circus' offerings. They are at the helm of its Clique," he informed the noble. Then, the ringmaster drank again from his goblet, as pleased as any other would be to watch, though perhaps with a tinge of pride that they wouldn't have.