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The Port of the West is the most common place for the Bedoan tribes to secure the necessities needed for survival that might not be accessible elsewhere. As well as trade and goods from across the seas, the Port also offers multiple watering holes and wells where fresh water can be purchases, for a price to those who stand guard over them. Twice a year, the tribes collect upon the Port - half at a time to ensure trade enough for all. This time, the Mekaki, the Buuchu and the Zaire have congregated to deal and sell. Yet, there appears to be some arguments between the Buuchu and the Mekaki on exactly which areas were arranged for each of them to occupy and exclusively use for the benefit of their people...
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The Port of the West is the most common place for the Bedoan tribes to secure the necessities needed for survival that might not be accessible elsewhere. As well as trade and goods from across the seas, the Port also offers multiple watering holes and wells where fresh water can be purchases, for a price to those who stand guard over them. Twice a year, the tribes collect upon the Port - half at a time to ensure trade enough for all. This time, the Mekaki, the Buuchu and the Zaire have congregated to deal and sell. Yet, there appears to be some arguments between the Buuchu and the Mekaki on exactly which areas were arranged for each of them to occupy and exclusively use for the benefit of their people...
Surf and Turf Provincial Story - Bedoa
The Port of the West is the most common place for the Bedoan tribes to secure the necessities needed for survival that might not be accessible elsewhere. As well as trade and goods from across the seas, the Port also offers multiple watering holes and wells where fresh water can be purchases, for a price to those who stand guard over them. Twice a year, the tribes collect upon the Port - half at a time to ensure trade enough for all. This time, the Mekaki, the Buuchu and the Zaire have congregated to deal and sell. Yet, there appears to be some arguments between the Buuchu and the Mekaki on exactly which areas were arranged for each of them to occupy and exclusively use for the benefit of their people...
Neena's legs ate up the yards as she sprinted along the streets of the portside town of no name. Her thighs were starting to heat and the soles of her feet to sting just slightly with the repeated slamming against the road of beaten down sand but she was a long way from tiring. Years as a slave and vagabond, travelling only under the steam of her own two legs, Neena's stamina and endurance was far superior to most that she met. She couldn't, however, claim the same for her speed. Light and agile she was, making her momentum carry her at a rate faster than the average, she was still by no means the quickest runner around and was unable to outstrip the three aggravated Buuchu following behind her.
"Godsdamnit!" Neena grumbled under her breath as she took a quick right hand turn around a low constructed tent and then a left passed a mango seller's stall. The curse was one she had picked up from Hector's Grecian crew in her younger years and still came freely to her lips when in a situation of pique or frustration.
"I told you, it was a mistake!" She called out over her shoulder, getting a faceful of her own hair for her efforts and achieving nothing in terms of slowing her pursuers. Whether they were far enough back that the noise of the market places drowned out her explanations or they simply didn't care, she wasn't sure.
Trust her to piss off the most determinedly ignorance of the Buuchu clan.
Known for their power and strength - a clan of warriors - the Buuchu were far from stupid but could not claim to be the most educated nor open-minded of the Bedoan peoples. It was, therefore, unlikely that they would still their blades and hands long enough to hear her explanation if she came to a halt. Instead, they would slay those who injured their honour first and ask questions later.
Whilst Neena was a skilled juggler and thrower of knives and knew her way around projectile weaponry, she couldn't claim to be a match for the three hulking guardsmen, who chased her with swords and spears. She knew that she would be dead the second she stopped running.
Which was sort of a problem for Neena, given how she liked her life and all.
"I swear!" Neena tried again, flinging the words over her shoulder with a quick look back, her legs and arms working in tandem naturally and without focus. "I didn't know it was your corner! I meant no harm!"
Why it was so determinedly insulting to offer money to a Bedoan performer on a street corner belonging to the Buuchu, she had no idea. Perhaps they had thought her trying to buy the dancer to the Zaire tribe, or offer them some kind of deal on their profits? All Neena had been trying to do was offer a little extra coin to someone in the same position she had been not so long ago.
Her feet moving faster and speeding her down the streets and through sandy streets hardened to what felt like concrete between the step of so many that came before, Neena growled to herself in frustration. There was no true city or town at the western port in the Sahara. There were no buildings or structures. Instead, it was a sea - as far as the eye could see - of short tents and shallow stalls, with intersections and roads between the brightly coloured kaftan awnings. The problem was, this meant that no covering was any higher than Neena's chin. Unless she dropped to the floor and crawled, she was permanently in sight of her pursuers.
And crawling was hardly the way to escape this with her life...
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Nov 23, 2019 15:11:19 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Nov 23, 2019 15:11:19 GMT
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Neena's legs ate up the yards as she sprinted along the streets of the portside town of no name. Her thighs were starting to heat and the soles of her feet to sting just slightly with the repeated slamming against the road of beaten down sand but she was a long way from tiring. Years as a slave and vagabond, travelling only under the steam of her own two legs, Neena's stamina and endurance was far superior to most that she met. She couldn't, however, claim the same for her speed. Light and agile she was, making her momentum carry her at a rate faster than the average, she was still by no means the quickest runner around and was unable to outstrip the three aggravated Buuchu following behind her.
"Godsdamnit!" Neena grumbled under her breath as she took a quick right hand turn around a low constructed tent and then a left passed a mango seller's stall. The curse was one she had picked up from Hector's Grecian crew in her younger years and still came freely to her lips when in a situation of pique or frustration.
"I told you, it was a mistake!" She called out over her shoulder, getting a faceful of her own hair for her efforts and achieving nothing in terms of slowing her pursuers. Whether they were far enough back that the noise of the market places drowned out her explanations or they simply didn't care, she wasn't sure.
Trust her to piss off the most determinedly ignorance of the Buuchu clan.
Known for their power and strength - a clan of warriors - the Buuchu were far from stupid but could not claim to be the most educated nor open-minded of the Bedoan peoples. It was, therefore, unlikely that they would still their blades and hands long enough to hear her explanation if she came to a halt. Instead, they would slay those who injured their honour first and ask questions later.
Whilst Neena was a skilled juggler and thrower of knives and knew her way around projectile weaponry, she couldn't claim to be a match for the three hulking guardsmen, who chased her with swords and spears. She knew that she would be dead the second she stopped running.
Which was sort of a problem for Neena, given how she liked her life and all.
"I swear!" Neena tried again, flinging the words over her shoulder with a quick look back, her legs and arms working in tandem naturally and without focus. "I didn't know it was your corner! I meant no harm!"
Why it was so determinedly insulting to offer money to a Bedoan performer on a street corner belonging to the Buuchu, she had no idea. Perhaps they had thought her trying to buy the dancer to the Zaire tribe, or offer them some kind of deal on their profits? All Neena had been trying to do was offer a little extra coin to someone in the same position she had been not so long ago.
Her feet moving faster and speeding her down the streets and through sandy streets hardened to what felt like concrete between the step of so many that came before, Neena growled to herself in frustration. There was no true city or town at the western port in the Sahara. There were no buildings or structures. Instead, it was a sea - as far as the eye could see - of short tents and shallow stalls, with intersections and roads between the brightly coloured kaftan awnings. The problem was, this meant that no covering was any higher than Neena's chin. Unless she dropped to the floor and crawled, she was permanently in sight of her pursuers.
And crawling was hardly the way to escape this with her life...
Neena's legs ate up the yards as she sprinted along the streets of the portside town of no name. Her thighs were starting to heat and the soles of her feet to sting just slightly with the repeated slamming against the road of beaten down sand but she was a long way from tiring. Years as a slave and vagabond, travelling only under the steam of her own two legs, Neena's stamina and endurance was far superior to most that she met. She couldn't, however, claim the same for her speed. Light and agile she was, making her momentum carry her at a rate faster than the average, she was still by no means the quickest runner around and was unable to outstrip the three aggravated Buuchu following behind her.
"Godsdamnit!" Neena grumbled under her breath as she took a quick right hand turn around a low constructed tent and then a left passed a mango seller's stall. The curse was one she had picked up from Hector's Grecian crew in her younger years and still came freely to her lips when in a situation of pique or frustration.
"I told you, it was a mistake!" She called out over her shoulder, getting a faceful of her own hair for her efforts and achieving nothing in terms of slowing her pursuers. Whether they were far enough back that the noise of the market places drowned out her explanations or they simply didn't care, she wasn't sure.
Trust her to piss off the most determinedly ignorance of the Buuchu clan.
Known for their power and strength - a clan of warriors - the Buuchu were far from stupid but could not claim to be the most educated nor open-minded of the Bedoan peoples. It was, therefore, unlikely that they would still their blades and hands long enough to hear her explanation if she came to a halt. Instead, they would slay those who injured their honour first and ask questions later.
Whilst Neena was a skilled juggler and thrower of knives and knew her way around projectile weaponry, she couldn't claim to be a match for the three hulking guardsmen, who chased her with swords and spears. She knew that she would be dead the second she stopped running.
Which was sort of a problem for Neena, given how she liked her life and all.
"I swear!" Neena tried again, flinging the words over her shoulder with a quick look back, her legs and arms working in tandem naturally and without focus. "I didn't know it was your corner! I meant no harm!"
Why it was so determinedly insulting to offer money to a Bedoan performer on a street corner belonging to the Buuchu, she had no idea. Perhaps they had thought her trying to buy the dancer to the Zaire tribe, or offer them some kind of deal on their profits? All Neena had been trying to do was offer a little extra coin to someone in the same position she had been not so long ago.
Her feet moving faster and speeding her down the streets and through sandy streets hardened to what felt like concrete between the step of so many that came before, Neena growled to herself in frustration. There was no true city or town at the western port in the Sahara. There were no buildings or structures. Instead, it was a sea - as far as the eye could see - of short tents and shallow stalls, with intersections and roads between the brightly coloured kaftan awnings. The problem was, this meant that no covering was any higher than Neena's chin. Unless she dropped to the floor and crawled, she was permanently in sight of her pursuers.
And crawling was hardly the way to escape this with her life...
The port was one of her least favorite places to stay. It was ugly and chaotic, and more importantly, it held other tribes. Tanishe did not hate the other members of the bedoan people for the differences of blood or name, but any time they interacted, there was some sort of ‘incident’. However, in the time they’d been here, short as it was, there hadn’t yet been anything and she had begun to hope, vainly, it would turn out, that everything would end up peaceful and uneventful. Whatever was going on between the Mekaki and the Buuchu had nothing to do with her and her people. It was best to stay out of it. The Zaire were not the mediators of Bedoa. They were healers, but for the Leierin, that healing didn’t extend to petty squabbles over territory for selling.
She had spent the morning spoon feeding mush to one of the elderly who likely would not live to see the next wet season. The man was old and cranky, and complained any time mush dribbled down his wrinkled chin, which was his own fault. Her own hands were steady as she fed him but he did insist on turning his gray head this way and that to watch whomever was passing, and he did not like the medicine Tanishe had snuck into the mash either. The first two times he’d spit it out, but the third time, Tanishe threatened to douse him with sea water if he didn’t behave. She felt a little guilty, but it worked. The only thing the elder hated more than the medicine was the threat of a bath.
Once that was done, she was picking her way back through the maze when she looked over and saw Neena flying through the paths. Hot on her heels were three huge men. Tanishe closed her eyes, pressed her lips into a steadying pout, and then forced her jaw to relax. Well. So much for no incidents. Walking with a quick step, she made her way back to her own tent a short distance away to find Hasani.
“Husband. Neena requires you. She is being chased by...Mekaki or Buuchu, I did not get a good look. But she cannot run indefinitely. She went that way.” She pointed. In the distance, Neena and the three men chasing her would be just visible. “I shall prepare salves.” Goodness knew that some or other of them would need it. Perhaps Neena and Hasani. Perhaps the Buuchu men. Perhaps all five.
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Dec 17, 2019 16:58:18 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Dec 17, 2019 16:58:18 GMT
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The port was one of her least favorite places to stay. It was ugly and chaotic, and more importantly, it held other tribes. Tanishe did not hate the other members of the bedoan people for the differences of blood or name, but any time they interacted, there was some sort of ‘incident’. However, in the time they’d been here, short as it was, there hadn’t yet been anything and she had begun to hope, vainly, it would turn out, that everything would end up peaceful and uneventful. Whatever was going on between the Mekaki and the Buuchu had nothing to do with her and her people. It was best to stay out of it. The Zaire were not the mediators of Bedoa. They were healers, but for the Leierin, that healing didn’t extend to petty squabbles over territory for selling.
She had spent the morning spoon feeding mush to one of the elderly who likely would not live to see the next wet season. The man was old and cranky, and complained any time mush dribbled down his wrinkled chin, which was his own fault. Her own hands were steady as she fed him but he did insist on turning his gray head this way and that to watch whomever was passing, and he did not like the medicine Tanishe had snuck into the mash either. The first two times he’d spit it out, but the third time, Tanishe threatened to douse him with sea water if he didn’t behave. She felt a little guilty, but it worked. The only thing the elder hated more than the medicine was the threat of a bath.
Once that was done, she was picking her way back through the maze when she looked over and saw Neena flying through the paths. Hot on her heels were three huge men. Tanishe closed her eyes, pressed her lips into a steadying pout, and then forced her jaw to relax. Well. So much for no incidents. Walking with a quick step, she made her way back to her own tent a short distance away to find Hasani.
“Husband. Neena requires you. She is being chased by...Mekaki or Buuchu, I did not get a good look. But she cannot run indefinitely. She went that way.” She pointed. In the distance, Neena and the three men chasing her would be just visible. “I shall prepare salves.” Goodness knew that some or other of them would need it. Perhaps Neena and Hasani. Perhaps the Buuchu men. Perhaps all five.
The port was one of her least favorite places to stay. It was ugly and chaotic, and more importantly, it held other tribes. Tanishe did not hate the other members of the bedoan people for the differences of blood or name, but any time they interacted, there was some sort of ‘incident’. However, in the time they’d been here, short as it was, there hadn’t yet been anything and she had begun to hope, vainly, it would turn out, that everything would end up peaceful and uneventful. Whatever was going on between the Mekaki and the Buuchu had nothing to do with her and her people. It was best to stay out of it. The Zaire were not the mediators of Bedoa. They were healers, but for the Leierin, that healing didn’t extend to petty squabbles over territory for selling.
She had spent the morning spoon feeding mush to one of the elderly who likely would not live to see the next wet season. The man was old and cranky, and complained any time mush dribbled down his wrinkled chin, which was his own fault. Her own hands were steady as she fed him but he did insist on turning his gray head this way and that to watch whomever was passing, and he did not like the medicine Tanishe had snuck into the mash either. The first two times he’d spit it out, but the third time, Tanishe threatened to douse him with sea water if he didn’t behave. She felt a little guilty, but it worked. The only thing the elder hated more than the medicine was the threat of a bath.
Once that was done, she was picking her way back through the maze when she looked over and saw Neena flying through the paths. Hot on her heels were three huge men. Tanishe closed her eyes, pressed her lips into a steadying pout, and then forced her jaw to relax. Well. So much for no incidents. Walking with a quick step, she made her way back to her own tent a short distance away to find Hasani.
“Husband. Neena requires you. She is being chased by...Mekaki or Buuchu, I did not get a good look. But she cannot run indefinitely. She went that way.” She pointed. In the distance, Neena and the three men chasing her would be just visible. “I shall prepare salves.” Goodness knew that some or other of them would need it. Perhaps Neena and Hasani. Perhaps the Buuchu men. Perhaps all five.
Hasani had known the atmosphere to be tense. There was no question about that, but he hadn't wanted any sort of war or situation while they stayed at the port. The leier found himself fond of the other tribes, for the most part. He bore no ill will toward any of them, even if some of them were more bound to impulsive decisions than others. Knowing things were tense and knowing Neena had disappeared to ancestors knew where Hasani had sat down outside the tent whittling away at a sizable chunk of wood that he had traded from one of the merchants that had moored in the salty water of the port.
He didn't know what he was making, but he didn't like to be idle very often. He thought maybe he was going to make a fish out of it, but then his mind drifted to lions and cheetahs. Maybe a cheetah then? One of the tribe's many children would likely favor a nice toy such as the one that Hasani had in mind. He was oblivious to many of the things happening outside his own tribe's encampments.
Thus, when Tanishe approached him to tell him that Neena had found trouble, the leier couldn't help but groan audibly, rising quickly to his feet to watch the woman running among tents... away from Buuchu warriors. That sudden protective thrill trailed his spine and Hasani dropped the wood into Tanishe's hands before she even got to turn away. The leier was grabbing his weapons and barking orders at a few of the other warriors that had caught sight of Neena running. The Zaire were smart about things when it came to the way they waged warfare. And if the Buuchu wanted to spear one of the leier's wives, he would spear them all himself.
With a group of at least six strong behind him, the Zaire warriors trailed quickly through the tents, their spears already at the ready. The Buuchu were so focused on his wife, however, that they didn't notice the large retinue of Zaire warriors streaming through the tents in order to break off their chase of Hasani's wife.
"Halt!" Hasani called to the three warriors, snarling his anger at them. "I am the leier of the Zaire tribe. This is my wife that you are chasing, what is the meaning of this?" the man hissed in a vicious tone, ready to spill blood if he truly needed. All he truly knew was that he had cut off the assault on his wife and had made him and his warriors the targets. Seven against three didn't seem like a fair fight, and a few more Zaire warriors seemed to slide up beneath the shadows of tents, making a far larger show of a threat than they truly needed to. "Why do you chase my wife with spears and swords?" Hasani repeated, demanding an answer instead of killing all three men where they stood. His anger and frustration at the situation only grew by the moment and he reminded himself to punish Neena later for causing such a ruckus.
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Dec 27, 2019 16:22:05 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Dec 27, 2019 16:22:05 GMT
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Hasani had known the atmosphere to be tense. There was no question about that, but he hadn't wanted any sort of war or situation while they stayed at the port. The leier found himself fond of the other tribes, for the most part. He bore no ill will toward any of them, even if some of them were more bound to impulsive decisions than others. Knowing things were tense and knowing Neena had disappeared to ancestors knew where Hasani had sat down outside the tent whittling away at a sizable chunk of wood that he had traded from one of the merchants that had moored in the salty water of the port.
He didn't know what he was making, but he didn't like to be idle very often. He thought maybe he was going to make a fish out of it, but then his mind drifted to lions and cheetahs. Maybe a cheetah then? One of the tribe's many children would likely favor a nice toy such as the one that Hasani had in mind. He was oblivious to many of the things happening outside his own tribe's encampments.
Thus, when Tanishe approached him to tell him that Neena had found trouble, the leier couldn't help but groan audibly, rising quickly to his feet to watch the woman running among tents... away from Buuchu warriors. That sudden protective thrill trailed his spine and Hasani dropped the wood into Tanishe's hands before she even got to turn away. The leier was grabbing his weapons and barking orders at a few of the other warriors that had caught sight of Neena running. The Zaire were smart about things when it came to the way they waged warfare. And if the Buuchu wanted to spear one of the leier's wives, he would spear them all himself.
With a group of at least six strong behind him, the Zaire warriors trailed quickly through the tents, their spears already at the ready. The Buuchu were so focused on his wife, however, that they didn't notice the large retinue of Zaire warriors streaming through the tents in order to break off their chase of Hasani's wife.
"Halt!" Hasani called to the three warriors, snarling his anger at them. "I am the leier of the Zaire tribe. This is my wife that you are chasing, what is the meaning of this?" the man hissed in a vicious tone, ready to spill blood if he truly needed. All he truly knew was that he had cut off the assault on his wife and had made him and his warriors the targets. Seven against three didn't seem like a fair fight, and a few more Zaire warriors seemed to slide up beneath the shadows of tents, making a far larger show of a threat than they truly needed to. "Why do you chase my wife with spears and swords?" Hasani repeated, demanding an answer instead of killing all three men where they stood. His anger and frustration at the situation only grew by the moment and he reminded himself to punish Neena later for causing such a ruckus.
Hasani had known the atmosphere to be tense. There was no question about that, but he hadn't wanted any sort of war or situation while they stayed at the port. The leier found himself fond of the other tribes, for the most part. He bore no ill will toward any of them, even if some of them were more bound to impulsive decisions than others. Knowing things were tense and knowing Neena had disappeared to ancestors knew where Hasani had sat down outside the tent whittling away at a sizable chunk of wood that he had traded from one of the merchants that had moored in the salty water of the port.
He didn't know what he was making, but he didn't like to be idle very often. He thought maybe he was going to make a fish out of it, but then his mind drifted to lions and cheetahs. Maybe a cheetah then? One of the tribe's many children would likely favor a nice toy such as the one that Hasani had in mind. He was oblivious to many of the things happening outside his own tribe's encampments.
Thus, when Tanishe approached him to tell him that Neena had found trouble, the leier couldn't help but groan audibly, rising quickly to his feet to watch the woman running among tents... away from Buuchu warriors. That sudden protective thrill trailed his spine and Hasani dropped the wood into Tanishe's hands before she even got to turn away. The leier was grabbing his weapons and barking orders at a few of the other warriors that had caught sight of Neena running. The Zaire were smart about things when it came to the way they waged warfare. And if the Buuchu wanted to spear one of the leier's wives, he would spear them all himself.
With a group of at least six strong behind him, the Zaire warriors trailed quickly through the tents, their spears already at the ready. The Buuchu were so focused on his wife, however, that they didn't notice the large retinue of Zaire warriors streaming through the tents in order to break off their chase of Hasani's wife.
"Halt!" Hasani called to the three warriors, snarling his anger at them. "I am the leier of the Zaire tribe. This is my wife that you are chasing, what is the meaning of this?" the man hissed in a vicious tone, ready to spill blood if he truly needed. All he truly knew was that he had cut off the assault on his wife and had made him and his warriors the targets. Seven against three didn't seem like a fair fight, and a few more Zaire warriors seemed to slide up beneath the shadows of tents, making a far larger show of a threat than they truly needed to. "Why do you chase my wife with spears and swords?" Hasani repeated, demanding an answer instead of killing all three men where they stood. His anger and frustration at the situation only grew by the moment and he reminded himself to punish Neena later for causing such a ruckus.
Neena had stamina for days. She could run and walk and sprint for as long as she ever needed when her life was on the line. It was one of the bonuses of having grown up on the run and in the streets of a half dozen different kingdoms. When you travelled as much as she did, it was common that mistakes or accidents happened that would offend people. When you had to steal food to survive, it was common that those who originally owned it would take issue and try to get it back. When you were someone whose livelihood required you to scam or cheat or win coin through performance, it was common that people would chase or attempt to steal earnings for their own.
Neena was good at running.
What she wasn't so good at, however, was the left right, left right and diversions she had to keep taking, her feet skidding sometimes on sands and sometimes the cobblestones of the pavements on the outside edges of the port city. On the extremities of the settlement, the roads drooped and dropped beneath the sands of the Sahara and the tents of the tribes had been erected as a temporary home and settlement. As she twisted and turned, avoiding those that were not set up in straight lines and darting around others that were tall and might hide her from view from her pursuers, her ankles started to heat and ache. When her feet hit hard cobbles beneath the shallow layers of sand instead of deeper, cushioning yellow, she felt the jolt of impact go up her calves.
She might have been able to run for days. But this particular path was ensuring her lower legs would not hold out long enough for her to do so.
When Neena heard a voice from behind - a voice she knew so very well and intimately - she felt her eyes close for a moment in despair as she realised that Hasani had spotted her in jeopardy and charged in to help. Her heart swelled at his care, as it had done a few months back when he had saved her from a stampede of camels on the other side of the Sahara. But - just as with that time - her mind turned to the dangers he took upon his own shoulders and what she would owe to Tani if the two of them ever lost the man. Not to mention the disappointment and frustration he must feel at her for always being the one to get into trouble.
It was at times like these when Neena had a momentary - and only momentary - flash of regret for who and how she was; a moment of wonder and frustration at why she couldn't be more effortlessly calm and elegant, like Hasani's other wife. Why she had to be so foolhardy and adventurous in her path in life...
It was rare for Neena to doubt herself and the way she had always been but it did happen. Particularly when that way of being caused issues for others.
As the thumping steps that she could hear behind her drew to a slow and then stop, the sound of metal and shifting weaponry replacing the rhythmic steps of her pursuers, Neena came to a much-needed stop, her chest rising and falling with heavy breath and her hair wild about her face. Her cheeks were flushed and the skin upon her collarbone glittered and glowed with sweat as the high and hot sun beat down upon them.
Looking back over her shoulder, Neena quickly came upright once more and - without thought or concern - set up a jog back towards the Buuchu.
For this was her fault.
And she wasn't about to let two tribes of warriors suddenly draw blood over what was a mistake on her part and an over-reaction on that of the Buuchu's.
"Wait!" she called, taking the Buuchu by surprise as she darted around them. Their quarry now a protected wife of a Leier, which they hadn't known until now, meant that their instincts to reach out and grab her when she came back into proximity was dulled enough that she danced and skirted their group until she stood between two small groups of fighters. Standing directly between the two, she raised her hands. It took a moment for breath to come to her and words to leave her lips with enough volume that they could all hear.
"This was a misunderstanding." She insisted, her head on the swivel as she took to looking at both groups. She tried to make serious eye contact with the central fighter of the Buuchu. For they were the injured party supposedly and yet were now severely outnumbered. She wanted them to be injured as much as she had wanted them to be chasing her.
"Right?" She asked their leader. "A simple mistake that does not need to result in bloodshed."
She glanced between the two sides, her optimism in the human ability for compassion overriding her knowledge that she was now fully in the firing line of any spears launched from either side of this quarrel.
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Dec 28, 2019 11:53:12 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Dec 28, 2019 11:53:12 GMT
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Neena had stamina for days. She could run and walk and sprint for as long as she ever needed when her life was on the line. It was one of the bonuses of having grown up on the run and in the streets of a half dozen different kingdoms. When you travelled as much as she did, it was common that mistakes or accidents happened that would offend people. When you had to steal food to survive, it was common that those who originally owned it would take issue and try to get it back. When you were someone whose livelihood required you to scam or cheat or win coin through performance, it was common that people would chase or attempt to steal earnings for their own.
Neena was good at running.
What she wasn't so good at, however, was the left right, left right and diversions she had to keep taking, her feet skidding sometimes on sands and sometimes the cobblestones of the pavements on the outside edges of the port city. On the extremities of the settlement, the roads drooped and dropped beneath the sands of the Sahara and the tents of the tribes had been erected as a temporary home and settlement. As she twisted and turned, avoiding those that were not set up in straight lines and darting around others that were tall and might hide her from view from her pursuers, her ankles started to heat and ache. When her feet hit hard cobbles beneath the shallow layers of sand instead of deeper, cushioning yellow, she felt the jolt of impact go up her calves.
She might have been able to run for days. But this particular path was ensuring her lower legs would not hold out long enough for her to do so.
When Neena heard a voice from behind - a voice she knew so very well and intimately - she felt her eyes close for a moment in despair as she realised that Hasani had spotted her in jeopardy and charged in to help. Her heart swelled at his care, as it had done a few months back when he had saved her from a stampede of camels on the other side of the Sahara. But - just as with that time - her mind turned to the dangers he took upon his own shoulders and what she would owe to Tani if the two of them ever lost the man. Not to mention the disappointment and frustration he must feel at her for always being the one to get into trouble.
It was at times like these when Neena had a momentary - and only momentary - flash of regret for who and how she was; a moment of wonder and frustration at why she couldn't be more effortlessly calm and elegant, like Hasani's other wife. Why she had to be so foolhardy and adventurous in her path in life...
It was rare for Neena to doubt herself and the way she had always been but it did happen. Particularly when that way of being caused issues for others.
As the thumping steps that she could hear behind her drew to a slow and then stop, the sound of metal and shifting weaponry replacing the rhythmic steps of her pursuers, Neena came to a much-needed stop, her chest rising and falling with heavy breath and her hair wild about her face. Her cheeks were flushed and the skin upon her collarbone glittered and glowed with sweat as the high and hot sun beat down upon them.
Looking back over her shoulder, Neena quickly came upright once more and - without thought or concern - set up a jog back towards the Buuchu.
For this was her fault.
And she wasn't about to let two tribes of warriors suddenly draw blood over what was a mistake on her part and an over-reaction on that of the Buuchu's.
"Wait!" she called, taking the Buuchu by surprise as she darted around them. Their quarry now a protected wife of a Leier, which they hadn't known until now, meant that their instincts to reach out and grab her when she came back into proximity was dulled enough that she danced and skirted their group until she stood between two small groups of fighters. Standing directly between the two, she raised her hands. It took a moment for breath to come to her and words to leave her lips with enough volume that they could all hear.
"This was a misunderstanding." She insisted, her head on the swivel as she took to looking at both groups. She tried to make serious eye contact with the central fighter of the Buuchu. For they were the injured party supposedly and yet were now severely outnumbered. She wanted them to be injured as much as she had wanted them to be chasing her.
"Right?" She asked their leader. "A simple mistake that does not need to result in bloodshed."
She glanced between the two sides, her optimism in the human ability for compassion overriding her knowledge that she was now fully in the firing line of any spears launched from either side of this quarrel.
Neena had stamina for days. She could run and walk and sprint for as long as she ever needed when her life was on the line. It was one of the bonuses of having grown up on the run and in the streets of a half dozen different kingdoms. When you travelled as much as she did, it was common that mistakes or accidents happened that would offend people. When you had to steal food to survive, it was common that those who originally owned it would take issue and try to get it back. When you were someone whose livelihood required you to scam or cheat or win coin through performance, it was common that people would chase or attempt to steal earnings for their own.
Neena was good at running.
What she wasn't so good at, however, was the left right, left right and diversions she had to keep taking, her feet skidding sometimes on sands and sometimes the cobblestones of the pavements on the outside edges of the port city. On the extremities of the settlement, the roads drooped and dropped beneath the sands of the Sahara and the tents of the tribes had been erected as a temporary home and settlement. As she twisted and turned, avoiding those that were not set up in straight lines and darting around others that were tall and might hide her from view from her pursuers, her ankles started to heat and ache. When her feet hit hard cobbles beneath the shallow layers of sand instead of deeper, cushioning yellow, she felt the jolt of impact go up her calves.
She might have been able to run for days. But this particular path was ensuring her lower legs would not hold out long enough for her to do so.
When Neena heard a voice from behind - a voice she knew so very well and intimately - she felt her eyes close for a moment in despair as she realised that Hasani had spotted her in jeopardy and charged in to help. Her heart swelled at his care, as it had done a few months back when he had saved her from a stampede of camels on the other side of the Sahara. But - just as with that time - her mind turned to the dangers he took upon his own shoulders and what she would owe to Tani if the two of them ever lost the man. Not to mention the disappointment and frustration he must feel at her for always being the one to get into trouble.
It was at times like these when Neena had a momentary - and only momentary - flash of regret for who and how she was; a moment of wonder and frustration at why she couldn't be more effortlessly calm and elegant, like Hasani's other wife. Why she had to be so foolhardy and adventurous in her path in life...
It was rare for Neena to doubt herself and the way she had always been but it did happen. Particularly when that way of being caused issues for others.
As the thumping steps that she could hear behind her drew to a slow and then stop, the sound of metal and shifting weaponry replacing the rhythmic steps of her pursuers, Neena came to a much-needed stop, her chest rising and falling with heavy breath and her hair wild about her face. Her cheeks were flushed and the skin upon her collarbone glittered and glowed with sweat as the high and hot sun beat down upon them.
Looking back over her shoulder, Neena quickly came upright once more and - without thought or concern - set up a jog back towards the Buuchu.
For this was her fault.
And she wasn't about to let two tribes of warriors suddenly draw blood over what was a mistake on her part and an over-reaction on that of the Buuchu's.
"Wait!" she called, taking the Buuchu by surprise as she darted around them. Their quarry now a protected wife of a Leier, which they hadn't known until now, meant that their instincts to reach out and grab her when she came back into proximity was dulled enough that she danced and skirted their group until she stood between two small groups of fighters. Standing directly between the two, she raised her hands. It took a moment for breath to come to her and words to leave her lips with enough volume that they could all hear.
"This was a misunderstanding." She insisted, her head on the swivel as she took to looking at both groups. She tried to make serious eye contact with the central fighter of the Buuchu. For they were the injured party supposedly and yet were now severely outnumbered. She wanted them to be injured as much as she had wanted them to be chasing her.
"Right?" She asked their leader. "A simple mistake that does not need to result in bloodshed."
She glanced between the two sides, her optimism in the human ability for compassion overriding her knowledge that she was now fully in the firing line of any spears launched from either side of this quarrel.
“Oh!” Tanishe hadn’t expected Hasani to toss both whittling knife and woodblock into her hands, and only managed to hold onto the block of wood. The knife clattered harmlessly down on the ground at her feet and she stepped back, looking around for it and bending to pick it up. She was still crouched and nearly bowled over when Hasani dashed back out of the tent. Elegant and graceful she might be under normal circumstances, but in her haste to get out of her husband’s way, she’d wound up sitting on her butt in the sand. A frustrated sigh escaped her nose and she frowned after Hasani. Sitting this way, she couldn’t exactly see anything. Still, she had enough faith in Neena’s fleetness of foot, and Hasani’s desire for his second wife not to get skewered, that she was not all that concerned.
Turning the woodblock this way and that in her hands, she couldn’t figure out what it was meant to be, yet. It hadn’t taken shape. Such a thing was worth something, though and Tanishe took it and the knife and placed them on her husband’s bed pallet, before coming back out of the tent in time to catch sight of all the warriors facing off against each other. Crossing her arms together, her eyes widened in unhidden irritation as Neena, of all people, decided to place herself between men.
That was offensive, even to Tanishe. Hasani could handle it. He did not require the help of the woman who’d been the one to initiate the trouble in the first place. From here she could do nothing and could not, and would not have pulled Neena back even if she was there. It was not for her to do. It was for their husband to control his women and it made Tanishe’s cheeks burn that Neena was making him seem weak as a result of her impulsiveness. She stood, still watching and waiting, but now thinking that salves would not be required. Shaking her head, Tanishe brought up her thumb and chewed the end of her nail, her brows furrowed, her mouth in an unhappy down turn.
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“Oh!” Tanishe hadn’t expected Hasani to toss both whittling knife and woodblock into her hands, and only managed to hold onto the block of wood. The knife clattered harmlessly down on the ground at her feet and she stepped back, looking around for it and bending to pick it up. She was still crouched and nearly bowled over when Hasani dashed back out of the tent. Elegant and graceful she might be under normal circumstances, but in her haste to get out of her husband’s way, she’d wound up sitting on her butt in the sand. A frustrated sigh escaped her nose and she frowned after Hasani. Sitting this way, she couldn’t exactly see anything. Still, she had enough faith in Neena’s fleetness of foot, and Hasani’s desire for his second wife not to get skewered, that she was not all that concerned.
Turning the woodblock this way and that in her hands, she couldn’t figure out what it was meant to be, yet. It hadn’t taken shape. Such a thing was worth something, though and Tanishe took it and the knife and placed them on her husband’s bed pallet, before coming back out of the tent in time to catch sight of all the warriors facing off against each other. Crossing her arms together, her eyes widened in unhidden irritation as Neena, of all people, decided to place herself between men.
That was offensive, even to Tanishe. Hasani could handle it. He did not require the help of the woman who’d been the one to initiate the trouble in the first place. From here she could do nothing and could not, and would not have pulled Neena back even if she was there. It was not for her to do. It was for their husband to control his women and it made Tanishe’s cheeks burn that Neena was making him seem weak as a result of her impulsiveness. She stood, still watching and waiting, but now thinking that salves would not be required. Shaking her head, Tanishe brought up her thumb and chewed the end of her nail, her brows furrowed, her mouth in an unhappy down turn.
“Oh!” Tanishe hadn’t expected Hasani to toss both whittling knife and woodblock into her hands, and only managed to hold onto the block of wood. The knife clattered harmlessly down on the ground at her feet and she stepped back, looking around for it and bending to pick it up. She was still crouched and nearly bowled over when Hasani dashed back out of the tent. Elegant and graceful she might be under normal circumstances, but in her haste to get out of her husband’s way, she’d wound up sitting on her butt in the sand. A frustrated sigh escaped her nose and she frowned after Hasani. Sitting this way, she couldn’t exactly see anything. Still, she had enough faith in Neena’s fleetness of foot, and Hasani’s desire for his second wife not to get skewered, that she was not all that concerned.
Turning the woodblock this way and that in her hands, she couldn’t figure out what it was meant to be, yet. It hadn’t taken shape. Such a thing was worth something, though and Tanishe took it and the knife and placed them on her husband’s bed pallet, before coming back out of the tent in time to catch sight of all the warriors facing off against each other. Crossing her arms together, her eyes widened in unhidden irritation as Neena, of all people, decided to place herself between men.
That was offensive, even to Tanishe. Hasani could handle it. He did not require the help of the woman who’d been the one to initiate the trouble in the first place. From here she could do nothing and could not, and would not have pulled Neena back even if she was there. It was not for her to do. It was for their husband to control his women and it made Tanishe’s cheeks burn that Neena was making him seem weak as a result of her impulsiveness. She stood, still watching and waiting, but now thinking that salves would not be required. Shaking her head, Tanishe brought up her thumb and chewed the end of her nail, her brows furrowed, her mouth in an unhappy down turn.
When Hasani bolted past with a yell, Mwenye dropped his own tools, grabbed his spear, and ran after. He hadn't noticed the initial commotion - or rather, he'd noticed some warriors from the other tribe running after presumably a thief, and had immediately dismissed it from his mind as not his business, not realizing that Neena was involved in the situation.
It did not take at all long for him to realize what was actually happening, though, as Hasani's words made it extremely clear, and only one of his two wives was at all prone to getting in trouble. Not to mention Tanishe had been sitting in front of her own tent the last time he'd glanced in that direction.
Hasani's words, demanding an explanation, sounded harsh, but Mwyene recognized in the simple fact of them that it was unlikely to come down to a real fight. The Buuchu were smart enough to know they were outnumbered, if it was a misunderstanding it would get cleared up and if it was not there would be a negotiation, for the Zaire prophet could not imagine Neena had done anything that might be worthy of a feud. Causing an already short temper to flare up, he was not terribly surprised. But something more severe? Far less likely. Still, it was always possible that someone else would not be sensible, so he kept his hand firm on his spear and his expression serious.
And then Neena had to get in the way of things getting resolved. Mwenye kept both his own Leier and the opposing warriors in his range of vision as he waited, letting Hasani's reaction inform his own.
Ancestors preserve us.
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When Hasani bolted past with a yell, Mwenye dropped his own tools, grabbed his spear, and ran after. He hadn't noticed the initial commotion - or rather, he'd noticed some warriors from the other tribe running after presumably a thief, and had immediately dismissed it from his mind as not his business, not realizing that Neena was involved in the situation.
It did not take at all long for him to realize what was actually happening, though, as Hasani's words made it extremely clear, and only one of his two wives was at all prone to getting in trouble. Not to mention Tanishe had been sitting in front of her own tent the last time he'd glanced in that direction.
Hasani's words, demanding an explanation, sounded harsh, but Mwyene recognized in the simple fact of them that it was unlikely to come down to a real fight. The Buuchu were smart enough to know they were outnumbered, if it was a misunderstanding it would get cleared up and if it was not there would be a negotiation, for the Zaire prophet could not imagine Neena had done anything that might be worthy of a feud. Causing an already short temper to flare up, he was not terribly surprised. But something more severe? Far less likely. Still, it was always possible that someone else would not be sensible, so he kept his hand firm on his spear and his expression serious.
And then Neena had to get in the way of things getting resolved. Mwenye kept both his own Leier and the opposing warriors in his range of vision as he waited, letting Hasani's reaction inform his own.
Ancestors preserve us.
When Hasani bolted past with a yell, Mwenye dropped his own tools, grabbed his spear, and ran after. He hadn't noticed the initial commotion - or rather, he'd noticed some warriors from the other tribe running after presumably a thief, and had immediately dismissed it from his mind as not his business, not realizing that Neena was involved in the situation.
It did not take at all long for him to realize what was actually happening, though, as Hasani's words made it extremely clear, and only one of his two wives was at all prone to getting in trouble. Not to mention Tanishe had been sitting in front of her own tent the last time he'd glanced in that direction.
Hasani's words, demanding an explanation, sounded harsh, but Mwyene recognized in the simple fact of them that it was unlikely to come down to a real fight. The Buuchu were smart enough to know they were outnumbered, if it was a misunderstanding it would get cleared up and if it was not there would be a negotiation, for the Zaire prophet could not imagine Neena had done anything that might be worthy of a feud. Causing an already short temper to flare up, he was not terribly surprised. But something more severe? Far less likely. Still, it was always possible that someone else would not be sensible, so he kept his hand firm on his spear and his expression serious.
And then Neena had to get in the way of things getting resolved. Mwenye kept both his own Leier and the opposing warriors in his range of vision as he waited, letting Hasani's reaction inform his own.
Ancestors preserve us.
It was these particular moments, the ones in which his second wife continued to put herself into danger that made his own patience wane and fade rather quickly. He was holding a spear, he was ready to shed blood for her... and she put herself between warriors. Trained warriors that could strike her dead where she stood just for overstepping her boundaries as a wife and stepped into her husband's business without thinking. This stopped being Neena's duty the moment she became part of the skirmish.
With his gaze on the men of the other tribe, the leier did not look at his wife. He refused. In fact, he all but ignored the words that fell from her lips, trying to get the two sides to see reason. There was no reason when it came to his lovers, his wives. If Tanishe had found this sort of trouble, this would have been the same situation no matter how much the woman had pleaded. Because Hasani was not going to cow to his women, not when he was so blindingly angry, all thoughts of mercy flitting off in the breeze. There would be no mercy if Neena ended up hurt. They would overhelm their Buuchu counterparts without a second thought.
It was only when Neena mentioned that it all had been a mistake that Hasani's dark gaze slid dangerously in her direction. He would not shame her here, in front of them, but his expression all but spit the fact that she was in trouble right at her feet. "And, ancestors above, what type of mistake was made to lead to warriors from another tribe to chase you?" Hasani asked very slowly, though he wasn't actually asking his wife. Instead, his gaze had wandered back to the other three warriors, the leier faintly aware of Mwenye very close to his flank. Hasani almost wished Mwenye would speak, would help calm the absolute fury that the leier felt about this situation.
"What was it that she did to warrant this and what can we do as a tribe to ensure that something like this does not happen again with any of my tribe?" Hasani's voice had taken on a dealthy calm, "Need I seek out your leier myself and have you explain to them why you saw it fit to chase a woman from another tribe without asking questions first? Or are you such brutes that you would have accidentally slain another leier's wife and started a war?" Because that was what Hasani was promising if even a single hair upon Neena's head had been hurt.
"Come back here, Neena," Hasani finally said, his tone giving her no space to argue unless she wanted to find trouble later.
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It was these particular moments, the ones in which his second wife continued to put herself into danger that made his own patience wane and fade rather quickly. He was holding a spear, he was ready to shed blood for her... and she put herself between warriors. Trained warriors that could strike her dead where she stood just for overstepping her boundaries as a wife and stepped into her husband's business without thinking. This stopped being Neena's duty the moment she became part of the skirmish.
With his gaze on the men of the other tribe, the leier did not look at his wife. He refused. In fact, he all but ignored the words that fell from her lips, trying to get the two sides to see reason. There was no reason when it came to his lovers, his wives. If Tanishe had found this sort of trouble, this would have been the same situation no matter how much the woman had pleaded. Because Hasani was not going to cow to his women, not when he was so blindingly angry, all thoughts of mercy flitting off in the breeze. There would be no mercy if Neena ended up hurt. They would overhelm their Buuchu counterparts without a second thought.
It was only when Neena mentioned that it all had been a mistake that Hasani's dark gaze slid dangerously in her direction. He would not shame her here, in front of them, but his expression all but spit the fact that she was in trouble right at her feet. "And, ancestors above, what type of mistake was made to lead to warriors from another tribe to chase you?" Hasani asked very slowly, though he wasn't actually asking his wife. Instead, his gaze had wandered back to the other three warriors, the leier faintly aware of Mwenye very close to his flank. Hasani almost wished Mwenye would speak, would help calm the absolute fury that the leier felt about this situation.
"What was it that she did to warrant this and what can we do as a tribe to ensure that something like this does not happen again with any of my tribe?" Hasani's voice had taken on a dealthy calm, "Need I seek out your leier myself and have you explain to them why you saw it fit to chase a woman from another tribe without asking questions first? Or are you such brutes that you would have accidentally slain another leier's wife and started a war?" Because that was what Hasani was promising if even a single hair upon Neena's head had been hurt.
"Come back here, Neena," Hasani finally said, his tone giving her no space to argue unless she wanted to find trouble later.
It was these particular moments, the ones in which his second wife continued to put herself into danger that made his own patience wane and fade rather quickly. He was holding a spear, he was ready to shed blood for her... and she put herself between warriors. Trained warriors that could strike her dead where she stood just for overstepping her boundaries as a wife and stepped into her husband's business without thinking. This stopped being Neena's duty the moment she became part of the skirmish.
With his gaze on the men of the other tribe, the leier did not look at his wife. He refused. In fact, he all but ignored the words that fell from her lips, trying to get the two sides to see reason. There was no reason when it came to his lovers, his wives. If Tanishe had found this sort of trouble, this would have been the same situation no matter how much the woman had pleaded. Because Hasani was not going to cow to his women, not when he was so blindingly angry, all thoughts of mercy flitting off in the breeze. There would be no mercy if Neena ended up hurt. They would overhelm their Buuchu counterparts without a second thought.
It was only when Neena mentioned that it all had been a mistake that Hasani's dark gaze slid dangerously in her direction. He would not shame her here, in front of them, but his expression all but spit the fact that she was in trouble right at her feet. "And, ancestors above, what type of mistake was made to lead to warriors from another tribe to chase you?" Hasani asked very slowly, though he wasn't actually asking his wife. Instead, his gaze had wandered back to the other three warriors, the leier faintly aware of Mwenye very close to his flank. Hasani almost wished Mwenye would speak, would help calm the absolute fury that the leier felt about this situation.
"What was it that she did to warrant this and what can we do as a tribe to ensure that something like this does not happen again with any of my tribe?" Hasani's voice had taken on a dealthy calm, "Need I seek out your leier myself and have you explain to them why you saw it fit to chase a woman from another tribe without asking questions first? Or are you such brutes that you would have accidentally slain another leier's wife and started a war?" Because that was what Hasani was promising if even a single hair upon Neena's head had been hurt.
"Come back here, Neena," Hasani finally said, his tone giving her no space to argue unless she wanted to find trouble later.
Neena had never intended to cause offence. Truthfully, rendering insult to her husband and his first wife, to his masculinity and his power, was the last thing she had meant to do when she had placed herself between the opposing sides of Bedoan warriors.
On a personal level, Neena had had many years of practice looking after herself, protecting herself, defending her position, her thoughts and her life. She was used to looking out for the safety of her own skin and despite being married for several years now, she would likely never become accustomed to permitting another to be the shield that defended her. She simply wasn't wired that way. Growing up on a sailing ship, if you didn't pull your own weight, complete your own task and handle your own responsibilities, you let down the entire crew, causing a problem with the ship or the journey that would have a detrimental effect to those around you; to those you cared about.
Secondly, being the cause of this whole mess had prompted a desire to fix it. Not wishing to let Hasani down, to cause his aggravation, to make life harder for him and his tribe and their family... The moment she had made things so complex and been the one to spark aggressions between the tribe, she had desperately sought to immediately put things to rights - to ensure that her husband was not drawn into a dangerous power play that could result in war between the gesin.
And so, she had stepped in. To handle her responsibility as part of the crew; to correct the issue she herself had created. From her perspective, she was being both considerate and dutiful. Yet, she had failed to take into consideration the gender roles and expectations of the Bedoan gesin and shamed those she had intended to protect.
Realising her mistake, Neena's arms came down and her expression one of disenchantment as Hasani spoke to her but not to her. His words directing the subject towards her and yet his eyes inferring very clearly that she was not to answer - that his orders for explanations were to be heeded by the Buuchu.
When Hasani snapped that she was to come to his side, Neena's mouth opened and her brow lowered in a gesture that clearly spoke of rebellion - like she was to argue against such a command. Yet the swift and piercing look of her husband had Neena's lips snapping closed, her head bowing a little in humility - an uncommon gesture for such a woman - and then walked sedately the few yards that would draw her in line with her husband...
As she suffered her own little moment of obedience, the Buuchu warriors were living through their own, their eyes uncertain as they glanced at one another, clearly no longer confident in their means of attack now that they were aware of the identity of their would-be victim. Their words were mumbled, their scowls low and their apologies barely there, but in a scuffle and a muffle they had excused themselves from the disagreement in a way that was at least peaceful if not graceful, leaving the men of the Zaire glancing to their Leier on whether or not they were to pursue…
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Neena had never intended to cause offence. Truthfully, rendering insult to her husband and his first wife, to his masculinity and his power, was the last thing she had meant to do when she had placed herself between the opposing sides of Bedoan warriors.
On a personal level, Neena had had many years of practice looking after herself, protecting herself, defending her position, her thoughts and her life. She was used to looking out for the safety of her own skin and despite being married for several years now, she would likely never become accustomed to permitting another to be the shield that defended her. She simply wasn't wired that way. Growing up on a sailing ship, if you didn't pull your own weight, complete your own task and handle your own responsibilities, you let down the entire crew, causing a problem with the ship or the journey that would have a detrimental effect to those around you; to those you cared about.
Secondly, being the cause of this whole mess had prompted a desire to fix it. Not wishing to let Hasani down, to cause his aggravation, to make life harder for him and his tribe and their family... The moment she had made things so complex and been the one to spark aggressions between the tribe, she had desperately sought to immediately put things to rights - to ensure that her husband was not drawn into a dangerous power play that could result in war between the gesin.
And so, she had stepped in. To handle her responsibility as part of the crew; to correct the issue she herself had created. From her perspective, she was being both considerate and dutiful. Yet, she had failed to take into consideration the gender roles and expectations of the Bedoan gesin and shamed those she had intended to protect.
Realising her mistake, Neena's arms came down and her expression one of disenchantment as Hasani spoke to her but not to her. His words directing the subject towards her and yet his eyes inferring very clearly that she was not to answer - that his orders for explanations were to be heeded by the Buuchu.
When Hasani snapped that she was to come to his side, Neena's mouth opened and her brow lowered in a gesture that clearly spoke of rebellion - like she was to argue against such a command. Yet the swift and piercing look of her husband had Neena's lips snapping closed, her head bowing a little in humility - an uncommon gesture for such a woman - and then walked sedately the few yards that would draw her in line with her husband...
As she suffered her own little moment of obedience, the Buuchu warriors were living through their own, their eyes uncertain as they glanced at one another, clearly no longer confident in their means of attack now that they were aware of the identity of their would-be victim. Their words were mumbled, their scowls low and their apologies barely there, but in a scuffle and a muffle they had excused themselves from the disagreement in a way that was at least peaceful if not graceful, leaving the men of the Zaire glancing to their Leier on whether or not they were to pursue…
Neena had never intended to cause offence. Truthfully, rendering insult to her husband and his first wife, to his masculinity and his power, was the last thing she had meant to do when she had placed herself between the opposing sides of Bedoan warriors.
On a personal level, Neena had had many years of practice looking after herself, protecting herself, defending her position, her thoughts and her life. She was used to looking out for the safety of her own skin and despite being married for several years now, she would likely never become accustomed to permitting another to be the shield that defended her. She simply wasn't wired that way. Growing up on a sailing ship, if you didn't pull your own weight, complete your own task and handle your own responsibilities, you let down the entire crew, causing a problem with the ship or the journey that would have a detrimental effect to those around you; to those you cared about.
Secondly, being the cause of this whole mess had prompted a desire to fix it. Not wishing to let Hasani down, to cause his aggravation, to make life harder for him and his tribe and their family... The moment she had made things so complex and been the one to spark aggressions between the tribe, she had desperately sought to immediately put things to rights - to ensure that her husband was not drawn into a dangerous power play that could result in war between the gesin.
And so, she had stepped in. To handle her responsibility as part of the crew; to correct the issue she herself had created. From her perspective, she was being both considerate and dutiful. Yet, she had failed to take into consideration the gender roles and expectations of the Bedoan gesin and shamed those she had intended to protect.
Realising her mistake, Neena's arms came down and her expression one of disenchantment as Hasani spoke to her but not to her. His words directing the subject towards her and yet his eyes inferring very clearly that she was not to answer - that his orders for explanations were to be heeded by the Buuchu.
When Hasani snapped that she was to come to his side, Neena's mouth opened and her brow lowered in a gesture that clearly spoke of rebellion - like she was to argue against such a command. Yet the swift and piercing look of her husband had Neena's lips snapping closed, her head bowing a little in humility - an uncommon gesture for such a woman - and then walked sedately the few yards that would draw her in line with her husband...
As she suffered her own little moment of obedience, the Buuchu warriors were living through their own, their eyes uncertain as they glanced at one another, clearly no longer confident in their means of attack now that they were aware of the identity of their would-be victim. Their words were mumbled, their scowls low and their apologies barely there, but in a scuffle and a muffle they had excused themselves from the disagreement in a way that was at least peaceful if not graceful, leaving the men of the Zaire glancing to their Leier on whether or not they were to pursue…
"Let them go," Hasani noted in a sharp, firm tone to the rest of the Zaire men that surrounded him. The leier let his gaze remain on the backs of the retreating Buuchu, ready to fall back into a war stance should the opposing men have changed their minds.Hasani didn't want to start a turf war, but it really wouldn't be his own doing, would it? He was angry, but he wasn't going to take it out on Neena. Yet. There would be a time and a place and right here was not the place. Not in the least.
With his jaw clenched, he remained in place until the Buuchu warriors were well out of sight. "If there is a problem, the Buuchu leier can come to me. I will not draw first blood here. I will not stoop to the level that they were prepared to," the man instructed his warriors, now motioning them off to the tasks that they had all been performing prior to Neena's near death.
It wasn't until Hasani had stood there for a good few long moments, evening out his breathing and quelling his temper that he finally turned to look at his second wife. "What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice soft, though as firm as it always was. His brows furrowed in a shadow of affection and confliction about what he should honestly do with Neena in this situation. Part of him wanted to yell, scream, sequester her to their tent with only Tani for company, but he knew that she would put up a fight about that.
How, if ever, was he going to get the point across to his second wife that many of the stunts she pulled were dangerous. Whether she had skill in anything didn't matter when it was her life on the line. Her life on the line and in the line of fire of another tribe. If they had been the Somalu, they likely would have taken her as a slave once more. That was something that neither Hasani nor Neena wanted.
Reaching up, he brushed thick fingers against his wife's jaw, still contemplative and not yet having moved from where he had been prepared to start a war only minutes before. "Please go back to the tent. Help Tani with supper," he said calmly, his grip tightening on the spear in his hand. "For once, I'm begging you to just do what I've asked fo you. I'll speak with you later," he noted calmly then, keeping his temper in check. It was deciving the amount of calm he could exeud when he was feeling anything but.
"Mwenye," he then noted, "Come with me. We are going to patrol our territory before the day gets hotter. If any of the Buuchu come back, I want us to be prepared." Then he dropped his hand from Neena's face, turning his gaze completely away from her and starting ahead with a few of the other warriors also tailing the leier.
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Apr 16, 2020 16:34:16 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Apr 16, 2020 16:34:16 GMT
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"Let them go," Hasani noted in a sharp, firm tone to the rest of the Zaire men that surrounded him. The leier let his gaze remain on the backs of the retreating Buuchu, ready to fall back into a war stance should the opposing men have changed their minds.Hasani didn't want to start a turf war, but it really wouldn't be his own doing, would it? He was angry, but he wasn't going to take it out on Neena. Yet. There would be a time and a place and right here was not the place. Not in the least.
With his jaw clenched, he remained in place until the Buuchu warriors were well out of sight. "If there is a problem, the Buuchu leier can come to me. I will not draw first blood here. I will not stoop to the level that they were prepared to," the man instructed his warriors, now motioning them off to the tasks that they had all been performing prior to Neena's near death.
It wasn't until Hasani had stood there for a good few long moments, evening out his breathing and quelling his temper that he finally turned to look at his second wife. "What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice soft, though as firm as it always was. His brows furrowed in a shadow of affection and confliction about what he should honestly do with Neena in this situation. Part of him wanted to yell, scream, sequester her to their tent with only Tani for company, but he knew that she would put up a fight about that.
How, if ever, was he going to get the point across to his second wife that many of the stunts she pulled were dangerous. Whether she had skill in anything didn't matter when it was her life on the line. Her life on the line and in the line of fire of another tribe. If they had been the Somalu, they likely would have taken her as a slave once more. That was something that neither Hasani nor Neena wanted.
Reaching up, he brushed thick fingers against his wife's jaw, still contemplative and not yet having moved from where he had been prepared to start a war only minutes before. "Please go back to the tent. Help Tani with supper," he said calmly, his grip tightening on the spear in his hand. "For once, I'm begging you to just do what I've asked fo you. I'll speak with you later," he noted calmly then, keeping his temper in check. It was deciving the amount of calm he could exeud when he was feeling anything but.
"Mwenye," he then noted, "Come with me. We are going to patrol our territory before the day gets hotter. If any of the Buuchu come back, I want us to be prepared." Then he dropped his hand from Neena's face, turning his gaze completely away from her and starting ahead with a few of the other warriors also tailing the leier.
"Let them go," Hasani noted in a sharp, firm tone to the rest of the Zaire men that surrounded him. The leier let his gaze remain on the backs of the retreating Buuchu, ready to fall back into a war stance should the opposing men have changed their minds.Hasani didn't want to start a turf war, but it really wouldn't be his own doing, would it? He was angry, but he wasn't going to take it out on Neena. Yet. There would be a time and a place and right here was not the place. Not in the least.
With his jaw clenched, he remained in place until the Buuchu warriors were well out of sight. "If there is a problem, the Buuchu leier can come to me. I will not draw first blood here. I will not stoop to the level that they were prepared to," the man instructed his warriors, now motioning them off to the tasks that they had all been performing prior to Neena's near death.
It wasn't until Hasani had stood there for a good few long moments, evening out his breathing and quelling his temper that he finally turned to look at his second wife. "What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice soft, though as firm as it always was. His brows furrowed in a shadow of affection and confliction about what he should honestly do with Neena in this situation. Part of him wanted to yell, scream, sequester her to their tent with only Tani for company, but he knew that she would put up a fight about that.
How, if ever, was he going to get the point across to his second wife that many of the stunts she pulled were dangerous. Whether she had skill in anything didn't matter when it was her life on the line. Her life on the line and in the line of fire of another tribe. If they had been the Somalu, they likely would have taken her as a slave once more. That was something that neither Hasani nor Neena wanted.
Reaching up, he brushed thick fingers against his wife's jaw, still contemplative and not yet having moved from where he had been prepared to start a war only minutes before. "Please go back to the tent. Help Tani with supper," he said calmly, his grip tightening on the spear in his hand. "For once, I'm begging you to just do what I've asked fo you. I'll speak with you later," he noted calmly then, keeping his temper in check. It was deciving the amount of calm he could exeud when he was feeling anything but.
"Mwenye," he then noted, "Come with me. We are going to patrol our territory before the day gets hotter. If any of the Buuchu come back, I want us to be prepared." Then he dropped his hand from Neena's face, turning his gaze completely away from her and starting ahead with a few of the other warriors also tailing the leier.
As the Buuchu left the scene, Neena remained deliberately and uncharacteristically quiet. She stood beside Hasani, her arms folded and her head low with disgruntled obedience, not wishing to interrupt his instructions to his men and his decisions as Leier of his people. She had caused enough issues that afternoon but, as she went through the turn of events that had led them to this, she felt the fiery spirit of unfairness. She knew that she could cause issues - and her determination to fix the problem herself had escalated this one - but this entire thing (this time!) was not her fault. And the assumption from Hasani that it was, regardless of past experience to up such an assumption, was irritating.
So, when he turned to finally speak with her, his tone soft and his touch gentle, trying to turn her jaw to look at him, Neena's eyes had fallen on Mwenye and refused to look at her husband. Childish it might have been, such a gesture was actually a sign of her affection for the man before her. Normally, Neena was perfectly content to stand straight and hold to her thoughts and opinions regardless of any impressions or perspectives that others might form of her. Their judgement - quick in assumption or slow in discovery - was neither here nor there for her. But placed in the mind and hands of Hasani and Neena felt her emotions sparked and her sense of justice peaked. She turned sullen for a moment and emotional in a way she might not have done with anyone else.
When he asked what she had been thinking, Neena was quiet for a moment, not sure whether to just apologise and have everything be blown away so that happiness and lightness could come back into the world around and between them. Or to argue her side of it, to try and clear her name in his mind and stand her ground. Both would fit with her character and yet the indecision cost her precious moments of Hasani's time. Just as her lips parted with some kind of answer - she wasn't sure which - he had already made his instructions clear.
Frustrated that something that had not been entirely of her making had relegated her back to the hawe to perform domestic tasks - something she had no issue doing but rejected when it was cast in the light of a punishment - Neena only took a deep inhale and then blew out her frustrations in a long exhalation. She nodded; one single gesture of obedience, and then turned away from her husband and his man, before heading back towards the hawe.
A woman with a fairly good sense of direction - such a thing was needed when you lived on the streets and had only your own eyes and knowledge to guide you back to stashes or decent shelters you had used in previous nights - Neena moved between the rows of the Zaire hawes until she came into site of the tent that was reserved specifically for the First Family. Tani was already outside of it, working in her diligent and elegant manner over something that would either be for eating or for healing. Neena entered into her realm of vision with something a little less than the normal bounce to her step.
As she stepped over the edges of the kaftans that provided the floor of the hawe, Neena folded her legs where she stood and came down to her bottom in a single motion. Straightening her legs, she kicked off her little flipflops and dusted down her feet before she curled them in beneath her knees, keeping the majority of the sand outside. Sitting there in the entrance to the hawe, she rested her elbows on her knees and looked out towards the sun with a squinting gaze.
"I'm to help with cooking dinner." She told the other woman, her tone unenthusiastic. She glanced at the woman and then away again, as if she wasn't sure how to admit the next words. "Hasani is mad at me." Such a confession seemed drawn from her lips like a small child surrendering a stolen cookie or admittance of guilt.
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As the Buuchu left the scene, Neena remained deliberately and uncharacteristically quiet. She stood beside Hasani, her arms folded and her head low with disgruntled obedience, not wishing to interrupt his instructions to his men and his decisions as Leier of his people. She had caused enough issues that afternoon but, as she went through the turn of events that had led them to this, she felt the fiery spirit of unfairness. She knew that she could cause issues - and her determination to fix the problem herself had escalated this one - but this entire thing (this time!) was not her fault. And the assumption from Hasani that it was, regardless of past experience to up such an assumption, was irritating.
So, when he turned to finally speak with her, his tone soft and his touch gentle, trying to turn her jaw to look at him, Neena's eyes had fallen on Mwenye and refused to look at her husband. Childish it might have been, such a gesture was actually a sign of her affection for the man before her. Normally, Neena was perfectly content to stand straight and hold to her thoughts and opinions regardless of any impressions or perspectives that others might form of her. Their judgement - quick in assumption or slow in discovery - was neither here nor there for her. But placed in the mind and hands of Hasani and Neena felt her emotions sparked and her sense of justice peaked. She turned sullen for a moment and emotional in a way she might not have done with anyone else.
When he asked what she had been thinking, Neena was quiet for a moment, not sure whether to just apologise and have everything be blown away so that happiness and lightness could come back into the world around and between them. Or to argue her side of it, to try and clear her name in his mind and stand her ground. Both would fit with her character and yet the indecision cost her precious moments of Hasani's time. Just as her lips parted with some kind of answer - she wasn't sure which - he had already made his instructions clear.
Frustrated that something that had not been entirely of her making had relegated her back to the hawe to perform domestic tasks - something she had no issue doing but rejected when it was cast in the light of a punishment - Neena only took a deep inhale and then blew out her frustrations in a long exhalation. She nodded; one single gesture of obedience, and then turned away from her husband and his man, before heading back towards the hawe.
A woman with a fairly good sense of direction - such a thing was needed when you lived on the streets and had only your own eyes and knowledge to guide you back to stashes or decent shelters you had used in previous nights - Neena moved between the rows of the Zaire hawes until she came into site of the tent that was reserved specifically for the First Family. Tani was already outside of it, working in her diligent and elegant manner over something that would either be for eating or for healing. Neena entered into her realm of vision with something a little less than the normal bounce to her step.
As she stepped over the edges of the kaftans that provided the floor of the hawe, Neena folded her legs where she stood and came down to her bottom in a single motion. Straightening her legs, she kicked off her little flipflops and dusted down her feet before she curled them in beneath her knees, keeping the majority of the sand outside. Sitting there in the entrance to the hawe, she rested her elbows on her knees and looked out towards the sun with a squinting gaze.
"I'm to help with cooking dinner." She told the other woman, her tone unenthusiastic. She glanced at the woman and then away again, as if she wasn't sure how to admit the next words. "Hasani is mad at me." Such a confession seemed drawn from her lips like a small child surrendering a stolen cookie or admittance of guilt.
As the Buuchu left the scene, Neena remained deliberately and uncharacteristically quiet. She stood beside Hasani, her arms folded and her head low with disgruntled obedience, not wishing to interrupt his instructions to his men and his decisions as Leier of his people. She had caused enough issues that afternoon but, as she went through the turn of events that had led them to this, she felt the fiery spirit of unfairness. She knew that she could cause issues - and her determination to fix the problem herself had escalated this one - but this entire thing (this time!) was not her fault. And the assumption from Hasani that it was, regardless of past experience to up such an assumption, was irritating.
So, when he turned to finally speak with her, his tone soft and his touch gentle, trying to turn her jaw to look at him, Neena's eyes had fallen on Mwenye and refused to look at her husband. Childish it might have been, such a gesture was actually a sign of her affection for the man before her. Normally, Neena was perfectly content to stand straight and hold to her thoughts and opinions regardless of any impressions or perspectives that others might form of her. Their judgement - quick in assumption or slow in discovery - was neither here nor there for her. But placed in the mind and hands of Hasani and Neena felt her emotions sparked and her sense of justice peaked. She turned sullen for a moment and emotional in a way she might not have done with anyone else.
When he asked what she had been thinking, Neena was quiet for a moment, not sure whether to just apologise and have everything be blown away so that happiness and lightness could come back into the world around and between them. Or to argue her side of it, to try and clear her name in his mind and stand her ground. Both would fit with her character and yet the indecision cost her precious moments of Hasani's time. Just as her lips parted with some kind of answer - she wasn't sure which - he had already made his instructions clear.
Frustrated that something that had not been entirely of her making had relegated her back to the hawe to perform domestic tasks - something she had no issue doing but rejected when it was cast in the light of a punishment - Neena only took a deep inhale and then blew out her frustrations in a long exhalation. She nodded; one single gesture of obedience, and then turned away from her husband and his man, before heading back towards the hawe.
A woman with a fairly good sense of direction - such a thing was needed when you lived on the streets and had only your own eyes and knowledge to guide you back to stashes or decent shelters you had used in previous nights - Neena moved between the rows of the Zaire hawes until she came into site of the tent that was reserved specifically for the First Family. Tani was already outside of it, working in her diligent and elegant manner over something that would either be for eating or for healing. Neena entered into her realm of vision with something a little less than the normal bounce to her step.
As she stepped over the edges of the kaftans that provided the floor of the hawe, Neena folded her legs where she stood and came down to her bottom in a single motion. Straightening her legs, she kicked off her little flipflops and dusted down her feet before she curled them in beneath her knees, keeping the majority of the sand outside. Sitting there in the entrance to the hawe, she rested her elbows on her knees and looked out towards the sun with a squinting gaze.
"I'm to help with cooking dinner." She told the other woman, her tone unenthusiastic. She glanced at the woman and then away again, as if she wasn't sure how to admit the next words. "Hasani is mad at me." Such a confession seemed drawn from her lips like a small child surrendering a stolen cookie or admittance of guilt.
Mwenye glared at the Buuchu warriors as their mumbled apologies and excuses carried with them very little in the way of either grace nor actual explanation. For all that the young prophet often seemed to have less of a curious streak than his leir, he was a nonetheless a man who disliked not knowing things, once they became relevant to his own life or his tribe's. Well, Hasani might be able to get an explanation out of Neena later. Then again, she looked sulky, so maybe not. That, however, was Hasani's problem. To Mwenye, Neena's side of things, while better than no information, would actually be less useful than knowing what the other tribe had thought had happened. If the woman was right and it was a simple misunderstanding - and such was certainly not unlikely around the foreign-born former slave - then avoiding future conflict required knowing what, exactly, the Buuchu were feeling unreasonably touchy about, so that if needed some of the other more adventurous members of the tribe could be warned.
And, if those warriors had simply been stupid and finding trouble away from their own areas out of either boredom or entitlement, they probably wouldn't go fessing up to their Leier, and Mwenye could take a certain private satisfaction in not letting them get away with the idiocy of picking fights for no reason.
"I think I should go find out whether there is any particular reason the Buuchu are feeling touchier than usual," he offered as the two of them set out. "Perhaps we can avoid anyone else falling prey to misunderstandings."
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Mwenye glared at the Buuchu warriors as their mumbled apologies and excuses carried with them very little in the way of either grace nor actual explanation. For all that the young prophet often seemed to have less of a curious streak than his leir, he was a nonetheless a man who disliked not knowing things, once they became relevant to his own life or his tribe's. Well, Hasani might be able to get an explanation out of Neena later. Then again, she looked sulky, so maybe not. That, however, was Hasani's problem. To Mwenye, Neena's side of things, while better than no information, would actually be less useful than knowing what the other tribe had thought had happened. If the woman was right and it was a simple misunderstanding - and such was certainly not unlikely around the foreign-born former slave - then avoiding future conflict required knowing what, exactly, the Buuchu were feeling unreasonably touchy about, so that if needed some of the other more adventurous members of the tribe could be warned.
And, if those warriors had simply been stupid and finding trouble away from their own areas out of either boredom or entitlement, they probably wouldn't go fessing up to their Leier, and Mwenye could take a certain private satisfaction in not letting them get away with the idiocy of picking fights for no reason.
"I think I should go find out whether there is any particular reason the Buuchu are feeling touchier than usual," he offered as the two of them set out. "Perhaps we can avoid anyone else falling prey to misunderstandings."
Mwenye glared at the Buuchu warriors as their mumbled apologies and excuses carried with them very little in the way of either grace nor actual explanation. For all that the young prophet often seemed to have less of a curious streak than his leir, he was a nonetheless a man who disliked not knowing things, once they became relevant to his own life or his tribe's. Well, Hasani might be able to get an explanation out of Neena later. Then again, she looked sulky, so maybe not. That, however, was Hasani's problem. To Mwenye, Neena's side of things, while better than no information, would actually be less useful than knowing what the other tribe had thought had happened. If the woman was right and it was a simple misunderstanding - and such was certainly not unlikely around the foreign-born former slave - then avoiding future conflict required knowing what, exactly, the Buuchu were feeling unreasonably touchy about, so that if needed some of the other more adventurous members of the tribe could be warned.
And, if those warriors had simply been stupid and finding trouble away from their own areas out of either boredom or entitlement, they probably wouldn't go fessing up to their Leier, and Mwenye could take a certain private satisfaction in not letting them get away with the idiocy of picking fights for no reason.
"I think I should go find out whether there is any particular reason the Buuchu are feeling touchier than usual," he offered as the two of them set out. "Perhaps we can avoid anyone else falling prey to misunderstandings."
Tanishe didn’t need to be in the thick of the fight to feel the tension. It etched itself into her expression, her shoulders, down her spine, keeping her so stiff and tight that she was nearly on the balls of her feet, watching as Neena lowered her arms. From here, she could not hear what was being said, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious that Hasani was coaxing Neena out of the middle of the altercation and Tanishe only relaxed the littlest bit once the Buuchu warriors turned and slowly moved away. She chewed on her thumbnail, watching as Hasani reached out to brush his knuckles against Neena’s jaw. Nodding at that, she finally exhaled a truly relaxed breath. If Hasani was willing to do that, then their night might not be so very bleak.
Seeing that her staring would probably only make her sister wife feel that much more self conscious, Tanishe chose to pretend that she hadn’t been watching the entire thing. That she hadn’t seen Neena being chastised, and that she was still busy with...something. Supper was basically ready, save for the actual cooking, which was the fire’s job, more than Tanishe’s. There was a stew bubbling away and rounds of flat bread were cooling on their stones.
Tanishe felt that now would be a good time to grind herbs. Stepping back into the tent, she took off her sandals and left them by the entrance so that she could cross to her bags and fish out the stone bowl and leather pouch of dried buds. She moved to her side of the tent and pulled on a round teal pillow, settled on it, and placed the mortar bowl on the ground in front of her. Neena was just entering the tent when Tanishe dumped in the dried purple flower buds. She said nothing at first, already sensing how tense the other woman still was. She could not share the intensity. Not now. Neena was safe and the situation presumably diffused. Tanishe was willing to let all the unpleasantness of the last half hour go.
I’m to help with dinner,” came the flat sound of Neena’s voice. Tanishe looked up at last and spied her sister wife sitting like a sullen teenager in the tent’s entrance. There wasn’t much of a chance to tell Neena that supper preparations were already over, because Neena also told Tanishe their husband was angry, which Tanishe also knew. Her eyes remained on the dry flower petals she was grinding into respectably fine dust in the bottom of the bowl.
“Please stir the soup,” she said after a few long seconds of considered silence. Rather than chastise Neena further, she looked up, watching the other to see if the soup really would be stirred and if Neena chose not to, Tanishe would do it herself. It wasn’t that Neena didn’t help with things, so much as Tanishe sometimes expected Neena’s whimsical nature might carry her off in the middle of a task.
“He will be less mad once he has eaten,” she said with total confidence. Going back to grinding the herbs, she finished that task and slid the powder back into the leather pouch, pulling the drawstrings to close it up tightly. Rather than put this back in the satchel she got it from, she put it in the satchel she carried around with her to the medical hawe or through camp. These satchels were not hers originally. Like most people, Tanishe didn’t have many things that were made specifically for her. These had belonged to her father. One she used for her ‘ready supplies’ and one was strictly for herb gathering. That one was the more worn of the two, frequently being set on all sorts of terrain to wait while she cut plants and placed them carefully inside. Its strap was well worn and patched in several places with replacement strips of brightly colored leather so that they whole thing was decidedly more scuffed and more feminine than when it had been gifted to her.
Coming to sit back to back with Neena, Tanishe drew her legs up against her chest and wrapped her slender arms around her own knees. She stared at the bright, decorative rug hanging on the far wall of the tent. She’d traded a good deal of medicines for it. A ‘story rug’ it was called, though she hadn’t quite been able to work out what the strange shapes that only looked vaguely human were meant to convey. The colors of yellow ochre, deep azure, and burnt orange, mingled with strands of crimson and green were soothing, in a way.
“Once he is calm, and once he’s had his say, we will have a smooth night.”
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Tanishe didn’t need to be in the thick of the fight to feel the tension. It etched itself into her expression, her shoulders, down her spine, keeping her so stiff and tight that she was nearly on the balls of her feet, watching as Neena lowered her arms. From here, she could not hear what was being said, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious that Hasani was coaxing Neena out of the middle of the altercation and Tanishe only relaxed the littlest bit once the Buuchu warriors turned and slowly moved away. She chewed on her thumbnail, watching as Hasani reached out to brush his knuckles against Neena’s jaw. Nodding at that, she finally exhaled a truly relaxed breath. If Hasani was willing to do that, then their night might not be so very bleak.
Seeing that her staring would probably only make her sister wife feel that much more self conscious, Tanishe chose to pretend that she hadn’t been watching the entire thing. That she hadn’t seen Neena being chastised, and that she was still busy with...something. Supper was basically ready, save for the actual cooking, which was the fire’s job, more than Tanishe’s. There was a stew bubbling away and rounds of flat bread were cooling on their stones.
Tanishe felt that now would be a good time to grind herbs. Stepping back into the tent, she took off her sandals and left them by the entrance so that she could cross to her bags and fish out the stone bowl and leather pouch of dried buds. She moved to her side of the tent and pulled on a round teal pillow, settled on it, and placed the mortar bowl on the ground in front of her. Neena was just entering the tent when Tanishe dumped in the dried purple flower buds. She said nothing at first, already sensing how tense the other woman still was. She could not share the intensity. Not now. Neena was safe and the situation presumably diffused. Tanishe was willing to let all the unpleasantness of the last half hour go.
I’m to help with dinner,” came the flat sound of Neena’s voice. Tanishe looked up at last and spied her sister wife sitting like a sullen teenager in the tent’s entrance. There wasn’t much of a chance to tell Neena that supper preparations were already over, because Neena also told Tanishe their husband was angry, which Tanishe also knew. Her eyes remained on the dry flower petals she was grinding into respectably fine dust in the bottom of the bowl.
“Please stir the soup,” she said after a few long seconds of considered silence. Rather than chastise Neena further, she looked up, watching the other to see if the soup really would be stirred and if Neena chose not to, Tanishe would do it herself. It wasn’t that Neena didn’t help with things, so much as Tanishe sometimes expected Neena’s whimsical nature might carry her off in the middle of a task.
“He will be less mad once he has eaten,” she said with total confidence. Going back to grinding the herbs, she finished that task and slid the powder back into the leather pouch, pulling the drawstrings to close it up tightly. Rather than put this back in the satchel she got it from, she put it in the satchel she carried around with her to the medical hawe or through camp. These satchels were not hers originally. Like most people, Tanishe didn’t have many things that were made specifically for her. These had belonged to her father. One she used for her ‘ready supplies’ and one was strictly for herb gathering. That one was the more worn of the two, frequently being set on all sorts of terrain to wait while she cut plants and placed them carefully inside. Its strap was well worn and patched in several places with replacement strips of brightly colored leather so that they whole thing was decidedly more scuffed and more feminine than when it had been gifted to her.
Coming to sit back to back with Neena, Tanishe drew her legs up against her chest and wrapped her slender arms around her own knees. She stared at the bright, decorative rug hanging on the far wall of the tent. She’d traded a good deal of medicines for it. A ‘story rug’ it was called, though she hadn’t quite been able to work out what the strange shapes that only looked vaguely human were meant to convey. The colors of yellow ochre, deep azure, and burnt orange, mingled with strands of crimson and green were soothing, in a way.
“Once he is calm, and once he’s had his say, we will have a smooth night.”
Tanishe didn’t need to be in the thick of the fight to feel the tension. It etched itself into her expression, her shoulders, down her spine, keeping her so stiff and tight that she was nearly on the balls of her feet, watching as Neena lowered her arms. From here, she could not hear what was being said, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious that Hasani was coaxing Neena out of the middle of the altercation and Tanishe only relaxed the littlest bit once the Buuchu warriors turned and slowly moved away. She chewed on her thumbnail, watching as Hasani reached out to brush his knuckles against Neena’s jaw. Nodding at that, she finally exhaled a truly relaxed breath. If Hasani was willing to do that, then their night might not be so very bleak.
Seeing that her staring would probably only make her sister wife feel that much more self conscious, Tanishe chose to pretend that she hadn’t been watching the entire thing. That she hadn’t seen Neena being chastised, and that she was still busy with...something. Supper was basically ready, save for the actual cooking, which was the fire’s job, more than Tanishe’s. There was a stew bubbling away and rounds of flat bread were cooling on their stones.
Tanishe felt that now would be a good time to grind herbs. Stepping back into the tent, she took off her sandals and left them by the entrance so that she could cross to her bags and fish out the stone bowl and leather pouch of dried buds. She moved to her side of the tent and pulled on a round teal pillow, settled on it, and placed the mortar bowl on the ground in front of her. Neena was just entering the tent when Tanishe dumped in the dried purple flower buds. She said nothing at first, already sensing how tense the other woman still was. She could not share the intensity. Not now. Neena was safe and the situation presumably diffused. Tanishe was willing to let all the unpleasantness of the last half hour go.
I’m to help with dinner,” came the flat sound of Neena’s voice. Tanishe looked up at last and spied her sister wife sitting like a sullen teenager in the tent’s entrance. There wasn’t much of a chance to tell Neena that supper preparations were already over, because Neena also told Tanishe their husband was angry, which Tanishe also knew. Her eyes remained on the dry flower petals she was grinding into respectably fine dust in the bottom of the bowl.
“Please stir the soup,” she said after a few long seconds of considered silence. Rather than chastise Neena further, she looked up, watching the other to see if the soup really would be stirred and if Neena chose not to, Tanishe would do it herself. It wasn’t that Neena didn’t help with things, so much as Tanishe sometimes expected Neena’s whimsical nature might carry her off in the middle of a task.
“He will be less mad once he has eaten,” she said with total confidence. Going back to grinding the herbs, she finished that task and slid the powder back into the leather pouch, pulling the drawstrings to close it up tightly. Rather than put this back in the satchel she got it from, she put it in the satchel she carried around with her to the medical hawe or through camp. These satchels were not hers originally. Like most people, Tanishe didn’t have many things that were made specifically for her. These had belonged to her father. One she used for her ‘ready supplies’ and one was strictly for herb gathering. That one was the more worn of the two, frequently being set on all sorts of terrain to wait while she cut plants and placed them carefully inside. Its strap was well worn and patched in several places with replacement strips of brightly colored leather so that they whole thing was decidedly more scuffed and more feminine than when it had been gifted to her.
Coming to sit back to back with Neena, Tanishe drew her legs up against her chest and wrapped her slender arms around her own knees. She stared at the bright, decorative rug hanging on the far wall of the tent. She’d traded a good deal of medicines for it. A ‘story rug’ it was called, though she hadn’t quite been able to work out what the strange shapes that only looked vaguely human were meant to convey. The colors of yellow ochre, deep azure, and burnt orange, mingled with strands of crimson and green were soothing, in a way.
“Once he is calm, and once he’s had his say, we will have a smooth night.”
Neena watched Tanii work upon the herbs having no idea that the woman had witnessed her mishap across the way and the following chastisement from their shared husband. Had she known, she would have likely felt even worse than she already did. For, whilst Neena held little interest in what others thought of her, Hasani and Tanii were the exception that proved the rule. With them, she did care. In them she held people that she wanted to respect her and think her intelligent and valid enough to stand beside them in life. And right now, she didn't feel much of any of it.
Not usually one for depressing thoughts or melancholy mood, Neena was thankful when Tanishe gave her something to do. A physical person who liked to be useful (even if she did resent it when those requirements were made as a punishing instruction), she was eager to take up the wooden spoon in the pot over the fire. Despite her stubborn, teenaged attitude a moment before, she was pleased to get herself back out of such a grump and see about stirring the stew-like soup that was smelling better by the minute.
Careful not to spill any of the thick slop over the edge of the basin, Neena stirred the post to ensure that none of its contents stuck to the bottom, fused by the heat of the fire beneath. She glanced over her shoulder at Tanishe a few times, but the woman seemed content not to discuss the matter and Neena wasn't sure if that helped or hindered. She felt the need to explain herself, felt like she had been cut off on the conversation. But on the flip side, Hasani was the leier, and she was his wife. She had to follow his directives regardless. So, did it matter to keep hold of it and dredge up the irritation?
Feeling a little better with the decision to let go and move forward, Neena looked around when Tanishe came to sit with her. She commented on it being easier once Hasani had eaten and once he had said what he needed to say and Neena felt a bubble of irritation and pushed it away. This was what it meant to be a wife. These were the compromises and the allowances that you were forced to make. She didn't like it but there it was. And she had willingly given up her life of complete liberty to be with the people she loved.
Reminding herself of that, and the reason she loved her life, Neena was brighter and in a better mood once the dinner was prepared and Hasani had returned to the hawe.
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Jul 24, 2020 14:02:05 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Jul 24, 2020 14:02:05 GMT
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Neena watched Tanii work upon the herbs having no idea that the woman had witnessed her mishap across the way and the following chastisement from their shared husband. Had she known, she would have likely felt even worse than she already did. For, whilst Neena held little interest in what others thought of her, Hasani and Tanii were the exception that proved the rule. With them, she did care. In them she held people that she wanted to respect her and think her intelligent and valid enough to stand beside them in life. And right now, she didn't feel much of any of it.
Not usually one for depressing thoughts or melancholy mood, Neena was thankful when Tanishe gave her something to do. A physical person who liked to be useful (even if she did resent it when those requirements were made as a punishing instruction), she was eager to take up the wooden spoon in the pot over the fire. Despite her stubborn, teenaged attitude a moment before, she was pleased to get herself back out of such a grump and see about stirring the stew-like soup that was smelling better by the minute.
Careful not to spill any of the thick slop over the edge of the basin, Neena stirred the post to ensure that none of its contents stuck to the bottom, fused by the heat of the fire beneath. She glanced over her shoulder at Tanishe a few times, but the woman seemed content not to discuss the matter and Neena wasn't sure if that helped or hindered. She felt the need to explain herself, felt like she had been cut off on the conversation. But on the flip side, Hasani was the leier, and she was his wife. She had to follow his directives regardless. So, did it matter to keep hold of it and dredge up the irritation?
Feeling a little better with the decision to let go and move forward, Neena looked around when Tanishe came to sit with her. She commented on it being easier once Hasani had eaten and once he had said what he needed to say and Neena felt a bubble of irritation and pushed it away. This was what it meant to be a wife. These were the compromises and the allowances that you were forced to make. She didn't like it but there it was. And she had willingly given up her life of complete liberty to be with the people she loved.
Reminding herself of that, and the reason she loved her life, Neena was brighter and in a better mood once the dinner was prepared and Hasani had returned to the hawe.
Neena watched Tanii work upon the herbs having no idea that the woman had witnessed her mishap across the way and the following chastisement from their shared husband. Had she known, she would have likely felt even worse than she already did. For, whilst Neena held little interest in what others thought of her, Hasani and Tanii were the exception that proved the rule. With them, she did care. In them she held people that she wanted to respect her and think her intelligent and valid enough to stand beside them in life. And right now, she didn't feel much of any of it.
Not usually one for depressing thoughts or melancholy mood, Neena was thankful when Tanishe gave her something to do. A physical person who liked to be useful (even if she did resent it when those requirements were made as a punishing instruction), she was eager to take up the wooden spoon in the pot over the fire. Despite her stubborn, teenaged attitude a moment before, she was pleased to get herself back out of such a grump and see about stirring the stew-like soup that was smelling better by the minute.
Careful not to spill any of the thick slop over the edge of the basin, Neena stirred the post to ensure that none of its contents stuck to the bottom, fused by the heat of the fire beneath. She glanced over her shoulder at Tanishe a few times, but the woman seemed content not to discuss the matter and Neena wasn't sure if that helped or hindered. She felt the need to explain herself, felt like she had been cut off on the conversation. But on the flip side, Hasani was the leier, and she was his wife. She had to follow his directives regardless. So, did it matter to keep hold of it and dredge up the irritation?
Feeling a little better with the decision to let go and move forward, Neena looked around when Tanishe came to sit with her. She commented on it being easier once Hasani had eaten and once he had said what he needed to say and Neena felt a bubble of irritation and pushed it away. This was what it meant to be a wife. These were the compromises and the allowances that you were forced to make. She didn't like it but there it was. And she had willingly given up her life of complete liberty to be with the people she loved.
Reminding herself of that, and the reason she loved her life, Neena was brighter and in a better mood once the dinner was prepared and Hasani had returned to the hawe.
It soothed Tanishe once she saw Neena’s features soften. Whether she wanted it to or not, Neena’s moods often affected her. She could determine to be calm where Neena was chaotic or she could decide to be cheerful where Neena might be glum, but there was still tension in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. It was like going about her day while ignoring a sandstorm on the horizon. But at last the clouds cleared and Neena was her usual self. The air between them was congenial and happy again.
Tanishe moved about the tent, setting out their supper things and going ahead to prepare their bedding. She did not imagine their husband would like to take a tumble with them tonight but she liked when the three of them at least slept together in a messy tumble. It was comforting to be entangled between two people who only wanted the best for her and she for them. Some wives of their tribe did not have such happy circumstances. They were civil but that was all and their husband did not have their best interests at heart like Hasani did. Tanishe was very conscious of how very blessed she was.
In that spirit, she settled next to Neena again, rubbing her back and waiting for their husband to make his appearance. She did not want to serve up his food until he came, nor would she touch her own until he’d eaten first. “Perhaps the Buuchuu did not wish to be soothed,” she mused aloud, watching the direction she thought Hasani would come from. “How did you come to earn their ire anyway?” She hadn’t asked before but now she turned to Neena, a frown creasing between her brows. There was no judgement there but there was concern.
She could well imagine that Neena was doing something that Neena could not assume would anger someone else. That was generally the way of it. Bright, cheerful, bold, Neena tended to flit through her days and her nights with a sort of careless freedom that Tanishe loved sometimes and found alarming at others. Though Neena had not been in her life as long as Hasani, she still didn’t really remember life without her. It was as though she’d always been here and, so far as Tanishe could fathom, always would be.
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Sept 14, 2020 13:42:58 GMT
Posted In Surf and Turf on Sept 14, 2020 13:42:58 GMT
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It soothed Tanishe once she saw Neena’s features soften. Whether she wanted it to or not, Neena’s moods often affected her. She could determine to be calm where Neena was chaotic or she could decide to be cheerful where Neena might be glum, but there was still tension in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. It was like going about her day while ignoring a sandstorm on the horizon. But at last the clouds cleared and Neena was her usual self. The air between them was congenial and happy again.
Tanishe moved about the tent, setting out their supper things and going ahead to prepare their bedding. She did not imagine their husband would like to take a tumble with them tonight but she liked when the three of them at least slept together in a messy tumble. It was comforting to be entangled between two people who only wanted the best for her and she for them. Some wives of their tribe did not have such happy circumstances. They were civil but that was all and their husband did not have their best interests at heart like Hasani did. Tanishe was very conscious of how very blessed she was.
In that spirit, she settled next to Neena again, rubbing her back and waiting for their husband to make his appearance. She did not want to serve up his food until he came, nor would she touch her own until he’d eaten first. “Perhaps the Buuchuu did not wish to be soothed,” she mused aloud, watching the direction she thought Hasani would come from. “How did you come to earn their ire anyway?” She hadn’t asked before but now she turned to Neena, a frown creasing between her brows. There was no judgement there but there was concern.
She could well imagine that Neena was doing something that Neena could not assume would anger someone else. That was generally the way of it. Bright, cheerful, bold, Neena tended to flit through her days and her nights with a sort of careless freedom that Tanishe loved sometimes and found alarming at others. Though Neena had not been in her life as long as Hasani, she still didn’t really remember life without her. It was as though she’d always been here and, so far as Tanishe could fathom, always would be.
It soothed Tanishe once she saw Neena’s features soften. Whether she wanted it to or not, Neena’s moods often affected her. She could determine to be calm where Neena was chaotic or she could decide to be cheerful where Neena might be glum, but there was still tension in the back of her mind that she couldn’t shake. It was like going about her day while ignoring a sandstorm on the horizon. But at last the clouds cleared and Neena was her usual self. The air between them was congenial and happy again.
Tanishe moved about the tent, setting out their supper things and going ahead to prepare their bedding. She did not imagine their husband would like to take a tumble with them tonight but she liked when the three of them at least slept together in a messy tumble. It was comforting to be entangled between two people who only wanted the best for her and she for them. Some wives of their tribe did not have such happy circumstances. They were civil but that was all and their husband did not have their best interests at heart like Hasani did. Tanishe was very conscious of how very blessed she was.
In that spirit, she settled next to Neena again, rubbing her back and waiting for their husband to make his appearance. She did not want to serve up his food until he came, nor would she touch her own until he’d eaten first. “Perhaps the Buuchuu did not wish to be soothed,” she mused aloud, watching the direction she thought Hasani would come from. “How did you come to earn their ire anyway?” She hadn’t asked before but now she turned to Neena, a frown creasing between her brows. There was no judgement there but there was concern.
She could well imagine that Neena was doing something that Neena could not assume would anger someone else. That was generally the way of it. Bright, cheerful, bold, Neena tended to flit through her days and her nights with a sort of careless freedom that Tanishe loved sometimes and found alarming at others. Though Neena had not been in her life as long as Hasani, she still didn’t really remember life without her. It was as though she’d always been here and, so far as Tanishe could fathom, always would be.