The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
On the outskirts of the city lay the newly reconstructed Circus. It was grander than the one that had been burnt to the ground and first commissioned by the exiled King Stephanos, and finished by the late King Irakles. To Isaiah, this circle of three kings within a year, added to the death of the Crown Prince, foretold that the Greek people, as a whole, were being punished. He did not believe in the Greek gods, and held that Yahweh was the One True God. As such, he looked on all these as a sad but necessary thing in order to turn the hearts of this people who were, by birth, evil. Did that mean that he abhorred them as individuals? Not at all. He had grown to like several of them, but that didn’t mean he loved their worship practices and refused soundly and wholly to participate.
Because the Circus was not in the center of town, it was quiet in the mornings. He slept here, on the grounds. A servant’s housing unit had been built and while his room held nothing but his few clothes, bedding, and what little possessions he had, that suited him just fine. He didn’t want to get at all comfortable in this land. The goal was not to live here, but to survive here, until he could go home to his wife and his child. Every coin that he received and then had to turn around and spend was painful and he wasn’t gaining a whole lot of traction on his wish to board a ship, and very few of them went across the Aegean to Judea, anyway. The few that did docked in Egypt, which was so far removed from where he wanted to go.
What he’d decided to do was to focus on his job here, to do it as well as he possibly could, and hopefully someone would take notice. If he could do this, could he do something different that was worth more? That was the plan, anyway and so he rose in the early morning and joined a few other servants in the joyless chore of mucking out horse stalls. They loaded the piles of manure and soiled straw into heaps, transferred those into short pushcarts, and then took that to the side of the building and put it in a shallow covered pit. From this pit, they sold the manure to whomever wanted to use it for their garden. It was an efficient system, but backbreaking and made his nose burn. Horse urine was worse than that of cats.
Shovelful after shovelful, twist, dump, twist back around, scoop, lift, twist, dump. An endless cycle of work that was not enough to keep his mind as busy as his hands. Often while he worked, he tried to picture Hannah’s face, the feel of her sleeping against him, the sound of her laugh. By now, he couldn’t even be totally sure what she looked like anymore. His years on the Galley and then here? She might look totally different. He hoped not, but time hadn’t been exactly kind to him either. He had lines on his face from stress, age, and lack of proper nutrition. As he’d worked in the stables, slowly his body had recovered, but he sometimes had a cough that wouldn’t go away.
Walking back through the dim corridors of the horse enclosures, he stopped to pet the nose of each long faces that poked over the stalls that he passed. The horse commands were some of the first Greek words he’d learned, since he needed to work with them, but he was teaching them hebrew commands and they were interested in the foreign sounds he made at them. Greeting each one by name, he smiled as he left the last mare, his favorite. His next task took him to the tack room where all manner of harnesses, bridals, fanciful gear, dress and plumage for each horse, was kept. This room was bigger than the entire servant’s quarters and everything in it was worth more than the slaves and servants who tended to it.
The walls of the room were lined from floor to ceiling with pegs, with the names of each horse and their personal regalia. This was how he was learning to read; horse names. Only the royal horse teams were housed here permanently but there was room for more for racing days or visiting nobles, should they choose. He moved through the rows and selected one set of tack and took it out where another of the servants was setting up the practice chariot that the servants were to use to exercise the horses. Once he had the first horse hitched, he looked up and saw that they had a royal visitor.
“Princess,” he greeted in his thickly accented greek and bowed low to princess Xene as she came into view. This was not their first meeting but he was still not totally comfortable in her presence. Not a citizen of this land, but still subject to its laws, he was aware that should he do something wrong, he’d still be punished as though he was born here. Once his perception of the appropriate amount of time to bow had passed, he begged her leave to get the next horse and tack in his broken, hard to understand Greek, and went to do exactly that. He did glance over his shoulder to see if she waited or followed.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
On the outskirts of the city lay the newly reconstructed Circus. It was grander than the one that had been burnt to the ground and first commissioned by the exiled King Stephanos, and finished by the late King Irakles. To Isaiah, this circle of three kings within a year, added to the death of the Crown Prince, foretold that the Greek people, as a whole, were being punished. He did not believe in the Greek gods, and held that Yahweh was the One True God. As such, he looked on all these as a sad but necessary thing in order to turn the hearts of this people who were, by birth, evil. Did that mean that he abhorred them as individuals? Not at all. He had grown to like several of them, but that didn’t mean he loved their worship practices and refused soundly and wholly to participate.
Because the Circus was not in the center of town, it was quiet in the mornings. He slept here, on the grounds. A servant’s housing unit had been built and while his room held nothing but his few clothes, bedding, and what little possessions he had, that suited him just fine. He didn’t want to get at all comfortable in this land. The goal was not to live here, but to survive here, until he could go home to his wife and his child. Every coin that he received and then had to turn around and spend was painful and he wasn’t gaining a whole lot of traction on his wish to board a ship, and very few of them went across the Aegean to Judea, anyway. The few that did docked in Egypt, which was so far removed from where he wanted to go.
What he’d decided to do was to focus on his job here, to do it as well as he possibly could, and hopefully someone would take notice. If he could do this, could he do something different that was worth more? That was the plan, anyway and so he rose in the early morning and joined a few other servants in the joyless chore of mucking out horse stalls. They loaded the piles of manure and soiled straw into heaps, transferred those into short pushcarts, and then took that to the side of the building and put it in a shallow covered pit. From this pit, they sold the manure to whomever wanted to use it for their garden. It was an efficient system, but backbreaking and made his nose burn. Horse urine was worse than that of cats.
Shovelful after shovelful, twist, dump, twist back around, scoop, lift, twist, dump. An endless cycle of work that was not enough to keep his mind as busy as his hands. Often while he worked, he tried to picture Hannah’s face, the feel of her sleeping against him, the sound of her laugh. By now, he couldn’t even be totally sure what she looked like anymore. His years on the Galley and then here? She might look totally different. He hoped not, but time hadn’t been exactly kind to him either. He had lines on his face from stress, age, and lack of proper nutrition. As he’d worked in the stables, slowly his body had recovered, but he sometimes had a cough that wouldn’t go away.
Walking back through the dim corridors of the horse enclosures, he stopped to pet the nose of each long faces that poked over the stalls that he passed. The horse commands were some of the first Greek words he’d learned, since he needed to work with them, but he was teaching them hebrew commands and they were interested in the foreign sounds he made at them. Greeting each one by name, he smiled as he left the last mare, his favorite. His next task took him to the tack room where all manner of harnesses, bridals, fanciful gear, dress and plumage for each horse, was kept. This room was bigger than the entire servant’s quarters and everything in it was worth more than the slaves and servants who tended to it.
The walls of the room were lined from floor to ceiling with pegs, with the names of each horse and their personal regalia. This was how he was learning to read; horse names. Only the royal horse teams were housed here permanently but there was room for more for racing days or visiting nobles, should they choose. He moved through the rows and selected one set of tack and took it out where another of the servants was setting up the practice chariot that the servants were to use to exercise the horses. Once he had the first horse hitched, he looked up and saw that they had a royal visitor.
“Princess,” he greeted in his thickly accented greek and bowed low to princess Xene as she came into view. This was not their first meeting but he was still not totally comfortable in her presence. Not a citizen of this land, but still subject to its laws, he was aware that should he do something wrong, he’d still be punished as though he was born here. Once his perception of the appropriate amount of time to bow had passed, he begged her leave to get the next horse and tack in his broken, hard to understand Greek, and went to do exactly that. He did glance over his shoulder to see if she waited or followed.
On the outskirts of the city lay the newly reconstructed Circus. It was grander than the one that had been burnt to the ground and first commissioned by the exiled King Stephanos, and finished by the late King Irakles. To Isaiah, this circle of three kings within a year, added to the death of the Crown Prince, foretold that the Greek people, as a whole, were being punished. He did not believe in the Greek gods, and held that Yahweh was the One True God. As such, he looked on all these as a sad but necessary thing in order to turn the hearts of this people who were, by birth, evil. Did that mean that he abhorred them as individuals? Not at all. He had grown to like several of them, but that didn’t mean he loved their worship practices and refused soundly and wholly to participate.
Because the Circus was not in the center of town, it was quiet in the mornings. He slept here, on the grounds. A servant’s housing unit had been built and while his room held nothing but his few clothes, bedding, and what little possessions he had, that suited him just fine. He didn’t want to get at all comfortable in this land. The goal was not to live here, but to survive here, until he could go home to his wife and his child. Every coin that he received and then had to turn around and spend was painful and he wasn’t gaining a whole lot of traction on his wish to board a ship, and very few of them went across the Aegean to Judea, anyway. The few that did docked in Egypt, which was so far removed from where he wanted to go.
What he’d decided to do was to focus on his job here, to do it as well as he possibly could, and hopefully someone would take notice. If he could do this, could he do something different that was worth more? That was the plan, anyway and so he rose in the early morning and joined a few other servants in the joyless chore of mucking out horse stalls. They loaded the piles of manure and soiled straw into heaps, transferred those into short pushcarts, and then took that to the side of the building and put it in a shallow covered pit. From this pit, they sold the manure to whomever wanted to use it for their garden. It was an efficient system, but backbreaking and made his nose burn. Horse urine was worse than that of cats.
Shovelful after shovelful, twist, dump, twist back around, scoop, lift, twist, dump. An endless cycle of work that was not enough to keep his mind as busy as his hands. Often while he worked, he tried to picture Hannah’s face, the feel of her sleeping against him, the sound of her laugh. By now, he couldn’t even be totally sure what she looked like anymore. His years on the Galley and then here? She might look totally different. He hoped not, but time hadn’t been exactly kind to him either. He had lines on his face from stress, age, and lack of proper nutrition. As he’d worked in the stables, slowly his body had recovered, but he sometimes had a cough that wouldn’t go away.
Walking back through the dim corridors of the horse enclosures, he stopped to pet the nose of each long faces that poked over the stalls that he passed. The horse commands were some of the first Greek words he’d learned, since he needed to work with them, but he was teaching them hebrew commands and they were interested in the foreign sounds he made at them. Greeting each one by name, he smiled as he left the last mare, his favorite. His next task took him to the tack room where all manner of harnesses, bridals, fanciful gear, dress and plumage for each horse, was kept. This room was bigger than the entire servant’s quarters and everything in it was worth more than the slaves and servants who tended to it.
The walls of the room were lined from floor to ceiling with pegs, with the names of each horse and their personal regalia. This was how he was learning to read; horse names. Only the royal horse teams were housed here permanently but there was room for more for racing days or visiting nobles, should they choose. He moved through the rows and selected one set of tack and took it out where another of the servants was setting up the practice chariot that the servants were to use to exercise the horses. Once he had the first horse hitched, he looked up and saw that they had a royal visitor.
“Princess,” he greeted in his thickly accented greek and bowed low to princess Xene as she came into view. This was not their first meeting but he was still not totally comfortable in her presence. Not a citizen of this land, but still subject to its laws, he was aware that should he do something wrong, he’d still be punished as though he was born here. Once his perception of the appropriate amount of time to bow had passed, he begged her leave to get the next horse and tack in his broken, hard to understand Greek, and went to do exactly that. He did glance over his shoulder to see if she waited or followed.
Xene had made a weird habit of attenting to the circus. Mostly, she wished to exercise her mare, but she had found a quiet, strange companion in one of the workers there. He didn't speak a lot of greek, but it was enough to get him by and enough to draw Xene's interest. The last few months, Xene had realized herself to be quite like her own mother. Breaking down the barriers of class and simply remaining friendly to everyone she wished to be.
It did not matter if they were servant or master, the princess couldn't find it in herself to push away people who could end up being a sort of salvation to her. She had Fotios, yes. She had Achilleas and her sister. She had her new cousin, but she wasn't exactly close to her yet. The princess had people to lean on, but sometimes interacting with someone who wasn't so concerned with pretense was refreshing.
Heron had come with her, the two of them riding side by side down to the circus. Her beautiful white mare, once belonging to her brother, had made a full recovery and Xene had moved her from the Leventi stables to the circus. She had been fetched early in the morning for Xene's needs and now Xene leaned lightly against the neck of her mare. "Such a good girl," she coaxed gently, stroking some of her hair.
Calm and easy-going now that she was not spooked or dealing with neglect, the horse didn't seem to react. Xene liked to think she understood regardless and was contented with that. Once they made it to the circus, Xene dismounted and took the reins in her hand, trailing through the circus with Heron not too far behind. He was, after all, supposed to be her protector out in public. He did a good job and Xene had no complaints.
In coming to the Circus, Xene was looking for her one particular companion, and was pleased to know that he was working that day. Approaching him, she waited patiently when he asked her to wait while he finished his work, lifting her own hand up to stroke the neck of her mare. She said nothing at first, simply watching him go. When he approached once more, this time with horse and tack, the princess smiled. "I was wondering if you might be interested in exercising my mare this morning, Isaiah," Xene asked softly, "It has been a long while since she raced."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Xene had made a weird habit of attenting to the circus. Mostly, she wished to exercise her mare, but she had found a quiet, strange companion in one of the workers there. He didn't speak a lot of greek, but it was enough to get him by and enough to draw Xene's interest. The last few months, Xene had realized herself to be quite like her own mother. Breaking down the barriers of class and simply remaining friendly to everyone she wished to be.
It did not matter if they were servant or master, the princess couldn't find it in herself to push away people who could end up being a sort of salvation to her. She had Fotios, yes. She had Achilleas and her sister. She had her new cousin, but she wasn't exactly close to her yet. The princess had people to lean on, but sometimes interacting with someone who wasn't so concerned with pretense was refreshing.
Heron had come with her, the two of them riding side by side down to the circus. Her beautiful white mare, once belonging to her brother, had made a full recovery and Xene had moved her from the Leventi stables to the circus. She had been fetched early in the morning for Xene's needs and now Xene leaned lightly against the neck of her mare. "Such a good girl," she coaxed gently, stroking some of her hair.
Calm and easy-going now that she was not spooked or dealing with neglect, the horse didn't seem to react. Xene liked to think she understood regardless and was contented with that. Once they made it to the circus, Xene dismounted and took the reins in her hand, trailing through the circus with Heron not too far behind. He was, after all, supposed to be her protector out in public. He did a good job and Xene had no complaints.
In coming to the Circus, Xene was looking for her one particular companion, and was pleased to know that he was working that day. Approaching him, she waited patiently when he asked her to wait while he finished his work, lifting her own hand up to stroke the neck of her mare. She said nothing at first, simply watching him go. When he approached once more, this time with horse and tack, the princess smiled. "I was wondering if you might be interested in exercising my mare this morning, Isaiah," Xene asked softly, "It has been a long while since she raced."
Xene had made a weird habit of attenting to the circus. Mostly, she wished to exercise her mare, but she had found a quiet, strange companion in one of the workers there. He didn't speak a lot of greek, but it was enough to get him by and enough to draw Xene's interest. The last few months, Xene had realized herself to be quite like her own mother. Breaking down the barriers of class and simply remaining friendly to everyone she wished to be.
It did not matter if they were servant or master, the princess couldn't find it in herself to push away people who could end up being a sort of salvation to her. She had Fotios, yes. She had Achilleas and her sister. She had her new cousin, but she wasn't exactly close to her yet. The princess had people to lean on, but sometimes interacting with someone who wasn't so concerned with pretense was refreshing.
Heron had come with her, the two of them riding side by side down to the circus. Her beautiful white mare, once belonging to her brother, had made a full recovery and Xene had moved her from the Leventi stables to the circus. She had been fetched early in the morning for Xene's needs and now Xene leaned lightly against the neck of her mare. "Such a good girl," she coaxed gently, stroking some of her hair.
Calm and easy-going now that she was not spooked or dealing with neglect, the horse didn't seem to react. Xene liked to think she understood regardless and was contented with that. Once they made it to the circus, Xene dismounted and took the reins in her hand, trailing through the circus with Heron not too far behind. He was, after all, supposed to be her protector out in public. He did a good job and Xene had no complaints.
In coming to the Circus, Xene was looking for her one particular companion, and was pleased to know that he was working that day. Approaching him, she waited patiently when he asked her to wait while he finished his work, lifting her own hand up to stroke the neck of her mare. She said nothing at first, simply watching him go. When he approached once more, this time with horse and tack, the princess smiled. "I was wondering if you might be interested in exercising my mare this morning, Isaiah," Xene asked softly, "It has been a long while since she raced."
He gave her a quizzical look, eyeing the mare she meant. This horse wasn’t used to a chariot and definitely not working in tandem with other horses. She was meant for pleasure riding, but he didn’t know all the words to tell the princess this. The tack he had was meant for chariots and he gave it a long look. “Ehhh…” he said, trying to form the still half familiar words. “This chariot?” he lifted the tack on his shoulder. Then he pointed to the horse. “Pleasure.” Isaiah was not at all sure that was the correct word to use, but it was how he’d heard other people talking about the sort of horse she had.
However, if she wanted him to exercise that horse, he would. “Chariot,” he said again, meaning that he’d been supposed to do that first, and held up another finger to her. The princess could override his responsibilities, if she wanted to and the team he was going to work with could definitely be done later. A pleaser by nature, Isaiah didn’t like to argue with people, and would rather set his own task aside to do what someone of higher rank wanted him to do, than not. Especially given this task wasn’t hugely important, as far as he could work out.
“I get someone,” he promised, but he didn’t mean get someone to do the exercising of her horse. That he meant to see to personally. What he meant was that he would get someone to take over his task. Unfortunately, he was the most qualified at the moment, so who knew how this would turn out. There was a boy who was about fourteen who was learning to charioteer. Isaiah found him a few stalls away, told him to take over as best he knew how, and returned to the princess.
“I take?” he motioned to the horse. “Reins?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
He gave her a quizzical look, eyeing the mare she meant. This horse wasn’t used to a chariot and definitely not working in tandem with other horses. She was meant for pleasure riding, but he didn’t know all the words to tell the princess this. The tack he had was meant for chariots and he gave it a long look. “Ehhh…” he said, trying to form the still half familiar words. “This chariot?” he lifted the tack on his shoulder. Then he pointed to the horse. “Pleasure.” Isaiah was not at all sure that was the correct word to use, but it was how he’d heard other people talking about the sort of horse she had.
However, if she wanted him to exercise that horse, he would. “Chariot,” he said again, meaning that he’d been supposed to do that first, and held up another finger to her. The princess could override his responsibilities, if she wanted to and the team he was going to work with could definitely be done later. A pleaser by nature, Isaiah didn’t like to argue with people, and would rather set his own task aside to do what someone of higher rank wanted him to do, than not. Especially given this task wasn’t hugely important, as far as he could work out.
“I get someone,” he promised, but he didn’t mean get someone to do the exercising of her horse. That he meant to see to personally. What he meant was that he would get someone to take over his task. Unfortunately, he was the most qualified at the moment, so who knew how this would turn out. There was a boy who was about fourteen who was learning to charioteer. Isaiah found him a few stalls away, told him to take over as best he knew how, and returned to the princess.
“I take?” he motioned to the horse. “Reins?”
He gave her a quizzical look, eyeing the mare she meant. This horse wasn’t used to a chariot and definitely not working in tandem with other horses. She was meant for pleasure riding, but he didn’t know all the words to tell the princess this. The tack he had was meant for chariots and he gave it a long look. “Ehhh…” he said, trying to form the still half familiar words. “This chariot?” he lifted the tack on his shoulder. Then he pointed to the horse. “Pleasure.” Isaiah was not at all sure that was the correct word to use, but it was how he’d heard other people talking about the sort of horse she had.
However, if she wanted him to exercise that horse, he would. “Chariot,” he said again, meaning that he’d been supposed to do that first, and held up another finger to her. The princess could override his responsibilities, if she wanted to and the team he was going to work with could definitely be done later. A pleaser by nature, Isaiah didn’t like to argue with people, and would rather set his own task aside to do what someone of higher rank wanted him to do, than not. Especially given this task wasn’t hugely important, as far as he could work out.
“I get someone,” he promised, but he didn’t mean get someone to do the exercising of her horse. That he meant to see to personally. What he meant was that he would get someone to take over his task. Unfortunately, he was the most qualified at the moment, so who knew how this would turn out. There was a boy who was about fourteen who was learning to charioteer. Isaiah found him a few stalls away, told him to take over as best he knew how, and returned to the princess.
“I take?” he motioned to the horse. “Reins?”
Xene would haev felt bad for taking the man away from his original task, but she couldn't find it in her to be truly remorseful. Often, she came down to the circus just to get away from the Palati. This was especially true of the last few weeks and she was not keen on returning to her home so soon. Xene was more than willing to wait while Isaiah did his other tasks simply because it meant she could kill more time. The less time she spent supping wine and putting on fake smiles for her family, the better.
She could have gone to see Fotios, but this needed done first. Maybe later in the day she would impress herself upon his company. Maybe not. She really didn't plan her days anymore. There was no true reason to do so. Lost in the fray of the messy Mikaelidas dealings, the princess was happy to find something of newfound freedom with such changes. As horrible as they were, she allowed herself to be selfish about earning some peace and quiet.
When Isaiah came back and held his hand out for the reins of her mare, Xene gave him a sweet smile and passed them over without another question. She was fond of the Judean man. Even though he couldn't properly form greek sentences, what he had learned was enough for them to be able to communicate. Somewhat, at least. For a moment, she considered that she might be able to help him with his language skills.
And she didn't stop herself from asking as she walked beside him. She didn't know where he was going to take her mare, but she would follow him as far as she was allowed. "Would you like to learn more Greek?" she asked suddenly, turning her blue gaze to him instead of her mare. "I would be pleased to do so."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Xene would haev felt bad for taking the man away from his original task, but she couldn't find it in her to be truly remorseful. Often, she came down to the circus just to get away from the Palati. This was especially true of the last few weeks and she was not keen on returning to her home so soon. Xene was more than willing to wait while Isaiah did his other tasks simply because it meant she could kill more time. The less time she spent supping wine and putting on fake smiles for her family, the better.
She could have gone to see Fotios, but this needed done first. Maybe later in the day she would impress herself upon his company. Maybe not. She really didn't plan her days anymore. There was no true reason to do so. Lost in the fray of the messy Mikaelidas dealings, the princess was happy to find something of newfound freedom with such changes. As horrible as they were, she allowed herself to be selfish about earning some peace and quiet.
When Isaiah came back and held his hand out for the reins of her mare, Xene gave him a sweet smile and passed them over without another question. She was fond of the Judean man. Even though he couldn't properly form greek sentences, what he had learned was enough for them to be able to communicate. Somewhat, at least. For a moment, she considered that she might be able to help him with his language skills.
And she didn't stop herself from asking as she walked beside him. She didn't know where he was going to take her mare, but she would follow him as far as she was allowed. "Would you like to learn more Greek?" she asked suddenly, turning her blue gaze to him instead of her mare. "I would be pleased to do so."
Xene would haev felt bad for taking the man away from his original task, but she couldn't find it in her to be truly remorseful. Often, she came down to the circus just to get away from the Palati. This was especially true of the last few weeks and she was not keen on returning to her home so soon. Xene was more than willing to wait while Isaiah did his other tasks simply because it meant she could kill more time. The less time she spent supping wine and putting on fake smiles for her family, the better.
She could have gone to see Fotios, but this needed done first. Maybe later in the day she would impress herself upon his company. Maybe not. She really didn't plan her days anymore. There was no true reason to do so. Lost in the fray of the messy Mikaelidas dealings, the princess was happy to find something of newfound freedom with such changes. As horrible as they were, she allowed herself to be selfish about earning some peace and quiet.
When Isaiah came back and held his hand out for the reins of her mare, Xene gave him a sweet smile and passed them over without another question. She was fond of the Judean man. Even though he couldn't properly form greek sentences, what he had learned was enough for them to be able to communicate. Somewhat, at least. For a moment, she considered that she might be able to help him with his language skills.
And she didn't stop herself from asking as she walked beside him. She didn't know where he was going to take her mare, but she would follow him as far as she was allowed. "Would you like to learn more Greek?" she asked suddenly, turning her blue gaze to him instead of her mare. "I would be pleased to do so."
He realized, as he was taking her horse, that she’d said ‘race’. Initially, he’d assumed she wanted hitch the mare to a chariot and race her, which was why he’d attempted to take the horse from her in the first place. He didn’t quite have the vocabulary to explain what it was he was attempting to do. Though, he reflected as they walked, he wasn’t sure why he was leading her horse to the circus. It wasn’t exactly the place to race single horses. It was built and run for chariots, and the servant he’d fetched to see to the other chariot was doing exactly that.
“Maybe…” Isaiah glanced at Xene from the other side of her horse, bending a little so that he could be seen from beneath the horse’s chin. “Bad time? Other day?”
Glancing back to where the other servant stood hitching up the horses, he pointed. “Chariot,” he said again and then patted her horse’s shoulder. “This just horse.” Honestly, he felt like an idiot here. In his native Judea, he was fairly well respected. Or had been, at least. Now? He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d have walked back into. But here, where he barely spoke the language, his speech was halting and he knew it was hard to understand from the way people frowned at him and asked him to repeat whatever it was he was saying several times over.
“Race bad day?” he wished he knew the words to direct her elsewhere. It wasn’t that he wanted rid of this pagan princess, but he didn’t know how to help her particularly well and he stopped just shy of the entrance to the circus racing plain. The sun glared down behind him, highlighting the still smooth sand. Every night, he and the rest of the servants swept the sands so that they were pristine, new, and gorgeous for in the morning, in case any nobles or royals wanted to come down. He was told this happened less often than it used to. Apparently the old king and his brother used to race every day in their chariots. How busy his life would be if that was still the case.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
He realized, as he was taking her horse, that she’d said ‘race’. Initially, he’d assumed she wanted hitch the mare to a chariot and race her, which was why he’d attempted to take the horse from her in the first place. He didn’t quite have the vocabulary to explain what it was he was attempting to do. Though, he reflected as they walked, he wasn’t sure why he was leading her horse to the circus. It wasn’t exactly the place to race single horses. It was built and run for chariots, and the servant he’d fetched to see to the other chariot was doing exactly that.
“Maybe…” Isaiah glanced at Xene from the other side of her horse, bending a little so that he could be seen from beneath the horse’s chin. “Bad time? Other day?”
Glancing back to where the other servant stood hitching up the horses, he pointed. “Chariot,” he said again and then patted her horse’s shoulder. “This just horse.” Honestly, he felt like an idiot here. In his native Judea, he was fairly well respected. Or had been, at least. Now? He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d have walked back into. But here, where he barely spoke the language, his speech was halting and he knew it was hard to understand from the way people frowned at him and asked him to repeat whatever it was he was saying several times over.
“Race bad day?” he wished he knew the words to direct her elsewhere. It wasn’t that he wanted rid of this pagan princess, but he didn’t know how to help her particularly well and he stopped just shy of the entrance to the circus racing plain. The sun glared down behind him, highlighting the still smooth sand. Every night, he and the rest of the servants swept the sands so that they were pristine, new, and gorgeous for in the morning, in case any nobles or royals wanted to come down. He was told this happened less often than it used to. Apparently the old king and his brother used to race every day in their chariots. How busy his life would be if that was still the case.
He realized, as he was taking her horse, that she’d said ‘race’. Initially, he’d assumed she wanted hitch the mare to a chariot and race her, which was why he’d attempted to take the horse from her in the first place. He didn’t quite have the vocabulary to explain what it was he was attempting to do. Though, he reflected as they walked, he wasn’t sure why he was leading her horse to the circus. It wasn’t exactly the place to race single horses. It was built and run for chariots, and the servant he’d fetched to see to the other chariot was doing exactly that.
“Maybe…” Isaiah glanced at Xene from the other side of her horse, bending a little so that he could be seen from beneath the horse’s chin. “Bad time? Other day?”
Glancing back to where the other servant stood hitching up the horses, he pointed. “Chariot,” he said again and then patted her horse’s shoulder. “This just horse.” Honestly, he felt like an idiot here. In his native Judea, he was fairly well respected. Or had been, at least. Now? He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d have walked back into. But here, where he barely spoke the language, his speech was halting and he knew it was hard to understand from the way people frowned at him and asked him to repeat whatever it was he was saying several times over.
“Race bad day?” he wished he knew the words to direct her elsewhere. It wasn’t that he wanted rid of this pagan princess, but he didn’t know how to help her particularly well and he stopped just shy of the entrance to the circus racing plain. The sun glared down behind him, highlighting the still smooth sand. Every night, he and the rest of the servants swept the sands so that they were pristine, new, and gorgeous for in the morning, in case any nobles or royals wanted to come down. He was told this happened less often than it used to. Apparently the old king and his brother used to race every day in their chariots. How busy his life would be if that was still the case.
Xene was struggling to understand the man, but this wasn't abnormal, as much as she tried, sometimes they just couldn't get the words out to one another. She would have liked to have taught him some more bits of greek by now, but the schedules didn't always line up. Following almost faithfully beside him, Xene paused to look out at the pristine sands of the circus. Her gaze turned wistful, remembering what it was like to watch her two brothers train and race here. She swallowed hard, not having expected this moment to be so difficult so suddenly.
But she composed herself and trailed her gaze toward Isaiah, giving him a weak smile. "Of... course," she said delicately. She couldn't remember if this mare had been part of Zach's chariot team or not. If she had, Xene wondered if the horse missed the immense amount of exercise she used to get. "Of course," the princess said again, clearing her throat and reaching for the reigns of her mare. Her gaze darted back to the training field, but she felt frozen to the spot.
She understood. He needed to race the chariots. Glancing toward him, her blue eyes had brightened a bit. "May I stand here and watch?" she asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too dangerous to do so. She hadn't really ever gotten to be so close, probably for good reason, but she couldn't help the want to be here. Staring at it now, she wished she would have left her one of her brothers take her on a chariot once. Having been too afraid fo horses for most of her life to gather the courage, she had always watched from the stands.
Now, she was realizing that maybe she should have found that lions courage long before this point. Having had those memories with her brothers, one dead and one gone from her reach, would have been more soothing than anything when she was missing them beyond anything.
"Or... when you are done, may I ride?" she made a motion toward the sands. Once all of the chariots were done and the horses has exercised, she wanted to see just how big the circus was once you were inside.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Xene was struggling to understand the man, but this wasn't abnormal, as much as she tried, sometimes they just couldn't get the words out to one another. She would have liked to have taught him some more bits of greek by now, but the schedules didn't always line up. Following almost faithfully beside him, Xene paused to look out at the pristine sands of the circus. Her gaze turned wistful, remembering what it was like to watch her two brothers train and race here. She swallowed hard, not having expected this moment to be so difficult so suddenly.
But she composed herself and trailed her gaze toward Isaiah, giving him a weak smile. "Of... course," she said delicately. She couldn't remember if this mare had been part of Zach's chariot team or not. If she had, Xene wondered if the horse missed the immense amount of exercise she used to get. "Of course," the princess said again, clearing her throat and reaching for the reigns of her mare. Her gaze darted back to the training field, but she felt frozen to the spot.
She understood. He needed to race the chariots. Glancing toward him, her blue eyes had brightened a bit. "May I stand here and watch?" she asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too dangerous to do so. She hadn't really ever gotten to be so close, probably for good reason, but she couldn't help the want to be here. Staring at it now, she wished she would have left her one of her brothers take her on a chariot once. Having been too afraid fo horses for most of her life to gather the courage, she had always watched from the stands.
Now, she was realizing that maybe she should have found that lions courage long before this point. Having had those memories with her brothers, one dead and one gone from her reach, would have been more soothing than anything when she was missing them beyond anything.
"Or... when you are done, may I ride?" she made a motion toward the sands. Once all of the chariots were done and the horses has exercised, she wanted to see just how big the circus was once you were inside.
Xene was struggling to understand the man, but this wasn't abnormal, as much as she tried, sometimes they just couldn't get the words out to one another. She would have liked to have taught him some more bits of greek by now, but the schedules didn't always line up. Following almost faithfully beside him, Xene paused to look out at the pristine sands of the circus. Her gaze turned wistful, remembering what it was like to watch her two brothers train and race here. She swallowed hard, not having expected this moment to be so difficult so suddenly.
But she composed herself and trailed her gaze toward Isaiah, giving him a weak smile. "Of... course," she said delicately. She couldn't remember if this mare had been part of Zach's chariot team or not. If she had, Xene wondered if the horse missed the immense amount of exercise she used to get. "Of course," the princess said again, clearing her throat and reaching for the reigns of her mare. Her gaze darted back to the training field, but she felt frozen to the spot.
She understood. He needed to race the chariots. Glancing toward him, her blue eyes had brightened a bit. "May I stand here and watch?" she asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too dangerous to do so. She hadn't really ever gotten to be so close, probably for good reason, but she couldn't help the want to be here. Staring at it now, she wished she would have left her one of her brothers take her on a chariot once. Having been too afraid fo horses for most of her life to gather the courage, she had always watched from the stands.
Now, she was realizing that maybe she should have found that lions courage long before this point. Having had those memories with her brothers, one dead and one gone from her reach, would have been more soothing than anything when she was missing them beyond anything.
"Or... when you are done, may I ride?" she made a motion toward the sands. Once all of the chariots were done and the horses has exercised, she wanted to see just how big the circus was once you were inside.
Isaiah walked up to the chariot and stepped into it. The whole thing leaned hard on one wheel, then the other until he found his balance. Far from the proficient her brothers had been, Isaiah was not at all competent enough to race these chariots and expect to win against someone who really knew what they were doing. Maybe amateur races, but if one of the nobles came up and demanded a race, he’d lose nine times out of ten. This didn’t particularly bother him. There were very few things that someone could truly master in this lifetime. It was impossible to be good at everything and since he had no plans to stay in Greece long term, what was the point of gaining any level of mastery over chariot racing? It wasn’t like he was going to use the skill when he got back to his wife.
As Xene’s face softened at the thought of her brothers, his softened at the merest thought of Hannah. Her face was nearly lost in his memory but he knew it to be beautiful. It was so frustrating not to be able to recall her vividly anymore. Blue eyes, a full mouth, soft, round face, hair somewhere between gold and brown...but intellectually knowing these things did not allow him to render her like a picture in his mind. Would she be different now after having endured so many years alone? Would her lush lips be pulled tight? Pinched at the corners? Would there be lines upon her face?
Sighing, he forced his mind back to the task literally in his hands. His hands that had gained the kind of strength that his wife had never seen from him. At home, his hands were rough but not like this; not with callouses so deep they’d never go away. Veins covered the backs of his hands, trailing up his arms along sinewy muscle gained from rowing and now working like this every day. He’d been soft when he’d been taken to the galley ship but not anymore. Now he was lean, so very lean, and he had trouble keeping weight on. It made him gaunt and his face had the harsh lines of someone who’d faced years of near torture. No, he was a far cry from the optimistic youth he had been a lifetime ago.
“Yes,” he said to Xene when she asked if she could ride once he was done. It wasn’t a good idea, he still felt that, but he didn’t know how many times he, a servant, could keep telling the princess ‘no’. “I come back.” His Greek extended mostly to action things. Telling her where he was going, what he was doing. True conversation was where he fell short, but things he did every day? Not really a problem. Flicking the reins, the chariot lurched forward. The horses pulled hard, wanting to explode forward in their excitement but Isaiah kept them from launching themselves across the sand. He forced them to trot at a healthy pace along the expanse of the circus’s track. They went fast enough to spray a little bit of sand, but only in clumps and now a huge wave of it.
He’d decided to let the animals go around the track twice before he pulled back up to where Xene was standing. By now, she’d have been there for twenty minutes, at least. The track was long and the second time, Isaiah had allowed the horses to go nearly as fast as they wanted to, but with that first bit of exercise, they had more control and less impulse to bolt. Bringing the chariot to a stop, he made sure the horses were stable before he reached out and offered a hand to the princesses to help her into the basket of the chariot. “Front,” he said, motioning her to place her hands on the rim of the basket. “Hold tight,” he cautioned and bent down to tap at her ankles until he was satisfied with how she was standing. Only once he’d assured himself that her weight was evenly distributed and unlikely to tip them both over, he flicked the reins and started to drive her across the sands of the circus at a purposefully slow pace.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Isaiah walked up to the chariot and stepped into it. The whole thing leaned hard on one wheel, then the other until he found his balance. Far from the proficient her brothers had been, Isaiah was not at all competent enough to race these chariots and expect to win against someone who really knew what they were doing. Maybe amateur races, but if one of the nobles came up and demanded a race, he’d lose nine times out of ten. This didn’t particularly bother him. There were very few things that someone could truly master in this lifetime. It was impossible to be good at everything and since he had no plans to stay in Greece long term, what was the point of gaining any level of mastery over chariot racing? It wasn’t like he was going to use the skill when he got back to his wife.
As Xene’s face softened at the thought of her brothers, his softened at the merest thought of Hannah. Her face was nearly lost in his memory but he knew it to be beautiful. It was so frustrating not to be able to recall her vividly anymore. Blue eyes, a full mouth, soft, round face, hair somewhere between gold and brown...but intellectually knowing these things did not allow him to render her like a picture in his mind. Would she be different now after having endured so many years alone? Would her lush lips be pulled tight? Pinched at the corners? Would there be lines upon her face?
Sighing, he forced his mind back to the task literally in his hands. His hands that had gained the kind of strength that his wife had never seen from him. At home, his hands were rough but not like this; not with callouses so deep they’d never go away. Veins covered the backs of his hands, trailing up his arms along sinewy muscle gained from rowing and now working like this every day. He’d been soft when he’d been taken to the galley ship but not anymore. Now he was lean, so very lean, and he had trouble keeping weight on. It made him gaunt and his face had the harsh lines of someone who’d faced years of near torture. No, he was a far cry from the optimistic youth he had been a lifetime ago.
“Yes,” he said to Xene when she asked if she could ride once he was done. It wasn’t a good idea, he still felt that, but he didn’t know how many times he, a servant, could keep telling the princess ‘no’. “I come back.” His Greek extended mostly to action things. Telling her where he was going, what he was doing. True conversation was where he fell short, but things he did every day? Not really a problem. Flicking the reins, the chariot lurched forward. The horses pulled hard, wanting to explode forward in their excitement but Isaiah kept them from launching themselves across the sand. He forced them to trot at a healthy pace along the expanse of the circus’s track. They went fast enough to spray a little bit of sand, but only in clumps and now a huge wave of it.
He’d decided to let the animals go around the track twice before he pulled back up to where Xene was standing. By now, she’d have been there for twenty minutes, at least. The track was long and the second time, Isaiah had allowed the horses to go nearly as fast as they wanted to, but with that first bit of exercise, they had more control and less impulse to bolt. Bringing the chariot to a stop, he made sure the horses were stable before he reached out and offered a hand to the princesses to help her into the basket of the chariot. “Front,” he said, motioning her to place her hands on the rim of the basket. “Hold tight,” he cautioned and bent down to tap at her ankles until he was satisfied with how she was standing. Only once he’d assured himself that her weight was evenly distributed and unlikely to tip them both over, he flicked the reins and started to drive her across the sands of the circus at a purposefully slow pace.
Isaiah walked up to the chariot and stepped into it. The whole thing leaned hard on one wheel, then the other until he found his balance. Far from the proficient her brothers had been, Isaiah was not at all competent enough to race these chariots and expect to win against someone who really knew what they were doing. Maybe amateur races, but if one of the nobles came up and demanded a race, he’d lose nine times out of ten. This didn’t particularly bother him. There were very few things that someone could truly master in this lifetime. It was impossible to be good at everything and since he had no plans to stay in Greece long term, what was the point of gaining any level of mastery over chariot racing? It wasn’t like he was going to use the skill when he got back to his wife.
As Xene’s face softened at the thought of her brothers, his softened at the merest thought of Hannah. Her face was nearly lost in his memory but he knew it to be beautiful. It was so frustrating not to be able to recall her vividly anymore. Blue eyes, a full mouth, soft, round face, hair somewhere between gold and brown...but intellectually knowing these things did not allow him to render her like a picture in his mind. Would she be different now after having endured so many years alone? Would her lush lips be pulled tight? Pinched at the corners? Would there be lines upon her face?
Sighing, he forced his mind back to the task literally in his hands. His hands that had gained the kind of strength that his wife had never seen from him. At home, his hands were rough but not like this; not with callouses so deep they’d never go away. Veins covered the backs of his hands, trailing up his arms along sinewy muscle gained from rowing and now working like this every day. He’d been soft when he’d been taken to the galley ship but not anymore. Now he was lean, so very lean, and he had trouble keeping weight on. It made him gaunt and his face had the harsh lines of someone who’d faced years of near torture. No, he was a far cry from the optimistic youth he had been a lifetime ago.
“Yes,” he said to Xene when she asked if she could ride once he was done. It wasn’t a good idea, he still felt that, but he didn’t know how many times he, a servant, could keep telling the princess ‘no’. “I come back.” His Greek extended mostly to action things. Telling her where he was going, what he was doing. True conversation was where he fell short, but things he did every day? Not really a problem. Flicking the reins, the chariot lurched forward. The horses pulled hard, wanting to explode forward in their excitement but Isaiah kept them from launching themselves across the sand. He forced them to trot at a healthy pace along the expanse of the circus’s track. They went fast enough to spray a little bit of sand, but only in clumps and now a huge wave of it.
He’d decided to let the animals go around the track twice before he pulled back up to where Xene was standing. By now, she’d have been there for twenty minutes, at least. The track was long and the second time, Isaiah had allowed the horses to go nearly as fast as they wanted to, but with that first bit of exercise, they had more control and less impulse to bolt. Bringing the chariot to a stop, he made sure the horses were stable before he reached out and offered a hand to the princesses to help her into the basket of the chariot. “Front,” he said, motioning her to place her hands on the rim of the basket. “Hold tight,” he cautioned and bent down to tap at her ankles until he was satisfied with how she was standing. Only once he’d assured himself that her weight was evenly distributed and unlikely to tip them both over, he flicked the reins and started to drive her across the sands of the circus at a purposefully slow pace.
Watching Isaiah, a servant, lead the horses by chariot was not the same as watching her brothers rush across the sands as fast as they could go. It wasn't the same at all, but it was cathartic nevertheless. Seeing any movement across the sands and hearing the rattling of a chariot was so familiar that the princess felt somewhat at home just standing there at the entrance, watching him take the two laps around the sands. She wondered what Zacharias had actually felt like when he was upon his chariot, beating literally everyone that came across his path in every single race. Xene couldn't recall a single time that Zacharias had lost.
None at all.
Stephanos had never won against him, but she knew that her brother often reveled in the exhileration and adrenaline of the race. Another brother that she desperately missed with each passing moment. Each passing second, really. Like she was being robbed of a piece of herself the same way that Stephanos had been robbed of his crown. For a moment, her eyes glazed over and she could only feel the sharpness of a bitter mind. One bent on reaching for what she wanted, and that was her brother back on the throne. She knew that Achilleas did not want the crown. It had fallen to him a way that was neither just, nor fair, and that had thrown the line of succession into a tailspin.
It was odd to think that four more deaths in the line and the crown would likely fall to her. Not that she was counting nor had a desire, but who would frame her in the way that her brother had been if such a convoluted trail of bodies was constructed? Would they be better off allowing Egypt to roll over them the way that Colchis often decimated the northern lands? If it were to end the trail of misery that was being handed to each member in a long line of royals... maybe so. Xene wasn't sure what she would prefer, though her outlook on things had grown bleak.
She needed Stephanos. She needed her mother to see sense. She needed Achilleas to garner support so that passing the crown back to Stephanos and clearing his name would be a simpler, easier task.
It wasn't until Isaiah returned with the chariot, stopping before her that Xene threw herself out of her thoughts and focused on the Judean man. He seemed sad as well, and for a moment, Xene felt like a kindred spirit to someone she struggled to communicate with. Perhaps she would take lessons in hebrew. Break that barrier. Reaching up to take his hand, the princes hoisted herself confidently onto the chariot, feeling no fear or anxiety, for Isaiah seemed more than capable of ensuring that neither of them died. Shifting her stance in the way that Isaiah was instructing her with his hands. Normally, she may have been remiss to be touched, but... there wasn't another good way to communicate such a thing.
Holding on tight to the rim of the basket, Xene momentarily remembered her fear of horses, but reminded herself that she could trust someone else and the beasts for just a few minutes. When they started moving, she did her best not to hold her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The princess could hear little but the slow beat of hooves on sand, but that was truly all she needed to hear. Slowly, as slow as the pace of the chariot, she started to relax and unravel. "Don't kill us," was her only caution over her shoulder to Isaiah, a playful light in her eye. "I trust you."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Watching Isaiah, a servant, lead the horses by chariot was not the same as watching her brothers rush across the sands as fast as they could go. It wasn't the same at all, but it was cathartic nevertheless. Seeing any movement across the sands and hearing the rattling of a chariot was so familiar that the princess felt somewhat at home just standing there at the entrance, watching him take the two laps around the sands. She wondered what Zacharias had actually felt like when he was upon his chariot, beating literally everyone that came across his path in every single race. Xene couldn't recall a single time that Zacharias had lost.
None at all.
Stephanos had never won against him, but she knew that her brother often reveled in the exhileration and adrenaline of the race. Another brother that she desperately missed with each passing moment. Each passing second, really. Like she was being robbed of a piece of herself the same way that Stephanos had been robbed of his crown. For a moment, her eyes glazed over and she could only feel the sharpness of a bitter mind. One bent on reaching for what she wanted, and that was her brother back on the throne. She knew that Achilleas did not want the crown. It had fallen to him a way that was neither just, nor fair, and that had thrown the line of succession into a tailspin.
It was odd to think that four more deaths in the line and the crown would likely fall to her. Not that she was counting nor had a desire, but who would frame her in the way that her brother had been if such a convoluted trail of bodies was constructed? Would they be better off allowing Egypt to roll over them the way that Colchis often decimated the northern lands? If it were to end the trail of misery that was being handed to each member in a long line of royals... maybe so. Xene wasn't sure what she would prefer, though her outlook on things had grown bleak.
She needed Stephanos. She needed her mother to see sense. She needed Achilleas to garner support so that passing the crown back to Stephanos and clearing his name would be a simpler, easier task.
It wasn't until Isaiah returned with the chariot, stopping before her that Xene threw herself out of her thoughts and focused on the Judean man. He seemed sad as well, and for a moment, Xene felt like a kindred spirit to someone she struggled to communicate with. Perhaps she would take lessons in hebrew. Break that barrier. Reaching up to take his hand, the princes hoisted herself confidently onto the chariot, feeling no fear or anxiety, for Isaiah seemed more than capable of ensuring that neither of them died. Shifting her stance in the way that Isaiah was instructing her with his hands. Normally, she may have been remiss to be touched, but... there wasn't another good way to communicate such a thing.
Holding on tight to the rim of the basket, Xene momentarily remembered her fear of horses, but reminded herself that she could trust someone else and the beasts for just a few minutes. When they started moving, she did her best not to hold her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The princess could hear little but the slow beat of hooves on sand, but that was truly all she needed to hear. Slowly, as slow as the pace of the chariot, she started to relax and unravel. "Don't kill us," was her only caution over her shoulder to Isaiah, a playful light in her eye. "I trust you."
Watching Isaiah, a servant, lead the horses by chariot was not the same as watching her brothers rush across the sands as fast as they could go. It wasn't the same at all, but it was cathartic nevertheless. Seeing any movement across the sands and hearing the rattling of a chariot was so familiar that the princess felt somewhat at home just standing there at the entrance, watching him take the two laps around the sands. She wondered what Zacharias had actually felt like when he was upon his chariot, beating literally everyone that came across his path in every single race. Xene couldn't recall a single time that Zacharias had lost.
None at all.
Stephanos had never won against him, but she knew that her brother often reveled in the exhileration and adrenaline of the race. Another brother that she desperately missed with each passing moment. Each passing second, really. Like she was being robbed of a piece of herself the same way that Stephanos had been robbed of his crown. For a moment, her eyes glazed over and she could only feel the sharpness of a bitter mind. One bent on reaching for what she wanted, and that was her brother back on the throne. She knew that Achilleas did not want the crown. It had fallen to him a way that was neither just, nor fair, and that had thrown the line of succession into a tailspin.
It was odd to think that four more deaths in the line and the crown would likely fall to her. Not that she was counting nor had a desire, but who would frame her in the way that her brother had been if such a convoluted trail of bodies was constructed? Would they be better off allowing Egypt to roll over them the way that Colchis often decimated the northern lands? If it were to end the trail of misery that was being handed to each member in a long line of royals... maybe so. Xene wasn't sure what she would prefer, though her outlook on things had grown bleak.
She needed Stephanos. She needed her mother to see sense. She needed Achilleas to garner support so that passing the crown back to Stephanos and clearing his name would be a simpler, easier task.
It wasn't until Isaiah returned with the chariot, stopping before her that Xene threw herself out of her thoughts and focused on the Judean man. He seemed sad as well, and for a moment, Xene felt like a kindred spirit to someone she struggled to communicate with. Perhaps she would take lessons in hebrew. Break that barrier. Reaching up to take his hand, the princes hoisted herself confidently onto the chariot, feeling no fear or anxiety, for Isaiah seemed more than capable of ensuring that neither of them died. Shifting her stance in the way that Isaiah was instructing her with his hands. Normally, she may have been remiss to be touched, but... there wasn't another good way to communicate such a thing.
Holding on tight to the rim of the basket, Xene momentarily remembered her fear of horses, but reminded herself that she could trust someone else and the beasts for just a few minutes. When they started moving, she did her best not to hold her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The princess could hear little but the slow beat of hooves on sand, but that was truly all she needed to hear. Slowly, as slow as the pace of the chariot, she started to relax and unravel. "Don't kill us," was her only caution over her shoulder to Isaiah, a playful light in her eye. "I trust you."
In his youth, he wouldn’t have presumed to touch her. She was not only a woman, but a princess besides. A woman of great import, wealth, and influence in the world. Or it seemed so to him, at least. Yet, life, experience, and lack of verbal communication broke those societal barriers and allowed him to cross certain lines of decorum with the innocence of someone who meant nothing by the touches themselves. The servant had no designs on the princess, no thought of attempting to better himself using her. He was guileless and simple in his desires, which likely aided him in getting away with positioning her. Likewise, when he finally took up the reins, he kept his body rigid and completely separate from hers. There was no reason to touch her at all now. If there was a deep rut in the sand, perhaps his front might brush her back for the merest hint of a moment or two, but he would pull away if something like that occurred. The princess was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t the one he thought about when he allowed his mind to wander that way.
“We won’t die,” he assured Xene with a half smile and flicked the reins. “Hite,” he called to the team and with a great groaning and creaking, the chariot rolled clumsily forward. The whole thing hadn’t been built to go slowly. It was at its smoothest and most dangerous whilst the horses were running. Now, the wheels shook and wobbled against the sand and the jarring hoofbeats of the horses. Their pace was achingly slow, even for him, but he wasn’t going to let a little accident be her death. Another accidental death as a result of himself and he’d consider walking into the ocean and just ending his suffering. How would Yahweh forgive him a second time?
“Like king, huh?” he said to her once they were near the halfway point of the first lap. Her hair sometimes breezed against his face and he could smell the feminine soap she used. It was painful to bear being this close to a woman who was not Hannah. But, if he could strike up a conversation with her, then that would distract him from his entirely-too-gloomy thoughts.
The horses kept going, but they, too, chafed at the pace, and under the guise of it being an accident, he slackened his hold on the reins ever so slightly to let them go a little bit faster. The chariot smoothed out a bit and soon, they were rolling along at a nicer pace, though if she lost her balance and pushed them both out, they’d likely get their elbows and word rubbed raw by the sand. It wouldn’t be fatal, at least, and that was the point.
“Better?” he asked presently.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
In his youth, he wouldn’t have presumed to touch her. She was not only a woman, but a princess besides. A woman of great import, wealth, and influence in the world. Or it seemed so to him, at least. Yet, life, experience, and lack of verbal communication broke those societal barriers and allowed him to cross certain lines of decorum with the innocence of someone who meant nothing by the touches themselves. The servant had no designs on the princess, no thought of attempting to better himself using her. He was guileless and simple in his desires, which likely aided him in getting away with positioning her. Likewise, when he finally took up the reins, he kept his body rigid and completely separate from hers. There was no reason to touch her at all now. If there was a deep rut in the sand, perhaps his front might brush her back for the merest hint of a moment or two, but he would pull away if something like that occurred. The princess was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t the one he thought about when he allowed his mind to wander that way.
“We won’t die,” he assured Xene with a half smile and flicked the reins. “Hite,” he called to the team and with a great groaning and creaking, the chariot rolled clumsily forward. The whole thing hadn’t been built to go slowly. It was at its smoothest and most dangerous whilst the horses were running. Now, the wheels shook and wobbled against the sand and the jarring hoofbeats of the horses. Their pace was achingly slow, even for him, but he wasn’t going to let a little accident be her death. Another accidental death as a result of himself and he’d consider walking into the ocean and just ending his suffering. How would Yahweh forgive him a second time?
“Like king, huh?” he said to her once they were near the halfway point of the first lap. Her hair sometimes breezed against his face and he could smell the feminine soap she used. It was painful to bear being this close to a woman who was not Hannah. But, if he could strike up a conversation with her, then that would distract him from his entirely-too-gloomy thoughts.
The horses kept going, but they, too, chafed at the pace, and under the guise of it being an accident, he slackened his hold on the reins ever so slightly to let them go a little bit faster. The chariot smoothed out a bit and soon, they were rolling along at a nicer pace, though if she lost her balance and pushed them both out, they’d likely get their elbows and word rubbed raw by the sand. It wouldn’t be fatal, at least, and that was the point.
“Better?” he asked presently.
In his youth, he wouldn’t have presumed to touch her. She was not only a woman, but a princess besides. A woman of great import, wealth, and influence in the world. Or it seemed so to him, at least. Yet, life, experience, and lack of verbal communication broke those societal barriers and allowed him to cross certain lines of decorum with the innocence of someone who meant nothing by the touches themselves. The servant had no designs on the princess, no thought of attempting to better himself using her. He was guileless and simple in his desires, which likely aided him in getting away with positioning her. Likewise, when he finally took up the reins, he kept his body rigid and completely separate from hers. There was no reason to touch her at all now. If there was a deep rut in the sand, perhaps his front might brush her back for the merest hint of a moment or two, but he would pull away if something like that occurred. The princess was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t the one he thought about when he allowed his mind to wander that way.
“We won’t die,” he assured Xene with a half smile and flicked the reins. “Hite,” he called to the team and with a great groaning and creaking, the chariot rolled clumsily forward. The whole thing hadn’t been built to go slowly. It was at its smoothest and most dangerous whilst the horses were running. Now, the wheels shook and wobbled against the sand and the jarring hoofbeats of the horses. Their pace was achingly slow, even for him, but he wasn’t going to let a little accident be her death. Another accidental death as a result of himself and he’d consider walking into the ocean and just ending his suffering. How would Yahweh forgive him a second time?
“Like king, huh?” he said to her once they were near the halfway point of the first lap. Her hair sometimes breezed against his face and he could smell the feminine soap she used. It was painful to bear being this close to a woman who was not Hannah. But, if he could strike up a conversation with her, then that would distract him from his entirely-too-gloomy thoughts.
The horses kept going, but they, too, chafed at the pace, and under the guise of it being an accident, he slackened his hold on the reins ever so slightly to let them go a little bit faster. The chariot smoothed out a bit and soon, they were rolling along at a nicer pace, though if she lost her balance and pushed them both out, they’d likely get their elbows and word rubbed raw by the sand. It wouldn’t be fatal, at least, and that was the point.
“Better?” he asked presently.
The princess didn't think anything at all of being touched by the man. It wasn't anything more than guidance. Entirely platonic and meaningless. Less than platonic, even. He was a teacher and she was trying not to die atop this dangerous contraption that her brother had both loved to immensely. Her heartbeat nearly out of her chest just at moving as slowly as they were when Isaiah initially started them out. If she felt so tense and nervous at such a slow speed here, what would she feel like if they were to speed up and move at a pace much more like that of her brother's standard pacing?
Would she die of a heart attack? Would she panic? Would she stop breathing? Would her heart just give out? Would she embarrass herself out of fear?
Those thoughts initially swirled around in her mind at an uncontrollable pace. That was, at least, until they had gone a little way around the track and Xene found it easier and easier to keep her balance, though she kept the tight hold that the servant had instructed of her. There was less fear of death the longer they moved and Xene almost didn't hear Isaiah question her at first. "Mmm?" she asked, trying to think back on what words he had said to her? She was clearly trying to comprehend him and his accent before the words truly clicked with her.
"Yes. Like my brothers," she said with a smile, turning her gaze ahead of them again. She took in the way that the horses looked while they moved. They seemed almost impatient, wanting to move faster than Isaiah was allowing them to. She was just about to tell him that they could go a little faster, but he seemed to do that without having to test her tolerance. She had kept her balance this long and she would continue to do so. The princess had no intention of ending up raw and in the sand.
No, she was too focused on imagining what her bothers must have felt like when they were out on this field. Every day of their lives. Racing one another like their lives truly depended on it when it was all really just their childish, competitive spirits that kept them coming back for more. Finally, once they had ridden a while at the faster pace, Xene turned her head and smiled a bit at Isaiah. "Thank you," she admitted lightly, her blue eyes bright.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The princess didn't think anything at all of being touched by the man. It wasn't anything more than guidance. Entirely platonic and meaningless. Less than platonic, even. He was a teacher and she was trying not to die atop this dangerous contraption that her brother had both loved to immensely. Her heartbeat nearly out of her chest just at moving as slowly as they were when Isaiah initially started them out. If she felt so tense and nervous at such a slow speed here, what would she feel like if they were to speed up and move at a pace much more like that of her brother's standard pacing?
Would she die of a heart attack? Would she panic? Would she stop breathing? Would her heart just give out? Would she embarrass herself out of fear?
Those thoughts initially swirled around in her mind at an uncontrollable pace. That was, at least, until they had gone a little way around the track and Xene found it easier and easier to keep her balance, though she kept the tight hold that the servant had instructed of her. There was less fear of death the longer they moved and Xene almost didn't hear Isaiah question her at first. "Mmm?" she asked, trying to think back on what words he had said to her? She was clearly trying to comprehend him and his accent before the words truly clicked with her.
"Yes. Like my brothers," she said with a smile, turning her gaze ahead of them again. She took in the way that the horses looked while they moved. They seemed almost impatient, wanting to move faster than Isaiah was allowing them to. She was just about to tell him that they could go a little faster, but he seemed to do that without having to test her tolerance. She had kept her balance this long and she would continue to do so. The princess had no intention of ending up raw and in the sand.
No, she was too focused on imagining what her bothers must have felt like when they were out on this field. Every day of their lives. Racing one another like their lives truly depended on it when it was all really just their childish, competitive spirits that kept them coming back for more. Finally, once they had ridden a while at the faster pace, Xene turned her head and smiled a bit at Isaiah. "Thank you," she admitted lightly, her blue eyes bright.
The princess didn't think anything at all of being touched by the man. It wasn't anything more than guidance. Entirely platonic and meaningless. Less than platonic, even. He was a teacher and she was trying not to die atop this dangerous contraption that her brother had both loved to immensely. Her heartbeat nearly out of her chest just at moving as slowly as they were when Isaiah initially started them out. If she felt so tense and nervous at such a slow speed here, what would she feel like if they were to speed up and move at a pace much more like that of her brother's standard pacing?
Would she die of a heart attack? Would she panic? Would she stop breathing? Would her heart just give out? Would she embarrass herself out of fear?
Those thoughts initially swirled around in her mind at an uncontrollable pace. That was, at least, until they had gone a little way around the track and Xene found it easier and easier to keep her balance, though she kept the tight hold that the servant had instructed of her. There was less fear of death the longer they moved and Xene almost didn't hear Isaiah question her at first. "Mmm?" she asked, trying to think back on what words he had said to her? She was clearly trying to comprehend him and his accent before the words truly clicked with her.
"Yes. Like my brothers," she said with a smile, turning her gaze ahead of them again. She took in the way that the horses looked while they moved. They seemed almost impatient, wanting to move faster than Isaiah was allowing them to. She was just about to tell him that they could go a little faster, but he seemed to do that without having to test her tolerance. She had kept her balance this long and she would continue to do so. The princess had no intention of ending up raw and in the sand.
No, she was too focused on imagining what her bothers must have felt like when they were out on this field. Every day of their lives. Racing one another like their lives truly depended on it when it was all really just their childish, competitive spirits that kept them coming back for more. Finally, once they had ridden a while at the faster pace, Xene turned her head and smiled a bit at Isaiah. "Thank you," she admitted lightly, her blue eyes bright.
On the rare occasions he’d seen the Princess Xene, she’d looked cool and distant; everything elegant and regal, as princesses should be. He had never thought much about her. Her world did not intersect with his and Isaiah’s days were so filled with dirt, sand, horse dung, and everything else labor intensive, that he didn’t spend time daydreaming about royals. If he stopped to think dreamy thoughts at all, it was about Hannah. However, he was still a little surprised at how personable the princess was being - how human. She seemed like an ordinary person and, he reflected, she obviously was. Her situation of birth placed her far above the crowds but she was still a person with likes, dislikes, insecurities, just like everyone else. That thought was...strange. Comforting, but strange. Strange because if something befell her while in his care, he’d of course be executed for negligence. Therein lay the difference between Princess Xene and Isaiah. If he died, no one would mourn him. Hannah had probably moved on long ago, though he liked to hope that she hadn’t.
Princess Xene turned her head and smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said in what he perceived as a shy tone.
“It is of no trouble,” he assured her. Flicking the reins, he drove them around the track twice more before the horses seemed like they had been exercised quite enough for the day. Isaiah brought the chariot to a halt and made sure that the team were dutifully standing still before he hopped out of the back and stood with his hand out to her to guide her down to the sandy track.
Isaiah bowed low, not looking her in the face but more in the shoulder area. “Princess is satisfied?” he asked, not presuming to excuse himself from her presence. Judea did not have royalty but he had gleaned enough in his time here that he knew more or less how to act. That and he’d been trained to treat Greeks as their betters, even though that was no one’s opinion. Not even his own. It was all about perception, his parents had told him. That was all that mattered.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
On the rare occasions he’d seen the Princess Xene, she’d looked cool and distant; everything elegant and regal, as princesses should be. He had never thought much about her. Her world did not intersect with his and Isaiah’s days were so filled with dirt, sand, horse dung, and everything else labor intensive, that he didn’t spend time daydreaming about royals. If he stopped to think dreamy thoughts at all, it was about Hannah. However, he was still a little surprised at how personable the princess was being - how human. She seemed like an ordinary person and, he reflected, she obviously was. Her situation of birth placed her far above the crowds but she was still a person with likes, dislikes, insecurities, just like everyone else. That thought was...strange. Comforting, but strange. Strange because if something befell her while in his care, he’d of course be executed for negligence. Therein lay the difference between Princess Xene and Isaiah. If he died, no one would mourn him. Hannah had probably moved on long ago, though he liked to hope that she hadn’t.
Princess Xene turned her head and smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said in what he perceived as a shy tone.
“It is of no trouble,” he assured her. Flicking the reins, he drove them around the track twice more before the horses seemed like they had been exercised quite enough for the day. Isaiah brought the chariot to a halt and made sure that the team were dutifully standing still before he hopped out of the back and stood with his hand out to her to guide her down to the sandy track.
Isaiah bowed low, not looking her in the face but more in the shoulder area. “Princess is satisfied?” he asked, not presuming to excuse himself from her presence. Judea did not have royalty but he had gleaned enough in his time here that he knew more or less how to act. That and he’d been trained to treat Greeks as their betters, even though that was no one’s opinion. Not even his own. It was all about perception, his parents had told him. That was all that mattered.
On the rare occasions he’d seen the Princess Xene, she’d looked cool and distant; everything elegant and regal, as princesses should be. He had never thought much about her. Her world did not intersect with his and Isaiah’s days were so filled with dirt, sand, horse dung, and everything else labor intensive, that he didn’t spend time daydreaming about royals. If he stopped to think dreamy thoughts at all, it was about Hannah. However, he was still a little surprised at how personable the princess was being - how human. She seemed like an ordinary person and, he reflected, she obviously was. Her situation of birth placed her far above the crowds but she was still a person with likes, dislikes, insecurities, just like everyone else. That thought was...strange. Comforting, but strange. Strange because if something befell her while in his care, he’d of course be executed for negligence. Therein lay the difference between Princess Xene and Isaiah. If he died, no one would mourn him. Hannah had probably moved on long ago, though he liked to hope that she hadn’t.
Princess Xene turned her head and smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said in what he perceived as a shy tone.
“It is of no trouble,” he assured her. Flicking the reins, he drove them around the track twice more before the horses seemed like they had been exercised quite enough for the day. Isaiah brought the chariot to a halt and made sure that the team were dutifully standing still before he hopped out of the back and stood with his hand out to her to guide her down to the sandy track.
Isaiah bowed low, not looking her in the face but more in the shoulder area. “Princess is satisfied?” he asked, not presuming to excuse himself from her presence. Judea did not have royalty but he had gleaned enough in his time here that he knew more or less how to act. That and he’d been trained to treat Greeks as their betters, even though that was no one’s opinion. Not even his own. It was all about perception, his parents had told him. That was all that mattered.
She had never actually ridden one of the chariots before. It was something that her brothers had deemed too dangerous for her. Add in her quiet aversion to horses at all, and she had stayed well away from the massive contraptions and the braying of the horses. Now that Lord Fotios had seemingly broken her of her fear of horses, Xene had been seeking some way of being closer to her brothers now that both of them were no longer in Taengea. One was with Hades and the other who knew where. All Xene knew was that Stephanos was not here, and there was a high chance that he never would be again.
It was that thought that had her swallowing once more even as Isaiah took her about the track a few more times. In that time, she was able to imagine herself as her brothers, going faster than Isaiah was now, and entirely exhilerated by the rush of adrenaline that charioteering brought them. The princess had even watched Captain Krysto ride like this, a look of pure joy on his features. What was it with men and death wishes? Or was it just the competition of it? Was it the rush? Was it because of their military training? Surely, it was that. Most royals, as Xene percieved it, became charioteers in the military. They could afford such luxuries in ways that not many could.
Soon enough, the ride was done and the chariot was coming to a halt. Xene turned very slightly to look up at Isaiah, noting how he seemed to be done exercising his horses, which was fine. Part of her was done with the ride, though she wasn't mentally ready to part herself from her brothers. Smiling quietly, though, she did not argue with Isaiah held his hands how to help her down off of the chariot and onto the dusty track. Then the man was bowing and asking if she was satisfied.
Yes, she supposed that she was. Well and truly. "Yes, I am satisfied, Isaiah," Xene said delicately, "Thank you again," she said softly. "I've never ridden one of the chariots before," the princess observed, looking back toward the entrance to the track to see Heron holding the reins of her horse and watching her with an expectant expression. "I must go now," she said softly, bidding him a quiet farewell as she trailed toward her pretty mare. Heron looked down at her and nodded, but handed her the reins of her mare, even helping her onto the beast's back so that they could walk back toward the Palati together.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
She had never actually ridden one of the chariots before. It was something that her brothers had deemed too dangerous for her. Add in her quiet aversion to horses at all, and she had stayed well away from the massive contraptions and the braying of the horses. Now that Lord Fotios had seemingly broken her of her fear of horses, Xene had been seeking some way of being closer to her brothers now that both of them were no longer in Taengea. One was with Hades and the other who knew where. All Xene knew was that Stephanos was not here, and there was a high chance that he never would be again.
It was that thought that had her swallowing once more even as Isaiah took her about the track a few more times. In that time, she was able to imagine herself as her brothers, going faster than Isaiah was now, and entirely exhilerated by the rush of adrenaline that charioteering brought them. The princess had even watched Captain Krysto ride like this, a look of pure joy on his features. What was it with men and death wishes? Or was it just the competition of it? Was it the rush? Was it because of their military training? Surely, it was that. Most royals, as Xene percieved it, became charioteers in the military. They could afford such luxuries in ways that not many could.
Soon enough, the ride was done and the chariot was coming to a halt. Xene turned very slightly to look up at Isaiah, noting how he seemed to be done exercising his horses, which was fine. Part of her was done with the ride, though she wasn't mentally ready to part herself from her brothers. Smiling quietly, though, she did not argue with Isaiah held his hands how to help her down off of the chariot and onto the dusty track. Then the man was bowing and asking if she was satisfied.
Yes, she supposed that she was. Well and truly. "Yes, I am satisfied, Isaiah," Xene said delicately, "Thank you again," she said softly. "I've never ridden one of the chariots before," the princess observed, looking back toward the entrance to the track to see Heron holding the reins of her horse and watching her with an expectant expression. "I must go now," she said softly, bidding him a quiet farewell as she trailed toward her pretty mare. Heron looked down at her and nodded, but handed her the reins of her mare, even helping her onto the beast's back so that they could walk back toward the Palati together.
She had never actually ridden one of the chariots before. It was something that her brothers had deemed too dangerous for her. Add in her quiet aversion to horses at all, and she had stayed well away from the massive contraptions and the braying of the horses. Now that Lord Fotios had seemingly broken her of her fear of horses, Xene had been seeking some way of being closer to her brothers now that both of them were no longer in Taengea. One was with Hades and the other who knew where. All Xene knew was that Stephanos was not here, and there was a high chance that he never would be again.
It was that thought that had her swallowing once more even as Isaiah took her about the track a few more times. In that time, she was able to imagine herself as her brothers, going faster than Isaiah was now, and entirely exhilerated by the rush of adrenaline that charioteering brought them. The princess had even watched Captain Krysto ride like this, a look of pure joy on his features. What was it with men and death wishes? Or was it just the competition of it? Was it the rush? Was it because of their military training? Surely, it was that. Most royals, as Xene percieved it, became charioteers in the military. They could afford such luxuries in ways that not many could.
Soon enough, the ride was done and the chariot was coming to a halt. Xene turned very slightly to look up at Isaiah, noting how he seemed to be done exercising his horses, which was fine. Part of her was done with the ride, though she wasn't mentally ready to part herself from her brothers. Smiling quietly, though, she did not argue with Isaiah held his hands how to help her down off of the chariot and onto the dusty track. Then the man was bowing and asking if she was satisfied.
Yes, she supposed that she was. Well and truly. "Yes, I am satisfied, Isaiah," Xene said delicately, "Thank you again," she said softly. "I've never ridden one of the chariots before," the princess observed, looking back toward the entrance to the track to see Heron holding the reins of her horse and watching her with an expectant expression. "I must go now," she said softly, bidding him a quiet farewell as she trailed toward her pretty mare. Heron looked down at her and nodded, but handed her the reins of her mare, even helping her onto the beast's back so that they could walk back toward the Palati together.