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“Oh look, you spoke to someone and didn’t die,” Hena said, his voice snide and his face taking on the sort of expression she most abhorred. Honestly. How anyone could stand him, she did not know. She knew full well that he was capable of bursts of great generosity and even selflessness, but in her experience, they were so few and far between that they didn’t outweigh the day to day grind of having to deal with him. Nenet knew the logistics (or thought she did) of what went on between Hena and his lovers, but why they would suffer his personality just to let him mount them, she did not know. Nor did she understand that particular draw anyway. The trade off just didn’t seem worth it. In her mind, it was just another way he’d lord himself over someone. Why bother?
“Come then,” he continued when her large dark eyes narrowed into black slits. ”I will speak to the next one.” As tempting as it would be to take that statement as one of his intermittent and unexpected times of generosity, she was more inclined to believe his willingness to speak to the next merchant was born more from his wish not to spend the whole of their afternoon like this. That interaction alone had taken far longer than it needed to and would have been done much quicker if he’d been the one to do it in the first place. It was highly possible that he’d made her speak to one of the merchants, hoping that through mortal embarrassment, she’d simply snap out of a speech pattern that he seemed to assume she took on to amuse herself. Obviously, if that was his strategy, it hadn’t worked. All it had served to do was make her realize that the next time Hena demanded she accompany him to market, she’d throw up on command so as not to go. Of course, she’d need to hone that skill...there had to be a book about it somewhere.
As anyone could have predicted, the rest of the tasks went much quicker and smoother. Nenet helped where necessary by naming the specific people to go to, but Hena did the lion’s share by making the barters and listing the orders. Their servant trailed them in as impassive and bored way as he ever did. Privately Nenet suspected the man had no personality at all. As they left one shop, Hena felt the need to preach to her. Nenet sighed through her nose, her eyes taking on the flat, dead look that she’d mastered as a teenager and made all the more prominent by the ornate kohl around her eyes.
“I kn-n-n-n-ow,” she didn’t understand what he was trying to get at. She was fairly certain that it wasn’t her job to keep the family or the merchants in business. “It-t-t’s-s n-n-not-t m-m-my j-j-job-b-b t-t-t-o h-ha-agg-gg-le an-n-n-yw-w-way.”
If she’d realized that his preaching was a sort of olive branch, she wouldn’t have so entirely trodden it underfoot. She did not, however. She saw it as him further teasing her or, worse, simply telling her to ‘snap out of it’ as though she could turn this stutter on and off the way one lit or blew out a candle. If only it was so easy. If only she was smooth talking and charismatic, too, like he and Nia were, then perhaps her brother might not detest her so much. But, as he did, and as she did not care for being told what to do by a wastrel, this was to be their lot.
“A-a-re w-w-we d-d-don-ne?” she asked, sighing and glancing up at the sky to see how much time had been wasted on this misadventure. At this point, she’d have gladly took another beer or wine. It was hot. Her throat felt coated in dust and her mouth was in that uncomfortable prickle stage. Her eyes fell to her brother’s hip, checking for some sort of flask or something. That’s what drunkards kept on their person, right?
“D-d-d-oo y-y-you h-hav-ve w-w-w-win-ne?”
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“Oh look, you spoke to someone and didn’t die,” Hena said, his voice snide and his face taking on the sort of expression she most abhorred. Honestly. How anyone could stand him, she did not know. She knew full well that he was capable of bursts of great generosity and even selflessness, but in her experience, they were so few and far between that they didn’t outweigh the day to day grind of having to deal with him. Nenet knew the logistics (or thought she did) of what went on between Hena and his lovers, but why they would suffer his personality just to let him mount them, she did not know. Nor did she understand that particular draw anyway. The trade off just didn’t seem worth it. In her mind, it was just another way he’d lord himself over someone. Why bother?
“Come then,” he continued when her large dark eyes narrowed into black slits. ”I will speak to the next one.” As tempting as it would be to take that statement as one of his intermittent and unexpected times of generosity, she was more inclined to believe his willingness to speak to the next merchant was born more from his wish not to spend the whole of their afternoon like this. That interaction alone had taken far longer than it needed to and would have been done much quicker if he’d been the one to do it in the first place. It was highly possible that he’d made her speak to one of the merchants, hoping that through mortal embarrassment, she’d simply snap out of a speech pattern that he seemed to assume she took on to amuse herself. Obviously, if that was his strategy, it hadn’t worked. All it had served to do was make her realize that the next time Hena demanded she accompany him to market, she’d throw up on command so as not to go. Of course, she’d need to hone that skill...there had to be a book about it somewhere.
As anyone could have predicted, the rest of the tasks went much quicker and smoother. Nenet helped where necessary by naming the specific people to go to, but Hena did the lion’s share by making the barters and listing the orders. Their servant trailed them in as impassive and bored way as he ever did. Privately Nenet suspected the man had no personality at all. As they left one shop, Hena felt the need to preach to her. Nenet sighed through her nose, her eyes taking on the flat, dead look that she’d mastered as a teenager and made all the more prominent by the ornate kohl around her eyes.
“I kn-n-n-n-ow,” she didn’t understand what he was trying to get at. She was fairly certain that it wasn’t her job to keep the family or the merchants in business. “It-t-t’s-s n-n-not-t m-m-my j-j-job-b-b t-t-t-o h-ha-agg-gg-le an-n-n-yw-w-way.”
If she’d realized that his preaching was a sort of olive branch, she wouldn’t have so entirely trodden it underfoot. She did not, however. She saw it as him further teasing her or, worse, simply telling her to ‘snap out of it’ as though she could turn this stutter on and off the way one lit or blew out a candle. If only it was so easy. If only she was smooth talking and charismatic, too, like he and Nia were, then perhaps her brother might not detest her so much. But, as he did, and as she did not care for being told what to do by a wastrel, this was to be their lot.
“A-a-re w-w-we d-d-don-ne?” she asked, sighing and glancing up at the sky to see how much time had been wasted on this misadventure. At this point, she’d have gladly took another beer or wine. It was hot. Her throat felt coated in dust and her mouth was in that uncomfortable prickle stage. Her eyes fell to her brother’s hip, checking for some sort of flask or something. That’s what drunkards kept on their person, right?
“D-d-d-oo y-y-you h-hav-ve w-w-w-win-ne?”
“Oh look, you spoke to someone and didn’t die,” Hena said, his voice snide and his face taking on the sort of expression she most abhorred. Honestly. How anyone could stand him, she did not know. She knew full well that he was capable of bursts of great generosity and even selflessness, but in her experience, they were so few and far between that they didn’t outweigh the day to day grind of having to deal with him. Nenet knew the logistics (or thought she did) of what went on between Hena and his lovers, but why they would suffer his personality just to let him mount them, she did not know. Nor did she understand that particular draw anyway. The trade off just didn’t seem worth it. In her mind, it was just another way he’d lord himself over someone. Why bother?
“Come then,” he continued when her large dark eyes narrowed into black slits. ”I will speak to the next one.” As tempting as it would be to take that statement as one of his intermittent and unexpected times of generosity, she was more inclined to believe his willingness to speak to the next merchant was born more from his wish not to spend the whole of their afternoon like this. That interaction alone had taken far longer than it needed to and would have been done much quicker if he’d been the one to do it in the first place. It was highly possible that he’d made her speak to one of the merchants, hoping that through mortal embarrassment, she’d simply snap out of a speech pattern that he seemed to assume she took on to amuse herself. Obviously, if that was his strategy, it hadn’t worked. All it had served to do was make her realize that the next time Hena demanded she accompany him to market, she’d throw up on command so as not to go. Of course, she’d need to hone that skill...there had to be a book about it somewhere.
As anyone could have predicted, the rest of the tasks went much quicker and smoother. Nenet helped where necessary by naming the specific people to go to, but Hena did the lion’s share by making the barters and listing the orders. Their servant trailed them in as impassive and bored way as he ever did. Privately Nenet suspected the man had no personality at all. As they left one shop, Hena felt the need to preach to her. Nenet sighed through her nose, her eyes taking on the flat, dead look that she’d mastered as a teenager and made all the more prominent by the ornate kohl around her eyes.
“I kn-n-n-n-ow,” she didn’t understand what he was trying to get at. She was fairly certain that it wasn’t her job to keep the family or the merchants in business. “It-t-t’s-s n-n-not-t m-m-my j-j-job-b-b t-t-t-o h-ha-agg-gg-le an-n-n-yw-w-way.”
If she’d realized that his preaching was a sort of olive branch, she wouldn’t have so entirely trodden it underfoot. She did not, however. She saw it as him further teasing her or, worse, simply telling her to ‘snap out of it’ as though she could turn this stutter on and off the way one lit or blew out a candle. If only it was so easy. If only she was smooth talking and charismatic, too, like he and Nia were, then perhaps her brother might not detest her so much. But, as he did, and as she did not care for being told what to do by a wastrel, this was to be their lot.
“A-a-re w-w-we d-d-don-ne?” she asked, sighing and glancing up at the sky to see how much time had been wasted on this misadventure. At this point, she’d have gladly took another beer or wine. It was hot. Her throat felt coated in dust and her mouth was in that uncomfortable prickle stage. Her eyes fell to her brother’s hip, checking for some sort of flask or something. That’s what drunkards kept on their person, right?
“D-d-d-oo y-y-you h-hav-ve w-w-w-win-ne?”
Hena rolled his eyes as she started to argue with him, to say that it was not her job to haggle and he wanted to smack her across the face in that moment. Perhaps he could hit her hard enough that her pathetic stutter would end and she could be normal for once. Who the hell would want to marry her anyways? He knew when the time came, he would need to marry her off to someone lower, to someone with less money. No noble man who was doing well would want a wife like her.
“It will be your job when you marry. What, you think your husband will take pity on you and do it himself? Grow up and realize there’s a world outside of your little books.” He snapped, it was a thing he had told her to do many times, but she insisted on living in some fantasy world where she would forever stay in her room in the H’Sheifa household and do what she wanted. She was in for quite a shock if she thought that was going to happen.
It wouldn’t be long now before Hena would be able to take over the family from their aging father, and then things would run how he wanted them. He had been resistant to it at first, but now the idea of the power he would hold was appealing. But he was still not going to be the perfect little brainwashed heir that Sutekh had been set up to be.
He was surprised as she asked for wine. She must have been really desperate to get out of there or something. She had been complaining earlier about him wanting to stop and have a few drinks. Now? He would love a cup of wine, but he would not give her the satisfaction. She did not deserve to get what she wanted right now.
“No, I do not have wine. Nor do we have time to find any.” He said, though it was a lie. They had plenty of time to do what ever they wanted, but he wasn’t going to give in to her, not like their parents did. She had to learn that things were not always going to go her way.
He made the day drag on just a bit longer, just to make her suffer, not allowing her to stop for a drink of anything because she had revealed her thirst to him. It was a rather fun game for a bit, but eventually he grew bored of it, and wanted a drink himself.
They headed back to their house, no words really exchanged between them, as neither sibling had much to say to the other that was productive, so they mostly chose just to not speak.
He felt a sense of relief as they made it back to the house and his sister disappeared off to her room once more. He himself went off to go and find himself a strong cup of wine and perhaps something stronger.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hena rolled his eyes as she started to argue with him, to say that it was not her job to haggle and he wanted to smack her across the face in that moment. Perhaps he could hit her hard enough that her pathetic stutter would end and she could be normal for once. Who the hell would want to marry her anyways? He knew when the time came, he would need to marry her off to someone lower, to someone with less money. No noble man who was doing well would want a wife like her.
“It will be your job when you marry. What, you think your husband will take pity on you and do it himself? Grow up and realize there’s a world outside of your little books.” He snapped, it was a thing he had told her to do many times, but she insisted on living in some fantasy world where she would forever stay in her room in the H’Sheifa household and do what she wanted. She was in for quite a shock if she thought that was going to happen.
It wouldn’t be long now before Hena would be able to take over the family from their aging father, and then things would run how he wanted them. He had been resistant to it at first, but now the idea of the power he would hold was appealing. But he was still not going to be the perfect little brainwashed heir that Sutekh had been set up to be.
He was surprised as she asked for wine. She must have been really desperate to get out of there or something. She had been complaining earlier about him wanting to stop and have a few drinks. Now? He would love a cup of wine, but he would not give her the satisfaction. She did not deserve to get what she wanted right now.
“No, I do not have wine. Nor do we have time to find any.” He said, though it was a lie. They had plenty of time to do what ever they wanted, but he wasn’t going to give in to her, not like their parents did. She had to learn that things were not always going to go her way.
He made the day drag on just a bit longer, just to make her suffer, not allowing her to stop for a drink of anything because she had revealed her thirst to him. It was a rather fun game for a bit, but eventually he grew bored of it, and wanted a drink himself.
They headed back to their house, no words really exchanged between them, as neither sibling had much to say to the other that was productive, so they mostly chose just to not speak.
He felt a sense of relief as they made it back to the house and his sister disappeared off to her room once more. He himself went off to go and find himself a strong cup of wine and perhaps something stronger.
Hena rolled his eyes as she started to argue with him, to say that it was not her job to haggle and he wanted to smack her across the face in that moment. Perhaps he could hit her hard enough that her pathetic stutter would end and she could be normal for once. Who the hell would want to marry her anyways? He knew when the time came, he would need to marry her off to someone lower, to someone with less money. No noble man who was doing well would want a wife like her.
“It will be your job when you marry. What, you think your husband will take pity on you and do it himself? Grow up and realize there’s a world outside of your little books.” He snapped, it was a thing he had told her to do many times, but she insisted on living in some fantasy world where she would forever stay in her room in the H’Sheifa household and do what she wanted. She was in for quite a shock if she thought that was going to happen.
It wouldn’t be long now before Hena would be able to take over the family from their aging father, and then things would run how he wanted them. He had been resistant to it at first, but now the idea of the power he would hold was appealing. But he was still not going to be the perfect little brainwashed heir that Sutekh had been set up to be.
He was surprised as she asked for wine. She must have been really desperate to get out of there or something. She had been complaining earlier about him wanting to stop and have a few drinks. Now? He would love a cup of wine, but he would not give her the satisfaction. She did not deserve to get what she wanted right now.
“No, I do not have wine. Nor do we have time to find any.” He said, though it was a lie. They had plenty of time to do what ever they wanted, but he wasn’t going to give in to her, not like their parents did. She had to learn that things were not always going to go her way.
He made the day drag on just a bit longer, just to make her suffer, not allowing her to stop for a drink of anything because she had revealed her thirst to him. It was a rather fun game for a bit, but eventually he grew bored of it, and wanted a drink himself.
They headed back to their house, no words really exchanged between them, as neither sibling had much to say to the other that was productive, so they mostly chose just to not speak.
He felt a sense of relief as they made it back to the house and his sister disappeared off to her room once more. He himself went off to go and find himself a strong cup of wine and perhaps something stronger.
Hena was the MEANEST person ALIVE. By the time Nenet finally made it back to her room, she was hot and dusty and agitated. Her father wasn’t home to run to, unfortunately, or Hena definitely would have been tattled on. She kicked off her sandals, stripped herself of her disgustingly sandy clothes and washed herself with the water in the washbasin on her table. The water swirled with dusty grit by the time she was done but she did feel better.
Tying her hair up into a knot at the top of her head, Nenet put on a fresh linen dress and sat on her balcony. Marry her off like a prized cow, would he? Hmph. She had plans if it came to that. Picking through one of her book stacks, she took out a book that was about this precise predicament. Only the heroine was dealing with a vicious uncle, rather than a vicious brother. However, the threat of marrying her off to the first eligible suitor was still there and Nenet wasn’t having it.
She thumbed through pages and reread about the heroine blackening some of her teeth with kohl, of making herself throw up on a suitor, of one instance where she’d been so cloyingly sweet and clingy that the suitor had thought her quite mad. The problem with these was this girl also had a silver tongue and didn’t suffer from stuttering. Nenet sighed and tossed the book aside.
She looked out off her balcony at the horse stables and decided that she’d rather be out there. Putting her sandals back on, she stuck her tongue out at Hena’s door as she passed and went to spend the remainder of her afternoon spilling all of her troubles and woes to the listening ears of the Sheifa horses. At least they wouldn’t judge her. To spite her brother, she took a jug of watered down wine with her and made quite the time of it. Screw Hena and his stupid power trips. One day….one day! he’d get what was coming to him. She hoped it was a swift, hard kick in his hoity toity behind.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hena was the MEANEST person ALIVE. By the time Nenet finally made it back to her room, she was hot and dusty and agitated. Her father wasn’t home to run to, unfortunately, or Hena definitely would have been tattled on. She kicked off her sandals, stripped herself of her disgustingly sandy clothes and washed herself with the water in the washbasin on her table. The water swirled with dusty grit by the time she was done but she did feel better.
Tying her hair up into a knot at the top of her head, Nenet put on a fresh linen dress and sat on her balcony. Marry her off like a prized cow, would he? Hmph. She had plans if it came to that. Picking through one of her book stacks, she took out a book that was about this precise predicament. Only the heroine was dealing with a vicious uncle, rather than a vicious brother. However, the threat of marrying her off to the first eligible suitor was still there and Nenet wasn’t having it.
She thumbed through pages and reread about the heroine blackening some of her teeth with kohl, of making herself throw up on a suitor, of one instance where she’d been so cloyingly sweet and clingy that the suitor had thought her quite mad. The problem with these was this girl also had a silver tongue and didn’t suffer from stuttering. Nenet sighed and tossed the book aside.
She looked out off her balcony at the horse stables and decided that she’d rather be out there. Putting her sandals back on, she stuck her tongue out at Hena’s door as she passed and went to spend the remainder of her afternoon spilling all of her troubles and woes to the listening ears of the Sheifa horses. At least they wouldn’t judge her. To spite her brother, she took a jug of watered down wine with her and made quite the time of it. Screw Hena and his stupid power trips. One day….one day! he’d get what was coming to him. She hoped it was a swift, hard kick in his hoity toity behind.
Hena was the MEANEST person ALIVE. By the time Nenet finally made it back to her room, she was hot and dusty and agitated. Her father wasn’t home to run to, unfortunately, or Hena definitely would have been tattled on. She kicked off her sandals, stripped herself of her disgustingly sandy clothes and washed herself with the water in the washbasin on her table. The water swirled with dusty grit by the time she was done but she did feel better.
Tying her hair up into a knot at the top of her head, Nenet put on a fresh linen dress and sat on her balcony. Marry her off like a prized cow, would he? Hmph. She had plans if it came to that. Picking through one of her book stacks, she took out a book that was about this precise predicament. Only the heroine was dealing with a vicious uncle, rather than a vicious brother. However, the threat of marrying her off to the first eligible suitor was still there and Nenet wasn’t having it.
She thumbed through pages and reread about the heroine blackening some of her teeth with kohl, of making herself throw up on a suitor, of one instance where she’d been so cloyingly sweet and clingy that the suitor had thought her quite mad. The problem with these was this girl also had a silver tongue and didn’t suffer from stuttering. Nenet sighed and tossed the book aside.
She looked out off her balcony at the horse stables and decided that she’d rather be out there. Putting her sandals back on, she stuck her tongue out at Hena’s door as she passed and went to spend the remainder of her afternoon spilling all of her troubles and woes to the listening ears of the Sheifa horses. At least they wouldn’t judge her. To spite her brother, she took a jug of watered down wine with her and made quite the time of it. Screw Hena and his stupid power trips. One day….one day! he’d get what was coming to him. She hoped it was a swift, hard kick in his hoity toity behind.