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First, Nefertaari felt annoyed. After a while, she just felt plain mad. The eldest daughter of Hei Sheifa let out a huff as her eyes spread daggers to the front door of their home. She was wearing her usual outfit- it sparkled in the light and clicks sounded as her bracelets slammed against each other. Nefertaari paced about the room, her breath of frustration louder than her steps along the hard floor. She hadn’t seen Nia for a while, hadn’t heard of her whereabouts. Which, in Nef’s mind, this meant she was out doing something disgraceful. Doing something disgraceful not only made Nef’s temper boil, but it severely impacted their already hurting pride in public. She wasn’t about to tolerate it. It made things worse that she couldn’t do anything about it either- Nia had made it clear long ago that Nef couldn’t control her. But, Nef could, however, tell Nia precisely what she was thinking of her. The young woman could try to make Nia feel the shame she continued to hold the family to. Maybe, after a while… Nia would stop. Or leave. Nefertaari convinced herself maybe one of their talks would eventually get across to her that Nia’s lifestyle wasn’t about to be tolerated forever.
Nefertaari picked a seat near the front door, plopping herself down and getting comfortable. She had the time, and she wanted to be in the right place when her sister came home. Her other siblings were off… doing whatever they were doing. Nefertaari didn’t have the mind to care about them right now. She was gearing up for another fight with her sister and that was the only thing that was occupying her thoughts. It wasn’t unusual for Nef to confront her sister… but the later it got into the night, the angrier Nefertaari became. It was almost to the middle of the night, and her sister still wasn’t back. If she came up dead… well, that’d be even worse for the family. Nia never thought about the family, only herself…
Nefertaari rustled in her seat and became incredibly interested in her nails when she heard the doorknob turn. Finally. Nefertaari didn’t turn her head as she heard someone move into the room. Nefertaari waited a few moments before turning her head to look forward. “It’s so late, I was so worried about you.” Nefertaari’s soft voice filled the room as anger oozed from her words. She was not pleased. “Mother and Father are already in their beds. And where, exactly, have you been?” Nefertaari emphasized “you”, leaning into the word as her voice became a hiss. “Why can’t you do one thing right for this family, sister?” Nefertaari was already assuming where her sister had been. None of the options were good. “This family means nothing to you, doesn’t it?” Nefertaari was already starting her argument… but then again, Nef had already been waiting long enough. Nia was going to hear what she had to say.
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First, Nefertaari felt annoyed. After a while, she just felt plain mad. The eldest daughter of Hei Sheifa let out a huff as her eyes spread daggers to the front door of their home. She was wearing her usual outfit- it sparkled in the light and clicks sounded as her bracelets slammed against each other. Nefertaari paced about the room, her breath of frustration louder than her steps along the hard floor. She hadn’t seen Nia for a while, hadn’t heard of her whereabouts. Which, in Nef’s mind, this meant she was out doing something disgraceful. Doing something disgraceful not only made Nef’s temper boil, but it severely impacted their already hurting pride in public. She wasn’t about to tolerate it. It made things worse that she couldn’t do anything about it either- Nia had made it clear long ago that Nef couldn’t control her. But, Nef could, however, tell Nia precisely what she was thinking of her. The young woman could try to make Nia feel the shame she continued to hold the family to. Maybe, after a while… Nia would stop. Or leave. Nefertaari convinced herself maybe one of their talks would eventually get across to her that Nia’s lifestyle wasn’t about to be tolerated forever.
Nefertaari picked a seat near the front door, plopping herself down and getting comfortable. She had the time, and she wanted to be in the right place when her sister came home. Her other siblings were off… doing whatever they were doing. Nefertaari didn’t have the mind to care about them right now. She was gearing up for another fight with her sister and that was the only thing that was occupying her thoughts. It wasn’t unusual for Nef to confront her sister… but the later it got into the night, the angrier Nefertaari became. It was almost to the middle of the night, and her sister still wasn’t back. If she came up dead… well, that’d be even worse for the family. Nia never thought about the family, only herself…
Nefertaari rustled in her seat and became incredibly interested in her nails when she heard the doorknob turn. Finally. Nefertaari didn’t turn her head as she heard someone move into the room. Nefertaari waited a few moments before turning her head to look forward. “It’s so late, I was so worried about you.” Nefertaari’s soft voice filled the room as anger oozed from her words. She was not pleased. “Mother and Father are already in their beds. And where, exactly, have you been?” Nefertaari emphasized “you”, leaning into the word as her voice became a hiss. “Why can’t you do one thing right for this family, sister?” Nefertaari was already assuming where her sister had been. None of the options were good. “This family means nothing to you, doesn’t it?” Nefertaari was already starting her argument… but then again, Nef had already been waiting long enough. Nia was going to hear what she had to say.
First, Nefertaari felt annoyed. After a while, she just felt plain mad. The eldest daughter of Hei Sheifa let out a huff as her eyes spread daggers to the front door of their home. She was wearing her usual outfit- it sparkled in the light and clicks sounded as her bracelets slammed against each other. Nefertaari paced about the room, her breath of frustration louder than her steps along the hard floor. She hadn’t seen Nia for a while, hadn’t heard of her whereabouts. Which, in Nef’s mind, this meant she was out doing something disgraceful. Doing something disgraceful not only made Nef’s temper boil, but it severely impacted their already hurting pride in public. She wasn’t about to tolerate it. It made things worse that she couldn’t do anything about it either- Nia had made it clear long ago that Nef couldn’t control her. But, Nef could, however, tell Nia precisely what she was thinking of her. The young woman could try to make Nia feel the shame she continued to hold the family to. Maybe, after a while… Nia would stop. Or leave. Nefertaari convinced herself maybe one of their talks would eventually get across to her that Nia’s lifestyle wasn’t about to be tolerated forever.
Nefertaari picked a seat near the front door, plopping herself down and getting comfortable. She had the time, and she wanted to be in the right place when her sister came home. Her other siblings were off… doing whatever they were doing. Nefertaari didn’t have the mind to care about them right now. She was gearing up for another fight with her sister and that was the only thing that was occupying her thoughts. It wasn’t unusual for Nef to confront her sister… but the later it got into the night, the angrier Nefertaari became. It was almost to the middle of the night, and her sister still wasn’t back. If she came up dead… well, that’d be even worse for the family. Nia never thought about the family, only herself…
Nefertaari rustled in her seat and became incredibly interested in her nails when she heard the doorknob turn. Finally. Nefertaari didn’t turn her head as she heard someone move into the room. Nefertaari waited a few moments before turning her head to look forward. “It’s so late, I was so worried about you.” Nefertaari’s soft voice filled the room as anger oozed from her words. She was not pleased. “Mother and Father are already in their beds. And where, exactly, have you been?” Nefertaari emphasized “you”, leaning into the word as her voice became a hiss. “Why can’t you do one thing right for this family, sister?” Nefertaari was already assuming where her sister had been. None of the options were good. “This family means nothing to you, doesn’t it?” Nefertaari was already starting her argument… but then again, Nef had already been waiting long enough. Nia was going to hear what she had to say.
It had been a long night, even by Nia’s standards.
Every joint in her body ached; every muscle screamed with the amount of tension it held. The young lady of Hei Sheifa was used to coming home sore after one of her… meetings… with the Pharaoh, but tonight was worse than it had ever been. She could barely close her mouth with the amount of abuse it had taken, her jaw sore beyond belief. And to say nothing about the darkening bruises on her face…
Stupid, so stupid, she berated herself as she trudged toward home, limping like a wounded animal. The fact that she had been able to leave at all after what she’d done was frankly amazing and showed that Iahotep did perhaps have at least a modicum of self-restraint.
By the gods, what had she been thinking? To slap the King of Kings, Neithotep H’Sheifa must have been born with only half a brain. At least that was how she felt immediately after she’d done it, when she saw the fury rising on the Pharaoh’s face. As her hand was flying, it had all felt justified, considering how often he’d forced her into acts that she couldn’t bear to linger on. But after… she wished she’d never even had the thought.
All Nia could think of was a warm bath and her bed after what she’d been through that night, but of course, even after the evening’s preceding events, that was too much to ask for. As soon as she stumbled her way through the door, she was immediately accosted by none other than Nefertaari, her most despised sibling and a constant thorn in her side. That she would think to confront her on this night of all nights… Nia had half a mind to give her a good sound slap, as well. She doubted the consequences would be anywhere near as catastrophic.
“Leave off, Nef,” Nia muttered, lowering her head and attempting to push past her. “Not tonight. You can yell at me tomorrow.”
However, her sister didn’t seem like she was listening to a word the younger woman was saying, much to Nia’s fury. Could she not see the state she was in, or was she so blinded by her own self-righteousness that she couldn’t be bothered?
“It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” she hissed, doing her best to angle the bruised side of her face away from the light. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for questions. “You’re not my mother, and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. I am a woman grown, and I can go where I please.”
Never mind that the Evening Star Palace was not exactly high on her choices of places to be, but that was neither here nor there. If Nefertaari could just mind her own damn business once in a while, the entire Hei would be better off.
“Now, get out of my way. It’s been a rough fucking night, and I could do without your misguided scolding.” The woman’s glare could cut glass as she stared down her sister, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “Move.”
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It had been a long night, even by Nia’s standards.
Every joint in her body ached; every muscle screamed with the amount of tension it held. The young lady of Hei Sheifa was used to coming home sore after one of her… meetings… with the Pharaoh, but tonight was worse than it had ever been. She could barely close her mouth with the amount of abuse it had taken, her jaw sore beyond belief. And to say nothing about the darkening bruises on her face…
Stupid, so stupid, she berated herself as she trudged toward home, limping like a wounded animal. The fact that she had been able to leave at all after what she’d done was frankly amazing and showed that Iahotep did perhaps have at least a modicum of self-restraint.
By the gods, what had she been thinking? To slap the King of Kings, Neithotep H’Sheifa must have been born with only half a brain. At least that was how she felt immediately after she’d done it, when she saw the fury rising on the Pharaoh’s face. As her hand was flying, it had all felt justified, considering how often he’d forced her into acts that she couldn’t bear to linger on. But after… she wished she’d never even had the thought.
All Nia could think of was a warm bath and her bed after what she’d been through that night, but of course, even after the evening’s preceding events, that was too much to ask for. As soon as she stumbled her way through the door, she was immediately accosted by none other than Nefertaari, her most despised sibling and a constant thorn in her side. That she would think to confront her on this night of all nights… Nia had half a mind to give her a good sound slap, as well. She doubted the consequences would be anywhere near as catastrophic.
“Leave off, Nef,” Nia muttered, lowering her head and attempting to push past her. “Not tonight. You can yell at me tomorrow.”
However, her sister didn’t seem like she was listening to a word the younger woman was saying, much to Nia’s fury. Could she not see the state she was in, or was she so blinded by her own self-righteousness that she couldn’t be bothered?
“It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” she hissed, doing her best to angle the bruised side of her face away from the light. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for questions. “You’re not my mother, and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. I am a woman grown, and I can go where I please.”
Never mind that the Evening Star Palace was not exactly high on her choices of places to be, but that was neither here nor there. If Nefertaari could just mind her own damn business once in a while, the entire Hei would be better off.
“Now, get out of my way. It’s been a rough fucking night, and I could do without your misguided scolding.” The woman’s glare could cut glass as she stared down her sister, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “Move.”
It had been a long night, even by Nia’s standards.
Every joint in her body ached; every muscle screamed with the amount of tension it held. The young lady of Hei Sheifa was used to coming home sore after one of her… meetings… with the Pharaoh, but tonight was worse than it had ever been. She could barely close her mouth with the amount of abuse it had taken, her jaw sore beyond belief. And to say nothing about the darkening bruises on her face…
Stupid, so stupid, she berated herself as she trudged toward home, limping like a wounded animal. The fact that she had been able to leave at all after what she’d done was frankly amazing and showed that Iahotep did perhaps have at least a modicum of self-restraint.
By the gods, what had she been thinking? To slap the King of Kings, Neithotep H’Sheifa must have been born with only half a brain. At least that was how she felt immediately after she’d done it, when she saw the fury rising on the Pharaoh’s face. As her hand was flying, it had all felt justified, considering how often he’d forced her into acts that she couldn’t bear to linger on. But after… she wished she’d never even had the thought.
All Nia could think of was a warm bath and her bed after what she’d been through that night, but of course, even after the evening’s preceding events, that was too much to ask for. As soon as she stumbled her way through the door, she was immediately accosted by none other than Nefertaari, her most despised sibling and a constant thorn in her side. That she would think to confront her on this night of all nights… Nia had half a mind to give her a good sound slap, as well. She doubted the consequences would be anywhere near as catastrophic.
“Leave off, Nef,” Nia muttered, lowering her head and attempting to push past her. “Not tonight. You can yell at me tomorrow.”
However, her sister didn’t seem like she was listening to a word the younger woman was saying, much to Nia’s fury. Could she not see the state she was in, or was she so blinded by her own self-righteousness that she couldn’t be bothered?
“It’s none of your business where I’ve been,” she hissed, doing her best to angle the bruised side of her face away from the light. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for questions. “You’re not my mother, and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. I am a woman grown, and I can go where I please.”
Never mind that the Evening Star Palace was not exactly high on her choices of places to be, but that was neither here nor there. If Nefertaari could just mind her own damn business once in a while, the entire Hei would be better off.
“Now, get out of my way. It’s been a rough fucking night, and I could do without your misguided scolding.” The woman’s glare could cut glass as she stared down her sister, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “Move.”
The elder of the two had no intention of moving out of Neithotep's way. Her eyes flashed, almost catlike in the low light of the entry hall. She curled her fingers around the other's arm and pulled, seeking to draw her closer to the light. There was no disguising the disgust that pressed her lips into a thin line.
"What happened to you?" Nefertaari demanded, and her eyes widened in a genuine show of surprise when she caught the faint outline of bruising on one side of her sister's face. If someone were to ask Nefertaari when the last time she showed compassion for one of her sisters was, she wouldn't be able to give them an honest answer, but at that moment there was something akin to softness in the way the features of her face reflected her emotions.
Turning her head, the woman's gaze moved further down the walk way, watching for any sign of another member of their household wandering. She was grateful their parents were in bed as she released her sister's arm.
"Come with me. I'll have no argument," Nefertaari said, leaving no room for argument. For a moment, she seemed almost as if she were a younger version of herself (though to be fair, the only thing about Nef that had changed over the last decade and a half was the development of her more feminine features). She intended to lead Neithotep to her rooms.
It wasn't often that Nefertaari's demeanor changed so quickly and thoroughly, but she was not without a motherly bone, even if her relationship with the majority of her siblings was strained. She made no further attempt at conversation, instead winding the halls to her own personal oasis and pushing aside the damask curtain that partitioned it from the rest of the household. She glanced back to see if her sister followed.
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The elder of the two had no intention of moving out of Neithotep's way. Her eyes flashed, almost catlike in the low light of the entry hall. She curled her fingers around the other's arm and pulled, seeking to draw her closer to the light. There was no disguising the disgust that pressed her lips into a thin line.
"What happened to you?" Nefertaari demanded, and her eyes widened in a genuine show of surprise when she caught the faint outline of bruising on one side of her sister's face. If someone were to ask Nefertaari when the last time she showed compassion for one of her sisters was, she wouldn't be able to give them an honest answer, but at that moment there was something akin to softness in the way the features of her face reflected her emotions.
Turning her head, the woman's gaze moved further down the walk way, watching for any sign of another member of their household wandering. She was grateful their parents were in bed as she released her sister's arm.
"Come with me. I'll have no argument," Nefertaari said, leaving no room for argument. For a moment, she seemed almost as if she were a younger version of herself (though to be fair, the only thing about Nef that had changed over the last decade and a half was the development of her more feminine features). She intended to lead Neithotep to her rooms.
It wasn't often that Nefertaari's demeanor changed so quickly and thoroughly, but she was not without a motherly bone, even if her relationship with the majority of her siblings was strained. She made no further attempt at conversation, instead winding the halls to her own personal oasis and pushing aside the damask curtain that partitioned it from the rest of the household. She glanced back to see if her sister followed.
The elder of the two had no intention of moving out of Neithotep's way. Her eyes flashed, almost catlike in the low light of the entry hall. She curled her fingers around the other's arm and pulled, seeking to draw her closer to the light. There was no disguising the disgust that pressed her lips into a thin line.
"What happened to you?" Nefertaari demanded, and her eyes widened in a genuine show of surprise when she caught the faint outline of bruising on one side of her sister's face. If someone were to ask Nefertaari when the last time she showed compassion for one of her sisters was, she wouldn't be able to give them an honest answer, but at that moment there was something akin to softness in the way the features of her face reflected her emotions.
Turning her head, the woman's gaze moved further down the walk way, watching for any sign of another member of their household wandering. She was grateful their parents were in bed as she released her sister's arm.
"Come with me. I'll have no argument," Nefertaari said, leaving no room for argument. For a moment, she seemed almost as if she were a younger version of herself (though to be fair, the only thing about Nef that had changed over the last decade and a half was the development of her more feminine features). She intended to lead Neithotep to her rooms.
It wasn't often that Nefertaari's demeanor changed so quickly and thoroughly, but she was not without a motherly bone, even if her relationship with the majority of her siblings was strained. She made no further attempt at conversation, instead winding the halls to her own personal oasis and pushing aside the damask curtain that partitioned it from the rest of the household. She glanced back to see if her sister followed.
To say that Nia was shocked at her sister’s sudden turn in mood was an understatement, a suspicious cast on her features when the older woman grabbed her arm. Turning her face away again at Nefertaari’s question, her free hand rose to ineffectually cover the darkening bruises. “Nothing happened,” she insisted in a begrudging mumble, even if it was clear that was a lie. “Tripped and fell into a pile of rubble on the way home. That’s all.”
If only that was all, though she doubted a pile of rubble could make the finger-shaped bruises marring her cheek and neck. But she couldn’t exactly go telling her sister that, now could she? Much as she despised Nefertaari, neither would she subject her to the potential danger such a secret could cause. What if Iahotep caught wind that Nefertaari knew? What if he took her to spite Nia? While she would love to see her sibling in some sort of trouble after the grief she’d caused her over the years, the Pharaoh’s cruelty was something she would never wish to subject anyone to. Not even Nef.
The suspicion remained on her face when her elder sister beckoned Nia to follow her, sure this must be some sort of trick. Did she intend to wake their parents, to inform them of the state their daughter returned home in? Was she leading her to a private place so she could berate her further? Whatever it was, she didn’t trust Nefertaari as far as she could throw her, and yet…
That brief flicker of compassion in her sister’s gaze was enough to make her follow. Gods knew Nia needed something resembling understanding after the night she’d had. Though, Nef was about the last person she ever expected it from.
She was silent as she followed the elder Sheifa down the halls, a slight limp revealing there was a bit more damage to her body then just the marring of her face. Nia had no idea how she would explain her state to the rest of the family when they woke, but she had gotten off so far with lies and vague excuses. Hopefully, they’d be so used to her evasion by now that they would simply accept it. Or perhaps she would just avoid seeing them in daylight. Chances were she’d sleep until the evening hours, anyway.
Nia paused at the curtain that marked off her sister’s rooms from the rest of the house, glancing down the hall to make sure their passage had not roused either of their other siblings. Luckily, all seemed quiet, and she allowed her shoulders to sag in relief before pushing past the fabric Nefertaari held open.
“Why’d you bring me here?” was her curt question once they were both inside, her arms defensively crossed over her chest. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had been in her sister’s room without mischief in mind, and to be here now was somewhat uncomfortable. “It’s late, and I’d rather be in bed, so whatever it is, let’s just get it over with, okay? I’m not going to answer any of your questions, so don’t bother. Say your piece, and I’ll be off.”
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To say that Nia was shocked at her sister’s sudden turn in mood was an understatement, a suspicious cast on her features when the older woman grabbed her arm. Turning her face away again at Nefertaari’s question, her free hand rose to ineffectually cover the darkening bruises. “Nothing happened,” she insisted in a begrudging mumble, even if it was clear that was a lie. “Tripped and fell into a pile of rubble on the way home. That’s all.”
If only that was all, though she doubted a pile of rubble could make the finger-shaped bruises marring her cheek and neck. But she couldn’t exactly go telling her sister that, now could she? Much as she despised Nefertaari, neither would she subject her to the potential danger such a secret could cause. What if Iahotep caught wind that Nefertaari knew? What if he took her to spite Nia? While she would love to see her sibling in some sort of trouble after the grief she’d caused her over the years, the Pharaoh’s cruelty was something she would never wish to subject anyone to. Not even Nef.
The suspicion remained on her face when her elder sister beckoned Nia to follow her, sure this must be some sort of trick. Did she intend to wake their parents, to inform them of the state their daughter returned home in? Was she leading her to a private place so she could berate her further? Whatever it was, she didn’t trust Nefertaari as far as she could throw her, and yet…
That brief flicker of compassion in her sister’s gaze was enough to make her follow. Gods knew Nia needed something resembling understanding after the night she’d had. Though, Nef was about the last person she ever expected it from.
She was silent as she followed the elder Sheifa down the halls, a slight limp revealing there was a bit more damage to her body then just the marring of her face. Nia had no idea how she would explain her state to the rest of the family when they woke, but she had gotten off so far with lies and vague excuses. Hopefully, they’d be so used to her evasion by now that they would simply accept it. Or perhaps she would just avoid seeing them in daylight. Chances were she’d sleep until the evening hours, anyway.
Nia paused at the curtain that marked off her sister’s rooms from the rest of the house, glancing down the hall to make sure their passage had not roused either of their other siblings. Luckily, all seemed quiet, and she allowed her shoulders to sag in relief before pushing past the fabric Nefertaari held open.
“Why’d you bring me here?” was her curt question once they were both inside, her arms defensively crossed over her chest. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had been in her sister’s room without mischief in mind, and to be here now was somewhat uncomfortable. “It’s late, and I’d rather be in bed, so whatever it is, let’s just get it over with, okay? I’m not going to answer any of your questions, so don’t bother. Say your piece, and I’ll be off.”
To say that Nia was shocked at her sister’s sudden turn in mood was an understatement, a suspicious cast on her features when the older woman grabbed her arm. Turning her face away again at Nefertaari’s question, her free hand rose to ineffectually cover the darkening bruises. “Nothing happened,” she insisted in a begrudging mumble, even if it was clear that was a lie. “Tripped and fell into a pile of rubble on the way home. That’s all.”
If only that was all, though she doubted a pile of rubble could make the finger-shaped bruises marring her cheek and neck. But she couldn’t exactly go telling her sister that, now could she? Much as she despised Nefertaari, neither would she subject her to the potential danger such a secret could cause. What if Iahotep caught wind that Nefertaari knew? What if he took her to spite Nia? While she would love to see her sibling in some sort of trouble after the grief she’d caused her over the years, the Pharaoh’s cruelty was something she would never wish to subject anyone to. Not even Nef.
The suspicion remained on her face when her elder sister beckoned Nia to follow her, sure this must be some sort of trick. Did she intend to wake their parents, to inform them of the state their daughter returned home in? Was she leading her to a private place so she could berate her further? Whatever it was, she didn’t trust Nefertaari as far as she could throw her, and yet…
That brief flicker of compassion in her sister’s gaze was enough to make her follow. Gods knew Nia needed something resembling understanding after the night she’d had. Though, Nef was about the last person she ever expected it from.
She was silent as she followed the elder Sheifa down the halls, a slight limp revealing there was a bit more damage to her body then just the marring of her face. Nia had no idea how she would explain her state to the rest of the family when they woke, but she had gotten off so far with lies and vague excuses. Hopefully, they’d be so used to her evasion by now that they would simply accept it. Or perhaps she would just avoid seeing them in daylight. Chances were she’d sleep until the evening hours, anyway.
Nia paused at the curtain that marked off her sister’s rooms from the rest of the house, glancing down the hall to make sure their passage had not roused either of their other siblings. Luckily, all seemed quiet, and she allowed her shoulders to sag in relief before pushing past the fabric Nefertaari held open.
“Why’d you bring me here?” was her curt question once they were both inside, her arms defensively crossed over her chest. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had been in her sister’s room without mischief in mind, and to be here now was somewhat uncomfortable. “It’s late, and I’d rather be in bed, so whatever it is, let’s just get it over with, okay? I’m not going to answer any of your questions, so don’t bother. Say your piece, and I’ll be off.”
"You will answer my questions, Neithotep." Nefertaari answered, but where there was often authority and command in her voice, it was softer. The first room served as an area to entertain guests, complete with a sofa, its own over-sized bath, and a vanity with everything a Queen could ever desire. Across the way, a door opened onto the balcony that over looked their family's courtyard, and to the left, was another curtain that led into her room. No doubt it was just as elaborately decorated as the rest of her things. The only things their parents did not provide Nefertaari with, was that which they could not give her: children.
She stepped onto the balcony, reaching for an iron rod to stir life back into the embers of the dying brazier. It cast a warm glow over another set of cushioned sofas, a decent sized table covered with various items between them. She gestured to one of the seats and sat in the opposite, her bracelets clinking against one another. Without saying a word just yet, Nefertaari reached for a ceramic jar and opened it. Pouring wine into two cups, she offered one to her younger sister.
"Before you ask, it is not poisoned," Nefertaari said, a slight lilting in her voice the only indication that her words were purely jest. She watched Neithotep, showing patience where normally she showed none. "Kissing rocks must not be that pleasant of a way to spend your time."
Once the cup was out of her hand, Nefertaari sat back against the curved back of the sofa, bringing hers to her lips. She watched Nia over the rim of her cup the entire time, looking for any tell-tale signs of distress beyond her darkening face. If she could see it in the flickering light of a brazier, then Neithotep's chances of successfully avoiding their parents in the morning would be slim. Swallowing, she sighed and lowered her cup.
"It may not be your style, but you may use my paints to help conceal the evidence of... your lack of grace, if that's the story you wish to weave," It was a jab meant to force Nia into defending her own image, and it was usually a point of argument when it was brought up between the two. She didn't fully believe her sister--in her experience, when one's face hit something hard enough to bruise, one's legs are usually spared the brunt of the impact, and that limb didn't escape her notice.
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"You will answer my questions, Neithotep." Nefertaari answered, but where there was often authority and command in her voice, it was softer. The first room served as an area to entertain guests, complete with a sofa, its own over-sized bath, and a vanity with everything a Queen could ever desire. Across the way, a door opened onto the balcony that over looked their family's courtyard, and to the left, was another curtain that led into her room. No doubt it was just as elaborately decorated as the rest of her things. The only things their parents did not provide Nefertaari with, was that which they could not give her: children.
She stepped onto the balcony, reaching for an iron rod to stir life back into the embers of the dying brazier. It cast a warm glow over another set of cushioned sofas, a decent sized table covered with various items between them. She gestured to one of the seats and sat in the opposite, her bracelets clinking against one another. Without saying a word just yet, Nefertaari reached for a ceramic jar and opened it. Pouring wine into two cups, she offered one to her younger sister.
"Before you ask, it is not poisoned," Nefertaari said, a slight lilting in her voice the only indication that her words were purely jest. She watched Neithotep, showing patience where normally she showed none. "Kissing rocks must not be that pleasant of a way to spend your time."
Once the cup was out of her hand, Nefertaari sat back against the curved back of the sofa, bringing hers to her lips. She watched Nia over the rim of her cup the entire time, looking for any tell-tale signs of distress beyond her darkening face. If she could see it in the flickering light of a brazier, then Neithotep's chances of successfully avoiding their parents in the morning would be slim. Swallowing, she sighed and lowered her cup.
"It may not be your style, but you may use my paints to help conceal the evidence of... your lack of grace, if that's the story you wish to weave," It was a jab meant to force Nia into defending her own image, and it was usually a point of argument when it was brought up between the two. She didn't fully believe her sister--in her experience, when one's face hit something hard enough to bruise, one's legs are usually spared the brunt of the impact, and that limb didn't escape her notice.
"You will answer my questions, Neithotep." Nefertaari answered, but where there was often authority and command in her voice, it was softer. The first room served as an area to entertain guests, complete with a sofa, its own over-sized bath, and a vanity with everything a Queen could ever desire. Across the way, a door opened onto the balcony that over looked their family's courtyard, and to the left, was another curtain that led into her room. No doubt it was just as elaborately decorated as the rest of her things. The only things their parents did not provide Nefertaari with, was that which they could not give her: children.
She stepped onto the balcony, reaching for an iron rod to stir life back into the embers of the dying brazier. It cast a warm glow over another set of cushioned sofas, a decent sized table covered with various items between them. She gestured to one of the seats and sat in the opposite, her bracelets clinking against one another. Without saying a word just yet, Nefertaari reached for a ceramic jar and opened it. Pouring wine into two cups, she offered one to her younger sister.
"Before you ask, it is not poisoned," Nefertaari said, a slight lilting in her voice the only indication that her words were purely jest. She watched Neithotep, showing patience where normally she showed none. "Kissing rocks must not be that pleasant of a way to spend your time."
Once the cup was out of her hand, Nefertaari sat back against the curved back of the sofa, bringing hers to her lips. She watched Nia over the rim of her cup the entire time, looking for any tell-tale signs of distress beyond her darkening face. If she could see it in the flickering light of a brazier, then Neithotep's chances of successfully avoiding their parents in the morning would be slim. Swallowing, she sighed and lowered her cup.
"It may not be your style, but you may use my paints to help conceal the evidence of... your lack of grace, if that's the story you wish to weave," It was a jab meant to force Nia into defending her own image, and it was usually a point of argument when it was brought up between the two. She didn't fully believe her sister--in her experience, when one's face hit something hard enough to bruise, one's legs are usually spared the brunt of the impact, and that limb didn't escape her notice.
You will answer my questions, Neithotep.
Even if it was uttered in a gentler voice than she was used to hearing from her sister, the words still made Nia’s eyes narrow. How was it that Nefertaari thought she could order her around, when there was barely a year’s difference between them? Just like Sutekh before his exile; their parents’ favor did not give the golden children a right to lord themselves over their siblings. Nia hardly listened to Iaheru or Onuphrious; what made anyone think she would listen to them?
But, seeing as Nefertaari did not then press her with the questions she threatened, Nia let it go, in far too much pain to fight too hard. She had fought enough this night. Time would see when she had the urge or inclination to fight again.
Seating herself at her sister’s offer, Nia barely suppressed a grimace as she sank down among the cushions. Everything ached, every part of her screamed for reprieve. Had Nefertaari not blocked her path, she would have headed straight for the baths, soothing away what pain she could in the steamed waters. She was quickly stiffening, abused muscles straining even in such a simple motion. Gods only knew how long she could continue this way before she was broken beyond repair. How else was she bound to spark the pharaoh’s wrath? What other manners of torment would he devise, and how long would it be until one of them killed her?
All of this was running through her head as Nefertaari offered her a glass of wine, absently taking it without even responding to her quips or subtle jabs. That alone spoke to the pain she felt, that she wasn’t immediately up in arms or bristling with some smart-assed retort. Nia hardly had the energy to raise the glass to her lips, much less engage in some verbal battle with the sibling whose presence she could scarcely stand. Her fight went out of her at the door, and all she wanted in that moment was the relief of her bed.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she finally asked with a shake of her head, gazing idly toward the jars of cosmetics her sister offered to hide the marks on her face. Nia wasn’t even sure she could hold her arms up long enough to apply them, and she doubted even more her skill to do so. Often going barefaced altogether, it was usually the slaves who made up her face on the rare occasion she allowed it; she could line her eyes and her lips, and that was about it. She had no idea how to use the various paints and powders to cover the red and purple splotching.
“And it’s not a story,” was her wooden response, turning her face away to gaze into the newly stirred brazier. “It’s what happened. I never claimed to be the graceful one. Isn’t that supposed to be you?”
Sighing, she gestured toward the little pots and jars that held her sister’s cosmetics and shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing with any of that. I’ll just… wear a veil or something. Stay in bed till dark. That’s what Mother and Father expect of me anyway.” There was some bitterness in her tone, bitterness at her self-imposed estrangement from her parents. Why was it that they hardly seemed to notice the changes in her, when even Nefertaari could see something was wrong? Was she truly such a disappointment that they paid her so little mind? Or were they so caught up in their own squabbles with each other that they couldn’t be bothered to tend their offspring?
Whatever it was, she supposed she should be grateful. If they didn’t notice, they wouldn’t ask. If they didn’t ask, she wouldn’t tell. Lies were all that could keep them safe now.
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You will answer my questions, Neithotep.
Even if it was uttered in a gentler voice than she was used to hearing from her sister, the words still made Nia’s eyes narrow. How was it that Nefertaari thought she could order her around, when there was barely a year’s difference between them? Just like Sutekh before his exile; their parents’ favor did not give the golden children a right to lord themselves over their siblings. Nia hardly listened to Iaheru or Onuphrious; what made anyone think she would listen to them?
But, seeing as Nefertaari did not then press her with the questions she threatened, Nia let it go, in far too much pain to fight too hard. She had fought enough this night. Time would see when she had the urge or inclination to fight again.
Seating herself at her sister’s offer, Nia barely suppressed a grimace as she sank down among the cushions. Everything ached, every part of her screamed for reprieve. Had Nefertaari not blocked her path, she would have headed straight for the baths, soothing away what pain she could in the steamed waters. She was quickly stiffening, abused muscles straining even in such a simple motion. Gods only knew how long she could continue this way before she was broken beyond repair. How else was she bound to spark the pharaoh’s wrath? What other manners of torment would he devise, and how long would it be until one of them killed her?
All of this was running through her head as Nefertaari offered her a glass of wine, absently taking it without even responding to her quips or subtle jabs. That alone spoke to the pain she felt, that she wasn’t immediately up in arms or bristling with some smart-assed retort. Nia hardly had the energy to raise the glass to her lips, much less engage in some verbal battle with the sibling whose presence she could scarcely stand. Her fight went out of her at the door, and all she wanted in that moment was the relief of her bed.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she finally asked with a shake of her head, gazing idly toward the jars of cosmetics her sister offered to hide the marks on her face. Nia wasn’t even sure she could hold her arms up long enough to apply them, and she doubted even more her skill to do so. Often going barefaced altogether, it was usually the slaves who made up her face on the rare occasion she allowed it; she could line her eyes and her lips, and that was about it. She had no idea how to use the various paints and powders to cover the red and purple splotching.
“And it’s not a story,” was her wooden response, turning her face away to gaze into the newly stirred brazier. “It’s what happened. I never claimed to be the graceful one. Isn’t that supposed to be you?”
Sighing, she gestured toward the little pots and jars that held her sister’s cosmetics and shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing with any of that. I’ll just… wear a veil or something. Stay in bed till dark. That’s what Mother and Father expect of me anyway.” There was some bitterness in her tone, bitterness at her self-imposed estrangement from her parents. Why was it that they hardly seemed to notice the changes in her, when even Nefertaari could see something was wrong? Was she truly such a disappointment that they paid her so little mind? Or were they so caught up in their own squabbles with each other that they couldn’t be bothered to tend their offspring?
Whatever it was, she supposed she should be grateful. If they didn’t notice, they wouldn’t ask. If they didn’t ask, she wouldn’t tell. Lies were all that could keep them safe now.
You will answer my questions, Neithotep.
Even if it was uttered in a gentler voice than she was used to hearing from her sister, the words still made Nia’s eyes narrow. How was it that Nefertaari thought she could order her around, when there was barely a year’s difference between them? Just like Sutekh before his exile; their parents’ favor did not give the golden children a right to lord themselves over their siblings. Nia hardly listened to Iaheru or Onuphrious; what made anyone think she would listen to them?
But, seeing as Nefertaari did not then press her with the questions she threatened, Nia let it go, in far too much pain to fight too hard. She had fought enough this night. Time would see when she had the urge or inclination to fight again.
Seating herself at her sister’s offer, Nia barely suppressed a grimace as she sank down among the cushions. Everything ached, every part of her screamed for reprieve. Had Nefertaari not blocked her path, she would have headed straight for the baths, soothing away what pain she could in the steamed waters. She was quickly stiffening, abused muscles straining even in such a simple motion. Gods only knew how long she could continue this way before she was broken beyond repair. How else was she bound to spark the pharaoh’s wrath? What other manners of torment would he devise, and how long would it be until one of them killed her?
All of this was running through her head as Nefertaari offered her a glass of wine, absently taking it without even responding to her quips or subtle jabs. That alone spoke to the pain she felt, that she wasn’t immediately up in arms or bristling with some smart-assed retort. Nia hardly had the energy to raise the glass to her lips, much less engage in some verbal battle with the sibling whose presence she could scarcely stand. Her fight went out of her at the door, and all she wanted in that moment was the relief of her bed.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she finally asked with a shake of her head, gazing idly toward the jars of cosmetics her sister offered to hide the marks on her face. Nia wasn’t even sure she could hold her arms up long enough to apply them, and she doubted even more her skill to do so. Often going barefaced altogether, it was usually the slaves who made up her face on the rare occasion she allowed it; she could line her eyes and her lips, and that was about it. She had no idea how to use the various paints and powders to cover the red and purple splotching.
“And it’s not a story,” was her wooden response, turning her face away to gaze into the newly stirred brazier. “It’s what happened. I never claimed to be the graceful one. Isn’t that supposed to be you?”
Sighing, she gestured toward the little pots and jars that held her sister’s cosmetics and shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing with any of that. I’ll just… wear a veil or something. Stay in bed till dark. That’s what Mother and Father expect of me anyway.” There was some bitterness in her tone, bitterness at her self-imposed estrangement from her parents. Why was it that they hardly seemed to notice the changes in her, when even Nefertaari could see something was wrong? Was she truly such a disappointment that they paid her so little mind? Or were they so caught up in their own squabbles with each other that they couldn’t be bothered to tend their offspring?
Whatever it was, she supposed she should be grateful. If they didn’t notice, they wouldn’t ask. If they didn’t ask, she wouldn’t tell. Lies were all that could keep them safe now.
If Nefertaari were privy to Neithotep's thoughts, she might have defended herself a bit more vocally than she did when Nia spoke. Sipping from her own glass, she looked over toward the brazier, watching its dancing flames thoughtfully.
"Do you truly believe that I'm blind to the appearance of your face right now?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended for it to be. "Or the way you're trying to minimize the pain you're in right now?"
She let the words linger in the air for a moment, but as soon as her sister opened her mouth to answer, she cut her off with a sharp click of her tongue. It wasn't so much that Nefertaari hated her sister; she rarely cared about someone deeply enough to develop hatred, and those closest to her were her family. Certainly, as a golden child, their parents were undoubtedly the ones that received most of Nefertaari's affection, and the vain woman could hardly deny that she was self-indulgent
"Nia," Nefertaari said finally, the younger h'Sheifa's words finally presented in the moments between her attention garnering click and the speaking of her name. Nef rose to her feet, skirting the table between the two chairs to sit beside her younger sister. "There are times even I am without grace. And there are times I've come home, in hardly a better state."
It was rare that Nefertaari fell ill, and yet on the occasions that she had, no one had ever been allowed to enter her rooms save for the woman that had served her since she was an infant; the woman that had been her nanny. Those were times that she rarely spoke of, and she really didn't wish to now. Instead, she focused on Nia, dark eyes meeting the younger h'Sheifa's.
"Then I will paint your face," she said, and it was perhaps the first time that Neithotep saw kindness from her elder sister. Her hands reached out, cupping the based of her goblet as she helped her lift the cup to her mouth. Nef wasn't sober. It was clear, from that close. No doubt, she'd inhaled the smoke from shemshemat incense, and had probably consumed plenty of wine by now. "And I will simply tell our parents that you are unwell. And should they see fit to check in on you, they will not be alarmed."
At least, Nefertaari hoped they wouldn't. She couldn't say for sure what their parents would thing, though her thoughts were typically fairly accurate in response to their father. She probably knew him better than their mother did, save for physically. Her brow furrowed slightly.
"Nia," she said again, softly. She cupped the other's chin with her hand, tilting her face toward her. "I am not going to ask you to forgive me for my past treatment of you, nor will I go out of my way to make sure you are taken care of. That's not my prerogative. It is, however, my duty to ensure that my family is safe, because that is all I have. No matter our differences."
Nefertaari was rambling now, a clear sign of her level of intoxication. But she was deep in her feelings right now, and something about the haunted appearance of Neithotep after her return bothered her deeply. Her gaze dropped to the table again, and she reached for a powder that matched their skin tone and a brush with which to apply it.
"I do not wish you harmed or dead, and this... Nia, I know this isn't what happens when a woman falls."
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If Nefertaari were privy to Neithotep's thoughts, she might have defended herself a bit more vocally than she did when Nia spoke. Sipping from her own glass, she looked over toward the brazier, watching its dancing flames thoughtfully.
"Do you truly believe that I'm blind to the appearance of your face right now?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended for it to be. "Or the way you're trying to minimize the pain you're in right now?"
She let the words linger in the air for a moment, but as soon as her sister opened her mouth to answer, she cut her off with a sharp click of her tongue. It wasn't so much that Nefertaari hated her sister; she rarely cared about someone deeply enough to develop hatred, and those closest to her were her family. Certainly, as a golden child, their parents were undoubtedly the ones that received most of Nefertaari's affection, and the vain woman could hardly deny that she was self-indulgent
"Nia," Nefertaari said finally, the younger h'Sheifa's words finally presented in the moments between her attention garnering click and the speaking of her name. Nef rose to her feet, skirting the table between the two chairs to sit beside her younger sister. "There are times even I am without grace. And there are times I've come home, in hardly a better state."
It was rare that Nefertaari fell ill, and yet on the occasions that she had, no one had ever been allowed to enter her rooms save for the woman that had served her since she was an infant; the woman that had been her nanny. Those were times that she rarely spoke of, and she really didn't wish to now. Instead, she focused on Nia, dark eyes meeting the younger h'Sheifa's.
"Then I will paint your face," she said, and it was perhaps the first time that Neithotep saw kindness from her elder sister. Her hands reached out, cupping the based of her goblet as she helped her lift the cup to her mouth. Nef wasn't sober. It was clear, from that close. No doubt, she'd inhaled the smoke from shemshemat incense, and had probably consumed plenty of wine by now. "And I will simply tell our parents that you are unwell. And should they see fit to check in on you, they will not be alarmed."
At least, Nefertaari hoped they wouldn't. She couldn't say for sure what their parents would thing, though her thoughts were typically fairly accurate in response to their father. She probably knew him better than their mother did, save for physically. Her brow furrowed slightly.
"Nia," she said again, softly. She cupped the other's chin with her hand, tilting her face toward her. "I am not going to ask you to forgive me for my past treatment of you, nor will I go out of my way to make sure you are taken care of. That's not my prerogative. It is, however, my duty to ensure that my family is safe, because that is all I have. No matter our differences."
Nefertaari was rambling now, a clear sign of her level of intoxication. But she was deep in her feelings right now, and something about the haunted appearance of Neithotep after her return bothered her deeply. Her gaze dropped to the table again, and she reached for a powder that matched their skin tone and a brush with which to apply it.
"I do not wish you harmed or dead, and this... Nia, I know this isn't what happens when a woman falls."
If Nefertaari were privy to Neithotep's thoughts, she might have defended herself a bit more vocally than she did when Nia spoke. Sipping from her own glass, she looked over toward the brazier, watching its dancing flames thoughtfully.
"Do you truly believe that I'm blind to the appearance of your face right now?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended for it to be. "Or the way you're trying to minimize the pain you're in right now?"
She let the words linger in the air for a moment, but as soon as her sister opened her mouth to answer, she cut her off with a sharp click of her tongue. It wasn't so much that Nefertaari hated her sister; she rarely cared about someone deeply enough to develop hatred, and those closest to her were her family. Certainly, as a golden child, their parents were undoubtedly the ones that received most of Nefertaari's affection, and the vain woman could hardly deny that she was self-indulgent
"Nia," Nefertaari said finally, the younger h'Sheifa's words finally presented in the moments between her attention garnering click and the speaking of her name. Nef rose to her feet, skirting the table between the two chairs to sit beside her younger sister. "There are times even I am without grace. And there are times I've come home, in hardly a better state."
It was rare that Nefertaari fell ill, and yet on the occasions that she had, no one had ever been allowed to enter her rooms save for the woman that had served her since she was an infant; the woman that had been her nanny. Those were times that she rarely spoke of, and she really didn't wish to now. Instead, she focused on Nia, dark eyes meeting the younger h'Sheifa's.
"Then I will paint your face," she said, and it was perhaps the first time that Neithotep saw kindness from her elder sister. Her hands reached out, cupping the based of her goblet as she helped her lift the cup to her mouth. Nef wasn't sober. It was clear, from that close. No doubt, she'd inhaled the smoke from shemshemat incense, and had probably consumed plenty of wine by now. "And I will simply tell our parents that you are unwell. And should they see fit to check in on you, they will not be alarmed."
At least, Nefertaari hoped they wouldn't. She couldn't say for sure what their parents would thing, though her thoughts were typically fairly accurate in response to their father. She probably knew him better than their mother did, save for physically. Her brow furrowed slightly.
"Nia," she said again, softly. She cupped the other's chin with her hand, tilting her face toward her. "I am not going to ask you to forgive me for my past treatment of you, nor will I go out of my way to make sure you are taken care of. That's not my prerogative. It is, however, my duty to ensure that my family is safe, because that is all I have. No matter our differences."
Nefertaari was rambling now, a clear sign of her level of intoxication. But she was deep in her feelings right now, and something about the haunted appearance of Neithotep after her return bothered her deeply. Her gaze dropped to the table again, and she reached for a powder that matched their skin tone and a brush with which to apply it.
"I do not wish you harmed or dead, and this... Nia, I know this isn't what happens when a woman falls."
It had been… a night beyond comprehension. After the hours spent in Iahotep’s bedchamber, she had gone to the archives to see Zoser, to seek comfort in a familiar place while she proverbially licked her wounds. And that encounter—that encounter had only complicated her life further. A stolen kiss, an unplanned confession, words unspoken yet known all the same; this was a dangerous path she was walking, and Nia knew she ought to turn back. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. With everything she had been through, did she not deserve kindness and compassion? A man who desired her for her and not just the young and nubile body she possessed?
Breathlessly leaving the archives before they went any further than they already had, the first place the young woman went before she stepped back in her home was the wine cellar off to the side of the property. Rarely did she raid her family’s stores; she preferred getting drunk in a seedy tavern with other revelers around her to drinking alone in the dark. But with her face like this, that wasn’t exactly an option.
She had polished off an entire bottle on her own before gathering her nerve to walk inside. It helped dull the pain, haze the memory of what had happened to her that night. When Nefertaari sat beside her and helped steady her shaking hands as she sipped at the glass of wine she offered, it was clear her elder sister was no more sober than she. Nia often thought it unfair that her parents scolded her so for her own copious use of narcotics and opiates, yet ignored the same behavior in the older daughter. Was it because Nefertaari did not do it so publicly? Was it because she did not fall into commoners’ beds so easily?
Whatever it was, she supposed it hardly mattered tonight. If intoxication was what it took to make her sister kinder and less self-centered, Nia would happily accept it. She would mull over the unfairness of it all later.
Whether this amity dissolved in the morning or not, Nia was grateful for it. When she had walked in the door to find Nefertaari waiting for her, she had expected a fight, as was so often their wont. To find this instead was unexpected, but she wouldn’t argue against it. Her sister offered to paint her face for her, to cover for her to their parents, and Nia was at a loss for words. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to speak, for it seemed her sister was not yet finished—enumerating her care for her family, her desire to see them well and unharmed. It was hardly a declaration of sisterly love, but it was something. Better than what typically passed as conversation between the two of them.
Nia wordlessly accepted Nef’s offer to apply the makeup for her, turning to face her more fully as she filled the brush in her hand with an olive-toned powder. The elder Sheifa continued to speak in a low tone, one filled with more emotion than Nia was used to hearing from her, pointing out that her injuries were hardly consistent with a fall. At that, there was little she could say; even if she trusted Nefertaari, she couldn’t tell her what really happened. For same as she had just stated, as much contempt as Nia often held for her family, neither did she wish harm on them. No matter how they vexed her.
“It’ll take more than a few bumps and bruises to kill me,” Nia jested weakly as she set her half empty glass of wine off to the side. Her expression was a little more relaxed and less defensive than it had been when they first sat down, her sister’s almost motherly care softening the younger woman’s prickly edges.
Biting her lip, she dropped the joke and briefly met Nefertaari’s gaze. “It’s better for everyone if you just believe I fell,” she said quietly, holding still as the first brushes of makeup were applied to her face. “Trust me. The fewer questions you ask, the better. I… I have it under control.”
Nothing could be further from the truth, but what else could she really do? Who could stop the King of Kings from taking what he wanted?
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Aug 18, 2020 21:13:29 GMT
Posted In Bad Company on Aug 18, 2020 21:13:29 GMT
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It had been… a night beyond comprehension. After the hours spent in Iahotep’s bedchamber, she had gone to the archives to see Zoser, to seek comfort in a familiar place while she proverbially licked her wounds. And that encounter—that encounter had only complicated her life further. A stolen kiss, an unplanned confession, words unspoken yet known all the same; this was a dangerous path she was walking, and Nia knew she ought to turn back. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. With everything she had been through, did she not deserve kindness and compassion? A man who desired her for her and not just the young and nubile body she possessed?
Breathlessly leaving the archives before they went any further than they already had, the first place the young woman went before she stepped back in her home was the wine cellar off to the side of the property. Rarely did she raid her family’s stores; she preferred getting drunk in a seedy tavern with other revelers around her to drinking alone in the dark. But with her face like this, that wasn’t exactly an option.
She had polished off an entire bottle on her own before gathering her nerve to walk inside. It helped dull the pain, haze the memory of what had happened to her that night. When Nefertaari sat beside her and helped steady her shaking hands as she sipped at the glass of wine she offered, it was clear her elder sister was no more sober than she. Nia often thought it unfair that her parents scolded her so for her own copious use of narcotics and opiates, yet ignored the same behavior in the older daughter. Was it because Nefertaari did not do it so publicly? Was it because she did not fall into commoners’ beds so easily?
Whatever it was, she supposed it hardly mattered tonight. If intoxication was what it took to make her sister kinder and less self-centered, Nia would happily accept it. She would mull over the unfairness of it all later.
Whether this amity dissolved in the morning or not, Nia was grateful for it. When she had walked in the door to find Nefertaari waiting for her, she had expected a fight, as was so often their wont. To find this instead was unexpected, but she wouldn’t argue against it. Her sister offered to paint her face for her, to cover for her to their parents, and Nia was at a loss for words. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to speak, for it seemed her sister was not yet finished—enumerating her care for her family, her desire to see them well and unharmed. It was hardly a declaration of sisterly love, but it was something. Better than what typically passed as conversation between the two of them.
Nia wordlessly accepted Nef’s offer to apply the makeup for her, turning to face her more fully as she filled the brush in her hand with an olive-toned powder. The elder Sheifa continued to speak in a low tone, one filled with more emotion than Nia was used to hearing from her, pointing out that her injuries were hardly consistent with a fall. At that, there was little she could say; even if she trusted Nefertaari, she couldn’t tell her what really happened. For same as she had just stated, as much contempt as Nia often held for her family, neither did she wish harm on them. No matter how they vexed her.
“It’ll take more than a few bumps and bruises to kill me,” Nia jested weakly as she set her half empty glass of wine off to the side. Her expression was a little more relaxed and less defensive than it had been when they first sat down, her sister’s almost motherly care softening the younger woman’s prickly edges.
Biting her lip, she dropped the joke and briefly met Nefertaari’s gaze. “It’s better for everyone if you just believe I fell,” she said quietly, holding still as the first brushes of makeup were applied to her face. “Trust me. The fewer questions you ask, the better. I… I have it under control.”
Nothing could be further from the truth, but what else could she really do? Who could stop the King of Kings from taking what he wanted?
It had been… a night beyond comprehension. After the hours spent in Iahotep’s bedchamber, she had gone to the archives to see Zoser, to seek comfort in a familiar place while she proverbially licked her wounds. And that encounter—that encounter had only complicated her life further. A stolen kiss, an unplanned confession, words unspoken yet known all the same; this was a dangerous path she was walking, and Nia knew she ought to turn back. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. With everything she had been through, did she not deserve kindness and compassion? A man who desired her for her and not just the young and nubile body she possessed?
Breathlessly leaving the archives before they went any further than they already had, the first place the young woman went before she stepped back in her home was the wine cellar off to the side of the property. Rarely did she raid her family’s stores; she preferred getting drunk in a seedy tavern with other revelers around her to drinking alone in the dark. But with her face like this, that wasn’t exactly an option.
She had polished off an entire bottle on her own before gathering her nerve to walk inside. It helped dull the pain, haze the memory of what had happened to her that night. When Nefertaari sat beside her and helped steady her shaking hands as she sipped at the glass of wine she offered, it was clear her elder sister was no more sober than she. Nia often thought it unfair that her parents scolded her so for her own copious use of narcotics and opiates, yet ignored the same behavior in the older daughter. Was it because Nefertaari did not do it so publicly? Was it because she did not fall into commoners’ beds so easily?
Whatever it was, she supposed it hardly mattered tonight. If intoxication was what it took to make her sister kinder and less self-centered, Nia would happily accept it. She would mull over the unfairness of it all later.
Whether this amity dissolved in the morning or not, Nia was grateful for it. When she had walked in the door to find Nefertaari waiting for her, she had expected a fight, as was so often their wont. To find this instead was unexpected, but she wouldn’t argue against it. Her sister offered to paint her face for her, to cover for her to their parents, and Nia was at a loss for words. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to speak, for it seemed her sister was not yet finished—enumerating her care for her family, her desire to see them well and unharmed. It was hardly a declaration of sisterly love, but it was something. Better than what typically passed as conversation between the two of them.
Nia wordlessly accepted Nef’s offer to apply the makeup for her, turning to face her more fully as she filled the brush in her hand with an olive-toned powder. The elder Sheifa continued to speak in a low tone, one filled with more emotion than Nia was used to hearing from her, pointing out that her injuries were hardly consistent with a fall. At that, there was little she could say; even if she trusted Nefertaari, she couldn’t tell her what really happened. For same as she had just stated, as much contempt as Nia often held for her family, neither did she wish harm on them. No matter how they vexed her.
“It’ll take more than a few bumps and bruises to kill me,” Nia jested weakly as she set her half empty glass of wine off to the side. Her expression was a little more relaxed and less defensive than it had been when they first sat down, her sister’s almost motherly care softening the younger woman’s prickly edges.
Biting her lip, she dropped the joke and briefly met Nefertaari’s gaze. “It’s better for everyone if you just believe I fell,” she said quietly, holding still as the first brushes of makeup were applied to her face. “Trust me. The fewer questions you ask, the better. I… I have it under control.”
Nothing could be further from the truth, but what else could she really do? Who could stop the King of Kings from taking what he wanted?
Nefertaari was quiet as Neithotep spoke, moving the delicate brush across her skin and painting over the marks left on the other's face. Her gaze darkened at Nia's insistence that she. believe the younger sister fell. A soft sigh left her lips and as she finished painting the first layer of powder over her bruises, she couldn't help but wonder. She wasn't stupid; she knew that her sister was hiding something. Years of working with her father to secure deals taught her far more body language than she wished to know.
Unlike Nia, and as even Nia herself acknowledged in her own thoughts, Nefertaari was regarded differently by their parents. Whereas Neithotep often received criticism for her ways, Nefertaari was certainly no better. And Nia was right: Nef avoided any consumption other than alcohol in public, and any other drug use was often done in private.
"Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia," Nefertaari barked, her tone a bit more biting than she intended. The woman shook her head for a moment before reaching for the next powder, one that was lighter and would help blend the darker one in over the bruises.
Nefertaari knew secrets. She knew them all too well, but it was rare that she shared helpful knowledge with her younger siblings; to her, life was more of a competition than anything else. The woman gave up on love years ago, failing to find a paramour worth her time, and though she was certainly active, her partaking in carnal desires was surprisingly little in comparison to most others.
"I won't tell anyone what I've seen, Nia," she continued, her voice softer this time. As she finished the second layer of paints, she moved on to the rouge for her cheeks, brushing a light dusting of bronze over the bones of her sister's cheek. "But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it Nia."
She had half a mind to try and pull it out of Neithotep. The identity of whoever assaulted her, that is. But she knew doing so would be a pain in the ass, for lack of better words. She had no clue that who was behind it, and if she knew... well, she probably wouldn't know how to process that knowledge or what to do with it. She switched to paint for the other's lips, a dark red to accent her olive done. The kohl came last, painted carefully and given a touch of flair, as Nefertaari was wont to do.
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Nefertaari was quiet as Neithotep spoke, moving the delicate brush across her skin and painting over the marks left on the other's face. Her gaze darkened at Nia's insistence that she. believe the younger sister fell. A soft sigh left her lips and as she finished painting the first layer of powder over her bruises, she couldn't help but wonder. She wasn't stupid; she knew that her sister was hiding something. Years of working with her father to secure deals taught her far more body language than she wished to know.
Unlike Nia, and as even Nia herself acknowledged in her own thoughts, Nefertaari was regarded differently by their parents. Whereas Neithotep often received criticism for her ways, Nefertaari was certainly no better. And Nia was right: Nef avoided any consumption other than alcohol in public, and any other drug use was often done in private.
"Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia," Nefertaari barked, her tone a bit more biting than she intended. The woman shook her head for a moment before reaching for the next powder, one that was lighter and would help blend the darker one in over the bruises.
Nefertaari knew secrets. She knew them all too well, but it was rare that she shared helpful knowledge with her younger siblings; to her, life was more of a competition than anything else. The woman gave up on love years ago, failing to find a paramour worth her time, and though she was certainly active, her partaking in carnal desires was surprisingly little in comparison to most others.
"I won't tell anyone what I've seen, Nia," she continued, her voice softer this time. As she finished the second layer of paints, she moved on to the rouge for her cheeks, brushing a light dusting of bronze over the bones of her sister's cheek. "But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it Nia."
She had half a mind to try and pull it out of Neithotep. The identity of whoever assaulted her, that is. But she knew doing so would be a pain in the ass, for lack of better words. She had no clue that who was behind it, and if she knew... well, she probably wouldn't know how to process that knowledge or what to do with it. She switched to paint for the other's lips, a dark red to accent her olive done. The kohl came last, painted carefully and given a touch of flair, as Nefertaari was wont to do.
Nefertaari was quiet as Neithotep spoke, moving the delicate brush across her skin and painting over the marks left on the other's face. Her gaze darkened at Nia's insistence that she. believe the younger sister fell. A soft sigh left her lips and as she finished painting the first layer of powder over her bruises, she couldn't help but wonder. She wasn't stupid; she knew that her sister was hiding something. Years of working with her father to secure deals taught her far more body language than she wished to know.
Unlike Nia, and as even Nia herself acknowledged in her own thoughts, Nefertaari was regarded differently by their parents. Whereas Neithotep often received criticism for her ways, Nefertaari was certainly no better. And Nia was right: Nef avoided any consumption other than alcohol in public, and any other drug use was often done in private.
"Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia," Nefertaari barked, her tone a bit more biting than she intended. The woman shook her head for a moment before reaching for the next powder, one that was lighter and would help blend the darker one in over the bruises.
Nefertaari knew secrets. She knew them all too well, but it was rare that she shared helpful knowledge with her younger siblings; to her, life was more of a competition than anything else. The woman gave up on love years ago, failing to find a paramour worth her time, and though she was certainly active, her partaking in carnal desires was surprisingly little in comparison to most others.
"I won't tell anyone what I've seen, Nia," she continued, her voice softer this time. As she finished the second layer of paints, she moved on to the rouge for her cheeks, brushing a light dusting of bronze over the bones of her sister's cheek. "But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it Nia."
She had half a mind to try and pull it out of Neithotep. The identity of whoever assaulted her, that is. But she knew doing so would be a pain in the ass, for lack of better words. She had no clue that who was behind it, and if she knew... well, she probably wouldn't know how to process that knowledge or what to do with it. She switched to paint for the other's lips, a dark red to accent her olive done. The kohl came last, painted carefully and given a touch of flair, as Nefertaari was wont to do.
Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia.
Little did Nefertaari know that she was not that far off the mark. That’s all Nia might as well have been to Iahotep—an ill-behaved slave. No, she wasn’t even that. She was an ill-behaved pet; to think that he even regarded her as human was giving him too much credit. Of course, she couldn’t say these things aloud to her sister, but her jaw did tighten in response. The expression made her wince, the tender flesh it moved crying out in protest.
“It’s as under control as it can be,” she mumbled instead before falling silent once more, her face stilling under Nefertaari’s careful brush strokes. What else could she really do? Perhaps if she approached the Council, told them what he was doing… No. What would it matter? She was inconsequential when it came to matters of the kingdom, so why should the Council care? He was the Pharaoh. He could do whatever he liked with her, and there was little anyone could do within the bounds of the law to stop him.
Her sister’s words softened as she went on, telling Nia she wouldn’t let anyone know what she saw. “Thank you,” the younger Sheifa murmured in response. It was more than she expected of the woman across from her, making her wonder if she ought to start reconsidering her opinion of her eldest sibling. Perhaps there was more to Nefertaari than Nia had ever believed; after all, tonight seemed proof enough of that. When had the self-centered woman shown her in such kindness in all their lives? If she could trust her not to say anything about this…
Maybe some burnt bridges didn’t have to lay in ash forever.
But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it, Nia.
She couldn’t help the laugh that parted her lips at that, the irony of the situation weighing in on her. By the gods, if only it were that simple. She would give anything not to be beholden to Iahotep any longer, to never have to spend a moment in his presence again. Any other partner who had treated her poorly was easily disposed of and forgotten, but the Pharaoh? As if she had a choice.
Sure her laughter was likely to bewilder Nefertaari, given its inappropriate place in the conversation, Nia shook her head. “Apologies, it’s been a long night, and my mind is going in circles right now. I’ll… take that under advisement.” There wasn’t much she could do aside from that, only pray and hope her pleas did not fall on deaf ears.
Glancing at herself in the looking glass when her sister pulled the brush away, she offered her reflection a half-hearted smile. The artfully painted cosmetics were not exactly to her taste, but it did a decent job of hiding the bruising, at least. So long as she stayed out of direct light and no one stared too closely, she doubted anyone would notice. “I look like you,” she said with a smirk as she turned back to Nefertaari. “I guess it could be worse,” she added with a snort.
Dropping the tease, her gaze turned more serious, tentatively reaching over to place her hand on her sister’s knee. “But, really… thank you. I…” Trailing off, she shook her head again, unsure what else to say. “I won’t forget this, Nef. I mean it, thank you.”
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Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia.
Little did Nefertaari know that she was not that far off the mark. That’s all Nia might as well have been to Iahotep—an ill-behaved slave. No, she wasn’t even that. She was an ill-behaved pet; to think that he even regarded her as human was giving him too much credit. Of course, she couldn’t say these things aloud to her sister, but her jaw did tighten in response. The expression made her wince, the tender flesh it moved crying out in protest.
“It’s as under control as it can be,” she mumbled instead before falling silent once more, her face stilling under Nefertaari’s careful brush strokes. What else could she really do? Perhaps if she approached the Council, told them what he was doing… No. What would it matter? She was inconsequential when it came to matters of the kingdom, so why should the Council care? He was the Pharaoh. He could do whatever he liked with her, and there was little anyone could do within the bounds of the law to stop him.
Her sister’s words softened as she went on, telling Nia she wouldn’t let anyone know what she saw. “Thank you,” the younger Sheifa murmured in response. It was more than she expected of the woman across from her, making her wonder if she ought to start reconsidering her opinion of her eldest sibling. Perhaps there was more to Nefertaari than Nia had ever believed; after all, tonight seemed proof enough of that. When had the self-centered woman shown her in such kindness in all their lives? If she could trust her not to say anything about this…
Maybe some burnt bridges didn’t have to lay in ash forever.
But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it, Nia.
She couldn’t help the laugh that parted her lips at that, the irony of the situation weighing in on her. By the gods, if only it were that simple. She would give anything not to be beholden to Iahotep any longer, to never have to spend a moment in his presence again. Any other partner who had treated her poorly was easily disposed of and forgotten, but the Pharaoh? As if she had a choice.
Sure her laughter was likely to bewilder Nefertaari, given its inappropriate place in the conversation, Nia shook her head. “Apologies, it’s been a long night, and my mind is going in circles right now. I’ll… take that under advisement.” There wasn’t much she could do aside from that, only pray and hope her pleas did not fall on deaf ears.
Glancing at herself in the looking glass when her sister pulled the brush away, she offered her reflection a half-hearted smile. The artfully painted cosmetics were not exactly to her taste, but it did a decent job of hiding the bruising, at least. So long as she stayed out of direct light and no one stared too closely, she doubted anyone would notice. “I look like you,” she said with a smirk as she turned back to Nefertaari. “I guess it could be worse,” she added with a snort.
Dropping the tease, her gaze turned more serious, tentatively reaching over to place her hand on her sister’s knee. “But, really… thank you. I…” Trailing off, she shook her head again, unsure what else to say. “I won’t forget this, Nef. I mean it, thank you.”
Returning home in the shape of an ill-behaved slave is not under control, Nia.
Little did Nefertaari know that she was not that far off the mark. That’s all Nia might as well have been to Iahotep—an ill-behaved slave. No, she wasn’t even that. She was an ill-behaved pet; to think that he even regarded her as human was giving him too much credit. Of course, she couldn’t say these things aloud to her sister, but her jaw did tighten in response. The expression made her wince, the tender flesh it moved crying out in protest.
“It’s as under control as it can be,” she mumbled instead before falling silent once more, her face stilling under Nefertaari’s careful brush strokes. What else could she really do? Perhaps if she approached the Council, told them what he was doing… No. What would it matter? She was inconsequential when it came to matters of the kingdom, so why should the Council care? He was the Pharaoh. He could do whatever he liked with her, and there was little anyone could do within the bounds of the law to stop him.
Her sister’s words softened as she went on, telling Nia she wouldn’t let anyone know what she saw. “Thank you,” the younger Sheifa murmured in response. It was more than she expected of the woman across from her, making her wonder if she ought to start reconsidering her opinion of her eldest sibling. Perhaps there was more to Nefertaari than Nia had ever believed; after all, tonight seemed proof enough of that. When had the self-centered woman shown her in such kindness in all their lives? If she could trust her not to say anything about this…
Maybe some burnt bridges didn’t have to lay in ash forever.
But whoever did this to you is not the sort you ought to be hanging out with. I know, we've said this about many of your partners, but I mean it, Nia.
She couldn’t help the laugh that parted her lips at that, the irony of the situation weighing in on her. By the gods, if only it were that simple. She would give anything not to be beholden to Iahotep any longer, to never have to spend a moment in his presence again. Any other partner who had treated her poorly was easily disposed of and forgotten, but the Pharaoh? As if she had a choice.
Sure her laughter was likely to bewilder Nefertaari, given its inappropriate place in the conversation, Nia shook her head. “Apologies, it’s been a long night, and my mind is going in circles right now. I’ll… take that under advisement.” There wasn’t much she could do aside from that, only pray and hope her pleas did not fall on deaf ears.
Glancing at herself in the looking glass when her sister pulled the brush away, she offered her reflection a half-hearted smile. The artfully painted cosmetics were not exactly to her taste, but it did a decent job of hiding the bruising, at least. So long as she stayed out of direct light and no one stared too closely, she doubted anyone would notice. “I look like you,” she said with a smirk as she turned back to Nefertaari. “I guess it could be worse,” she added with a snort.
Dropping the tease, her gaze turned more serious, tentatively reaching over to place her hand on her sister’s knee. “But, really… thank you. I…” Trailing off, she shook her head again, unsure what else to say. “I won’t forget this, Nef. I mean it, thank you.”
A small peal of laughter bubbled past Nefertaari's lips and she silenced it quickly. This wasn't a laughing matter. She finished, returning the brushes and tools to their rightful places. Adjusting the pillows that adorned the chaise upon which she lounged, she reclined and grabbed her cup, bringing the wine to her lips.
"First, you are right that you could do worse than look like me," she acknowledged, "It does none of us any good if you get yourself killed. We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her."
To be fair, as inaccurate as her statement was, it was a plausible explanation to someone not familiar with Iaheru's mannerisms. A slow smile unfurled upon her lips as she looked down into her chalice. Again, there was a tense silence in the air between them, and Nefertaari couldn't blame her younger sister's trepidation. Nefertaari could be a storm on her own if it meant getting what she wanted.
Nefertaari sighed. "If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit."
Though her words sounded like a question, nothing in her tone belied inflection. Only that uncharacteristically motherly tone that she adopted. Her words were pensive instead.
"When are you next expected in public? And where?" Nef asked. "I want to know where to look if you don't come back." Her tone suddenly became grave as she leaned forward, emptying her cup with a long swallow.
"Is there anything I can do?"
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A small peal of laughter bubbled past Nefertaari's lips and she silenced it quickly. This wasn't a laughing matter. She finished, returning the brushes and tools to their rightful places. Adjusting the pillows that adorned the chaise upon which she lounged, she reclined and grabbed her cup, bringing the wine to her lips.
"First, you are right that you could do worse than look like me," she acknowledged, "It does none of us any good if you get yourself killed. We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her."
To be fair, as inaccurate as her statement was, it was a plausible explanation to someone not familiar with Iaheru's mannerisms. A slow smile unfurled upon her lips as she looked down into her chalice. Again, there was a tense silence in the air between them, and Nefertaari couldn't blame her younger sister's trepidation. Nefertaari could be a storm on her own if it meant getting what she wanted.
Nefertaari sighed. "If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit."
Though her words sounded like a question, nothing in her tone belied inflection. Only that uncharacteristically motherly tone that she adopted. Her words were pensive instead.
"When are you next expected in public? And where?" Nef asked. "I want to know where to look if you don't come back." Her tone suddenly became grave as she leaned forward, emptying her cup with a long swallow.
"Is there anything I can do?"
A small peal of laughter bubbled past Nefertaari's lips and she silenced it quickly. This wasn't a laughing matter. She finished, returning the brushes and tools to their rightful places. Adjusting the pillows that adorned the chaise upon which she lounged, she reclined and grabbed her cup, bringing the wine to her lips.
"First, you are right that you could do worse than look like me," she acknowledged, "It does none of us any good if you get yourself killed. We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her."
To be fair, as inaccurate as her statement was, it was a plausible explanation to someone not familiar with Iaheru's mannerisms. A slow smile unfurled upon her lips as she looked down into her chalice. Again, there was a tense silence in the air between them, and Nefertaari couldn't blame her younger sister's trepidation. Nefertaari could be a storm on her own if it meant getting what she wanted.
Nefertaari sighed. "If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit."
Though her words sounded like a question, nothing in her tone belied inflection. Only that uncharacteristically motherly tone that she adopted. Her words were pensive instead.
"When are you next expected in public? And where?" Nef asked. "I want to know where to look if you don't come back." Her tone suddenly became grave as she leaned forward, emptying her cup with a long swallow.
"Is there anything I can do?"
We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her.
Normally, a comment like that would have riled her up in defense, snapping back at her sister some scathing retort. But tonight seemed a rare truce between the two, so she simply smirked. “That’s probably not that far off,” she commented, readopting her abandoned glass of wine and taking a long swallow. “Between me and Hena, it’s amazing she has any dark hair left.”
If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit.
On any other day, it was not an offer she would have accepted; Nefertaari was ordinarily the last person in whom she would seek refuge. Tonight, though, she found she would rather not be alone, not with the specter of Iahotep hanging over her so prominently. As soon as she laid her head down to sleep, she knew what would fill her mind; it was part of why she sought so desperately to erase the memories with wine and opium. If she could fall into a drug-induced sleep, perhaps her nightmares would be held at bay.
“Thank you. That would be… nice.”
This all felt so strange, but no stranger than the night she’d had. It only compounded on that sense of disconnect, that nothing was as it should be. Something was dreadfully wrong with the world when Nefertaari and Neithotep could be amicable with each other, and it might have made her sad if she wasn’t on the verge of hysterical laughter. Did it truly take the abuse and degradation of her humanity to bring her closer to her most distant sibling? What a sense of humor the gods must possess.
When Nefertaari asked the next time she would need to be in public, Nia shrugged. She didn’t know. Iahotep’s summons did not come with any regularity. Once a week usually, though there were times he summoned her multiple nights in a row. And he did not summon her in public, anyway; all summons led to the privacy of his bedchamber and never without. At least she could be thankful that he did not acknowledge her in the eyes of the Court. Poor Hatshepsut.
Is there anything I can do?
If only there was. It touched her heart in a way she was unfamiliar with, to hear her sister speak words of concern for her. If only that concern had come years before, from her, from their parents… maybe she would not walk the roads she did now, the ones that led her to her untimely destination. Too little, too late.
“You can pray for me, Nefertaari. I think that’s all any of us can do now. Pray for me, to whatever gods will listen. Perhaps one day one of them will show mercy on me.”
Biting her lip, she looked around the room before she added, “There is something else you can do. At least for tonight. Do you have any opium in here? Cannabis? Anything stronger than the wine?”
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Sept 14, 2020 20:22:32 GMT
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We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her.
Normally, a comment like that would have riled her up in defense, snapping back at her sister some scathing retort. But tonight seemed a rare truce between the two, so she simply smirked. “That’s probably not that far off,” she commented, readopting her abandoned glass of wine and taking a long swallow. “Between me and Hena, it’s amazing she has any dark hair left.”
If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit.
On any other day, it was not an offer she would have accepted; Nefertaari was ordinarily the last person in whom she would seek refuge. Tonight, though, she found she would rather not be alone, not with the specter of Iahotep hanging over her so prominently. As soon as she laid her head down to sleep, she knew what would fill her mind; it was part of why she sought so desperately to erase the memories with wine and opium. If she could fall into a drug-induced sleep, perhaps her nightmares would be held at bay.
“Thank you. That would be… nice.”
This all felt so strange, but no stranger than the night she’d had. It only compounded on that sense of disconnect, that nothing was as it should be. Something was dreadfully wrong with the world when Nefertaari and Neithotep could be amicable with each other, and it might have made her sad if she wasn’t on the verge of hysterical laughter. Did it truly take the abuse and degradation of her humanity to bring her closer to her most distant sibling? What a sense of humor the gods must possess.
When Nefertaari asked the next time she would need to be in public, Nia shrugged. She didn’t know. Iahotep’s summons did not come with any regularity. Once a week usually, though there were times he summoned her multiple nights in a row. And he did not summon her in public, anyway; all summons led to the privacy of his bedchamber and never without. At least she could be thankful that he did not acknowledge her in the eyes of the Court. Poor Hatshepsut.
Is there anything I can do?
If only there was. It touched her heart in a way she was unfamiliar with, to hear her sister speak words of concern for her. If only that concern had come years before, from her, from their parents… maybe she would not walk the roads she did now, the ones that led her to her untimely destination. Too little, too late.
“You can pray for me, Nefertaari. I think that’s all any of us can do now. Pray for me, to whatever gods will listen. Perhaps one day one of them will show mercy on me.”
Biting her lip, she looked around the room before she added, “There is something else you can do. At least for tonight. Do you have any opium in here? Cannabis? Anything stronger than the wine?”
We all know our mother covers her head to hide the grays you give her.
Normally, a comment like that would have riled her up in defense, snapping back at her sister some scathing retort. But tonight seemed a rare truce between the two, so she simply smirked. “That’s probably not that far off,” she commented, readopting her abandoned glass of wine and taking a long swallow. “Between me and Hena, it’s amazing she has any dark hair left.”
If you wish to buy yourself more time, and actually sleep through the day, I suppose I could stay up with you a bit.
On any other day, it was not an offer she would have accepted; Nefertaari was ordinarily the last person in whom she would seek refuge. Tonight, though, she found she would rather not be alone, not with the specter of Iahotep hanging over her so prominently. As soon as she laid her head down to sleep, she knew what would fill her mind; it was part of why she sought so desperately to erase the memories with wine and opium. If she could fall into a drug-induced sleep, perhaps her nightmares would be held at bay.
“Thank you. That would be… nice.”
This all felt so strange, but no stranger than the night she’d had. It only compounded on that sense of disconnect, that nothing was as it should be. Something was dreadfully wrong with the world when Nefertaari and Neithotep could be amicable with each other, and it might have made her sad if she wasn’t on the verge of hysterical laughter. Did it truly take the abuse and degradation of her humanity to bring her closer to her most distant sibling? What a sense of humor the gods must possess.
When Nefertaari asked the next time she would need to be in public, Nia shrugged. She didn’t know. Iahotep’s summons did not come with any regularity. Once a week usually, though there were times he summoned her multiple nights in a row. And he did not summon her in public, anyway; all summons led to the privacy of his bedchamber and never without. At least she could be thankful that he did not acknowledge her in the eyes of the Court. Poor Hatshepsut.
Is there anything I can do?
If only there was. It touched her heart in a way she was unfamiliar with, to hear her sister speak words of concern for her. If only that concern had come years before, from her, from their parents… maybe she would not walk the roads she did now, the ones that led her to her untimely destination. Too little, too late.
“You can pray for me, Nefertaari. I think that’s all any of us can do now. Pray for me, to whatever gods will listen. Perhaps one day one of them will show mercy on me.”
Biting her lip, she looked around the room before she added, “There is something else you can do. At least for tonight. Do you have any opium in here? Cannabis? Anything stronger than the wine?”
"Add her age in to that equation, and it's even more of a shock," Nefertaari agreed. Her dark gaze never left her younger sister. The eldest h'Sheifa daughter had a penchant for reading most people. Neithotep wasn't one of those, but that wasn't a surprise, given the two rarely dealt with one another.
If Nef hoped that her query turned up an assuaging answer, it didn't. Nia asking the elder sister for prayer was unusual. There were many others whose faith could see Nia through troubling times. Nefertaari's wasn't one of them. Her lips parted, words ready to leave her mouth, but Neithotep's question cut her off.
"I don't care much for opium," Nefertaari answered, but a playful smile appeared. "But the day I am without cannabis is the day I will die."
The older woman pulled a jar of hashish out of the drawer beneath the table and departed. When she returned, it was with the pipe she'd been inhaling when Neithotep returned home. She empted it and put in a fresh coal from the brazier before she returned to her sofa and handed it to Nia.
"Neithotep," she said, watching her sister. "If you're in some sort of trouble, tell me. We don't have to tell anyone else, but I want to help you." She paused for a quick beat or two of the heart before she continued. "You've never asked me to pray for you before."
Nef reached for her drink again, swallowing the last couple mouthfuls of wine. She refilled the glass, drained it a second time, and topped it again. When she looked back at Nia, regardless of whether she answered, she winked at her. The truth was, they rarely spent time in one another's presence. A glimmer of mischief formed in the older sister's eyes.
"I do know a place to find some opium this late, though. If you are up to going out again, that is," Nef offered.
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"Add her age in to that equation, and it's even more of a shock," Nefertaari agreed. Her dark gaze never left her younger sister. The eldest h'Sheifa daughter had a penchant for reading most people. Neithotep wasn't one of those, but that wasn't a surprise, given the two rarely dealt with one another.
If Nef hoped that her query turned up an assuaging answer, it didn't. Nia asking the elder sister for prayer was unusual. There were many others whose faith could see Nia through troubling times. Nefertaari's wasn't one of them. Her lips parted, words ready to leave her mouth, but Neithotep's question cut her off.
"I don't care much for opium," Nefertaari answered, but a playful smile appeared. "But the day I am without cannabis is the day I will die."
The older woman pulled a jar of hashish out of the drawer beneath the table and departed. When she returned, it was with the pipe she'd been inhaling when Neithotep returned home. She empted it and put in a fresh coal from the brazier before she returned to her sofa and handed it to Nia.
"Neithotep," she said, watching her sister. "If you're in some sort of trouble, tell me. We don't have to tell anyone else, but I want to help you." She paused for a quick beat or two of the heart before she continued. "You've never asked me to pray for you before."
Nef reached for her drink again, swallowing the last couple mouthfuls of wine. She refilled the glass, drained it a second time, and topped it again. When she looked back at Nia, regardless of whether she answered, she winked at her. The truth was, they rarely spent time in one another's presence. A glimmer of mischief formed in the older sister's eyes.
"I do know a place to find some opium this late, though. If you are up to going out again, that is," Nef offered.
"Add her age in to that equation, and it's even more of a shock," Nefertaari agreed. Her dark gaze never left her younger sister. The eldest h'Sheifa daughter had a penchant for reading most people. Neithotep wasn't one of those, but that wasn't a surprise, given the two rarely dealt with one another.
If Nef hoped that her query turned up an assuaging answer, it didn't. Nia asking the elder sister for prayer was unusual. There were many others whose faith could see Nia through troubling times. Nefertaari's wasn't one of them. Her lips parted, words ready to leave her mouth, but Neithotep's question cut her off.
"I don't care much for opium," Nefertaari answered, but a playful smile appeared. "But the day I am without cannabis is the day I will die."
The older woman pulled a jar of hashish out of the drawer beneath the table and departed. When she returned, it was with the pipe she'd been inhaling when Neithotep returned home. She empted it and put in a fresh coal from the brazier before she returned to her sofa and handed it to Nia.
"Neithotep," she said, watching her sister. "If you're in some sort of trouble, tell me. We don't have to tell anyone else, but I want to help you." She paused for a quick beat or two of the heart before she continued. "You've never asked me to pray for you before."
Nef reached for her drink again, swallowing the last couple mouthfuls of wine. She refilled the glass, drained it a second time, and topped it again. When she looked back at Nia, regardless of whether she answered, she winked at her. The truth was, they rarely spent time in one another's presence. A glimmer of mischief formed in the older sister's eyes.
"I do know a place to find some opium this late, though. If you are up to going out again, that is," Nef offered.
Nia watched hungrily as Nefertaari returned with the hash, the pipe in her hand as soon as she dropped the coal. Taking a long inhale, she closed her eyes before she released it—a thin curl of smoke departing her lips and curling around her head in a lazy circle before it dissipated. “Thank you,” she murmured before she drew on the pipe again, offering it back to her sister and taking up her wine glass instead.
A short huff of bitter laughter was Nia’s response to her elder sister’s question. Was she in trouble? Clearly, or she wouldn’t be here with her sister’s makeup covering her bruises and imbibing in illicit substances with the sibling she tolerated the least. It wasn’t hard to ascertain there was something wrong for her to behave so out of character; did the question really need to be asked? Nef was going out of her way to be kind, though, so she didn’t voice aloud her sarcastic soliloquy.
“I’m always in trouble,” she replied flippantly, averting her gaze as she took a swallow of the wine in her hand. “For something or other. This time might be… a bit worse, though.” That much, she could admit; it was rather obvious, anyway. “I appreciate you wanting to help, I really do, but… you can’t, Nef. No one can.” Her gaze was more serious as she turned it on Nefertaari. “Please… please don’t try. I don’t want you to be in trouble too.” Gods only knew what Iahotep might do to her sister if she tried to interfere; would he take another Sheifa for his own, out of some misplaced spite? Would he try to make her jealous? As far as she was concerned, he could have whoever he liked and rub it in her face until the end of time. But not one of her sisters.
Her brow lifted in surprise as Nefertaari offered that she knew a place to find opium, if Nia was willing to go out again. Lack of access was not the problem; the younger sister probably knew of a dozen different seedy locations she could find it if she really wanted it. But the thought of leaving the house again after she’d finally found some security behind its walls… A delicate shiver ran down her back. Maybe another night.
“Thank you, I think I’ll pass this time. The wine and the cannabis should do well enough.” Though, there was nothing like the numbing power of opium; it was one of the only things that made her existence bearable these days, the dreamy haze dulling the pain and memory of what was done to her. Had she been in a slightly better state of mind, she would have taken her up on it in a second. As it was, she could simply drown her sorrows in other vices for the time being.
Idly swirling the deep maroon liquid within the glass, she sighed. “If you want to help me, do it by remaining quiet about what you’ve seen,” she murmured, elaborating on the offer Nefertaari already made. “Not a word to Mother, Father, Nenet, Hena, anyone. The fewer people suspect anything is amiss, the better. Maybe by the time people notice, it will… it will be dealt with.”
One could hope, anyway. If nothing else, Nia tried to remain optimistic. Even if that was getting harder and harder to do…
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Nia watched hungrily as Nefertaari returned with the hash, the pipe in her hand as soon as she dropped the coal. Taking a long inhale, she closed her eyes before she released it—a thin curl of smoke departing her lips and curling around her head in a lazy circle before it dissipated. “Thank you,” she murmured before she drew on the pipe again, offering it back to her sister and taking up her wine glass instead.
A short huff of bitter laughter was Nia’s response to her elder sister’s question. Was she in trouble? Clearly, or she wouldn’t be here with her sister’s makeup covering her bruises and imbibing in illicit substances with the sibling she tolerated the least. It wasn’t hard to ascertain there was something wrong for her to behave so out of character; did the question really need to be asked? Nef was going out of her way to be kind, though, so she didn’t voice aloud her sarcastic soliloquy.
“I’m always in trouble,” she replied flippantly, averting her gaze as she took a swallow of the wine in her hand. “For something or other. This time might be… a bit worse, though.” That much, she could admit; it was rather obvious, anyway. “I appreciate you wanting to help, I really do, but… you can’t, Nef. No one can.” Her gaze was more serious as she turned it on Nefertaari. “Please… please don’t try. I don’t want you to be in trouble too.” Gods only knew what Iahotep might do to her sister if she tried to interfere; would he take another Sheifa for his own, out of some misplaced spite? Would he try to make her jealous? As far as she was concerned, he could have whoever he liked and rub it in her face until the end of time. But not one of her sisters.
Her brow lifted in surprise as Nefertaari offered that she knew a place to find opium, if Nia was willing to go out again. Lack of access was not the problem; the younger sister probably knew of a dozen different seedy locations she could find it if she really wanted it. But the thought of leaving the house again after she’d finally found some security behind its walls… A delicate shiver ran down her back. Maybe another night.
“Thank you, I think I’ll pass this time. The wine and the cannabis should do well enough.” Though, there was nothing like the numbing power of opium; it was one of the only things that made her existence bearable these days, the dreamy haze dulling the pain and memory of what was done to her. Had she been in a slightly better state of mind, she would have taken her up on it in a second. As it was, she could simply drown her sorrows in other vices for the time being.
Idly swirling the deep maroon liquid within the glass, she sighed. “If you want to help me, do it by remaining quiet about what you’ve seen,” she murmured, elaborating on the offer Nefertaari already made. “Not a word to Mother, Father, Nenet, Hena, anyone. The fewer people suspect anything is amiss, the better. Maybe by the time people notice, it will… it will be dealt with.”
One could hope, anyway. If nothing else, Nia tried to remain optimistic. Even if that was getting harder and harder to do…
Nia watched hungrily as Nefertaari returned with the hash, the pipe in her hand as soon as she dropped the coal. Taking a long inhale, she closed her eyes before she released it—a thin curl of smoke departing her lips and curling around her head in a lazy circle before it dissipated. “Thank you,” she murmured before she drew on the pipe again, offering it back to her sister and taking up her wine glass instead.
A short huff of bitter laughter was Nia’s response to her elder sister’s question. Was she in trouble? Clearly, or she wouldn’t be here with her sister’s makeup covering her bruises and imbibing in illicit substances with the sibling she tolerated the least. It wasn’t hard to ascertain there was something wrong for her to behave so out of character; did the question really need to be asked? Nef was going out of her way to be kind, though, so she didn’t voice aloud her sarcastic soliloquy.
“I’m always in trouble,” she replied flippantly, averting her gaze as she took a swallow of the wine in her hand. “For something or other. This time might be… a bit worse, though.” That much, she could admit; it was rather obvious, anyway. “I appreciate you wanting to help, I really do, but… you can’t, Nef. No one can.” Her gaze was more serious as she turned it on Nefertaari. “Please… please don’t try. I don’t want you to be in trouble too.” Gods only knew what Iahotep might do to her sister if she tried to interfere; would he take another Sheifa for his own, out of some misplaced spite? Would he try to make her jealous? As far as she was concerned, he could have whoever he liked and rub it in her face until the end of time. But not one of her sisters.
Her brow lifted in surprise as Nefertaari offered that she knew a place to find opium, if Nia was willing to go out again. Lack of access was not the problem; the younger sister probably knew of a dozen different seedy locations she could find it if she really wanted it. But the thought of leaving the house again after she’d finally found some security behind its walls… A delicate shiver ran down her back. Maybe another night.
“Thank you, I think I’ll pass this time. The wine and the cannabis should do well enough.” Though, there was nothing like the numbing power of opium; it was one of the only things that made her existence bearable these days, the dreamy haze dulling the pain and memory of what was done to her. Had she been in a slightly better state of mind, she would have taken her up on it in a second. As it was, she could simply drown her sorrows in other vices for the time being.
Idly swirling the deep maroon liquid within the glass, she sighed. “If you want to help me, do it by remaining quiet about what you’ve seen,” she murmured, elaborating on the offer Nefertaari already made. “Not a word to Mother, Father, Nenet, Hena, anyone. The fewer people suspect anything is amiss, the better. Maybe by the time people notice, it will… it will be dealt with.”
One could hope, anyway. If nothing else, Nia tried to remain optimistic. Even if that was getting harder and harder to do…
Nefertaari listened quietly, taking the pipe when it was returned to her and inhaling the smoke deeply before returning it. It was no secret that Nefertaari was a nosy creature; she was a personification of every vice known to man, and the fact that Neithotep practically begged her not to pursue the trouble she was in only increased the elder sister's desire to find out more.
"Take the make-up with you. There's a jar of hash in the table next to the door. It will help, at least," Nefertaari said finally, and her tone slid back to the more familiar, judgmental tones for which she was known. "I will inform our parents and the servants that you are ill and ensure that they don't disturb you."
She drew a sharp breath inward, leaning back against her chair. Nefertaari was tired, having wandered the markets most of the day under the guise of a curious shopper. It was these observations that helped her give her father an edge on trade. A soft sigh left her lips.
"I won't pry it out of you, and I'll keep it to myself," she said. "But if you're being taken against your will, you should say as much. It won't look good if they start noticing you're being abused, and it's going to raise questions that our family will not be able to, nor want to, answer.
"Go rest, Nia. If you wish to suffer alone, that's on you. I tried to offer my help, but even when I do my best, you spurn me. It won't be dealt with unless you speak of it to someone, and you know damn well that we've got the resources to protect you."
Except they didn't. Nefertaari didn't know that it was Pharaoh himself that assaulted her sister. And if she did know, it's like the woman would show envy more than she would sympathy.
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Nefertaari listened quietly, taking the pipe when it was returned to her and inhaling the smoke deeply before returning it. It was no secret that Nefertaari was a nosy creature; she was a personification of every vice known to man, and the fact that Neithotep practically begged her not to pursue the trouble she was in only increased the elder sister's desire to find out more.
"Take the make-up with you. There's a jar of hash in the table next to the door. It will help, at least," Nefertaari said finally, and her tone slid back to the more familiar, judgmental tones for which she was known. "I will inform our parents and the servants that you are ill and ensure that they don't disturb you."
She drew a sharp breath inward, leaning back against her chair. Nefertaari was tired, having wandered the markets most of the day under the guise of a curious shopper. It was these observations that helped her give her father an edge on trade. A soft sigh left her lips.
"I won't pry it out of you, and I'll keep it to myself," she said. "But if you're being taken against your will, you should say as much. It won't look good if they start noticing you're being abused, and it's going to raise questions that our family will not be able to, nor want to, answer.
"Go rest, Nia. If you wish to suffer alone, that's on you. I tried to offer my help, but even when I do my best, you spurn me. It won't be dealt with unless you speak of it to someone, and you know damn well that we've got the resources to protect you."
Except they didn't. Nefertaari didn't know that it was Pharaoh himself that assaulted her sister. And if she did know, it's like the woman would show envy more than she would sympathy.
Nefertaari listened quietly, taking the pipe when it was returned to her and inhaling the smoke deeply before returning it. It was no secret that Nefertaari was a nosy creature; she was a personification of every vice known to man, and the fact that Neithotep practically begged her not to pursue the trouble she was in only increased the elder sister's desire to find out more.
"Take the make-up with you. There's a jar of hash in the table next to the door. It will help, at least," Nefertaari said finally, and her tone slid back to the more familiar, judgmental tones for which she was known. "I will inform our parents and the servants that you are ill and ensure that they don't disturb you."
She drew a sharp breath inward, leaning back against her chair. Nefertaari was tired, having wandered the markets most of the day under the guise of a curious shopper. It was these observations that helped her give her father an edge on trade. A soft sigh left her lips.
"I won't pry it out of you, and I'll keep it to myself," she said. "But if you're being taken against your will, you should say as much. It won't look good if they start noticing you're being abused, and it's going to raise questions that our family will not be able to, nor want to, answer.
"Go rest, Nia. If you wish to suffer alone, that's on you. I tried to offer my help, but even when I do my best, you spurn me. It won't be dealt with unless you speak of it to someone, and you know damn well that we've got the resources to protect you."
Except they didn't. Nefertaari didn't know that it was Pharaoh himself that assaulted her sister. And if she did know, it's like the woman would show envy more than she would sympathy.