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He nodded as Kyros told him what the gathering was, it was what he sort of suspected, but it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed.
“In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.” He said, motioning vaguely to the new batch of soldiers that were filing off the ship. He had long since given up on such dreams, his leg would not allow him to keep up with the military ranks if he had even wanted to. And now with Lais in his life, he wanted nothing more than to spend his life making her happy and having adventures with her. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.
“I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.” He stated with a little laugh, and it was true. Perhaps if he had been born into it, he would be a different person and that sort of thing would be common to him, but being born into a common family who was very far from the likes of any noble had instead turned him into a humble and hard working man.
Thrasius too spotted the man who seemed to come off the ship looking a whole lot better than the others, helm gleaming under his arm as he approached the group. The King. Huh. He had never been this close to an actual King before. The man was tall and looked strong even for his years, exactly what he would have thought of a King. If the situation was different he might have thought to approach and introduce himself in the hopes of perhaps making some important connections that might help him gain the farm land he was seeking, but at this time he would be nothing more than a nuisance to the royal and the nobles whom he spoke with.
His eyes moved to the second group of soldiers as they gathered similarly to the first, but his expression turned back into a grin as he spotted someone he recognized commanding the unit. He motioned for Kyros to follow him.
“Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to.” He said, thinking that there was a very small chance that the other two men already knew each other. He began to make his way across the sand, walking at a pace that was comfortable for his leg. As he approached, he decided to call out so as not to catch the man off guard on the off chance he didn’t see his approach.
“Damocles!” He shouted in greeting, giving him a wave as he approached.
“I did not think to meet you upon the shores here in Taengea, but I must admit it is fantastic to see another friendly face.” He greeted, the two men had met years ago, when he and Lais had still been in Colchis, and they had shared a hunting trip together which had been a bonding experience, and had spent time together as friends after that until Thrasius’ departure from Colchis.
“Captain Damocles, this is my friend Kyros.” He said, not mentioning how he had met Kyros or anything, he would not mention the other man’s injuries unless Kyros did so first. He didn’t know if it was really something he wanted other people knowing.
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He nodded as Kyros told him what the gathering was, it was what he sort of suspected, but it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed.
“In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.” He said, motioning vaguely to the new batch of soldiers that were filing off the ship. He had long since given up on such dreams, his leg would not allow him to keep up with the military ranks if he had even wanted to. And now with Lais in his life, he wanted nothing more than to spend his life making her happy and having adventures with her. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.
“I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.” He stated with a little laugh, and it was true. Perhaps if he had been born into it, he would be a different person and that sort of thing would be common to him, but being born into a common family who was very far from the likes of any noble had instead turned him into a humble and hard working man.
Thrasius too spotted the man who seemed to come off the ship looking a whole lot better than the others, helm gleaming under his arm as he approached the group. The King. Huh. He had never been this close to an actual King before. The man was tall and looked strong even for his years, exactly what he would have thought of a King. If the situation was different he might have thought to approach and introduce himself in the hopes of perhaps making some important connections that might help him gain the farm land he was seeking, but at this time he would be nothing more than a nuisance to the royal and the nobles whom he spoke with.
His eyes moved to the second group of soldiers as they gathered similarly to the first, but his expression turned back into a grin as he spotted someone he recognized commanding the unit. He motioned for Kyros to follow him.
“Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to.” He said, thinking that there was a very small chance that the other two men already knew each other. He began to make his way across the sand, walking at a pace that was comfortable for his leg. As he approached, he decided to call out so as not to catch the man off guard on the off chance he didn’t see his approach.
“Damocles!” He shouted in greeting, giving him a wave as he approached.
“I did not think to meet you upon the shores here in Taengea, but I must admit it is fantastic to see another friendly face.” He greeted, the two men had met years ago, when he and Lais had still been in Colchis, and they had shared a hunting trip together which had been a bonding experience, and had spent time together as friends after that until Thrasius’ departure from Colchis.
“Captain Damocles, this is my friend Kyros.” He said, not mentioning how he had met Kyros or anything, he would not mention the other man’s injuries unless Kyros did so first. He didn’t know if it was really something he wanted other people knowing.
He nodded as Kyros told him what the gathering was, it was what he sort of suspected, but it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed.
“In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.” He said, motioning vaguely to the new batch of soldiers that were filing off the ship. He had long since given up on such dreams, his leg would not allow him to keep up with the military ranks if he had even wanted to. And now with Lais in his life, he wanted nothing more than to spend his life making her happy and having adventures with her. He wouldn’t trade her for the world.
“I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.” He stated with a little laugh, and it was true. Perhaps if he had been born into it, he would be a different person and that sort of thing would be common to him, but being born into a common family who was very far from the likes of any noble had instead turned him into a humble and hard working man.
Thrasius too spotted the man who seemed to come off the ship looking a whole lot better than the others, helm gleaming under his arm as he approached the group. The King. Huh. He had never been this close to an actual King before. The man was tall and looked strong even for his years, exactly what he would have thought of a King. If the situation was different he might have thought to approach and introduce himself in the hopes of perhaps making some important connections that might help him gain the farm land he was seeking, but at this time he would be nothing more than a nuisance to the royal and the nobles whom he spoke with.
His eyes moved to the second group of soldiers as they gathered similarly to the first, but his expression turned back into a grin as he spotted someone he recognized commanding the unit. He motioned for Kyros to follow him.
“Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to.” He said, thinking that there was a very small chance that the other two men already knew each other. He began to make his way across the sand, walking at a pace that was comfortable for his leg. As he approached, he decided to call out so as not to catch the man off guard on the off chance he didn’t see his approach.
“Damocles!” He shouted in greeting, giving him a wave as he approached.
“I did not think to meet you upon the shores here in Taengea, but I must admit it is fantastic to see another friendly face.” He greeted, the two men had met years ago, when he and Lais had still been in Colchis, and they had shared a hunting trip together which had been a bonding experience, and had spent time together as friends after that until Thrasius’ departure from Colchis.
“Captain Damocles, this is my friend Kyros.” He said, not mentioning how he had met Kyros or anything, he would not mention the other man’s injuries unless Kyros did so first. He didn’t know if it was really something he wanted other people knowing.
Nikolias nodded to Fotios, fully aware that his comment about wanting a list of men was an order, but nonetheless having anticipated it himself. "You will have it tomorrow, Lord Fotios - it's already nearly completed." He checked the list every day since he'd set the watch, to make sure every man on it showed up for at least some of the time. Every man able to do so had probably volunteered, he guessed, though a few more wouldn’t have hurt- but such was life. “They do watch in shifts, but perhaps adding a few more men to each group would help. I believe everyone able to do so has already arrived and shown up for a shift at some point, but I can always be wrong.”
Indeed, anyone could always be wrong- but Nikolias often felt that he was more often wrong than most people were. Especially with the problem of Nikos still hanging over his head, his mind always seemed to wander at the most inconvenient times possible. He was well aware of this, and at times was still at a loss when it came to thinking about what to do. With Nikolias now being the third in line for the crown, Nikos’ dreams in fact seemed more of a possibility than ever before, and he was unsure whether or not to encourage them, though he had not done so before. So yes, there were other things on the Condos Lord’s mind. Still, the last thing he wanted to do was to mess up what seemed to him to be a great responsibility- though he hoped the wall would prove to be unnecessary as much as Fotios probably did. As he followed the others down to meet the Colchians. Nikolias considered that there was probably also some feminine nuance he’d not picked up on in Xene’s conversation, but was unsure how to address it, so he said nothing, though he did manage a polite enough greeting to the Colchian soldiers when they approached them at last.
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Nikolias nodded to Fotios, fully aware that his comment about wanting a list of men was an order, but nonetheless having anticipated it himself. "You will have it tomorrow, Lord Fotios - it's already nearly completed." He checked the list every day since he'd set the watch, to make sure every man on it showed up for at least some of the time. Every man able to do so had probably volunteered, he guessed, though a few more wouldn’t have hurt- but such was life. “They do watch in shifts, but perhaps adding a few more men to each group would help. I believe everyone able to do so has already arrived and shown up for a shift at some point, but I can always be wrong.”
Indeed, anyone could always be wrong- but Nikolias often felt that he was more often wrong than most people were. Especially with the problem of Nikos still hanging over his head, his mind always seemed to wander at the most inconvenient times possible. He was well aware of this, and at times was still at a loss when it came to thinking about what to do. With Nikolias now being the third in line for the crown, Nikos’ dreams in fact seemed more of a possibility than ever before, and he was unsure whether or not to encourage them, though he had not done so before. So yes, there were other things on the Condos Lord’s mind. Still, the last thing he wanted to do was to mess up what seemed to him to be a great responsibility- though he hoped the wall would prove to be unnecessary as much as Fotios probably did. As he followed the others down to meet the Colchians. Nikolias considered that there was probably also some feminine nuance he’d not picked up on in Xene’s conversation, but was unsure how to address it, so he said nothing, though he did manage a polite enough greeting to the Colchian soldiers when they approached them at last.
Nikolias nodded to Fotios, fully aware that his comment about wanting a list of men was an order, but nonetheless having anticipated it himself. "You will have it tomorrow, Lord Fotios - it's already nearly completed." He checked the list every day since he'd set the watch, to make sure every man on it showed up for at least some of the time. Every man able to do so had probably volunteered, he guessed, though a few more wouldn’t have hurt- but such was life. “They do watch in shifts, but perhaps adding a few more men to each group would help. I believe everyone able to do so has already arrived and shown up for a shift at some point, but I can always be wrong.”
Indeed, anyone could always be wrong- but Nikolias often felt that he was more often wrong than most people were. Especially with the problem of Nikos still hanging over his head, his mind always seemed to wander at the most inconvenient times possible. He was well aware of this, and at times was still at a loss when it came to thinking about what to do. With Nikolias now being the third in line for the crown, Nikos’ dreams in fact seemed more of a possibility than ever before, and he was unsure whether or not to encourage them, though he had not done so before. So yes, there were other things on the Condos Lord’s mind. Still, the last thing he wanted to do was to mess up what seemed to him to be a great responsibility- though he hoped the wall would prove to be unnecessary as much as Fotios probably did. As he followed the others down to meet the Colchians. Nikolias considered that there was probably also some feminine nuance he’d not picked up on in Xene’s conversation, but was unsure how to address it, so he said nothing, though he did manage a polite enough greeting to the Colchian soldiers when they approached them at last.
Quiet as a mouse, unobtrusive as a shadow. Xanthippe slipped along the walls of Vasiliadon as if she was nothing more than a shadow herself—unremarkable, silent, gone as quickly as she came. She was a dust mote on the wind for all the impact she made, watching eyes and listening ears open to the world around her.
She was only here at the behest of her lord, Lady Melina left in the hands of one of the other (admittedly less capable) retainers. On a day such as this, a day where Colchian royalty was bound to step on their shores, it never hurt to have an extra gaze, an additional listener attuned to the whispers sure to spread. After all, Lord Fotios couldn’t be everywhere. She would gather what he could not and relay it back it to him, just as she always did.
Lord Nikolias of Condos trailed her benefactor with a sense of self-importance that hardly seemed deserved. He dared to think of himself as an equal to her lord? Foolish, and judging from the subtle changes in the Head Lord of Leventi’s face, she had a feeling he agreed. Then again, most of the Taengean nobility was full of simpering idiots, as far as she was concerned. Her good opinion was reserved only for a very few, and of course, foremost among them was Fotios himself.
On the subject of those she found distasteful… sharp blue eyes scanned the form of Princess Xene as she joined Lord Fotios, Lord Georgios, and Lord Nikolias. She did not trust the woman as far as she could throw her, especially with all the time she seemed to be spending around his lordship recently. What did he have to do with her? Was it at his behest or hers? Whatever it was, she did not like it, and she meant to find a way to stop it.
You know how to stop it.
I cannot simply dispose of a princess. Especially not now.
Not with that attitude.
You forget the limitations of mortality. Attitude or not, things are not always so simple as you paint them out to be.
Insolent girl.
Rolling her eyes, the handmaid tuned out the arguing voice and focused her attention back on the task at hand. Xene and whatever connection she had with Lord Fotios was not her concern at the moment. Trailing far behind the nobility as they walked down the walls to the beach below, Xanthippe kept carefully out of their way while her eyes remained on the approaching ships. They were an impressive spectacle, sails like clouds illuminated by the sun behind them. Careful eyes remained on those who began to disembark, taking mental notes of the faces aboard. Self-assured expressions that leant themselves to royalty, bodies toned with hardened muscles that spoke of the hard life of a militant. Those who came ashore quickly set to their paces, she watched briefly in admiration at the fierce beauty of their deadly dance. What hope did Egypt have when these were their foes?
Sand sifting between her toes as the sea breeze tugged at a loose end of her charcoal chiton, Xan continued her seemingly leisurely walk down the beach. Her sharp gaze didn’t miss a single detail of the faces both familiar and less so, though there was one… One who didn’t belong. Stiffening with a curl of her lip, it was all the woman could do to keep from snarling and screaming her rage right there in the midst of the ever-growing crowd. Why was he here? How was he here?
Her steps didn’t stop until they reached the two commoners who stood aside from the others, composing herself with a force of will that she credited to the gods who guided her actions. The fury that clouded her face only a moment before was dissolved to the point of nonexistence, a casual and unassuming smile resting on her lips instead.
I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.
These were the first words she heard clearly as she approached, more than the snatches of conversation that drifted to her with the wind. “Count yourself lucky indeed, sir,” Xanthippe said, her tone friendly enough. Nodding amiably to both the speaker and his companion, she went on, “It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.”
A dizzying thing, yes, and something the young handmaid had spent most of her life around. Conversations like puzzles, double and triple meanings dripping from every pointed word. Luckily for her, she did have a mind for such things… especially considering her own mind was a puzzle in itself.
“Forgive my interruption,” she said abruptly, offering each of them a shallow, but polite curtsy. “I didn’t mean to intrude. But I’ve little to do while my lord conducts his business, and conversing with others seems much more pleasant than standing alone, eh?” Looking between them both, her smile got a little wider. “Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.”
But it seemed it was not to just be the three of them, the one who’d initially spoke gesturing for one of the Colchian soldiers to approach. All the better. Nodding to him as well, Xan stepped back into silence, fuming at the unexpected circumstances in what should have been a simple reconnaissance.
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Quiet as a mouse, unobtrusive as a shadow. Xanthippe slipped along the walls of Vasiliadon as if she was nothing more than a shadow herself—unremarkable, silent, gone as quickly as she came. She was a dust mote on the wind for all the impact she made, watching eyes and listening ears open to the world around her.
She was only here at the behest of her lord, Lady Melina left in the hands of one of the other (admittedly less capable) retainers. On a day such as this, a day where Colchian royalty was bound to step on their shores, it never hurt to have an extra gaze, an additional listener attuned to the whispers sure to spread. After all, Lord Fotios couldn’t be everywhere. She would gather what he could not and relay it back it to him, just as she always did.
Lord Nikolias of Condos trailed her benefactor with a sense of self-importance that hardly seemed deserved. He dared to think of himself as an equal to her lord? Foolish, and judging from the subtle changes in the Head Lord of Leventi’s face, she had a feeling he agreed. Then again, most of the Taengean nobility was full of simpering idiots, as far as she was concerned. Her good opinion was reserved only for a very few, and of course, foremost among them was Fotios himself.
On the subject of those she found distasteful… sharp blue eyes scanned the form of Princess Xene as she joined Lord Fotios, Lord Georgios, and Lord Nikolias. She did not trust the woman as far as she could throw her, especially with all the time she seemed to be spending around his lordship recently. What did he have to do with her? Was it at his behest or hers? Whatever it was, she did not like it, and she meant to find a way to stop it.
You know how to stop it.
I cannot simply dispose of a princess. Especially not now.
Not with that attitude.
You forget the limitations of mortality. Attitude or not, things are not always so simple as you paint them out to be.
Insolent girl.
Rolling her eyes, the handmaid tuned out the arguing voice and focused her attention back on the task at hand. Xene and whatever connection she had with Lord Fotios was not her concern at the moment. Trailing far behind the nobility as they walked down the walls to the beach below, Xanthippe kept carefully out of their way while her eyes remained on the approaching ships. They were an impressive spectacle, sails like clouds illuminated by the sun behind them. Careful eyes remained on those who began to disembark, taking mental notes of the faces aboard. Self-assured expressions that leant themselves to royalty, bodies toned with hardened muscles that spoke of the hard life of a militant. Those who came ashore quickly set to their paces, she watched briefly in admiration at the fierce beauty of their deadly dance. What hope did Egypt have when these were their foes?
Sand sifting between her toes as the sea breeze tugged at a loose end of her charcoal chiton, Xan continued her seemingly leisurely walk down the beach. Her sharp gaze didn’t miss a single detail of the faces both familiar and less so, though there was one… One who didn’t belong. Stiffening with a curl of her lip, it was all the woman could do to keep from snarling and screaming her rage right there in the midst of the ever-growing crowd. Why was he here? How was he here?
Her steps didn’t stop until they reached the two commoners who stood aside from the others, composing herself with a force of will that she credited to the gods who guided her actions. The fury that clouded her face only a moment before was dissolved to the point of nonexistence, a casual and unassuming smile resting on her lips instead.
I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.
These were the first words she heard clearly as she approached, more than the snatches of conversation that drifted to her with the wind. “Count yourself lucky indeed, sir,” Xanthippe said, her tone friendly enough. Nodding amiably to both the speaker and his companion, she went on, “It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.”
A dizzying thing, yes, and something the young handmaid had spent most of her life around. Conversations like puzzles, double and triple meanings dripping from every pointed word. Luckily for her, she did have a mind for such things… especially considering her own mind was a puzzle in itself.
“Forgive my interruption,” she said abruptly, offering each of them a shallow, but polite curtsy. “I didn’t mean to intrude. But I’ve little to do while my lord conducts his business, and conversing with others seems much more pleasant than standing alone, eh?” Looking between them both, her smile got a little wider. “Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.”
But it seemed it was not to just be the three of them, the one who’d initially spoke gesturing for one of the Colchian soldiers to approach. All the better. Nodding to him as well, Xan stepped back into silence, fuming at the unexpected circumstances in what should have been a simple reconnaissance.
Quiet as a mouse, unobtrusive as a shadow. Xanthippe slipped along the walls of Vasiliadon as if she was nothing more than a shadow herself—unremarkable, silent, gone as quickly as she came. She was a dust mote on the wind for all the impact she made, watching eyes and listening ears open to the world around her.
She was only here at the behest of her lord, Lady Melina left in the hands of one of the other (admittedly less capable) retainers. On a day such as this, a day where Colchian royalty was bound to step on their shores, it never hurt to have an extra gaze, an additional listener attuned to the whispers sure to spread. After all, Lord Fotios couldn’t be everywhere. She would gather what he could not and relay it back it to him, just as she always did.
Lord Nikolias of Condos trailed her benefactor with a sense of self-importance that hardly seemed deserved. He dared to think of himself as an equal to her lord? Foolish, and judging from the subtle changes in the Head Lord of Leventi’s face, she had a feeling he agreed. Then again, most of the Taengean nobility was full of simpering idiots, as far as she was concerned. Her good opinion was reserved only for a very few, and of course, foremost among them was Fotios himself.
On the subject of those she found distasteful… sharp blue eyes scanned the form of Princess Xene as she joined Lord Fotios, Lord Georgios, and Lord Nikolias. She did not trust the woman as far as she could throw her, especially with all the time she seemed to be spending around his lordship recently. What did he have to do with her? Was it at his behest or hers? Whatever it was, she did not like it, and she meant to find a way to stop it.
You know how to stop it.
I cannot simply dispose of a princess. Especially not now.
Not with that attitude.
You forget the limitations of mortality. Attitude or not, things are not always so simple as you paint them out to be.
Insolent girl.
Rolling her eyes, the handmaid tuned out the arguing voice and focused her attention back on the task at hand. Xene and whatever connection she had with Lord Fotios was not her concern at the moment. Trailing far behind the nobility as they walked down the walls to the beach below, Xanthippe kept carefully out of their way while her eyes remained on the approaching ships. They were an impressive spectacle, sails like clouds illuminated by the sun behind them. Careful eyes remained on those who began to disembark, taking mental notes of the faces aboard. Self-assured expressions that leant themselves to royalty, bodies toned with hardened muscles that spoke of the hard life of a militant. Those who came ashore quickly set to their paces, she watched briefly in admiration at the fierce beauty of their deadly dance. What hope did Egypt have when these were their foes?
Sand sifting between her toes as the sea breeze tugged at a loose end of her charcoal chiton, Xan continued her seemingly leisurely walk down the beach. Her sharp gaze didn’t miss a single detail of the faces both familiar and less so, though there was one… One who didn’t belong. Stiffening with a curl of her lip, it was all the woman could do to keep from snarling and screaming her rage right there in the midst of the ever-growing crowd. Why was he here? How was he here?
Her steps didn’t stop until they reached the two commoners who stood aside from the others, composing herself with a force of will that she credited to the gods who guided her actions. The fury that clouded her face only a moment before was dissolved to the point of nonexistence, a casual and unassuming smile resting on her lips instead.
I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.
These were the first words she heard clearly as she approached, more than the snatches of conversation that drifted to her with the wind. “Count yourself lucky indeed, sir,” Xanthippe said, her tone friendly enough. Nodding amiably to both the speaker and his companion, she went on, “It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.”
A dizzying thing, yes, and something the young handmaid had spent most of her life around. Conversations like puzzles, double and triple meanings dripping from every pointed word. Luckily for her, she did have a mind for such things… especially considering her own mind was a puzzle in itself.
“Forgive my interruption,” she said abruptly, offering each of them a shallow, but polite curtsy. “I didn’t mean to intrude. But I’ve little to do while my lord conducts his business, and conversing with others seems much more pleasant than standing alone, eh?” Looking between them both, her smile got a little wider. “Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.”
But it seemed it was not to just be the three of them, the one who’d initially spoke gesturing for one of the Colchian soldiers to approach. All the better. Nodding to him as well, Xan stepped back into silence, fuming at the unexpected circumstances in what should have been a simple reconnaissance.
The servant showing up at her quarters to inform her of the arrival of the Colchian ship had been a welcome reprieve from her thoughts, which, far too often, kept her occupied with all manner of unpleasant ideas of what Achilleas was dealing with at that precise moment. She found, more often than not, that she could not manage to dismiss the image of her blood-soaked, war-weary husband - something her dreams had cooked up one unfortunate night spent alone in a bed too big for one person - and once again wished that he had never left in the first place.
At least she had been able to give him that little surprise gift before he left. Yes...it had been well worth it, to see the look on his face. So scandalized, with just a hint of amusement in those big blue eyes. She smiled as she recalled the look on his face, the quiet, disbelieving inquiry on why she had chosen that particular time to give it to him.
Now, though, there was no time to spend on such frivolous activities, and nobody to engage in them with her in the first place.
Quietly, thoughtfully, Theo smoothed her hands down the front of her light blue chiton. Ophelia had come and gone, helping her dress and manage her hair until she looked every part the rightful Queen of Taengea. She had chosen blue for Taengea, and the golden thread embroidered in the expensive fabric for her husband and her new last name - Mikaelidas. The golden necklace resting around her throat was simple, yet elegant, and her makeup was subtle so as not to overpower her sweet face; her hair bound back in a partial updo, so that most of her dark tresses hung loose, apart from a single plait in the center, hung straight down her back.
Perhaps it was the dream of her husband in battle that had her feeling so on edge. Whatever it was, when the knock came on her door, she was sidetracked, the skirt of the chiton hitched up so she could adjust the sandals she wore underneath. Her thoughts were far too scattered to recall that it was probably not the best idea to admit a guest with most of her legs bared to the room, so it was without hesitation that she called out her permission for them to enter.
However, Emilios’ appearance upon the threshold had her hastily lowering her foot back to the floor so that she could drop her skirts back into place, swiftly covering up her exposed legs, a bright blush colouring her fair cheeks. “Emilios! What- Oh.” Of course - the knock should have been indication enough of who was at the door. Hadn’t he always knocked in that exact pattern? Damn her wayward thoughts!
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was distracted. I should not have answered the door while indecent.”
Why was her heart racing so obnoxiously loudly in her chest, the way it used to when they would sneak off together? At least from across the room, he wouldn’t be able to hear it as it thundered against her rib cage, though the telltale blush in her cheeks had not yet faded. Was he staring at her with his mouth open on purpose? She had to press her lips together to keep from giggling, a sudden (and quite possibly insane) bubble of amusement rising in her chest.
Theo looked him over as she waited for him to find his voice. He was dressed to receive the incoming ship already, and he looked handsome as ever; though she was certain he knew this. The sword at his hip left her momentarily puzzled, but why question it? He understood more about the goings-on than she did, and if he saw fit to bring a weapon, then obviously there was a reason. She only wished she had the same luxury. Imagine, a Queen headed to receive the boat, armed - oh, the rumors would reach all the way to her husband.
Achilleas.
It was a simple reminder - enough to cause her to tear her gaze away from Emilios. Why was she standing here admiring him when there was work to be done? She straightened where she stood, clasping her hands neatly before her as she cleared her throat.
“Shall we go?”
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The servant showing up at her quarters to inform her of the arrival of the Colchian ship had been a welcome reprieve from her thoughts, which, far too often, kept her occupied with all manner of unpleasant ideas of what Achilleas was dealing with at that precise moment. She found, more often than not, that she could not manage to dismiss the image of her blood-soaked, war-weary husband - something her dreams had cooked up one unfortunate night spent alone in a bed too big for one person - and once again wished that he had never left in the first place.
At least she had been able to give him that little surprise gift before he left. Yes...it had been well worth it, to see the look on his face. So scandalized, with just a hint of amusement in those big blue eyes. She smiled as she recalled the look on his face, the quiet, disbelieving inquiry on why she had chosen that particular time to give it to him.
Now, though, there was no time to spend on such frivolous activities, and nobody to engage in them with her in the first place.
Quietly, thoughtfully, Theo smoothed her hands down the front of her light blue chiton. Ophelia had come and gone, helping her dress and manage her hair until she looked every part the rightful Queen of Taengea. She had chosen blue for Taengea, and the golden thread embroidered in the expensive fabric for her husband and her new last name - Mikaelidas. The golden necklace resting around her throat was simple, yet elegant, and her makeup was subtle so as not to overpower her sweet face; her hair bound back in a partial updo, so that most of her dark tresses hung loose, apart from a single plait in the center, hung straight down her back.
Perhaps it was the dream of her husband in battle that had her feeling so on edge. Whatever it was, when the knock came on her door, she was sidetracked, the skirt of the chiton hitched up so she could adjust the sandals she wore underneath. Her thoughts were far too scattered to recall that it was probably not the best idea to admit a guest with most of her legs bared to the room, so it was without hesitation that she called out her permission for them to enter.
However, Emilios’ appearance upon the threshold had her hastily lowering her foot back to the floor so that she could drop her skirts back into place, swiftly covering up her exposed legs, a bright blush colouring her fair cheeks. “Emilios! What- Oh.” Of course - the knock should have been indication enough of who was at the door. Hadn’t he always knocked in that exact pattern? Damn her wayward thoughts!
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was distracted. I should not have answered the door while indecent.”
Why was her heart racing so obnoxiously loudly in her chest, the way it used to when they would sneak off together? At least from across the room, he wouldn’t be able to hear it as it thundered against her rib cage, though the telltale blush in her cheeks had not yet faded. Was he staring at her with his mouth open on purpose? She had to press her lips together to keep from giggling, a sudden (and quite possibly insane) bubble of amusement rising in her chest.
Theo looked him over as she waited for him to find his voice. He was dressed to receive the incoming ship already, and he looked handsome as ever; though she was certain he knew this. The sword at his hip left her momentarily puzzled, but why question it? He understood more about the goings-on than she did, and if he saw fit to bring a weapon, then obviously there was a reason. She only wished she had the same luxury. Imagine, a Queen headed to receive the boat, armed - oh, the rumors would reach all the way to her husband.
Achilleas.
It was a simple reminder - enough to cause her to tear her gaze away from Emilios. Why was she standing here admiring him when there was work to be done? She straightened where she stood, clasping her hands neatly before her as she cleared her throat.
“Shall we go?”
The servant showing up at her quarters to inform her of the arrival of the Colchian ship had been a welcome reprieve from her thoughts, which, far too often, kept her occupied with all manner of unpleasant ideas of what Achilleas was dealing with at that precise moment. She found, more often than not, that she could not manage to dismiss the image of her blood-soaked, war-weary husband - something her dreams had cooked up one unfortunate night spent alone in a bed too big for one person - and once again wished that he had never left in the first place.
At least she had been able to give him that little surprise gift before he left. Yes...it had been well worth it, to see the look on his face. So scandalized, with just a hint of amusement in those big blue eyes. She smiled as she recalled the look on his face, the quiet, disbelieving inquiry on why she had chosen that particular time to give it to him.
Now, though, there was no time to spend on such frivolous activities, and nobody to engage in them with her in the first place.
Quietly, thoughtfully, Theo smoothed her hands down the front of her light blue chiton. Ophelia had come and gone, helping her dress and manage her hair until she looked every part the rightful Queen of Taengea. She had chosen blue for Taengea, and the golden thread embroidered in the expensive fabric for her husband and her new last name - Mikaelidas. The golden necklace resting around her throat was simple, yet elegant, and her makeup was subtle so as not to overpower her sweet face; her hair bound back in a partial updo, so that most of her dark tresses hung loose, apart from a single plait in the center, hung straight down her back.
Perhaps it was the dream of her husband in battle that had her feeling so on edge. Whatever it was, when the knock came on her door, she was sidetracked, the skirt of the chiton hitched up so she could adjust the sandals she wore underneath. Her thoughts were far too scattered to recall that it was probably not the best idea to admit a guest with most of her legs bared to the room, so it was without hesitation that she called out her permission for them to enter.
However, Emilios’ appearance upon the threshold had her hastily lowering her foot back to the floor so that she could drop her skirts back into place, swiftly covering up her exposed legs, a bright blush colouring her fair cheeks. “Emilios! What- Oh.” Of course - the knock should have been indication enough of who was at the door. Hadn’t he always knocked in that exact pattern? Damn her wayward thoughts!
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was distracted. I should not have answered the door while indecent.”
Why was her heart racing so obnoxiously loudly in her chest, the way it used to when they would sneak off together? At least from across the room, he wouldn’t be able to hear it as it thundered against her rib cage, though the telltale blush in her cheeks had not yet faded. Was he staring at her with his mouth open on purpose? She had to press her lips together to keep from giggling, a sudden (and quite possibly insane) bubble of amusement rising in her chest.
Theo looked him over as she waited for him to find his voice. He was dressed to receive the incoming ship already, and he looked handsome as ever; though she was certain he knew this. The sword at his hip left her momentarily puzzled, but why question it? He understood more about the goings-on than she did, and if he saw fit to bring a weapon, then obviously there was a reason. She only wished she had the same luxury. Imagine, a Queen headed to receive the boat, armed - oh, the rumors would reach all the way to her husband.
Achilleas.
It was a simple reminder - enough to cause her to tear her gaze away from Emilios. Why was she standing here admiring him when there was work to be done? She straightened where she stood, clasping her hands neatly before her as she cleared her throat.
“Shall we go?”
'In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.'
Kyros cocked his head to peer at his friend - or more pointedly, the brace of Thras' leg. “The Fates take pride in the torture of the humans who's life threads they control,” he said derisively, his thoughts turning to the hand they had dealt him so recently. So completely altering the course of his life. It was Kyros' firm belief that the Fates were nasty little bitches that deserved to rot in the deepest reaches of Tartarus. Yeah, he was a little bitter about the turn his life had taken. Kyros closed his eyes a moment to steady that temper before returning his attention to the gathering of Colchian and Taengean nobles just a few dozen yards up the beach.
'I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.'
The assassin turned mercenary gave a snort at this, one corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. Kyros' gaze lighted on a woman walking towards them. He straightened - taking note of how gracefully the blonde moved across the sands, almost as if she wasn't even touching the ground - from his casual stance leaned against the tree, resting his hands comfortably on the hilts of his long bladed daggers strapped to his hips. He used to only carry smaller blades that were easily concealed. But it had simply been another reminded of what he used to be, of what he had lost. So, while he still kept a few hidden weapons, he had purchased the longer blades and now wore them openly. “Politics were never my forte either, my friend.” he muttered somewhat under his breath, just as the woman approached them.
'Count yourself lucky indeed, sir. It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.'
Kyros narrowed his eyes but made no other move, standing there seemingly relaxed in the company of his friend and now a woman unknown to him. By all appearances, and by her words, she seemed to be a commoner.
'Forgive my interruption...Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.'
Kyros gave a single nod in greeting to the woman. But when she introduced herself as a handmaid of the Leventi family... he lifted one brow, his grey eyes refocusing on the distant group, on Fotios and his brother. He looked back to Xanthippe and gave a half bow. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to get to know one that worked in the home of the man that knew his secret. He dearly wished to learn some tidbit to hold over the man in the event the noble decided Kyros was no longer useful and threatened to reveal his identity. “A pleasure, lady.” he said simply, not revealing his own... name. He was a man of few words.
'Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to. Damocles!'
Kyros fell in step with his friend for the short distance to the man, the captain Thrasius had recognized. Though Kyros did wonder how Thras had become acquainted with such a militant from Colchis. Kyros' focus, however, was on the woman, who fell back, seemingly to let the men converse. How might he find a chance to speak with this maiden further? Perhaps , if he could get her alone, he could seduce her. Women had a tendency to spill things, private things that should not be repeated, to their lovers. Before he could think about it more, his attention was drawn back to Thrasius and the captain as Thras introduced him, using his name. Damn. Kyros' eye flicked quickly to Xanthippe before he focused on the men before him. He bowed his head. The full bow that many did when greeting people of status had always seemed... tedious. But a deference of rank was expected in the Greecian society, so he conceded with a bow of his head when appropriate, to keep up appearances that he belonged among them.
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'In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.'
Kyros cocked his head to peer at his friend - or more pointedly, the brace of Thras' leg. “The Fates take pride in the torture of the humans who's life threads they control,” he said derisively, his thoughts turning to the hand they had dealt him so recently. So completely altering the course of his life. It was Kyros' firm belief that the Fates were nasty little bitches that deserved to rot in the deepest reaches of Tartarus. Yeah, he was a little bitter about the turn his life had taken. Kyros closed his eyes a moment to steady that temper before returning his attention to the gathering of Colchian and Taengean nobles just a few dozen yards up the beach.
'I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.'
The assassin turned mercenary gave a snort at this, one corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. Kyros' gaze lighted on a woman walking towards them. He straightened - taking note of how gracefully the blonde moved across the sands, almost as if she wasn't even touching the ground - from his casual stance leaned against the tree, resting his hands comfortably on the hilts of his long bladed daggers strapped to his hips. He used to only carry smaller blades that were easily concealed. But it had simply been another reminded of what he used to be, of what he had lost. So, while he still kept a few hidden weapons, he had purchased the longer blades and now wore them openly. “Politics were never my forte either, my friend.” he muttered somewhat under his breath, just as the woman approached them.
'Count yourself lucky indeed, sir. It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.'
Kyros narrowed his eyes but made no other move, standing there seemingly relaxed in the company of his friend and now a woman unknown to him. By all appearances, and by her words, she seemed to be a commoner.
'Forgive my interruption...Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.'
Kyros gave a single nod in greeting to the woman. But when she introduced herself as a handmaid of the Leventi family... he lifted one brow, his grey eyes refocusing on the distant group, on Fotios and his brother. He looked back to Xanthippe and gave a half bow. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to get to know one that worked in the home of the man that knew his secret. He dearly wished to learn some tidbit to hold over the man in the event the noble decided Kyros was no longer useful and threatened to reveal his identity. “A pleasure, lady.” he said simply, not revealing his own... name. He was a man of few words.
'Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to. Damocles!'
Kyros fell in step with his friend for the short distance to the man, the captain Thrasius had recognized. Though Kyros did wonder how Thras had become acquainted with such a militant from Colchis. Kyros' focus, however, was on the woman, who fell back, seemingly to let the men converse. How might he find a chance to speak with this maiden further? Perhaps , if he could get her alone, he could seduce her. Women had a tendency to spill things, private things that should not be repeated, to their lovers. Before he could think about it more, his attention was drawn back to Thrasius and the captain as Thras introduced him, using his name. Damn. Kyros' eye flicked quickly to Xanthippe before he focused on the men before him. He bowed his head. The full bow that many did when greeting people of status had always seemed... tedious. But a deference of rank was expected in the Greecian society, so he conceded with a bow of his head when appropriate, to keep up appearances that he belonged among them.
'In my youth, I had wished to be among the ranks of such men.'
Kyros cocked his head to peer at his friend - or more pointedly, the brace of Thras' leg. “The Fates take pride in the torture of the humans who's life threads they control,” he said derisively, his thoughts turning to the hand they had dealt him so recently. So completely altering the course of his life. It was Kyros' firm belief that the Fates were nasty little bitches that deserved to rot in the deepest reaches of Tartarus. Yeah, he was a little bitter about the turn his life had taken. Kyros closed his eyes a moment to steady that temper before returning his attention to the gathering of Colchian and Taengean nobles just a few dozen yards up the beach.
'I have never experienced such conversations, at least not firsthand. Lucky for me, I do not have the mind for such games.'
The assassin turned mercenary gave a snort at this, one corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. Kyros' gaze lighted on a woman walking towards them. He straightened - taking note of how gracefully the blonde moved across the sands, almost as if she wasn't even touching the ground - from his casual stance leaned against the tree, resting his hands comfortably on the hilts of his long bladed daggers strapped to his hips. He used to only carry smaller blades that were easily concealed. But it had simply been another reminded of what he used to be, of what he had lost. So, while he still kept a few hidden weapons, he had purchased the longer blades and now wore them openly. “Politics were never my forte either, my friend.” he muttered somewhat under his breath, just as the woman approached them.
'Count yourself lucky indeed, sir. It is a dizzying thing to learn, particularly when you are among them, but not one of them.'
Kyros narrowed his eyes but made no other move, standing there seemingly relaxed in the company of his friend and now a woman unknown to him. By all appearances, and by her words, she seemed to be a commoner.
'Forgive my interruption...Xanthippe, handmaid to the Leventi family. A pleasure to meet you both.'
Kyros gave a single nod in greeting to the woman. But when she introduced herself as a handmaid of the Leventi family... he lifted one brow, his grey eyes refocusing on the distant group, on Fotios and his brother. He looked back to Xanthippe and gave a half bow. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to get to know one that worked in the home of the man that knew his secret. He dearly wished to learn some tidbit to hold over the man in the event the noble decided Kyros was no longer useful and threatened to reveal his identity. “A pleasure, lady.” he said simply, not revealing his own... name. He was a man of few words.
'Come, I have spotted another friend, and one I would like to introduce you to. Damocles!'
Kyros fell in step with his friend for the short distance to the man, the captain Thrasius had recognized. Though Kyros did wonder how Thras had become acquainted with such a militant from Colchis. Kyros' focus, however, was on the woman, who fell back, seemingly to let the men converse. How might he find a chance to speak with this maiden further? Perhaps , if he could get her alone, he could seduce her. Women had a tendency to spill things, private things that should not be repeated, to their lovers. Before he could think about it more, his attention was drawn back to Thrasius and the captain as Thras introduced him, using his name. Damn. Kyros' eye flicked quickly to Xanthippe before he focused on the men before him. He bowed his head. The full bow that many did when greeting people of status had always seemed... tedious. But a deference of rank was expected in the Greecian society, so he conceded with a bow of his head when appropriate, to keep up appearances that he belonged among them.
From beside the wall to where the Colchis ships had come in was not exactly a far walk, however, Georgios had taken a detour to dispose of his horse and then meander his way. Fotios was well prepared to meet and greet the Kotas, as well, as he figured that there would be other noble families eager to make themselves seen or heard. If anything, they were anxious for the help that this united front could provide for the men who had already departed for Egypt.
The second Leventi son finally made his way through the growing amount of people stopping to satiate his extroverted heart on the way. He hardly left a question unanswered or a greeting unreturned. Though, it might not have ever made him popular in the sense of being on time for the most important of meetings.
He took his position near Fotios and said nothing considering how blissfully unaware he had been kept regarding the break off of the engagement. He could be excitable and protective when it came to his family, especially his daughters. The effort that had been put forth to secure a good marriage by Selene had been put down more than once... not that all of the attempts had been official. However, he knew what the girls teased about. Some times they came to him to divulge their feelings and sometimes they did not. He liked to know, but lately he had been feeling helpless in making their dreams come true.
Georgios gave a nod as his hand held onto his other wrist standing at ease for if he would be called on by anyone... otherwise he was merely there physically while his mind wandered thinking of the safety of his wife who should be coming in a few days.
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From beside the wall to where the Colchis ships had come in was not exactly a far walk, however, Georgios had taken a detour to dispose of his horse and then meander his way. Fotios was well prepared to meet and greet the Kotas, as well, as he figured that there would be other noble families eager to make themselves seen or heard. If anything, they were anxious for the help that this united front could provide for the men who had already departed for Egypt.
The second Leventi son finally made his way through the growing amount of people stopping to satiate his extroverted heart on the way. He hardly left a question unanswered or a greeting unreturned. Though, it might not have ever made him popular in the sense of being on time for the most important of meetings.
He took his position near Fotios and said nothing considering how blissfully unaware he had been kept regarding the break off of the engagement. He could be excitable and protective when it came to his family, especially his daughters. The effort that had been put forth to secure a good marriage by Selene had been put down more than once... not that all of the attempts had been official. However, he knew what the girls teased about. Some times they came to him to divulge their feelings and sometimes they did not. He liked to know, but lately he had been feeling helpless in making their dreams come true.
Georgios gave a nod as his hand held onto his other wrist standing at ease for if he would be called on by anyone... otherwise he was merely there physically while his mind wandered thinking of the safety of his wife who should be coming in a few days.
From beside the wall to where the Colchis ships had come in was not exactly a far walk, however, Georgios had taken a detour to dispose of his horse and then meander his way. Fotios was well prepared to meet and greet the Kotas, as well, as he figured that there would be other noble families eager to make themselves seen or heard. If anything, they were anxious for the help that this united front could provide for the men who had already departed for Egypt.
The second Leventi son finally made his way through the growing amount of people stopping to satiate his extroverted heart on the way. He hardly left a question unanswered or a greeting unreturned. Though, it might not have ever made him popular in the sense of being on time for the most important of meetings.
He took his position near Fotios and said nothing considering how blissfully unaware he had been kept regarding the break off of the engagement. He could be excitable and protective when it came to his family, especially his daughters. The effort that had been put forth to secure a good marriage by Selene had been put down more than once... not that all of the attempts had been official. However, he knew what the girls teased about. Some times they came to him to divulge their feelings and sometimes they did not. He liked to know, but lately he had been feeling helpless in making their dreams come true.
Georgios gave a nod as his hand held onto his other wrist standing at ease for if he would be called on by anyone... otherwise he was merely there physically while his mind wandered thinking of the safety of his wife who should be coming in a few days.
Throughout his military career as an officer of Colchis, Damocles had built his reputation not on his skill in combat or his blunt physical ability, though he did not lack in either, but rather on his talents for leadership and management. Prior to taking on the reins of power over his soldiers, the Damned of Magnemea had no prior laurels to them, and he had been determined to see that change. Of course, his methods might have been critiqued for being authoritarian and domineering, but that was the calculated price for being organized and efficient. In his tenure as Captain, he had forged a true, functioning unit out of the colossal, but incohesive mismatch of men and women he had been trusted to lead. Bribes and money no longer bought their way into his rank and file, and fixed promotions under his purview primarily pushed through distant family connections were all a thing of the past. Only talent and ability was to be the measure of one’s reach inasmuch as his authority stretched.
It was perhaps why his unit had risen to prominence and consideration. By only promoting men and women of merit, Damocles had made sure that only the best of the best he could find filled the ranks of his forces, regardless of sex and the circumstances of their birth. Of course, the risk of opening up such ladder was that anyone who had been overly ambitious enough to challenge him for the position of Captain could do so if they so wished. It had been a simple rule of his command. If any so elected to question his leadership they were most certainly welcomed to do so, for that was fair. Yet, anyone who had the gumption to do so must also have the ability to match such tenacious gumption, lest Damocles would have quashed his inner opposition and humiliate his underline. In some instances, he had even resorted to dismissal, which often followed shame and disappointment, but of course, one had to maintain order and control, lest disharmony and divisions were opened up.
And as he stood over the clattered mesh of soldiers amidst the sands of the resplendent, white beach, Damocles could not come up with a better system for managing his men. He barely had to issue words or commands to his lieutenants, for they already knew what was expected of them at all times, and if they forgot, their superior was ever-more than-than-happy to offer some form of recollection. His stare was felt precipitous and aggressive, learing over the confines of the mock battlefield whilst Attius stood there lazily by his side, barely making an effort at communication or small talk. It was better this way, when he was busy overseeing his men’s performance he was poised towards a singular purpose and would rather not let his mind waver elsewhere. Though he had promised his men the night for whatever reverie they so desired, it was still fair that he was just as intense as he had been beforehand. Days stranded by the rocking waves and shoddy ships would not dull his forces, and if they did, he would immediately sharpen his unit back, like a sword upon a whetstone.
As he was a bit preoccupied with supervising his forces under a short schedule, Damocles had allowed his lieutenants and senior personnel to use whatever means they thought so was necessary to maintain discipline and structure within the vast, diverse ranks. In particular, he had allowed the use of whips for the day, letting his subordinate issue lashes as they saw fit against any who broke rank and did as he so pleased. For the most part, he was pleased to see that few floggings had to be issued, with each time that one such was administered, the subjected soldier would come to heel and obey. There would be no respite or intermitted reprieves, Damocles had to run a tight ship and as such no expense or measure was to be spared, nor quarter given as the Damned of Magnemea rallied for the harrowing realities of war.
“Quit screwing around you scum-born, sons of whores! None of this was good enough! That was atrocious! Absolutely atrocious! We are soldiers of Greece! We do not fear death! We battle death! We dominate death! We fuck death! Each time we set our boots against foreign soil we carry the dignity and honor of our homeland on our backs. Yet what I see here are a bunch of spineless, stray dogs that don’t do honor to even their own piss and shit! None of you would do your own hands justice let alone survive a fleeting moment in the sands of Egypt! I want those spears gripped harder! I want those shields raised higher! I want those arrows shot faster! And I want those swords swung stronger! If any of you fails me one more time I will cut out your cocks, shove them right up your asses and fuck you so hard that not even Hades himself will be able to recognize your miserable, mangled soul in his damned kingdom of the dead! Am I clear! Am I understood? Yes! Then go and make some fucking sense of this arrant mess, you blabbering roaches!”
His angry, aggressive, biting words echoed through the sands, sending shivers down the back of his men as they received scathing criticism from their superior officer. Objectively, it might’ve seen as if it had been uncalled for, but to anyone who had even some remote idea of just how high Damocles’s standards were, it would’ve all seemed as just another instance of him being his usual, domineering self. With a jerk of his neck the dark armored clad commander dismissed the soldiers and had his lieutenants issue their commands as told. Evidently, it was obvious to see that Damocles appeared to be in a foul, terrible mood, what with his eyes leering explosively at the soldiers he had just scolded in public light in his signature dictatorial tone. Yet, as his ears perked up at the call of his name in an entirely informal way, Damocles felt the veins of his furrowed forehead bulge and thicken with simmering rage. Without recognizing the person who dared to address him in such informality, the fiery Captain of the Damned juddered his head at the direction with an uninviting scowl of his exasperated face.
“Soldiers!” He snarled gutturally. “Turn back to your post right this fucking minute or so help me Gods I will gouge your eyes out and force you to wear them round your necks!” He continued, rushing at the two individuals with the storming rage of a typhoon. “Was I not clear you prick-eating Centaurs? I said get back in line now!” He once more shouted down at the men that approached him. It was in that moment, after he saw that they were not backing down, that he decided to take matters into his own hand, striding tenebrously at them before close the distance between them and himself while his right hand tightened into a cropped fist that he prepared to launch right at the jaw of the taller of the two, who seemed to have some odd contraption on his leg. Yet, right as he straightened his back and prepared to release his gaulted-wearing fist against the other’s face…
Damocles stopped
Immediately, after seeing that odd brace in that leg, the Captain of the Damned froze his hand and stopped from landing his crunching punch at the other man’s jaw. And as he did so, his silver eyes instantaneously softened and became filled with unexpected amusement as Damocles recognized the man that he had almost knocked out with his fist. “Thras?” he asked in a moment of quiet disposition before his scowl turned into a grin. “Thras!” He called out once more, this time returning to his less threatening form as his deep, baritone voice processed the image in front of him better. “Fuck the Gods in Olympus up high! Thrasius of goddamned Aetaea!” Laughed Damocles uproariously as he turned his fist into an open handed palm and suddenly pulled the other man close to him in a hug that only denoted closeness and fraternity.
“You blasted moron! I’ve told you a hundred times never to show up when I’m commanding hahaha!” he once more laughed as he released the man and beamed at him like an old friend. His grin turned into a warm smile and his gestures relaxed in clear fashion as his forehead softened and his features returned to their handsome, un-intimidating form. “Same, my old friend same! What in the name of Tartarus are you doing in Taengea? How’s the wife, Lais? Last I saw you, the two of you were headed out towards another of your half-brained schemes!” he humorously inquired as he patted the strong-looking man in the back and acknowledged his words with a friendly look in his silver eyes.
“Kyros huh? Well, any friend of Thrasius is a friend of mine! Come, speak up boy, tell me about you!” Inquired Damocles as he looked down at the shortest of the three with a jovial tone to his smolderingly inquisitive tone. “Where are you from? Are you from these lands? If so, do you know any good drinking spaces? I fear I am but a stranger to this city.” He continued to cheer outgoingly as he looked at the other and sized him up, analyzing his demeanor, attitude and appearance in a matter of seconds before noticing the presence of another, third person, this one of a fairer, gentler sex.
“And who might this radiant creature be? Tell me girl, what is your name so that I might carve it up in the sky and let everyone else know about this most beautiful woman that I’ve must met?” he playfully asked with evident humor to his question as he once more kept his mesmerizing eyes on another person he just met. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Damocles, Captain of the Damned, Militant of Colchis, at your humble service.” He said, standing on ceremony as he casually bowed his head in a respectful manner that was expected of a man that had been accustomed to courtly interactions.
Deep down, though Damocles had been fast to welcome Thrasius into his welcoming embrace, the towering commander was not of a mind to allow his senses to dull in the presence of strangers. Of course he maintained his electric charisma and pressing charm, but as he was well-accustomed, just because another smiled did not mean they were friends immediately. Naturally, he was weary of the two that had appeared next to his long-unseen associate, but for the time being he had little reason to react in any way that was all but unfriendly or unkind. Coldness and rough, intensity was something he mostly reserved to his soldiers, not those whom he was studying and learning about.
Sure, he was excited to see the nomadic Athenian once more, but that did not discount from the growing skepticism that grew inside of the Colchian. Perhaps, it was mostly just a false sense of insecurity, and it would turn out that his innermost cynicism was only brewing inside of him as just another old habit of his. Then again, it never hurt to be too sure of the circumstances. Hence, though he manifested his extroverted side, Damocles still reserved his scruples, smiling and laughing in an unsuspicious manner as he kept musing the situation he found himself in. As far as he could tell, neither of the two strangers he had met had earned the right to earn his trust or confidence, and even if they did during his short stay in Taengea, the Silver-eyed militant knew better than to reveal more than was necessary. This was not the first time he had been amongst people he knew nothing about after all, and it certainly would not be the last.
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Throughout his military career as an officer of Colchis, Damocles had built his reputation not on his skill in combat or his blunt physical ability, though he did not lack in either, but rather on his talents for leadership and management. Prior to taking on the reins of power over his soldiers, the Damned of Magnemea had no prior laurels to them, and he had been determined to see that change. Of course, his methods might have been critiqued for being authoritarian and domineering, but that was the calculated price for being organized and efficient. In his tenure as Captain, he had forged a true, functioning unit out of the colossal, but incohesive mismatch of men and women he had been trusted to lead. Bribes and money no longer bought their way into his rank and file, and fixed promotions under his purview primarily pushed through distant family connections were all a thing of the past. Only talent and ability was to be the measure of one’s reach inasmuch as his authority stretched.
It was perhaps why his unit had risen to prominence and consideration. By only promoting men and women of merit, Damocles had made sure that only the best of the best he could find filled the ranks of his forces, regardless of sex and the circumstances of their birth. Of course, the risk of opening up such ladder was that anyone who had been overly ambitious enough to challenge him for the position of Captain could do so if they so wished. It had been a simple rule of his command. If any so elected to question his leadership they were most certainly welcomed to do so, for that was fair. Yet, anyone who had the gumption to do so must also have the ability to match such tenacious gumption, lest Damocles would have quashed his inner opposition and humiliate his underline. In some instances, he had even resorted to dismissal, which often followed shame and disappointment, but of course, one had to maintain order and control, lest disharmony and divisions were opened up.
And as he stood over the clattered mesh of soldiers amidst the sands of the resplendent, white beach, Damocles could not come up with a better system for managing his men. He barely had to issue words or commands to his lieutenants, for they already knew what was expected of them at all times, and if they forgot, their superior was ever-more than-than-happy to offer some form of recollection. His stare was felt precipitous and aggressive, learing over the confines of the mock battlefield whilst Attius stood there lazily by his side, barely making an effort at communication or small talk. It was better this way, when he was busy overseeing his men’s performance he was poised towards a singular purpose and would rather not let his mind waver elsewhere. Though he had promised his men the night for whatever reverie they so desired, it was still fair that he was just as intense as he had been beforehand. Days stranded by the rocking waves and shoddy ships would not dull his forces, and if they did, he would immediately sharpen his unit back, like a sword upon a whetstone.
As he was a bit preoccupied with supervising his forces under a short schedule, Damocles had allowed his lieutenants and senior personnel to use whatever means they thought so was necessary to maintain discipline and structure within the vast, diverse ranks. In particular, he had allowed the use of whips for the day, letting his subordinate issue lashes as they saw fit against any who broke rank and did as he so pleased. For the most part, he was pleased to see that few floggings had to be issued, with each time that one such was administered, the subjected soldier would come to heel and obey. There would be no respite or intermitted reprieves, Damocles had to run a tight ship and as such no expense or measure was to be spared, nor quarter given as the Damned of Magnemea rallied for the harrowing realities of war.
“Quit screwing around you scum-born, sons of whores! None of this was good enough! That was atrocious! Absolutely atrocious! We are soldiers of Greece! We do not fear death! We battle death! We dominate death! We fuck death! Each time we set our boots against foreign soil we carry the dignity and honor of our homeland on our backs. Yet what I see here are a bunch of spineless, stray dogs that don’t do honor to even their own piss and shit! None of you would do your own hands justice let alone survive a fleeting moment in the sands of Egypt! I want those spears gripped harder! I want those shields raised higher! I want those arrows shot faster! And I want those swords swung stronger! If any of you fails me one more time I will cut out your cocks, shove them right up your asses and fuck you so hard that not even Hades himself will be able to recognize your miserable, mangled soul in his damned kingdom of the dead! Am I clear! Am I understood? Yes! Then go and make some fucking sense of this arrant mess, you blabbering roaches!”
His angry, aggressive, biting words echoed through the sands, sending shivers down the back of his men as they received scathing criticism from their superior officer. Objectively, it might’ve seen as if it had been uncalled for, but to anyone who had even some remote idea of just how high Damocles’s standards were, it would’ve all seemed as just another instance of him being his usual, domineering self. With a jerk of his neck the dark armored clad commander dismissed the soldiers and had his lieutenants issue their commands as told. Evidently, it was obvious to see that Damocles appeared to be in a foul, terrible mood, what with his eyes leering explosively at the soldiers he had just scolded in public light in his signature dictatorial tone. Yet, as his ears perked up at the call of his name in an entirely informal way, Damocles felt the veins of his furrowed forehead bulge and thicken with simmering rage. Without recognizing the person who dared to address him in such informality, the fiery Captain of the Damned juddered his head at the direction with an uninviting scowl of his exasperated face.
“Soldiers!” He snarled gutturally. “Turn back to your post right this fucking minute or so help me Gods I will gouge your eyes out and force you to wear them round your necks!” He continued, rushing at the two individuals with the storming rage of a typhoon. “Was I not clear you prick-eating Centaurs? I said get back in line now!” He once more shouted down at the men that approached him. It was in that moment, after he saw that they were not backing down, that he decided to take matters into his own hand, striding tenebrously at them before close the distance between them and himself while his right hand tightened into a cropped fist that he prepared to launch right at the jaw of the taller of the two, who seemed to have some odd contraption on his leg. Yet, right as he straightened his back and prepared to release his gaulted-wearing fist against the other’s face…
Damocles stopped
Immediately, after seeing that odd brace in that leg, the Captain of the Damned froze his hand and stopped from landing his crunching punch at the other man’s jaw. And as he did so, his silver eyes instantaneously softened and became filled with unexpected amusement as Damocles recognized the man that he had almost knocked out with his fist. “Thras?” he asked in a moment of quiet disposition before his scowl turned into a grin. “Thras!” He called out once more, this time returning to his less threatening form as his deep, baritone voice processed the image in front of him better. “Fuck the Gods in Olympus up high! Thrasius of goddamned Aetaea!” Laughed Damocles uproariously as he turned his fist into an open handed palm and suddenly pulled the other man close to him in a hug that only denoted closeness and fraternity.
“You blasted moron! I’ve told you a hundred times never to show up when I’m commanding hahaha!” he once more laughed as he released the man and beamed at him like an old friend. His grin turned into a warm smile and his gestures relaxed in clear fashion as his forehead softened and his features returned to their handsome, un-intimidating form. “Same, my old friend same! What in the name of Tartarus are you doing in Taengea? How’s the wife, Lais? Last I saw you, the two of you were headed out towards another of your half-brained schemes!” he humorously inquired as he patted the strong-looking man in the back and acknowledged his words with a friendly look in his silver eyes.
“Kyros huh? Well, any friend of Thrasius is a friend of mine! Come, speak up boy, tell me about you!” Inquired Damocles as he looked down at the shortest of the three with a jovial tone to his smolderingly inquisitive tone. “Where are you from? Are you from these lands? If so, do you know any good drinking spaces? I fear I am but a stranger to this city.” He continued to cheer outgoingly as he looked at the other and sized him up, analyzing his demeanor, attitude and appearance in a matter of seconds before noticing the presence of another, third person, this one of a fairer, gentler sex.
“And who might this radiant creature be? Tell me girl, what is your name so that I might carve it up in the sky and let everyone else know about this most beautiful woman that I’ve must met?” he playfully asked with evident humor to his question as he once more kept his mesmerizing eyes on another person he just met. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Damocles, Captain of the Damned, Militant of Colchis, at your humble service.” He said, standing on ceremony as he casually bowed his head in a respectful manner that was expected of a man that had been accustomed to courtly interactions.
Deep down, though Damocles had been fast to welcome Thrasius into his welcoming embrace, the towering commander was not of a mind to allow his senses to dull in the presence of strangers. Of course he maintained his electric charisma and pressing charm, but as he was well-accustomed, just because another smiled did not mean they were friends immediately. Naturally, he was weary of the two that had appeared next to his long-unseen associate, but for the time being he had little reason to react in any way that was all but unfriendly or unkind. Coldness and rough, intensity was something he mostly reserved to his soldiers, not those whom he was studying and learning about.
Sure, he was excited to see the nomadic Athenian once more, but that did not discount from the growing skepticism that grew inside of the Colchian. Perhaps, it was mostly just a false sense of insecurity, and it would turn out that his innermost cynicism was only brewing inside of him as just another old habit of his. Then again, it never hurt to be too sure of the circumstances. Hence, though he manifested his extroverted side, Damocles still reserved his scruples, smiling and laughing in an unsuspicious manner as he kept musing the situation he found himself in. As far as he could tell, neither of the two strangers he had met had earned the right to earn his trust or confidence, and even if they did during his short stay in Taengea, the Silver-eyed militant knew better than to reveal more than was necessary. This was not the first time he had been amongst people he knew nothing about after all, and it certainly would not be the last.
Throughout his military career as an officer of Colchis, Damocles had built his reputation not on his skill in combat or his blunt physical ability, though he did not lack in either, but rather on his talents for leadership and management. Prior to taking on the reins of power over his soldiers, the Damned of Magnemea had no prior laurels to them, and he had been determined to see that change. Of course, his methods might have been critiqued for being authoritarian and domineering, but that was the calculated price for being organized and efficient. In his tenure as Captain, he had forged a true, functioning unit out of the colossal, but incohesive mismatch of men and women he had been trusted to lead. Bribes and money no longer bought their way into his rank and file, and fixed promotions under his purview primarily pushed through distant family connections were all a thing of the past. Only talent and ability was to be the measure of one’s reach inasmuch as his authority stretched.
It was perhaps why his unit had risen to prominence and consideration. By only promoting men and women of merit, Damocles had made sure that only the best of the best he could find filled the ranks of his forces, regardless of sex and the circumstances of their birth. Of course, the risk of opening up such ladder was that anyone who had been overly ambitious enough to challenge him for the position of Captain could do so if they so wished. It had been a simple rule of his command. If any so elected to question his leadership they were most certainly welcomed to do so, for that was fair. Yet, anyone who had the gumption to do so must also have the ability to match such tenacious gumption, lest Damocles would have quashed his inner opposition and humiliate his underline. In some instances, he had even resorted to dismissal, which often followed shame and disappointment, but of course, one had to maintain order and control, lest disharmony and divisions were opened up.
And as he stood over the clattered mesh of soldiers amidst the sands of the resplendent, white beach, Damocles could not come up with a better system for managing his men. He barely had to issue words or commands to his lieutenants, for they already knew what was expected of them at all times, and if they forgot, their superior was ever-more than-than-happy to offer some form of recollection. His stare was felt precipitous and aggressive, learing over the confines of the mock battlefield whilst Attius stood there lazily by his side, barely making an effort at communication or small talk. It was better this way, when he was busy overseeing his men’s performance he was poised towards a singular purpose and would rather not let his mind waver elsewhere. Though he had promised his men the night for whatever reverie they so desired, it was still fair that he was just as intense as he had been beforehand. Days stranded by the rocking waves and shoddy ships would not dull his forces, and if they did, he would immediately sharpen his unit back, like a sword upon a whetstone.
As he was a bit preoccupied with supervising his forces under a short schedule, Damocles had allowed his lieutenants and senior personnel to use whatever means they thought so was necessary to maintain discipline and structure within the vast, diverse ranks. In particular, he had allowed the use of whips for the day, letting his subordinate issue lashes as they saw fit against any who broke rank and did as he so pleased. For the most part, he was pleased to see that few floggings had to be issued, with each time that one such was administered, the subjected soldier would come to heel and obey. There would be no respite or intermitted reprieves, Damocles had to run a tight ship and as such no expense or measure was to be spared, nor quarter given as the Damned of Magnemea rallied for the harrowing realities of war.
“Quit screwing around you scum-born, sons of whores! None of this was good enough! That was atrocious! Absolutely atrocious! We are soldiers of Greece! We do not fear death! We battle death! We dominate death! We fuck death! Each time we set our boots against foreign soil we carry the dignity and honor of our homeland on our backs. Yet what I see here are a bunch of spineless, stray dogs that don’t do honor to even their own piss and shit! None of you would do your own hands justice let alone survive a fleeting moment in the sands of Egypt! I want those spears gripped harder! I want those shields raised higher! I want those arrows shot faster! And I want those swords swung stronger! If any of you fails me one more time I will cut out your cocks, shove them right up your asses and fuck you so hard that not even Hades himself will be able to recognize your miserable, mangled soul in his damned kingdom of the dead! Am I clear! Am I understood? Yes! Then go and make some fucking sense of this arrant mess, you blabbering roaches!”
His angry, aggressive, biting words echoed through the sands, sending shivers down the back of his men as they received scathing criticism from their superior officer. Objectively, it might’ve seen as if it had been uncalled for, but to anyone who had even some remote idea of just how high Damocles’s standards were, it would’ve all seemed as just another instance of him being his usual, domineering self. With a jerk of his neck the dark armored clad commander dismissed the soldiers and had his lieutenants issue their commands as told. Evidently, it was obvious to see that Damocles appeared to be in a foul, terrible mood, what with his eyes leering explosively at the soldiers he had just scolded in public light in his signature dictatorial tone. Yet, as his ears perked up at the call of his name in an entirely informal way, Damocles felt the veins of his furrowed forehead bulge and thicken with simmering rage. Without recognizing the person who dared to address him in such informality, the fiery Captain of the Damned juddered his head at the direction with an uninviting scowl of his exasperated face.
“Soldiers!” He snarled gutturally. “Turn back to your post right this fucking minute or so help me Gods I will gouge your eyes out and force you to wear them round your necks!” He continued, rushing at the two individuals with the storming rage of a typhoon. “Was I not clear you prick-eating Centaurs? I said get back in line now!” He once more shouted down at the men that approached him. It was in that moment, after he saw that they were not backing down, that he decided to take matters into his own hand, striding tenebrously at them before close the distance between them and himself while his right hand tightened into a cropped fist that he prepared to launch right at the jaw of the taller of the two, who seemed to have some odd contraption on his leg. Yet, right as he straightened his back and prepared to release his gaulted-wearing fist against the other’s face…
Damocles stopped
Immediately, after seeing that odd brace in that leg, the Captain of the Damned froze his hand and stopped from landing his crunching punch at the other man’s jaw. And as he did so, his silver eyes instantaneously softened and became filled with unexpected amusement as Damocles recognized the man that he had almost knocked out with his fist. “Thras?” he asked in a moment of quiet disposition before his scowl turned into a grin. “Thras!” He called out once more, this time returning to his less threatening form as his deep, baritone voice processed the image in front of him better. “Fuck the Gods in Olympus up high! Thrasius of goddamned Aetaea!” Laughed Damocles uproariously as he turned his fist into an open handed palm and suddenly pulled the other man close to him in a hug that only denoted closeness and fraternity.
“You blasted moron! I’ve told you a hundred times never to show up when I’m commanding hahaha!” he once more laughed as he released the man and beamed at him like an old friend. His grin turned into a warm smile and his gestures relaxed in clear fashion as his forehead softened and his features returned to their handsome, un-intimidating form. “Same, my old friend same! What in the name of Tartarus are you doing in Taengea? How’s the wife, Lais? Last I saw you, the two of you were headed out towards another of your half-brained schemes!” he humorously inquired as he patted the strong-looking man in the back and acknowledged his words with a friendly look in his silver eyes.
“Kyros huh? Well, any friend of Thrasius is a friend of mine! Come, speak up boy, tell me about you!” Inquired Damocles as he looked down at the shortest of the three with a jovial tone to his smolderingly inquisitive tone. “Where are you from? Are you from these lands? If so, do you know any good drinking spaces? I fear I am but a stranger to this city.” He continued to cheer outgoingly as he looked at the other and sized him up, analyzing his demeanor, attitude and appearance in a matter of seconds before noticing the presence of another, third person, this one of a fairer, gentler sex.
“And who might this radiant creature be? Tell me girl, what is your name so that I might carve it up in the sky and let everyone else know about this most beautiful woman that I’ve must met?” he playfully asked with evident humor to his question as he once more kept his mesmerizing eyes on another person he just met. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Damocles, Captain of the Damned, Militant of Colchis, at your humble service.” He said, standing on ceremony as he casually bowed his head in a respectful manner that was expected of a man that had been accustomed to courtly interactions.
Deep down, though Damocles had been fast to welcome Thrasius into his welcoming embrace, the towering commander was not of a mind to allow his senses to dull in the presence of strangers. Of course he maintained his electric charisma and pressing charm, but as he was well-accustomed, just because another smiled did not mean they were friends immediately. Naturally, he was weary of the two that had appeared next to his long-unseen associate, but for the time being he had little reason to react in any way that was all but unfriendly or unkind. Coldness and rough, intensity was something he mostly reserved to his soldiers, not those whom he was studying and learning about.
Sure, he was excited to see the nomadic Athenian once more, but that did not discount from the growing skepticism that grew inside of the Colchian. Perhaps, it was mostly just a false sense of insecurity, and it would turn out that his innermost cynicism was only brewing inside of him as just another old habit of his. Then again, it never hurt to be too sure of the circumstances. Hence, though he manifested his extroverted side, Damocles still reserved his scruples, smiling and laughing in an unsuspicious manner as he kept musing the situation he found himself in. As far as he could tell, neither of the two strangers he had met had earned the right to earn his trust or confidence, and even if they did during his short stay in Taengea, the Silver-eyed militant knew better than to reveal more than was necessary. This was not the first time he had been amongst people he knew nothing about after all, and it certainly would not be the last.
Interference was the biggest mistake that a manipulator could make. If you were an individual who liked to orchestrate events as you saw them and persuade eventualities to dovetail into the accountable results that you wished then it was a natural instinct to wish to step in upon every discussion and imply, implore or suggest incorrect pathways into the right routes. But it was an instinct that should be squelched and restrained. For it was the downfall of most would be machiavellians. Instead, it was important to be more an observer than a participant. To witness all that happened between those you could influence and then find a solitary moment in which any alterations needed and could be made. It didn't do to advertise in public that you liked to stick your nose in and bring her considerations to topics that were neither of your making nor business. Of this, Fotios was more than aware.
It was for this purpose that he played the role of meet and greet upon the Colchian visitors to the shorelines of Taengea but was also keeping an eye upon the young girl Xanthippe. His ward for many years and his daughter's maid, offered more responsibility and freedom as she had aged and grown used to masking the voices in her head, he held a semblance of trust where she was concerned. Her loyalty was without question but her abilities to maintain that control over the whispers of whom she believed to be the Gods was always a little fluid. And it concerned him to see her speaking with a man he had recently taken into his employ as a mercenary renegade of the Creed anarchists. He didn't need the two psychopaths in his life to start getting cosy in conversation he was not privy to.
Watching the pair and their companions from his peripheral vision, Fotios turned to the conversation at hand, offering the polites gestures, nods and words and then turning with a look of surprise that Georgios did not step forward to greet his future son-in-law. Allowing his brother to do as he willed - he knew that Georgios was not a fan of any of his daughters being betrothed out of the nest - he allowed everyone else to take the roles of significance in greeting the Colchian forces that would turn towards Egypt soon and support them in their efforts to the south.
When the king of Colchis himself joined them, Fotios offered a bow of more significance and murmured a respectful greeting and welcome to the Taengean lands. For whilst he held royal blood himself and the House of Leventi was a Dynasteia of its own, neither he nor his relatives ruled the kingdom of Taengea on paper. He was neither a monarch, nor a ruling house. And regardless of the king and prince's lands of rule being across the sea, their bloodline still beat in their veins. It was always good to show additional respect where needed... Yet, in keeping a step behind the Princess Xene he didn't overstep in insulting the royals from his own country. After all... interference was not the way to place yourself in a position of power...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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Interference was the biggest mistake that a manipulator could make. If you were an individual who liked to orchestrate events as you saw them and persuade eventualities to dovetail into the accountable results that you wished then it was a natural instinct to wish to step in upon every discussion and imply, implore or suggest incorrect pathways into the right routes. But it was an instinct that should be squelched and restrained. For it was the downfall of most would be machiavellians. Instead, it was important to be more an observer than a participant. To witness all that happened between those you could influence and then find a solitary moment in which any alterations needed and could be made. It didn't do to advertise in public that you liked to stick your nose in and bring her considerations to topics that were neither of your making nor business. Of this, Fotios was more than aware.
It was for this purpose that he played the role of meet and greet upon the Colchian visitors to the shorelines of Taengea but was also keeping an eye upon the young girl Xanthippe. His ward for many years and his daughter's maid, offered more responsibility and freedom as she had aged and grown used to masking the voices in her head, he held a semblance of trust where she was concerned. Her loyalty was without question but her abilities to maintain that control over the whispers of whom she believed to be the Gods was always a little fluid. And it concerned him to see her speaking with a man he had recently taken into his employ as a mercenary renegade of the Creed anarchists. He didn't need the two psychopaths in his life to start getting cosy in conversation he was not privy to.
Watching the pair and their companions from his peripheral vision, Fotios turned to the conversation at hand, offering the polites gestures, nods and words and then turning with a look of surprise that Georgios did not step forward to greet his future son-in-law. Allowing his brother to do as he willed - he knew that Georgios was not a fan of any of his daughters being betrothed out of the nest - he allowed everyone else to take the roles of significance in greeting the Colchian forces that would turn towards Egypt soon and support them in their efforts to the south.
When the king of Colchis himself joined them, Fotios offered a bow of more significance and murmured a respectful greeting and welcome to the Taengean lands. For whilst he held royal blood himself and the House of Leventi was a Dynasteia of its own, neither he nor his relatives ruled the kingdom of Taengea on paper. He was neither a monarch, nor a ruling house. And regardless of the king and prince's lands of rule being across the sea, their bloodline still beat in their veins. It was always good to show additional respect where needed... Yet, in keeping a step behind the Princess Xene he didn't overstep in insulting the royals from his own country. After all... interference was not the way to place yourself in a position of power...
Interference was the biggest mistake that a manipulator could make. If you were an individual who liked to orchestrate events as you saw them and persuade eventualities to dovetail into the accountable results that you wished then it was a natural instinct to wish to step in upon every discussion and imply, implore or suggest incorrect pathways into the right routes. But it was an instinct that should be squelched and restrained. For it was the downfall of most would be machiavellians. Instead, it was important to be more an observer than a participant. To witness all that happened between those you could influence and then find a solitary moment in which any alterations needed and could be made. It didn't do to advertise in public that you liked to stick your nose in and bring her considerations to topics that were neither of your making nor business. Of this, Fotios was more than aware.
It was for this purpose that he played the role of meet and greet upon the Colchian visitors to the shorelines of Taengea but was also keeping an eye upon the young girl Xanthippe. His ward for many years and his daughter's maid, offered more responsibility and freedom as she had aged and grown used to masking the voices in her head, he held a semblance of trust where she was concerned. Her loyalty was without question but her abilities to maintain that control over the whispers of whom she believed to be the Gods was always a little fluid. And it concerned him to see her speaking with a man he had recently taken into his employ as a mercenary renegade of the Creed anarchists. He didn't need the two psychopaths in his life to start getting cosy in conversation he was not privy to.
Watching the pair and their companions from his peripheral vision, Fotios turned to the conversation at hand, offering the polites gestures, nods and words and then turning with a look of surprise that Georgios did not step forward to greet his future son-in-law. Allowing his brother to do as he willed - he knew that Georgios was not a fan of any of his daughters being betrothed out of the nest - he allowed everyone else to take the roles of significance in greeting the Colchian forces that would turn towards Egypt soon and support them in their efforts to the south.
When the king of Colchis himself joined them, Fotios offered a bow of more significance and murmured a respectful greeting and welcome to the Taengean lands. For whilst he held royal blood himself and the House of Leventi was a Dynasteia of its own, neither he nor his relatives ruled the kingdom of Taengea on paper. He was neither a monarch, nor a ruling house. And regardless of the king and prince's lands of rule being across the sea, their bloodline still beat in their veins. It was always good to show additional respect where needed... Yet, in keeping a step behind the Princess Xene he didn't overstep in insulting the royals from his own country. After all... interference was not the way to place yourself in a position of power...
Not the finest at the social elements that other courtiers seemed to find so natural, Vangelis had addressed the small group that had accumulated as if it were a suit of armour he was applying to his body. First the most regal, then the initial speakers, then others of import. He addressed and answered and nodded and did what was technically right via etiquette rules - like he was following the process of helmet, greaves and weaponry - in a systematic checklist. It was both the only way that he could apply the lessons of etiquette in a manner that offended no-one and the only way that he particularly wanted to play the social game. He was a man of action, not subtlety, and he didn't wish to spend more time than necessarily performing civil niceties that were for no other purpose than to be able to say they had been done.
As such, in everything that he did, Vangelis help to his reputation as the Stone Prince. He did not truly smile in a way that was open and friendly and he didn't imbrue his words with a personal touch of character. Instead, he simply ticked the boxes necessary to say hello politely and then left the group to it.
One of the people he offered only the simplest of nods to was that of the man beside Lord Fotios. Whilst he had not known the identity of the man and not recognised his face from a lack of previous meeting, he could guess as much from his manner of standing and regality that he had to be one of the Head of House's brothers. And given the way that he assessed the Colchians - including their royal family - as they disembarked and came closer to the group, Vangelis had made the guess that he was Selene's father. Not knowing this to be certain - he did not wish to appear overtly friendly to the wrong brother - and having nothing to say to Lord Georgios regardless, Vangelis showed the man little by ways of greeting. For, from his perspective, Vangelis felt sure that Selene would have sent a missive via carrier to her father to explain the ended of their arrangement of marriage. He did not expect the man to wish to speak with him over such an awkward scenario and he was not about to force him to.
Instead, Vangelis' gaze fell upon a female figure not far away. His cousin Dorothea had come to the docks to greet the Colchians which Vangelis could see as a gesture of affection and gratitude for he knew that she normally resided in Meganea. With a shallow bow to his current company and noting that his father was present to speak with the leading figures of Taengea where needed, Vangelis excused himself in order to leave the group and head in that direction.
Given his height, it took Vangelis only a half dozen strides to come upon his cousin with a nod of greeting and perhaps the shadow of a smile to his face.
"Cousin Dorothea." He opened the discussion with, his mind already leaving the others of Taengean royalty behind. "It is good to see you once more..."
Not the greatest or most stimulating of conversations but then Vangelis had never been known for his skills in dialogue.
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Not the finest at the social elements that other courtiers seemed to find so natural, Vangelis had addressed the small group that had accumulated as if it were a suit of armour he was applying to his body. First the most regal, then the initial speakers, then others of import. He addressed and answered and nodded and did what was technically right via etiquette rules - like he was following the process of helmet, greaves and weaponry - in a systematic checklist. It was both the only way that he could apply the lessons of etiquette in a manner that offended no-one and the only way that he particularly wanted to play the social game. He was a man of action, not subtlety, and he didn't wish to spend more time than necessarily performing civil niceties that were for no other purpose than to be able to say they had been done.
As such, in everything that he did, Vangelis help to his reputation as the Stone Prince. He did not truly smile in a way that was open and friendly and he didn't imbrue his words with a personal touch of character. Instead, he simply ticked the boxes necessary to say hello politely and then left the group to it.
One of the people he offered only the simplest of nods to was that of the man beside Lord Fotios. Whilst he had not known the identity of the man and not recognised his face from a lack of previous meeting, he could guess as much from his manner of standing and regality that he had to be one of the Head of House's brothers. And given the way that he assessed the Colchians - including their royal family - as they disembarked and came closer to the group, Vangelis had made the guess that he was Selene's father. Not knowing this to be certain - he did not wish to appear overtly friendly to the wrong brother - and having nothing to say to Lord Georgios regardless, Vangelis showed the man little by ways of greeting. For, from his perspective, Vangelis felt sure that Selene would have sent a missive via carrier to her father to explain the ended of their arrangement of marriage. He did not expect the man to wish to speak with him over such an awkward scenario and he was not about to force him to.
Instead, Vangelis' gaze fell upon a female figure not far away. His cousin Dorothea had come to the docks to greet the Colchians which Vangelis could see as a gesture of affection and gratitude for he knew that she normally resided in Meganea. With a shallow bow to his current company and noting that his father was present to speak with the leading figures of Taengea where needed, Vangelis excused himself in order to leave the group and head in that direction.
Given his height, it took Vangelis only a half dozen strides to come upon his cousin with a nod of greeting and perhaps the shadow of a smile to his face.
"Cousin Dorothea." He opened the discussion with, his mind already leaving the others of Taengean royalty behind. "It is good to see you once more..."
Not the greatest or most stimulating of conversations but then Vangelis had never been known for his skills in dialogue.
Not the finest at the social elements that other courtiers seemed to find so natural, Vangelis had addressed the small group that had accumulated as if it were a suit of armour he was applying to his body. First the most regal, then the initial speakers, then others of import. He addressed and answered and nodded and did what was technically right via etiquette rules - like he was following the process of helmet, greaves and weaponry - in a systematic checklist. It was both the only way that he could apply the lessons of etiquette in a manner that offended no-one and the only way that he particularly wanted to play the social game. He was a man of action, not subtlety, and he didn't wish to spend more time than necessarily performing civil niceties that were for no other purpose than to be able to say they had been done.
As such, in everything that he did, Vangelis help to his reputation as the Stone Prince. He did not truly smile in a way that was open and friendly and he didn't imbrue his words with a personal touch of character. Instead, he simply ticked the boxes necessary to say hello politely and then left the group to it.
One of the people he offered only the simplest of nods to was that of the man beside Lord Fotios. Whilst he had not known the identity of the man and not recognised his face from a lack of previous meeting, he could guess as much from his manner of standing and regality that he had to be one of the Head of House's brothers. And given the way that he assessed the Colchians - including their royal family - as they disembarked and came closer to the group, Vangelis had made the guess that he was Selene's father. Not knowing this to be certain - he did not wish to appear overtly friendly to the wrong brother - and having nothing to say to Lord Georgios regardless, Vangelis showed the man little by ways of greeting. For, from his perspective, Vangelis felt sure that Selene would have sent a missive via carrier to her father to explain the ended of their arrangement of marriage. He did not expect the man to wish to speak with him over such an awkward scenario and he was not about to force him to.
Instead, Vangelis' gaze fell upon a female figure not far away. His cousin Dorothea had come to the docks to greet the Colchians which Vangelis could see as a gesture of affection and gratitude for he knew that she normally resided in Meganea. With a shallow bow to his current company and noting that his father was present to speak with the leading figures of Taengea where needed, Vangelis excused himself in order to leave the group and head in that direction.
Given his height, it took Vangelis only a half dozen strides to come upon his cousin with a nod of greeting and perhaps the shadow of a smile to his face.
"Cousin Dorothea." He opened the discussion with, his mind already leaving the others of Taengean royalty behind. "It is good to see you once more..."
Not the greatest or most stimulating of conversations but then Vangelis had never been known for his skills in dialogue.
The niceties being exchanged between the Colchian royals and the Taengean nobility come to greet them were far less entertaining that Silanos had hoped. No simmering anger from a wrathful father, no demands for an explanation. It was all rather dull, and there was nothing for him to do other than stand there and at least half pay attention to what was being said. He had learned fairly early on into his service to the Crown Prince that it didn’t do to let his attention wander, that no matter how irrelevant a conversation might seem to him, it didn’t mean that Vangelis wasn’t about to ask him a question about it, or something else inconvenient. And so it was that Silanos stood by and looked, doing his best not to look as bored as he felt as the small talk continued.
Aah, there was the second Princess. Sil let his gaze wander over them momentarily but quickly looked away again because princesses? More trouble than they were worth. The handmaid was pretty though. He wondered idly if there would be any time for recreation on this brief layover, and then frowned when he realised his initial craving was for rest rather than anything more fun. What was wrong with him?
The problem he’d found with time at sea was that there was far too much time to think. Even when he’d been set to work on the oars, the rhythmic nature of the labour left his mind too free to wander. That was why there was a letter tucked inside his belt that he wanted to send, that was why he couldn’t find his usual enthusiasm for flirtations with pretty girls. He kept thinking about Leto and the fact that she hadn’t shown up to see the boats off, wondering if she’d gotten the gift if he even should have sent it. At the time, under the influence of all that wine and with Myrrine talking about not leaving things too late it had seemed a fine idea. With all the days he’d had to think about it, he now wasn’t so sure.
Thinking about it has his gaze drift to where Maleos stood down the beach and Sil frowned. He would never have thought to consider the man a rival. Was that what this was? Gods, Sil rarely cared enough about any one thing to make rivalry a thing. He didn’t know that he liked it.
Still, it was that distraction that had him turn around to find Prince Vangelis gone, and the young Lord blinked at the spot he had been standing in, looking at the Taengeans and then the Colchian King briefly before his eyes lifted to find the Crown Prince a little way off, addressing a mousy looking girl. That left Sil wondering if he should scurry on over to hover by Vangelis there or just continue to stand where he was in front of the receiving committee, not saying anything. It didn’t help that King Tython was stood right there either: Silanos having deliberately kept out of his way since….since that unfortunate incident on the first day. Fuck.
Was he supposed to just trail after Vangelis like a lost puppy? Or...stay here and make small talk with… well, he vaguely recognised the Head of the Leventi House, and Nikos’ father and the Princesses. The older one of the two had always seemed a little aloof, but the younger, he was fairly certain he’d spoken to her at something he’d been to with Nikos. That didn’t mean she’d remember him though. Rocking back slightly on his heels, Sil shot her a hesitant smile.
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The niceties being exchanged between the Colchian royals and the Taengean nobility come to greet them were far less entertaining that Silanos had hoped. No simmering anger from a wrathful father, no demands for an explanation. It was all rather dull, and there was nothing for him to do other than stand there and at least half pay attention to what was being said. He had learned fairly early on into his service to the Crown Prince that it didn’t do to let his attention wander, that no matter how irrelevant a conversation might seem to him, it didn’t mean that Vangelis wasn’t about to ask him a question about it, or something else inconvenient. And so it was that Silanos stood by and looked, doing his best not to look as bored as he felt as the small talk continued.
Aah, there was the second Princess. Sil let his gaze wander over them momentarily but quickly looked away again because princesses? More trouble than they were worth. The handmaid was pretty though. He wondered idly if there would be any time for recreation on this brief layover, and then frowned when he realised his initial craving was for rest rather than anything more fun. What was wrong with him?
The problem he’d found with time at sea was that there was far too much time to think. Even when he’d been set to work on the oars, the rhythmic nature of the labour left his mind too free to wander. That was why there was a letter tucked inside his belt that he wanted to send, that was why he couldn’t find his usual enthusiasm for flirtations with pretty girls. He kept thinking about Leto and the fact that she hadn’t shown up to see the boats off, wondering if she’d gotten the gift if he even should have sent it. At the time, under the influence of all that wine and with Myrrine talking about not leaving things too late it had seemed a fine idea. With all the days he’d had to think about it, he now wasn’t so sure.
Thinking about it has his gaze drift to where Maleos stood down the beach and Sil frowned. He would never have thought to consider the man a rival. Was that what this was? Gods, Sil rarely cared enough about any one thing to make rivalry a thing. He didn’t know that he liked it.
Still, it was that distraction that had him turn around to find Prince Vangelis gone, and the young Lord blinked at the spot he had been standing in, looking at the Taengeans and then the Colchian King briefly before his eyes lifted to find the Crown Prince a little way off, addressing a mousy looking girl. That left Sil wondering if he should scurry on over to hover by Vangelis there or just continue to stand where he was in front of the receiving committee, not saying anything. It didn’t help that King Tython was stood right there either: Silanos having deliberately kept out of his way since….since that unfortunate incident on the first day. Fuck.
Was he supposed to just trail after Vangelis like a lost puppy? Or...stay here and make small talk with… well, he vaguely recognised the Head of the Leventi House, and Nikos’ father and the Princesses. The older one of the two had always seemed a little aloof, but the younger, he was fairly certain he’d spoken to her at something he’d been to with Nikos. That didn’t mean she’d remember him though. Rocking back slightly on his heels, Sil shot her a hesitant smile.
The niceties being exchanged between the Colchian royals and the Taengean nobility come to greet them were far less entertaining that Silanos had hoped. No simmering anger from a wrathful father, no demands for an explanation. It was all rather dull, and there was nothing for him to do other than stand there and at least half pay attention to what was being said. He had learned fairly early on into his service to the Crown Prince that it didn’t do to let his attention wander, that no matter how irrelevant a conversation might seem to him, it didn’t mean that Vangelis wasn’t about to ask him a question about it, or something else inconvenient. And so it was that Silanos stood by and looked, doing his best not to look as bored as he felt as the small talk continued.
Aah, there was the second Princess. Sil let his gaze wander over them momentarily but quickly looked away again because princesses? More trouble than they were worth. The handmaid was pretty though. He wondered idly if there would be any time for recreation on this brief layover, and then frowned when he realised his initial craving was for rest rather than anything more fun. What was wrong with him?
The problem he’d found with time at sea was that there was far too much time to think. Even when he’d been set to work on the oars, the rhythmic nature of the labour left his mind too free to wander. That was why there was a letter tucked inside his belt that he wanted to send, that was why he couldn’t find his usual enthusiasm for flirtations with pretty girls. He kept thinking about Leto and the fact that she hadn’t shown up to see the boats off, wondering if she’d gotten the gift if he even should have sent it. At the time, under the influence of all that wine and with Myrrine talking about not leaving things too late it had seemed a fine idea. With all the days he’d had to think about it, he now wasn’t so sure.
Thinking about it has his gaze drift to where Maleos stood down the beach and Sil frowned. He would never have thought to consider the man a rival. Was that what this was? Gods, Sil rarely cared enough about any one thing to make rivalry a thing. He didn’t know that he liked it.
Still, it was that distraction that had him turn around to find Prince Vangelis gone, and the young Lord blinked at the spot he had been standing in, looking at the Taengeans and then the Colchian King briefly before his eyes lifted to find the Crown Prince a little way off, addressing a mousy looking girl. That left Sil wondering if he should scurry on over to hover by Vangelis there or just continue to stand where he was in front of the receiving committee, not saying anything. It didn’t help that King Tython was stood right there either: Silanos having deliberately kept out of his way since….since that unfortunate incident on the first day. Fuck.
Was he supposed to just trail after Vangelis like a lost puppy? Or...stay here and make small talk with… well, he vaguely recognised the Head of the Leventi House, and Nikos’ father and the Princesses. The older one of the two had always seemed a little aloof, but the younger, he was fairly certain he’d spoken to her at something he’d been to with Nikos. That didn’t mean she’d remember him though. Rocking back slightly on his heels, Sil shot her a hesitant smile.
It was almost laughable, the way she felt awkward about him seeing her ankle. He had seen far more than her ankle, had kissed almost every inch of her body with little to no clothing on. For months, they’d been intimate together with no regard for others. He knew every dimple of her skin, every blemish and every little scar. There was no shame in his knowledge, and yet he had to pretend that it was. He didn’t want to pretend it had never happened. He didn’t want to act as if they were just relatives through marriage.
She had been his best friend.
His soul mate.
Now, he couldn’t even tease her about that.
With a smile, he stepped into the room. “It is alright, I suppose. You have much on your mind, as do we all.” There should have been a moment-- he could picture it in his mind, of him stepping up closer to her. He would lean down, kiss the delicate curve of her shoulder, then up the neck towards her ear before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. He could see himself brushing down the cloth to kiss the skin underneath it, doing the same to a curl that hid her ear. Each motion was familiar, things he had done prior to their ended affair, and he ached to do them again. He had always been an affectionate man-- it was the most difficult thing he had done in a while, not to reach out and touch her in the ways he had before.
Did she think of it? Of the way he had worshiped her body and soul? Of the hours they'd spent learning each curve of the other's body? Of the ways he had told her his darkest dreams and ambitions? Or did she just see the childish man who mourned a father in the other way he knew how-- an emotional rage.
Looking at her now, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. And it hurt to know that she had closed herself to him. But that was how it should have been, right? She had married his brother, regardless of what they had wanted.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the silence in the room was one that was unusual for the pair. Offering her his arm, Emilios waited as she slipped into him, as they had done dozens of times before. His body ached to turn into her, but instead he pulled her towards the front of the palati. “I've had our horses saddled, unless you would prefer a carriage. I do not wish to keep them waiting, and I know it has been a while since you last rode.” The pair took the well known path to the courtyard, where both horses had been saddled.
He had even made sure that her bow and quiver were attached to the saddle. Since the circus, he did not mind the idea of her being able to defend herself, if needed. “The choice is yours, My Queen.” He said gently, allowing her the option to do as she wished.
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It was almost laughable, the way she felt awkward about him seeing her ankle. He had seen far more than her ankle, had kissed almost every inch of her body with little to no clothing on. For months, they’d been intimate together with no regard for others. He knew every dimple of her skin, every blemish and every little scar. There was no shame in his knowledge, and yet he had to pretend that it was. He didn’t want to pretend it had never happened. He didn’t want to act as if they were just relatives through marriage.
She had been his best friend.
His soul mate.
Now, he couldn’t even tease her about that.
With a smile, he stepped into the room. “It is alright, I suppose. You have much on your mind, as do we all.” There should have been a moment-- he could picture it in his mind, of him stepping up closer to her. He would lean down, kiss the delicate curve of her shoulder, then up the neck towards her ear before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. He could see himself brushing down the cloth to kiss the skin underneath it, doing the same to a curl that hid her ear. Each motion was familiar, things he had done prior to their ended affair, and he ached to do them again. He had always been an affectionate man-- it was the most difficult thing he had done in a while, not to reach out and touch her in the ways he had before.
Did she think of it? Of the way he had worshiped her body and soul? Of the hours they'd spent learning each curve of the other's body? Of the ways he had told her his darkest dreams and ambitions? Or did she just see the childish man who mourned a father in the other way he knew how-- an emotional rage.
Looking at her now, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. And it hurt to know that she had closed herself to him. But that was how it should have been, right? She had married his brother, regardless of what they had wanted.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the silence in the room was one that was unusual for the pair. Offering her his arm, Emilios waited as she slipped into him, as they had done dozens of times before. His body ached to turn into her, but instead he pulled her towards the front of the palati. “I've had our horses saddled, unless you would prefer a carriage. I do not wish to keep them waiting, and I know it has been a while since you last rode.” The pair took the well known path to the courtyard, where both horses had been saddled.
He had even made sure that her bow and quiver were attached to the saddle. Since the circus, he did not mind the idea of her being able to defend herself, if needed. “The choice is yours, My Queen.” He said gently, allowing her the option to do as she wished.
It was almost laughable, the way she felt awkward about him seeing her ankle. He had seen far more than her ankle, had kissed almost every inch of her body with little to no clothing on. For months, they’d been intimate together with no regard for others. He knew every dimple of her skin, every blemish and every little scar. There was no shame in his knowledge, and yet he had to pretend that it was. He didn’t want to pretend it had never happened. He didn’t want to act as if they were just relatives through marriage.
She had been his best friend.
His soul mate.
Now, he couldn’t even tease her about that.
With a smile, he stepped into the room. “It is alright, I suppose. You have much on your mind, as do we all.” There should have been a moment-- he could picture it in his mind, of him stepping up closer to her. He would lean down, kiss the delicate curve of her shoulder, then up the neck towards her ear before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. He could see himself brushing down the cloth to kiss the skin underneath it, doing the same to a curl that hid her ear. Each motion was familiar, things he had done prior to their ended affair, and he ached to do them again. He had always been an affectionate man-- it was the most difficult thing he had done in a while, not to reach out and touch her in the ways he had before.
Did she think of it? Of the way he had worshiped her body and soul? Of the hours they'd spent learning each curve of the other's body? Of the ways he had told her his darkest dreams and ambitions? Or did she just see the childish man who mourned a father in the other way he knew how-- an emotional rage.
Looking at her now, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. And it hurt to know that she had closed herself to him. But that was how it should have been, right? She had married his brother, regardless of what they had wanted.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the silence in the room was one that was unusual for the pair. Offering her his arm, Emilios waited as she slipped into him, as they had done dozens of times before. His body ached to turn into her, but instead he pulled her towards the front of the palati. “I've had our horses saddled, unless you would prefer a carriage. I do not wish to keep them waiting, and I know it has been a while since you last rode.” The pair took the well known path to the courtyard, where both horses had been saddled.
He had even made sure that her bow and quiver were attached to the saddle. Since the circus, he did not mind the idea of her being able to defend herself, if needed. “The choice is yours, My Queen.” He said gently, allowing her the option to do as she wished.
Thrasius was surprised when Damo started yelling at them and nearly took a swing at him, but he saw the moment that the other clued in and realized who it was who was speaking to him. He trusted that his friend would not have hit him, and as such he hadn’t flinched or anything. Had he been hit, he wouldn’t have been upset with the other either, he could imagine that Damo didn’t plan on seeing any friends here upon this beach, let alone Thrasius, a man who he had met in Colchis years ago. Thras also had not planned on seeing Damocles upon the beach, and yet here they both were.
He laughed a bit when the other scolded him for showing up when he was commanding.
“It was not my intent, but upon seeing my friend here and now, I couldn’t pass up the chance at greeting you once more. I assume you are off to fight in this war then? A truly loyal man of Greece.” He said, patting his friend on the back when they embraced. When the hug broke, he stepped back to a normal distance, grin still on his face as Damocles asked after his wife and why he was there.
“You know us, never in one place for long. We found our way around Colchis, and once we had seen all there was to see, we moved on.” He said simply, shrugging. They had seen Athenia, they had seen Colchis, and now here they were in Taengea. The next plan was to move on across the seas, but considering the war that was about to rage, he wasn’t sure that they would make it there any time soon.
“Lais is good, she’s currently working a job, and as such I have been left to wander on my own, despite the dangers that poses.” He teased. He had gotten himself into some stuff in the past, but Lais had kept him out of trouble for the most part. He tried to be on good behaviour with out her around, but sometimes adventures just seemed to find him.
If he was being honest, he hadn’t been paying much attention after he spotted Damocles, and he had been oblivious to the woman and her approach, despite the fact that she had spoken to him and Kyros.
“I uh...” He shrugged, looking from the woman to Damocles and back.
“Apologies my lady, I did not catch your name.” He said, embarrassed at his inattentiveness. Normally he was much more on the ball when it came to noticing people, but the distraction of seeing his friend had narrowed his vision.
“We do not mean to distract you from your work, Damocles. I simply wanted to come and greet you, as it has been far too long since we have seen each other. And wish you well upon your journey, though I hold faith in your skills and do not think you need my well wishes.” He said with a chuckle.
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Thrasius was surprised when Damo started yelling at them and nearly took a swing at him, but he saw the moment that the other clued in and realized who it was who was speaking to him. He trusted that his friend would not have hit him, and as such he hadn’t flinched or anything. Had he been hit, he wouldn’t have been upset with the other either, he could imagine that Damo didn’t plan on seeing any friends here upon this beach, let alone Thrasius, a man who he had met in Colchis years ago. Thras also had not planned on seeing Damocles upon the beach, and yet here they both were.
He laughed a bit when the other scolded him for showing up when he was commanding.
“It was not my intent, but upon seeing my friend here and now, I couldn’t pass up the chance at greeting you once more. I assume you are off to fight in this war then? A truly loyal man of Greece.” He said, patting his friend on the back when they embraced. When the hug broke, he stepped back to a normal distance, grin still on his face as Damocles asked after his wife and why he was there.
“You know us, never in one place for long. We found our way around Colchis, and once we had seen all there was to see, we moved on.” He said simply, shrugging. They had seen Athenia, they had seen Colchis, and now here they were in Taengea. The next plan was to move on across the seas, but considering the war that was about to rage, he wasn’t sure that they would make it there any time soon.
“Lais is good, she’s currently working a job, and as such I have been left to wander on my own, despite the dangers that poses.” He teased. He had gotten himself into some stuff in the past, but Lais had kept him out of trouble for the most part. He tried to be on good behaviour with out her around, but sometimes adventures just seemed to find him.
If he was being honest, he hadn’t been paying much attention after he spotted Damocles, and he had been oblivious to the woman and her approach, despite the fact that she had spoken to him and Kyros.
“I uh...” He shrugged, looking from the woman to Damocles and back.
“Apologies my lady, I did not catch your name.” He said, embarrassed at his inattentiveness. Normally he was much more on the ball when it came to noticing people, but the distraction of seeing his friend had narrowed his vision.
“We do not mean to distract you from your work, Damocles. I simply wanted to come and greet you, as it has been far too long since we have seen each other. And wish you well upon your journey, though I hold faith in your skills and do not think you need my well wishes.” He said with a chuckle.
Thrasius was surprised when Damo started yelling at them and nearly took a swing at him, but he saw the moment that the other clued in and realized who it was who was speaking to him. He trusted that his friend would not have hit him, and as such he hadn’t flinched or anything. Had he been hit, he wouldn’t have been upset with the other either, he could imagine that Damo didn’t plan on seeing any friends here upon this beach, let alone Thrasius, a man who he had met in Colchis years ago. Thras also had not planned on seeing Damocles upon the beach, and yet here they both were.
He laughed a bit when the other scolded him for showing up when he was commanding.
“It was not my intent, but upon seeing my friend here and now, I couldn’t pass up the chance at greeting you once more. I assume you are off to fight in this war then? A truly loyal man of Greece.” He said, patting his friend on the back when they embraced. When the hug broke, he stepped back to a normal distance, grin still on his face as Damocles asked after his wife and why he was there.
“You know us, never in one place for long. We found our way around Colchis, and once we had seen all there was to see, we moved on.” He said simply, shrugging. They had seen Athenia, they had seen Colchis, and now here they were in Taengea. The next plan was to move on across the seas, but considering the war that was about to rage, he wasn’t sure that they would make it there any time soon.
“Lais is good, she’s currently working a job, and as such I have been left to wander on my own, despite the dangers that poses.” He teased. He had gotten himself into some stuff in the past, but Lais had kept him out of trouble for the most part. He tried to be on good behaviour with out her around, but sometimes adventures just seemed to find him.
If he was being honest, he hadn’t been paying much attention after he spotted Damocles, and he had been oblivious to the woman and her approach, despite the fact that she had spoken to him and Kyros.
“I uh...” He shrugged, looking from the woman to Damocles and back.
“Apologies my lady, I did not catch your name.” He said, embarrassed at his inattentiveness. Normally he was much more on the ball when it came to noticing people, but the distraction of seeing his friend had narrowed his vision.
“We do not mean to distract you from your work, Damocles. I simply wanted to come and greet you, as it has been far too long since we have seen each other. And wish you well upon your journey, though I hold faith in your skills and do not think you need my well wishes.” He said with a chuckle.
Theo had spent more time than she dared to admit in the company of the handsome man standing at the threshold of her quarters, and so it was far too easy to detect that glimmer of suppressed amusement in his bright blue eyes. She had to bite her bottom lip to hide a smile of her own, an automatic response that seemed to happen whenever he looked at her with that almost impish expression on his face.
Yes, she supposed, it might be just a tad foolish to be embarrassed by skirts hitched up only to her knees, when he had seen every inch of her body.
Why was it that her old habits always seemed to resurface in his presence? Why was it that, despite everything, her mind seemed to immediately assume that he would slink into the room and lock the door in his wake? That they would tumble into the bed together and enjoy even just a brief moment of stolen time? She could remember his touch with striking clarity, as though each encounter had been burned into her skin; her body tingled with anticipation as he stepped into the room, and she had to fight to remind herself that she was married - and to his brother, no less.
What was he saying - that she had a lot on her mind? He certainly wasn’t wrong, but somehow she doubted he guessed exactly what was on her mind in that moment. Perhaps the faint flush of colour in her cheeks would give away her train of thought, or perhaps - if she were lucky - he would mistake it for something else.
The silence that had settled between them was uncomfortable, she could feel it - and she did not like it one bit. In spite of everything, they had been friends, once upon a time; and she found, more than anything else, she missed that. It had been such a comfort to have someone that she could tell anything and everything to, without a fear of being judged. No matter her affections towards Achilleas, that was one thing they still did not share; though she told herself it would be achieved through time. A bond like that could not be forced - nor could it be destroyed once it had been made.
Or, at least, she hoped not...but when Emilios offered her his arm, she hesitated in taking it; something that, before, she would never have thought twice about.
It was with a deep, steadying inhalation that she looped her arm through his, her body instinctively turning in towards him as she allowed him to lead her from her quarters. It was a challenge to be so close to him without being intimate in the way they had been before. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at him up through her dark lashes, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the gleam of his bright eyes, the dark colour of his hair against his pale skin; but only when she knew he wouldn’t catch her looking!
“Thank you. I think horseback should be just fine, no need for the carriage.”
She had been initially pleased by the idea of riding horseback again, but it was the sight of the horses awaiting them that had a genuine smile breaking out across her pretty face. She knew without asking that he was responsible for her bow and quiver attached to the saddle of her horse - and it thrilled her to know that he was actually encouraging her, in his own way, to be able to defend herself if the need arose. Glancing up at him, Theo offered him her warmest smile, murmuring as earnestly as she could muster, “Thank you, I truly appreciate this.”
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Theo had spent more time than she dared to admit in the company of the handsome man standing at the threshold of her quarters, and so it was far too easy to detect that glimmer of suppressed amusement in his bright blue eyes. She had to bite her bottom lip to hide a smile of her own, an automatic response that seemed to happen whenever he looked at her with that almost impish expression on his face.
Yes, she supposed, it might be just a tad foolish to be embarrassed by skirts hitched up only to her knees, when he had seen every inch of her body.
Why was it that her old habits always seemed to resurface in his presence? Why was it that, despite everything, her mind seemed to immediately assume that he would slink into the room and lock the door in his wake? That they would tumble into the bed together and enjoy even just a brief moment of stolen time? She could remember his touch with striking clarity, as though each encounter had been burned into her skin; her body tingled with anticipation as he stepped into the room, and she had to fight to remind herself that she was married - and to his brother, no less.
What was he saying - that she had a lot on her mind? He certainly wasn’t wrong, but somehow she doubted he guessed exactly what was on her mind in that moment. Perhaps the faint flush of colour in her cheeks would give away her train of thought, or perhaps - if she were lucky - he would mistake it for something else.
The silence that had settled between them was uncomfortable, she could feel it - and she did not like it one bit. In spite of everything, they had been friends, once upon a time; and she found, more than anything else, she missed that. It had been such a comfort to have someone that she could tell anything and everything to, without a fear of being judged. No matter her affections towards Achilleas, that was one thing they still did not share; though she told herself it would be achieved through time. A bond like that could not be forced - nor could it be destroyed once it had been made.
Or, at least, she hoped not...but when Emilios offered her his arm, she hesitated in taking it; something that, before, she would never have thought twice about.
It was with a deep, steadying inhalation that she looped her arm through his, her body instinctively turning in towards him as she allowed him to lead her from her quarters. It was a challenge to be so close to him without being intimate in the way they had been before. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at him up through her dark lashes, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the gleam of his bright eyes, the dark colour of his hair against his pale skin; but only when she knew he wouldn’t catch her looking!
“Thank you. I think horseback should be just fine, no need for the carriage.”
She had been initially pleased by the idea of riding horseback again, but it was the sight of the horses awaiting them that had a genuine smile breaking out across her pretty face. She knew without asking that he was responsible for her bow and quiver attached to the saddle of her horse - and it thrilled her to know that he was actually encouraging her, in his own way, to be able to defend herself if the need arose. Glancing up at him, Theo offered him her warmest smile, murmuring as earnestly as she could muster, “Thank you, I truly appreciate this.”
Theo had spent more time than she dared to admit in the company of the handsome man standing at the threshold of her quarters, and so it was far too easy to detect that glimmer of suppressed amusement in his bright blue eyes. She had to bite her bottom lip to hide a smile of her own, an automatic response that seemed to happen whenever he looked at her with that almost impish expression on his face.
Yes, she supposed, it might be just a tad foolish to be embarrassed by skirts hitched up only to her knees, when he had seen every inch of her body.
Why was it that her old habits always seemed to resurface in his presence? Why was it that, despite everything, her mind seemed to immediately assume that he would slink into the room and lock the door in his wake? That they would tumble into the bed together and enjoy even just a brief moment of stolen time? She could remember his touch with striking clarity, as though each encounter had been burned into her skin; her body tingled with anticipation as he stepped into the room, and she had to fight to remind herself that she was married - and to his brother, no less.
What was he saying - that she had a lot on her mind? He certainly wasn’t wrong, but somehow she doubted he guessed exactly what was on her mind in that moment. Perhaps the faint flush of colour in her cheeks would give away her train of thought, or perhaps - if she were lucky - he would mistake it for something else.
The silence that had settled between them was uncomfortable, she could feel it - and she did not like it one bit. In spite of everything, they had been friends, once upon a time; and she found, more than anything else, she missed that. It had been such a comfort to have someone that she could tell anything and everything to, without a fear of being judged. No matter her affections towards Achilleas, that was one thing they still did not share; though she told herself it would be achieved through time. A bond like that could not be forced - nor could it be destroyed once it had been made.
Or, at least, she hoped not...but when Emilios offered her his arm, she hesitated in taking it; something that, before, she would never have thought twice about.
It was with a deep, steadying inhalation that she looped her arm through his, her body instinctively turning in towards him as she allowed him to lead her from her quarters. It was a challenge to be so close to him without being intimate in the way they had been before. Occasionally, she would steal a glance at him up through her dark lashes, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the gleam of his bright eyes, the dark colour of his hair against his pale skin; but only when she knew he wouldn’t catch her looking!
“Thank you. I think horseback should be just fine, no need for the carriage.”
She had been initially pleased by the idea of riding horseback again, but it was the sight of the horses awaiting them that had a genuine smile breaking out across her pretty face. She knew without asking that he was responsible for her bow and quiver attached to the saddle of her horse - and it thrilled her to know that he was actually encouraging her, in his own way, to be able to defend herself if the need arose. Glancing up at him, Theo offered him her warmest smile, murmuring as earnestly as she could muster, “Thank you, I truly appreciate this.”
Dorothea wasn’t sure what it was that had her moving from her position on the walls down to where others were gathering. She wasn’t interested in conversing with people as such, but supposed it was a better place to see and hear what was going on. She spotted her cousin, the prince, as he spoke with a cluster of people around him. It seemed to be much of the formal greeting type that Dorothea detested, so she stayed back. If he saw her, then of course she would greet him, but the young woman wasn’t about to join that crowd that was gathering.
Then, behind him, she saw her uncle approach. She had not seen the man in many years, but his resemblance to his family was such that she could guess his identity. Dorothea wondered if she should greet him as well, but figured that could be left for later if necessary. Certainly he had plenty of other things to worry about.
In her observance of the king’s arrival, it took Dorothea a moment to realize that Vangelis had left the gathering group and was quickly upon her. She smiled at his greeting, bobbing slightly in return. “Welcome back to Taengea, cousin,” she greeted, genuinely happy to see him, though the circumstances were less than ideal. Their match during his last visit had left her with a rather favorable impression of the man and she found herself enjoying his company during their stay.
“You as well,” she responded, “Though I wish it was for a different reason.” Although Dorothea utilized a weapon of war, she was still formulating her opinion on war itself. She could understand reasons both for and against it. Every book she had read offered some justice in either direction. For their peoples, it had long been a way of life. However, she was hard pressed to understand the senseless loss of life. She had taken the life of many creatures, but it had always been in some higher purpose. The creature fed, clothed, sustained her and her family. There was an honor and purpose in that death. Dorothea felt that could not be said of war. However, despite that opinion, she let herself open to further understanding. A book could only teach her so much. What would it be like to actually experience it? Dorothea would not know, but the man standing next to her would.
Not that she intended to ask him about it in this moment, before they set sail for more war. “Would you care to stretch your feet?” she asked, uncertain if he had just come to greet her and had other duties to attend to or if they had a moment to catch up. She was curious about their war plans, but also wanted to know what had changed since he had left. “How is your sister? I miss having her as my pupil.”
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Dorothea wasn’t sure what it was that had her moving from her position on the walls down to where others were gathering. She wasn’t interested in conversing with people as such, but supposed it was a better place to see and hear what was going on. She spotted her cousin, the prince, as he spoke with a cluster of people around him. It seemed to be much of the formal greeting type that Dorothea detested, so she stayed back. If he saw her, then of course she would greet him, but the young woman wasn’t about to join that crowd that was gathering.
Then, behind him, she saw her uncle approach. She had not seen the man in many years, but his resemblance to his family was such that she could guess his identity. Dorothea wondered if she should greet him as well, but figured that could be left for later if necessary. Certainly he had plenty of other things to worry about.
In her observance of the king’s arrival, it took Dorothea a moment to realize that Vangelis had left the gathering group and was quickly upon her. She smiled at his greeting, bobbing slightly in return. “Welcome back to Taengea, cousin,” she greeted, genuinely happy to see him, though the circumstances were less than ideal. Their match during his last visit had left her with a rather favorable impression of the man and she found herself enjoying his company during their stay.
“You as well,” she responded, “Though I wish it was for a different reason.” Although Dorothea utilized a weapon of war, she was still formulating her opinion on war itself. She could understand reasons both for and against it. Every book she had read offered some justice in either direction. For their peoples, it had long been a way of life. However, she was hard pressed to understand the senseless loss of life. She had taken the life of many creatures, but it had always been in some higher purpose. The creature fed, clothed, sustained her and her family. There was an honor and purpose in that death. Dorothea felt that could not be said of war. However, despite that opinion, she let herself open to further understanding. A book could only teach her so much. What would it be like to actually experience it? Dorothea would not know, but the man standing next to her would.
Not that she intended to ask him about it in this moment, before they set sail for more war. “Would you care to stretch your feet?” she asked, uncertain if he had just come to greet her and had other duties to attend to or if they had a moment to catch up. She was curious about their war plans, but also wanted to know what had changed since he had left. “How is your sister? I miss having her as my pupil.”
Dorothea wasn’t sure what it was that had her moving from her position on the walls down to where others were gathering. She wasn’t interested in conversing with people as such, but supposed it was a better place to see and hear what was going on. She spotted her cousin, the prince, as he spoke with a cluster of people around him. It seemed to be much of the formal greeting type that Dorothea detested, so she stayed back. If he saw her, then of course she would greet him, but the young woman wasn’t about to join that crowd that was gathering.
Then, behind him, she saw her uncle approach. She had not seen the man in many years, but his resemblance to his family was such that she could guess his identity. Dorothea wondered if she should greet him as well, but figured that could be left for later if necessary. Certainly he had plenty of other things to worry about.
In her observance of the king’s arrival, it took Dorothea a moment to realize that Vangelis had left the gathering group and was quickly upon her. She smiled at his greeting, bobbing slightly in return. “Welcome back to Taengea, cousin,” she greeted, genuinely happy to see him, though the circumstances were less than ideal. Their match during his last visit had left her with a rather favorable impression of the man and she found herself enjoying his company during their stay.
“You as well,” she responded, “Though I wish it was for a different reason.” Although Dorothea utilized a weapon of war, she was still formulating her opinion on war itself. She could understand reasons both for and against it. Every book she had read offered some justice in either direction. For their peoples, it had long been a way of life. However, she was hard pressed to understand the senseless loss of life. She had taken the life of many creatures, but it had always been in some higher purpose. The creature fed, clothed, sustained her and her family. There was an honor and purpose in that death. Dorothea felt that could not be said of war. However, despite that opinion, she let herself open to further understanding. A book could only teach her so much. What would it be like to actually experience it? Dorothea would not know, but the man standing next to her would.
Not that she intended to ask him about it in this moment, before they set sail for more war. “Would you care to stretch your feet?” she asked, uncertain if he had just come to greet her and had other duties to attend to or if they had a moment to catch up. She was curious about their war plans, but also wanted to know what had changed since he had left. “How is your sister? I miss having her as my pupil.”
For all that the country was abuzz about war and its impending consequences, Eleni’s life was rather unchanged. Wine still flowed and she still passed her time in a haze of drunkenness and on occasion in Nikos’s bed. It still baffled her sometimes that had begun, but ultimately, she kept going back. He was a good lover and it kept her from going to bed alone more often than not. At least with him, there was no risk to her heart. She didn’t need to overthink things with him - they could just let go of it all and give in to what felt good between them.
Today she was avoiding her mother, as per usual, by wandering through the marketplace. At least until she had gotten bored of looking at items that didn’t excite her. It seemed to early in the day to take up her usual spot in the tavern - at least not without looking pathetic. So she had found herself wandering towards the city walls. Along with being built higher, there were extra guard patrols as well. Perhaps she could find a handsome one or two to flirt with. That might pass the time.
As she neared however, a more exciting sight caught her eye. A dozen or so ships making port. For a moment as she saw soldiers disembark onto the shores, she idly wondered if the King had already returned. However, a familiar flash of red caught her eye. A Colchian flag.
Now that was far more exciting than she could have predicted.
Her pace quickened with excitement as she approached where people were gathering - both the Colchians eager to be on land once more and the Taengeans happy to welcome them for a short time. For a moment, she could only think of the one person who had mattered most to her since that night her world was shattered. The Colchian man who she saw far too much of herself in. She knew he wouldn’t be present on a war ship - he wasn’t the warrior sort. Yet she had missed him more than she thought possible in the months since he had returned to his homeland.
These thoughts slowed her steps momentarily before she pushed them from her mind. She wasn’t going to dwell on such things. Not when something so exciting was happening right before her. She paused to the side of the crowd, recognizing first the Princesses of Taengea. A few other royals were nearby, so she could only guess that the men they spoke to were likely royals of Colchis. Far too rich for her blood. She wasn’t looking for an exercise in ettiquette. She was hoping for excitement.
What she wasn’t expecting was to see a young man who looked the spitting image of Silanos. The resemblance was uncanny truly. She might have attributed it to the influence of wine, but she was stone sober. Perhaps it was a brother? She remembered him mentioning a brother. She moved slightly closer as the man in question looked after another who had walked away to greet one of the Dimitrou girls. But the closer she looked, the more she could swear that was her friend himself in the flesh.
Without thinking, she moved close enough to call out. “Silanos? Do my eyes deceive me or is that truly you?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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For all that the country was abuzz about war and its impending consequences, Eleni’s life was rather unchanged. Wine still flowed and she still passed her time in a haze of drunkenness and on occasion in Nikos’s bed. It still baffled her sometimes that had begun, but ultimately, she kept going back. He was a good lover and it kept her from going to bed alone more often than not. At least with him, there was no risk to her heart. She didn’t need to overthink things with him - they could just let go of it all and give in to what felt good between them.
Today she was avoiding her mother, as per usual, by wandering through the marketplace. At least until she had gotten bored of looking at items that didn’t excite her. It seemed to early in the day to take up her usual spot in the tavern - at least not without looking pathetic. So she had found herself wandering towards the city walls. Along with being built higher, there were extra guard patrols as well. Perhaps she could find a handsome one or two to flirt with. That might pass the time.
As she neared however, a more exciting sight caught her eye. A dozen or so ships making port. For a moment as she saw soldiers disembark onto the shores, she idly wondered if the King had already returned. However, a familiar flash of red caught her eye. A Colchian flag.
Now that was far more exciting than she could have predicted.
Her pace quickened with excitement as she approached where people were gathering - both the Colchians eager to be on land once more and the Taengeans happy to welcome them for a short time. For a moment, she could only think of the one person who had mattered most to her since that night her world was shattered. The Colchian man who she saw far too much of herself in. She knew he wouldn’t be present on a war ship - he wasn’t the warrior sort. Yet she had missed him more than she thought possible in the months since he had returned to his homeland.
These thoughts slowed her steps momentarily before she pushed them from her mind. She wasn’t going to dwell on such things. Not when something so exciting was happening right before her. She paused to the side of the crowd, recognizing first the Princesses of Taengea. A few other royals were nearby, so she could only guess that the men they spoke to were likely royals of Colchis. Far too rich for her blood. She wasn’t looking for an exercise in ettiquette. She was hoping for excitement.
What she wasn’t expecting was to see a young man who looked the spitting image of Silanos. The resemblance was uncanny truly. She might have attributed it to the influence of wine, but she was stone sober. Perhaps it was a brother? She remembered him mentioning a brother. She moved slightly closer as the man in question looked after another who had walked away to greet one of the Dimitrou girls. But the closer she looked, the more she could swear that was her friend himself in the flesh.
Without thinking, she moved close enough to call out. “Silanos? Do my eyes deceive me or is that truly you?”
For all that the country was abuzz about war and its impending consequences, Eleni’s life was rather unchanged. Wine still flowed and she still passed her time in a haze of drunkenness and on occasion in Nikos’s bed. It still baffled her sometimes that had begun, but ultimately, she kept going back. He was a good lover and it kept her from going to bed alone more often than not. At least with him, there was no risk to her heart. She didn’t need to overthink things with him - they could just let go of it all and give in to what felt good between them.
Today she was avoiding her mother, as per usual, by wandering through the marketplace. At least until she had gotten bored of looking at items that didn’t excite her. It seemed to early in the day to take up her usual spot in the tavern - at least not without looking pathetic. So she had found herself wandering towards the city walls. Along with being built higher, there were extra guard patrols as well. Perhaps she could find a handsome one or two to flirt with. That might pass the time.
As she neared however, a more exciting sight caught her eye. A dozen or so ships making port. For a moment as she saw soldiers disembark onto the shores, she idly wondered if the King had already returned. However, a familiar flash of red caught her eye. A Colchian flag.
Now that was far more exciting than she could have predicted.
Her pace quickened with excitement as she approached where people were gathering - both the Colchians eager to be on land once more and the Taengeans happy to welcome them for a short time. For a moment, she could only think of the one person who had mattered most to her since that night her world was shattered. The Colchian man who she saw far too much of herself in. She knew he wouldn’t be present on a war ship - he wasn’t the warrior sort. Yet she had missed him more than she thought possible in the months since he had returned to his homeland.
These thoughts slowed her steps momentarily before she pushed them from her mind. She wasn’t going to dwell on such things. Not when something so exciting was happening right before her. She paused to the side of the crowd, recognizing first the Princesses of Taengea. A few other royals were nearby, so she could only guess that the men they spoke to were likely royals of Colchis. Far too rich for her blood. She wasn’t looking for an exercise in ettiquette. She was hoping for excitement.
What she wasn’t expecting was to see a young man who looked the spitting image of Silanos. The resemblance was uncanny truly. She might have attributed it to the influence of wine, but she was stone sober. Perhaps it was a brother? She remembered him mentioning a brother. She moved slightly closer as the man in question looked after another who had walked away to greet one of the Dimitrou girls. But the closer she looked, the more she could swear that was her friend himself in the flesh.
Without thinking, she moved close enough to call out. “Silanos? Do my eyes deceive me or is that truly you?”