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The autumn in Colchis brings the normal trials and tribulations of the sky. Its monsoon season in Colchis and the winds are rising with ferocious speeds. The people of the capitol and most vulnerable, high up settlements are forced to board windows, lock doors and stock pile the food and water they might need to see through the days that see them trapped within their homes. Barrels and possessions are taken from yards and fixings on walls taken down and kept inside. The Colchians are used to this repeated pattern every fall but that doesn't make the storms any less dangerous a foe to face...
JD
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JD
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The autumn in Colchis brings the normal trials and tribulations of the sky. Its monsoon season in Colchis and the winds are rising with ferocious speeds. The people of the capitol and most vulnerable, high up settlements are forced to board windows, lock doors and stock pile the food and water they might need to see through the days that see them trapped within their homes. Barrels and possessions are taken from yards and fixings on walls taken down and kept inside. The Colchians are used to this repeated pattern every fall but that doesn't make the storms any less dangerous a foe to face...
The Fate We Bear Event - Colchis
The autumn in Colchis brings the normal trials and tribulations of the sky. Its monsoon season in Colchis and the winds are rising with ferocious speeds. The people of the capitol and most vulnerable, high up settlements are forced to board windows, lock doors and stock pile the food and water they might need to see through the days that see them trapped within their homes. Barrels and possessions are taken from yards and fixings on walls taken down and kept inside. The Colchians are used to this repeated pattern every fall but that doesn't make the storms any less dangerous a foe to face...
The moment the wind began to pick up in speed and the skies turn dark, Magnus had quickly dropped many of his duties and sent many errand boys to send messages to reschedule his meetings as he rode back home. A few more had been paid handsomely in coin as he brought them back, and together with the hired help and the handful of household servants he hired at the residence he shared with his family, Magnus had quickly used the boards and nails they kept for this very purpose, to fortify their windows and doors. A cart rolled up shortly after to deliver a stack of cured meats, fruits, bread and vegetables which his mother quickly saw to. It was a well rehearsed dance they did, something they did every fall the moment the storms arrived on the rocky outcrops of the kingdom, but it never did make it any easier.
His mother knew the drill, and both Nifakis and Eudora were quick to stock as much food as they could at home, whilst Magnus oversaw the fortifying of their small but comfortable house. He usually weathered the storm here, with his family and they would spent the many days of the monsoon season within his household walls, doing only necessary correspondence to ensure his work was kept up to date.
However, today had been the first day he had arrived back from Oroboea after spending many days there trying and failing to get any lead upon the dead body discovered in the province. The furthest he got, was that the servant had been a maid at the Dikasitirio, working during that fateful dinner he had inadvertently walked in on completely clueless, only to hear all the details from his sister later. Of course, he had quickly been set to task to find out who had been behind such a happening, but it wasn't till the floating body in the province that he had a real lead.
Except,no one knew where the servant had came from. She had only gone to work in the Dikasitirio, but Magnus had been unable to find out who her previous employers were, which meant that while it was highly likely that she was the one who was in on the poisoning of the crown prince for that night, he doubted she acted alone, especially when she was now found dead, and with no clear cause of death other then poison. His scholars who specialized in studying the properties and actions of certain poisonous plants have been able to identify the types of poison being used in what Vangelis had consumed, but of course, he still had to go and find out what exactly they had discovered.
It was what Magnus had wanted to do upon his return to Midas, except he had returned at the crux of a monsoon season, and all his meetings had to be put on hold.
But whoever said the Master Informer liked sitting silent.
A loud knock on the door had brought him running barely an hour as the winds picked up. Howls of the gale could be heard, cracks of trees, crashes of loose and unaccounted for barrels smacking into the side of houses. The moment Magnus had opened his front door, he already had to squint due to the sharp and cold winds, but the message from the errand boy had him quickly grabbing an extra cloak, one that would eventually prove useless in the downpour, but it was more a figure of action then to be of use.
The messenger boy had said one of his informer families had faced some issues, and the man of the family had gotten a heavy barrel knocked into his side, and now was winded and the family worried over his safety. While Magnus was no physician, he was at least learned enough to be able to help justify if they needed a physician, and that was why he tried his best to hurry out and see to their needs, but the journey was long and treacherous. What was supposed to be a half hour jaunt was turning far longer as he fought against heavy winds to make it to the main street of the lower levels, to see absolute chaos.
Stalls thrown and smashed to ways he could not recognize anymore, fresh produce scattered, and many people struggling to make it back home as the relentless and unforgiving winds and heavy rains of the monsoon fought against them, with many getting injuries from stray planks of wood, unsecured barrels and posessions being tossed by winds as strong as the anger of the Gods themselves.
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The moment the wind began to pick up in speed and the skies turn dark, Magnus had quickly dropped many of his duties and sent many errand boys to send messages to reschedule his meetings as he rode back home. A few more had been paid handsomely in coin as he brought them back, and together with the hired help and the handful of household servants he hired at the residence he shared with his family, Magnus had quickly used the boards and nails they kept for this very purpose, to fortify their windows and doors. A cart rolled up shortly after to deliver a stack of cured meats, fruits, bread and vegetables which his mother quickly saw to. It was a well rehearsed dance they did, something they did every fall the moment the storms arrived on the rocky outcrops of the kingdom, but it never did make it any easier.
His mother knew the drill, and both Nifakis and Eudora were quick to stock as much food as they could at home, whilst Magnus oversaw the fortifying of their small but comfortable house. He usually weathered the storm here, with his family and they would spent the many days of the monsoon season within his household walls, doing only necessary correspondence to ensure his work was kept up to date.
However, today had been the first day he had arrived back from Oroboea after spending many days there trying and failing to get any lead upon the dead body discovered in the province. The furthest he got, was that the servant had been a maid at the Dikasitirio, working during that fateful dinner he had inadvertently walked in on completely clueless, only to hear all the details from his sister later. Of course, he had quickly been set to task to find out who had been behind such a happening, but it wasn't till the floating body in the province that he had a real lead.
Except,no one knew where the servant had came from. She had only gone to work in the Dikasitirio, but Magnus had been unable to find out who her previous employers were, which meant that while it was highly likely that she was the one who was in on the poisoning of the crown prince for that night, he doubted she acted alone, especially when she was now found dead, and with no clear cause of death other then poison. His scholars who specialized in studying the properties and actions of certain poisonous plants have been able to identify the types of poison being used in what Vangelis had consumed, but of course, he still had to go and find out what exactly they had discovered.
It was what Magnus had wanted to do upon his return to Midas, except he had returned at the crux of a monsoon season, and all his meetings had to be put on hold.
But whoever said the Master Informer liked sitting silent.
A loud knock on the door had brought him running barely an hour as the winds picked up. Howls of the gale could be heard, cracks of trees, crashes of loose and unaccounted for barrels smacking into the side of houses. The moment Magnus had opened his front door, he already had to squint due to the sharp and cold winds, but the message from the errand boy had him quickly grabbing an extra cloak, one that would eventually prove useless in the downpour, but it was more a figure of action then to be of use.
The messenger boy had said one of his informer families had faced some issues, and the man of the family had gotten a heavy barrel knocked into his side, and now was winded and the family worried over his safety. While Magnus was no physician, he was at least learned enough to be able to help justify if they needed a physician, and that was why he tried his best to hurry out and see to their needs, but the journey was long and treacherous. What was supposed to be a half hour jaunt was turning far longer as he fought against heavy winds to make it to the main street of the lower levels, to see absolute chaos.
Stalls thrown and smashed to ways he could not recognize anymore, fresh produce scattered, and many people struggling to make it back home as the relentless and unforgiving winds and heavy rains of the monsoon fought against them, with many getting injuries from stray planks of wood, unsecured barrels and posessions being tossed by winds as strong as the anger of the Gods themselves.
The moment the wind began to pick up in speed and the skies turn dark, Magnus had quickly dropped many of his duties and sent many errand boys to send messages to reschedule his meetings as he rode back home. A few more had been paid handsomely in coin as he brought them back, and together with the hired help and the handful of household servants he hired at the residence he shared with his family, Magnus had quickly used the boards and nails they kept for this very purpose, to fortify their windows and doors. A cart rolled up shortly after to deliver a stack of cured meats, fruits, bread and vegetables which his mother quickly saw to. It was a well rehearsed dance they did, something they did every fall the moment the storms arrived on the rocky outcrops of the kingdom, but it never did make it any easier.
His mother knew the drill, and both Nifakis and Eudora were quick to stock as much food as they could at home, whilst Magnus oversaw the fortifying of their small but comfortable house. He usually weathered the storm here, with his family and they would spent the many days of the monsoon season within his household walls, doing only necessary correspondence to ensure his work was kept up to date.
However, today had been the first day he had arrived back from Oroboea after spending many days there trying and failing to get any lead upon the dead body discovered in the province. The furthest he got, was that the servant had been a maid at the Dikasitirio, working during that fateful dinner he had inadvertently walked in on completely clueless, only to hear all the details from his sister later. Of course, he had quickly been set to task to find out who had been behind such a happening, but it wasn't till the floating body in the province that he had a real lead.
Except,no one knew where the servant had came from. She had only gone to work in the Dikasitirio, but Magnus had been unable to find out who her previous employers were, which meant that while it was highly likely that she was the one who was in on the poisoning of the crown prince for that night, he doubted she acted alone, especially when she was now found dead, and with no clear cause of death other then poison. His scholars who specialized in studying the properties and actions of certain poisonous plants have been able to identify the types of poison being used in what Vangelis had consumed, but of course, he still had to go and find out what exactly they had discovered.
It was what Magnus had wanted to do upon his return to Midas, except he had returned at the crux of a monsoon season, and all his meetings had to be put on hold.
But whoever said the Master Informer liked sitting silent.
A loud knock on the door had brought him running barely an hour as the winds picked up. Howls of the gale could be heard, cracks of trees, crashes of loose and unaccounted for barrels smacking into the side of houses. The moment Magnus had opened his front door, he already had to squint due to the sharp and cold winds, but the message from the errand boy had him quickly grabbing an extra cloak, one that would eventually prove useless in the downpour, but it was more a figure of action then to be of use.
The messenger boy had said one of his informer families had faced some issues, and the man of the family had gotten a heavy barrel knocked into his side, and now was winded and the family worried over his safety. While Magnus was no physician, he was at least learned enough to be able to help justify if they needed a physician, and that was why he tried his best to hurry out and see to their needs, but the journey was long and treacherous. What was supposed to be a half hour jaunt was turning far longer as he fought against heavy winds to make it to the main street of the lower levels, to see absolute chaos.
Stalls thrown and smashed to ways he could not recognize anymore, fresh produce scattered, and many people struggling to make it back home as the relentless and unforgiving winds and heavy rains of the monsoon fought against them, with many getting injuries from stray planks of wood, unsecured barrels and posessions being tossed by winds as strong as the anger of the Gods themselves.
Akhmad had never seen anything like it. Back in his origin land, the closest sort of weather would perhaps be a sand storm. Dangerous and suffocating, the storms of dry earth that washed over the land in great big waves of force would send you knocked clean off your feet. They would flatten you to a wall, fill your eyes and mouth with sand and offer you only the escape of a dry drowning.
There was certainly nothing dry about this sand storm.
As the winds buffeted the capitol of Colchis, Akhmad shifted from his position on the rooftop of the Sariqas hideout. He looked out across the lands of the isle and towards the sea where rolling clouds of darkness drew closer. There was flashes of light within the grey, evidence of lightning not yet able to be heard from this distance. But the winds had raced ahead of their birth clouds. The gales that picked up the water of the oceans and allowed it to crash in great chasms of hollow waves were then rocking through the streets of the city, unheeded or stopped by the mountains around them by turned into tunnels of speed.
With the cowl of his hood taking a battering, Akhmad felt it fall back and over his head, hanging down at his shoulders and filling with air. The wrappings that he secured up and around his head into a turban shape held fast and he was quick to tie the ends of his masked shawl to the straps across his chest so that it wouldn't catch upwards, blinding him and revealing his lower face. Everything else upon him was too tightly woven and wrapped to come away but the edges lifted and made a soft whistle as the wind caught within the overlaps.
Careful to adjust his jump based on the wind and landing a little sideways but sturdy enough, Akhmad dropped to the ground beside the Sariqas hideaway and reached up a fist. The side of it bashed against the doorway they had yet to enforce or board up, three times, summoning his brethren from within.
He had watched as native Colchians had seen to boarding up windows and doors, putting strength behind every opening and bringing anything loose inside. He looked towards the meats they had hanging from the roof edging, drying in the sun so as to be storable. They would have to come in. The barrel of water they kept by the door because there was no room inside would need to be found such room. And quickly, as they were all already sideways with the strength of the wind.
Just across the way, Akhmad could see some stalls that had been kept outside of merchant houses, bashed and destroyed, produce everywhere, and a stern looking, academic sort of man that he recognised as the Master Informer striding into the chaos to help.
Great, that was all they needed. To be suspiciously unhelpful in front of the Master Informer of Colchis whilst they were planning to rob the royal treasury.
The bashing he had inflicted on the floor was quickly responded to and, to the Sariqas that came to the door, Akhmad pointed towards the mess and to the way the others in the street were protecting their homes. Akhmad had no idea what a monsoon would be like, but he had seen storms. He had seen the scale of sand storms - like the scale of the clouds off of the coast. Combined together, he struggled to imagine how everyone in the city wasn't about to drown...
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Check out their information page here.
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Akhmad had never seen anything like it. Back in his origin land, the closest sort of weather would perhaps be a sand storm. Dangerous and suffocating, the storms of dry earth that washed over the land in great big waves of force would send you knocked clean off your feet. They would flatten you to a wall, fill your eyes and mouth with sand and offer you only the escape of a dry drowning.
There was certainly nothing dry about this sand storm.
As the winds buffeted the capitol of Colchis, Akhmad shifted from his position on the rooftop of the Sariqas hideout. He looked out across the lands of the isle and towards the sea where rolling clouds of darkness drew closer. There was flashes of light within the grey, evidence of lightning not yet able to be heard from this distance. But the winds had raced ahead of their birth clouds. The gales that picked up the water of the oceans and allowed it to crash in great chasms of hollow waves were then rocking through the streets of the city, unheeded or stopped by the mountains around them by turned into tunnels of speed.
With the cowl of his hood taking a battering, Akhmad felt it fall back and over his head, hanging down at his shoulders and filling with air. The wrappings that he secured up and around his head into a turban shape held fast and he was quick to tie the ends of his masked shawl to the straps across his chest so that it wouldn't catch upwards, blinding him and revealing his lower face. Everything else upon him was too tightly woven and wrapped to come away but the edges lifted and made a soft whistle as the wind caught within the overlaps.
Careful to adjust his jump based on the wind and landing a little sideways but sturdy enough, Akhmad dropped to the ground beside the Sariqas hideaway and reached up a fist. The side of it bashed against the doorway they had yet to enforce or board up, three times, summoning his brethren from within.
He had watched as native Colchians had seen to boarding up windows and doors, putting strength behind every opening and bringing anything loose inside. He looked towards the meats they had hanging from the roof edging, drying in the sun so as to be storable. They would have to come in. The barrel of water they kept by the door because there was no room inside would need to be found such room. And quickly, as they were all already sideways with the strength of the wind.
Just across the way, Akhmad could see some stalls that had been kept outside of merchant houses, bashed and destroyed, produce everywhere, and a stern looking, academic sort of man that he recognised as the Master Informer striding into the chaos to help.
Great, that was all they needed. To be suspiciously unhelpful in front of the Master Informer of Colchis whilst they were planning to rob the royal treasury.
The bashing he had inflicted on the floor was quickly responded to and, to the Sariqas that came to the door, Akhmad pointed towards the mess and to the way the others in the street were protecting their homes. Akhmad had no idea what a monsoon would be like, but he had seen storms. He had seen the scale of sand storms - like the scale of the clouds off of the coast. Combined together, he struggled to imagine how everyone in the city wasn't about to drown...
Akhmad had never seen anything like it. Back in his origin land, the closest sort of weather would perhaps be a sand storm. Dangerous and suffocating, the storms of dry earth that washed over the land in great big waves of force would send you knocked clean off your feet. They would flatten you to a wall, fill your eyes and mouth with sand and offer you only the escape of a dry drowning.
There was certainly nothing dry about this sand storm.
As the winds buffeted the capitol of Colchis, Akhmad shifted from his position on the rooftop of the Sariqas hideout. He looked out across the lands of the isle and towards the sea where rolling clouds of darkness drew closer. There was flashes of light within the grey, evidence of lightning not yet able to be heard from this distance. But the winds had raced ahead of their birth clouds. The gales that picked up the water of the oceans and allowed it to crash in great chasms of hollow waves were then rocking through the streets of the city, unheeded or stopped by the mountains around them by turned into tunnels of speed.
With the cowl of his hood taking a battering, Akhmad felt it fall back and over his head, hanging down at his shoulders and filling with air. The wrappings that he secured up and around his head into a turban shape held fast and he was quick to tie the ends of his masked shawl to the straps across his chest so that it wouldn't catch upwards, blinding him and revealing his lower face. Everything else upon him was too tightly woven and wrapped to come away but the edges lifted and made a soft whistle as the wind caught within the overlaps.
Careful to adjust his jump based on the wind and landing a little sideways but sturdy enough, Akhmad dropped to the ground beside the Sariqas hideaway and reached up a fist. The side of it bashed against the doorway they had yet to enforce or board up, three times, summoning his brethren from within.
He had watched as native Colchians had seen to boarding up windows and doors, putting strength behind every opening and bringing anything loose inside. He looked towards the meats they had hanging from the roof edging, drying in the sun so as to be storable. They would have to come in. The barrel of water they kept by the door because there was no room inside would need to be found such room. And quickly, as they were all already sideways with the strength of the wind.
Just across the way, Akhmad could see some stalls that had been kept outside of merchant houses, bashed and destroyed, produce everywhere, and a stern looking, academic sort of man that he recognised as the Master Informer striding into the chaos to help.
Great, that was all they needed. To be suspiciously unhelpful in front of the Master Informer of Colchis whilst they were planning to rob the royal treasury.
The bashing he had inflicted on the floor was quickly responded to and, to the Sariqas that came to the door, Akhmad pointed towards the mess and to the way the others in the street were protecting their homes. Akhmad had no idea what a monsoon would be like, but he had seen storms. He had seen the scale of sand storms - like the scale of the clouds off of the coast. Combined together, he struggled to imagine how everyone in the city wasn't about to drown...
Khanh lay on his side, arms folded, cat napping on his floor pallet. Most of his waking hours were spent during the night and in the day, he wasn’t at his most alert. With his pillow on his face to block out light, he slept totally still, secure enough within their hideout to doze without care. Until the pounding on the door. Sitting up fast enough that the pillow flew a few feet, he twisted and looked down over the lip of the second story, down to the bottom of the house where Tiye pointed at the door. She mouthed the name “Akhmad” and Khanh sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and then stood.
“Right,” he mumbled to himself. It wasn’t like he could actually bellow to demand what the mute wanted. There wasn’t a preset set of taps that Akhamd could make that Khanh would understand. Not in this random circumstance, anyway. They’d need to be on a job for that to work. A distinctive tap to mean someone was coming, taps to indicate right or left, a tap to say Akhmad needed a moment to pause and listen. Those Khanh would have understood anywhere. Whatever Akhmad was pounding the door for was not within those preordained tap sets.
Sniffing again, Khanh coughed and walked down the stairs, two at a time, only to find Tiye at the bottom, peering up at him. He brushed past her. “I’m not ill. This place is dusty. It’s messing with me.” She didn’t look convinced but he ignored her and opened the door. Poking his head out, his green eyes flattened as he saw what Akhmad was after. “Too short to reach them?” he asked, glancing up at the meats and then at the water barrel. Of course. Had Tiye gone to the window and seen what needed to be done and made sure he was the one to come out? Typical. Khanh was beginning to believe it was a great misfortune to have been born with the fate of growing huge and tall. He was thinking of renaming himself ‘Ox’ or ‘Donkey’ or perhaps ‘Beast Of Burden’.
“I’ll get these down,” he told Akhmad as he stepped into the street and reached up for the first of the hanging meats. “But you’re carrying them in if I’m moving that barrel.” Fair was fair and he went along quickly, dumping each piece of meat into Akhmad’s waiting arms, not actually taking any argument about it. One didn’t have to speak to argue. Akhmad’s body language was usually loud enough to voice the man’s opinions.
It wasn’t until Khanh was at the last of the hanging meats that he recognized the air smelled strange. It had a sort of hair raising tang in it and he looked backward. The sky’s startling darkness made him pause. He had seen a storm. Once. “Rain,” he murmured, and glanced around. Of course he had noticed the hustle and bustle, but he hadn’t attributed it immediately to a storm. Why would he? This wasn’t weather he was accustomed to and he didn’t like the lightning forking in white streaks, followed by distant rumbles.
“Hurry with those,” he said to Akhmad, not looking at the man as he bent to see to the water barrel. “Soggy meat makes a sorry stew.”
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Khanh lay on his side, arms folded, cat napping on his floor pallet. Most of his waking hours were spent during the night and in the day, he wasn’t at his most alert. With his pillow on his face to block out light, he slept totally still, secure enough within their hideout to doze without care. Until the pounding on the door. Sitting up fast enough that the pillow flew a few feet, he twisted and looked down over the lip of the second story, down to the bottom of the house where Tiye pointed at the door. She mouthed the name “Akhmad” and Khanh sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and then stood.
“Right,” he mumbled to himself. It wasn’t like he could actually bellow to demand what the mute wanted. There wasn’t a preset set of taps that Akhamd could make that Khanh would understand. Not in this random circumstance, anyway. They’d need to be on a job for that to work. A distinctive tap to mean someone was coming, taps to indicate right or left, a tap to say Akhmad needed a moment to pause and listen. Those Khanh would have understood anywhere. Whatever Akhmad was pounding the door for was not within those preordained tap sets.
Sniffing again, Khanh coughed and walked down the stairs, two at a time, only to find Tiye at the bottom, peering up at him. He brushed past her. “I’m not ill. This place is dusty. It’s messing with me.” She didn’t look convinced but he ignored her and opened the door. Poking his head out, his green eyes flattened as he saw what Akhmad was after. “Too short to reach them?” he asked, glancing up at the meats and then at the water barrel. Of course. Had Tiye gone to the window and seen what needed to be done and made sure he was the one to come out? Typical. Khanh was beginning to believe it was a great misfortune to have been born with the fate of growing huge and tall. He was thinking of renaming himself ‘Ox’ or ‘Donkey’ or perhaps ‘Beast Of Burden’.
“I’ll get these down,” he told Akhmad as he stepped into the street and reached up for the first of the hanging meats. “But you’re carrying them in if I’m moving that barrel.” Fair was fair and he went along quickly, dumping each piece of meat into Akhmad’s waiting arms, not actually taking any argument about it. One didn’t have to speak to argue. Akhmad’s body language was usually loud enough to voice the man’s opinions.
It wasn’t until Khanh was at the last of the hanging meats that he recognized the air smelled strange. It had a sort of hair raising tang in it and he looked backward. The sky’s startling darkness made him pause. He had seen a storm. Once. “Rain,” he murmured, and glanced around. Of course he had noticed the hustle and bustle, but he hadn’t attributed it immediately to a storm. Why would he? This wasn’t weather he was accustomed to and he didn’t like the lightning forking in white streaks, followed by distant rumbles.
“Hurry with those,” he said to Akhmad, not looking at the man as he bent to see to the water barrel. “Soggy meat makes a sorry stew.”
Khanh lay on his side, arms folded, cat napping on his floor pallet. Most of his waking hours were spent during the night and in the day, he wasn’t at his most alert. With his pillow on his face to block out light, he slept totally still, secure enough within their hideout to doze without care. Until the pounding on the door. Sitting up fast enough that the pillow flew a few feet, he twisted and looked down over the lip of the second story, down to the bottom of the house where Tiye pointed at the door. She mouthed the name “Akhmad” and Khanh sniffed, rubbed his eyes, and then stood.
“Right,” he mumbled to himself. It wasn’t like he could actually bellow to demand what the mute wanted. There wasn’t a preset set of taps that Akhamd could make that Khanh would understand. Not in this random circumstance, anyway. They’d need to be on a job for that to work. A distinctive tap to mean someone was coming, taps to indicate right or left, a tap to say Akhmad needed a moment to pause and listen. Those Khanh would have understood anywhere. Whatever Akhmad was pounding the door for was not within those preordained tap sets.
Sniffing again, Khanh coughed and walked down the stairs, two at a time, only to find Tiye at the bottom, peering up at him. He brushed past her. “I’m not ill. This place is dusty. It’s messing with me.” She didn’t look convinced but he ignored her and opened the door. Poking his head out, his green eyes flattened as he saw what Akhmad was after. “Too short to reach them?” he asked, glancing up at the meats and then at the water barrel. Of course. Had Tiye gone to the window and seen what needed to be done and made sure he was the one to come out? Typical. Khanh was beginning to believe it was a great misfortune to have been born with the fate of growing huge and tall. He was thinking of renaming himself ‘Ox’ or ‘Donkey’ or perhaps ‘Beast Of Burden’.
“I’ll get these down,” he told Akhmad as he stepped into the street and reached up for the first of the hanging meats. “But you’re carrying them in if I’m moving that barrel.” Fair was fair and he went along quickly, dumping each piece of meat into Akhmad’s waiting arms, not actually taking any argument about it. One didn’t have to speak to argue. Akhmad’s body language was usually loud enough to voice the man’s opinions.
It wasn’t until Khanh was at the last of the hanging meats that he recognized the air smelled strange. It had a sort of hair raising tang in it and he looked backward. The sky’s startling darkness made him pause. He had seen a storm. Once. “Rain,” he murmured, and glanced around. Of course he had noticed the hustle and bustle, but he hadn’t attributed it immediately to a storm. Why would he? This wasn’t weather he was accustomed to and he didn’t like the lightning forking in white streaks, followed by distant rumbles.
“Hurry with those,” he said to Akhmad, not looking at the man as he bent to see to the water barrel. “Soggy meat makes a sorry stew.”
When it was Khanh who appeared at the door of the hideout, Akhmad wasn't surprised. With his experience as a thief, Khanh was often the man who assessed possible targets for robbery. And he did so with a canny eye. It was true that, in the myriad of places they had broken into recently in the capitol, there were a few that had turned out to have occupants within. But that was simply a game of statistics. You stole from that many homes and there were bound to be a few that didn't meet with expectations. All other robberies had been carried out so smoothly that their victims didn't seem to note their missing possessions.
For that was the smart way of stealing from an entire city without bringing down the authorities upon you. You took little and you took often. You didn't decimate an entire household and spark rumour and gossip the second you arrived. You needed many targets, whom you could quietly take a little from each. And it was Khanh's job to locate those targets. Which meant he did most of his work at night.
Others in the group - like Zai - got by with his handsome face and his innocent charm, none of which could be used in the dark. He kept his nose in the taverns and his ear to the ground which meant that he was normally out and about in the sunlight hours. Tiye too, given that to be a physician you needed supplies and most herbal sellers didn't exactly operate after the sun went down.
Khanh had been the most likely one to be inside, even if others might have been within too.
When the giant of a man suggested that Akhmad couldn't reach the meat in question, he narrowed and rolled his eyes at the man, knowing that the expression would not be lost even if most of his face was covered in wrappings. The warrior new full well that nothing was out of a reach for a man like Akhmad who could slither and climb over anything and everything. The comment was simply to get a rise out of him and Akhmad offered only an eye roll in return.
What he had called someone out there for was an additional pair of hands, whilst he either helped out or turned towards the fight down the street. There was not wanting to get involved in anything that would draw attention to them. And then there was not acting like a concerned citizen in a way that actually drew attention itself. It was a difficult balance to strike.
His decision was made for him, however, when Khanh held out the meat he took down from their drying hooks and Akhmad was quick to take the strings that tied around the legs of pork and feet of pheasant. He didn't eat meat and he tended not to touch bare meat flesh. Not because he had any issue with the consuming of such things but because meat spelt. If you ate it, your body odour was stronger. And if your touched it, the juices remained on your skin. Or wrappings, in Akhmad's case. A man used to being invisible to all the senses, he would happily hunt animals and haul them back for his brothers to eat, but he tended not to go near them once they were skinned.
Not arguing on the instruction - just finding a way to hold them without touching the body of the meat - Akhmad was quick to obey instruction and after securing most of the meat turned to carry it back inside.
Given that the building had been burnt recently and boards and wooden pieces of its structure remained split and crooked, it wasn't hard to find spots in the ceiling of the first storey to hook up the meat so that it remained off of the dusty floor. He was followed into the room by Khanh lugging the barrel of water.
Once back outside, Akhmad noted the way that the natives were barring windows, hammering pieces of wood into the stone of their homes. It was only as they turned for new nails and wooden slats that he noticed the dozens of marks above each opening, hinting at years of repeating the process over and over. Clearly these Colchians knew what they were doing in regards to that approaching storm.
He then looked towards the squabbling people just down the street, at the Master Informer who tried to calm them and back to Khanh, awaiting orders of what he would prefer Akhmad to do. Board up windows, or act the concerned citizen? The Master Informer must have already witnessed reports of suspicious foreigners in the capitol by now, and that dead girl outside the Temples didn't help. Akhmad left the decision to the second in command of the Sariqas, looking to see whether he needed to work with wood and nails or chance some mending of public relations...
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When it was Khanh who appeared at the door of the hideout, Akhmad wasn't surprised. With his experience as a thief, Khanh was often the man who assessed possible targets for robbery. And he did so with a canny eye. It was true that, in the myriad of places they had broken into recently in the capitol, there were a few that had turned out to have occupants within. But that was simply a game of statistics. You stole from that many homes and there were bound to be a few that didn't meet with expectations. All other robberies had been carried out so smoothly that their victims didn't seem to note their missing possessions.
For that was the smart way of stealing from an entire city without bringing down the authorities upon you. You took little and you took often. You didn't decimate an entire household and spark rumour and gossip the second you arrived. You needed many targets, whom you could quietly take a little from each. And it was Khanh's job to locate those targets. Which meant he did most of his work at night.
Others in the group - like Zai - got by with his handsome face and his innocent charm, none of which could be used in the dark. He kept his nose in the taverns and his ear to the ground which meant that he was normally out and about in the sunlight hours. Tiye too, given that to be a physician you needed supplies and most herbal sellers didn't exactly operate after the sun went down.
Khanh had been the most likely one to be inside, even if others might have been within too.
When the giant of a man suggested that Akhmad couldn't reach the meat in question, he narrowed and rolled his eyes at the man, knowing that the expression would not be lost even if most of his face was covered in wrappings. The warrior new full well that nothing was out of a reach for a man like Akhmad who could slither and climb over anything and everything. The comment was simply to get a rise out of him and Akhmad offered only an eye roll in return.
What he had called someone out there for was an additional pair of hands, whilst he either helped out or turned towards the fight down the street. There was not wanting to get involved in anything that would draw attention to them. And then there was not acting like a concerned citizen in a way that actually drew attention itself. It was a difficult balance to strike.
His decision was made for him, however, when Khanh held out the meat he took down from their drying hooks and Akhmad was quick to take the strings that tied around the legs of pork and feet of pheasant. He didn't eat meat and he tended not to touch bare meat flesh. Not because he had any issue with the consuming of such things but because meat spelt. If you ate it, your body odour was stronger. And if your touched it, the juices remained on your skin. Or wrappings, in Akhmad's case. A man used to being invisible to all the senses, he would happily hunt animals and haul them back for his brothers to eat, but he tended not to go near them once they were skinned.
Not arguing on the instruction - just finding a way to hold them without touching the body of the meat - Akhmad was quick to obey instruction and after securing most of the meat turned to carry it back inside.
Given that the building had been burnt recently and boards and wooden pieces of its structure remained split and crooked, it wasn't hard to find spots in the ceiling of the first storey to hook up the meat so that it remained off of the dusty floor. He was followed into the room by Khanh lugging the barrel of water.
Once back outside, Akhmad noted the way that the natives were barring windows, hammering pieces of wood into the stone of their homes. It was only as they turned for new nails and wooden slats that he noticed the dozens of marks above each opening, hinting at years of repeating the process over and over. Clearly these Colchians knew what they were doing in regards to that approaching storm.
He then looked towards the squabbling people just down the street, at the Master Informer who tried to calm them and back to Khanh, awaiting orders of what he would prefer Akhmad to do. Board up windows, or act the concerned citizen? The Master Informer must have already witnessed reports of suspicious foreigners in the capitol by now, and that dead girl outside the Temples didn't help. Akhmad left the decision to the second in command of the Sariqas, looking to see whether he needed to work with wood and nails or chance some mending of public relations...
When it was Khanh who appeared at the door of the hideout, Akhmad wasn't surprised. With his experience as a thief, Khanh was often the man who assessed possible targets for robbery. And he did so with a canny eye. It was true that, in the myriad of places they had broken into recently in the capitol, there were a few that had turned out to have occupants within. But that was simply a game of statistics. You stole from that many homes and there were bound to be a few that didn't meet with expectations. All other robberies had been carried out so smoothly that their victims didn't seem to note their missing possessions.
For that was the smart way of stealing from an entire city without bringing down the authorities upon you. You took little and you took often. You didn't decimate an entire household and spark rumour and gossip the second you arrived. You needed many targets, whom you could quietly take a little from each. And it was Khanh's job to locate those targets. Which meant he did most of his work at night.
Others in the group - like Zai - got by with his handsome face and his innocent charm, none of which could be used in the dark. He kept his nose in the taverns and his ear to the ground which meant that he was normally out and about in the sunlight hours. Tiye too, given that to be a physician you needed supplies and most herbal sellers didn't exactly operate after the sun went down.
Khanh had been the most likely one to be inside, even if others might have been within too.
When the giant of a man suggested that Akhmad couldn't reach the meat in question, he narrowed and rolled his eyes at the man, knowing that the expression would not be lost even if most of his face was covered in wrappings. The warrior new full well that nothing was out of a reach for a man like Akhmad who could slither and climb over anything and everything. The comment was simply to get a rise out of him and Akhmad offered only an eye roll in return.
What he had called someone out there for was an additional pair of hands, whilst he either helped out or turned towards the fight down the street. There was not wanting to get involved in anything that would draw attention to them. And then there was not acting like a concerned citizen in a way that actually drew attention itself. It was a difficult balance to strike.
His decision was made for him, however, when Khanh held out the meat he took down from their drying hooks and Akhmad was quick to take the strings that tied around the legs of pork and feet of pheasant. He didn't eat meat and he tended not to touch bare meat flesh. Not because he had any issue with the consuming of such things but because meat spelt. If you ate it, your body odour was stronger. And if your touched it, the juices remained on your skin. Or wrappings, in Akhmad's case. A man used to being invisible to all the senses, he would happily hunt animals and haul them back for his brothers to eat, but he tended not to go near them once they were skinned.
Not arguing on the instruction - just finding a way to hold them without touching the body of the meat - Akhmad was quick to obey instruction and after securing most of the meat turned to carry it back inside.
Given that the building had been burnt recently and boards and wooden pieces of its structure remained split and crooked, it wasn't hard to find spots in the ceiling of the first storey to hook up the meat so that it remained off of the dusty floor. He was followed into the room by Khanh lugging the barrel of water.
Once back outside, Akhmad noted the way that the natives were barring windows, hammering pieces of wood into the stone of their homes. It was only as they turned for new nails and wooden slats that he noticed the dozens of marks above each opening, hinting at years of repeating the process over and over. Clearly these Colchians knew what they were doing in regards to that approaching storm.
He then looked towards the squabbling people just down the street, at the Master Informer who tried to calm them and back to Khanh, awaiting orders of what he would prefer Akhmad to do. Board up windows, or act the concerned citizen? The Master Informer must have already witnessed reports of suspicious foreigners in the capitol by now, and that dead girl outside the Temples didn't help. Akhmad left the decision to the second in command of the Sariqas, looking to see whether he needed to work with wood and nails or chance some mending of public relations...
Somra was away from the hideout when the storm started rolling in. She had been out wandering and trying to see what she could get into. She was having a hard time sleeping the past while, and today had proven to be no different. But she had spotted the storm clouds rolling in, and the energy in the city had changed. The citizens were packing their things away and finding their way off the streets. Slowly but surely, Somra felt as if she was the only one left out in the streets.
Clearly there was something big coming, and by the looks of the clouds that were coming in over the water, she needed to get back to the hideout and hide out with the rest of them. She figured that the men would have already started getting things locked down, she knew she wouldn’t be much help hauling anything in, she wasn’t great at heavy lifting.
She was just approaching the house when the wind started really picking up. She reached her hands up to take hold of her hood and duck her head a little to keep the wind and rain from hitting her directly in the face. She arrived at the house as Khanh and Akhmad were removing the meat from outside and bringing it inside.
“Do you need a hand?” She called out over the howling winds. She knew that she couldn’t carry heavy things, but if there was anything else they needed, she would be able to at least lend a hand with something. Things had been going a little bit better since she and Khanh had come to some understanding over their situation. Akhmad was… well he was the same as he always was. Silent and impossible to read. Her relationship with the rest of them was sort of neutral, they didn’t seem overly interested in interacting with her, but she figured that with time she would make friends out of them.
She grabbed some of the dried meat to help out as Khanh took it down, hauling it into the house. She wasn’t tall enough herself to hang any of it up inside or anything, but she could at least bring it in. She set it aside so that it could be hung, and then started working on building a small fire to keep them warm and to boil some water for use since they could be stuck inside for awhile. It was a good thing they had stocked up on fire wood and food before any of this started.
She shivered a little, her dress was thin and clinging to her and not really any assistance in the cold and wet. She didn’t have much for cooler weather, she hadn’t planned on needing it. She hadn’t experienced anything like this before, the only sort of storms she’d been through were heat waves and sand storms. This seemed like something different was coming, with the cold wind and the rain that had started upon her arrival to the house. She had a feeling she would need to borrow something warm to wear from one of the others, or she would freeze.
She thought Nahash might he her best bet for warm clothes, she wasn’t sure Khanh would be willing to lend her anything or not, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.
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Somra was away from the hideout when the storm started rolling in. She had been out wandering and trying to see what she could get into. She was having a hard time sleeping the past while, and today had proven to be no different. But she had spotted the storm clouds rolling in, and the energy in the city had changed. The citizens were packing their things away and finding their way off the streets. Slowly but surely, Somra felt as if she was the only one left out in the streets.
Clearly there was something big coming, and by the looks of the clouds that were coming in over the water, she needed to get back to the hideout and hide out with the rest of them. She figured that the men would have already started getting things locked down, she knew she wouldn’t be much help hauling anything in, she wasn’t great at heavy lifting.
She was just approaching the house when the wind started really picking up. She reached her hands up to take hold of her hood and duck her head a little to keep the wind and rain from hitting her directly in the face. She arrived at the house as Khanh and Akhmad were removing the meat from outside and bringing it inside.
“Do you need a hand?” She called out over the howling winds. She knew that she couldn’t carry heavy things, but if there was anything else they needed, she would be able to at least lend a hand with something. Things had been going a little bit better since she and Khanh had come to some understanding over their situation. Akhmad was… well he was the same as he always was. Silent and impossible to read. Her relationship with the rest of them was sort of neutral, they didn’t seem overly interested in interacting with her, but she figured that with time she would make friends out of them.
She grabbed some of the dried meat to help out as Khanh took it down, hauling it into the house. She wasn’t tall enough herself to hang any of it up inside or anything, but she could at least bring it in. She set it aside so that it could be hung, and then started working on building a small fire to keep them warm and to boil some water for use since they could be stuck inside for awhile. It was a good thing they had stocked up on fire wood and food before any of this started.
She shivered a little, her dress was thin and clinging to her and not really any assistance in the cold and wet. She didn’t have much for cooler weather, she hadn’t planned on needing it. She hadn’t experienced anything like this before, the only sort of storms she’d been through were heat waves and sand storms. This seemed like something different was coming, with the cold wind and the rain that had started upon her arrival to the house. She had a feeling she would need to borrow something warm to wear from one of the others, or she would freeze.
She thought Nahash might he her best bet for warm clothes, she wasn’t sure Khanh would be willing to lend her anything or not, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.
Somra was away from the hideout when the storm started rolling in. She had been out wandering and trying to see what she could get into. She was having a hard time sleeping the past while, and today had proven to be no different. But she had spotted the storm clouds rolling in, and the energy in the city had changed. The citizens were packing their things away and finding their way off the streets. Slowly but surely, Somra felt as if she was the only one left out in the streets.
Clearly there was something big coming, and by the looks of the clouds that were coming in over the water, she needed to get back to the hideout and hide out with the rest of them. She figured that the men would have already started getting things locked down, she knew she wouldn’t be much help hauling anything in, she wasn’t great at heavy lifting.
She was just approaching the house when the wind started really picking up. She reached her hands up to take hold of her hood and duck her head a little to keep the wind and rain from hitting her directly in the face. She arrived at the house as Khanh and Akhmad were removing the meat from outside and bringing it inside.
“Do you need a hand?” She called out over the howling winds. She knew that she couldn’t carry heavy things, but if there was anything else they needed, she would be able to at least lend a hand with something. Things had been going a little bit better since she and Khanh had come to some understanding over their situation. Akhmad was… well he was the same as he always was. Silent and impossible to read. Her relationship with the rest of them was sort of neutral, they didn’t seem overly interested in interacting with her, but she figured that with time she would make friends out of them.
She grabbed some of the dried meat to help out as Khanh took it down, hauling it into the house. She wasn’t tall enough herself to hang any of it up inside or anything, but she could at least bring it in. She set it aside so that it could be hung, and then started working on building a small fire to keep them warm and to boil some water for use since they could be stuck inside for awhile. It was a good thing they had stocked up on fire wood and food before any of this started.
She shivered a little, her dress was thin and clinging to her and not really any assistance in the cold and wet. She didn’t have much for cooler weather, she hadn’t planned on needing it. She hadn’t experienced anything like this before, the only sort of storms she’d been through were heat waves and sand storms. This seemed like something different was coming, with the cold wind and the rain that had started upon her arrival to the house. She had a feeling she would need to borrow something warm to wear from one of the others, or she would freeze.
She thought Nahash might he her best bet for warm clothes, she wasn’t sure Khanh would be willing to lend her anything or not, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.
Monsoon season was always a precarious time of year in Colchis. As were most times of year truthfully, but autumn was particularly challenging. The weather could turn in an instant. Clio and Leia had helped her do all the basic preparations for both their home and the shop as well. They were generally well-prepared, so as the winds began to pick up there was little left to do.
She quickly herded her younger siblings into the house, ready to hole up for the night and hope the storm wasn’t too terribly catastrophic.
At least she thought it would be that simple until Calantha suddenly realized she had left her blanket at the shop. It was the only thing she had from their mother - something that had been sewn for her before her birth. It soothed her, so it was little surprise that realizing she didn’t have it and might be trapped inside for days it was quite distressing. What Myrrine wasn’t expecting was for her baby sister’s solution to be to run out into the storm to retrieve it herself.
Fortunately, she was able to quickly catch her and shove her back through the door. “Go back inside this instant or I will make sure you don’t leave it until Apellaios at least! I will fetch it and you will stay here. Clio, watch her. I will be right back.”
Myrrine was cursing under her breath as she stepped out the door of their home. “Every one of you had better stay put, understand?” she yelled back at her younger siblings before securing the door to their home behind her. She quickly dashed across the street to step inside their shop. Pausing to light a lantern, she looked in all the usual places, growing more and more panicked as she couldn’t find it anywhere.
Calantha would never settle without it and that would result in everyone’s nerves being tested and before they knew it, the whole bunch of them at each other’s throats in no time.
It was as she was crawling underneath the counter that a thought struck her. She had found it here and washed it just the other day. Which meant it was in the washbasket at home right now. Which only made her curse more as she jolted upright - promptly hitting her head on the counter above her. Thankfully that cursed blanket was already at home because she was already on her last nerve.
Rubbing her head, she stood up, this time carefully avoiding any further potential injuries. However, as she made certain the shop was secured against the storm that was nearly upon them, her mind was clouded with frustration. Enough that as she stepped into the heavy wind, her mind was fixed on the pointlessness of this entire situation, the throbbing of her head and the chill of the wind on her mostly bare arms as she had run out in too much of a hurry to grab appropriate covering. Her gaze was focused on the door of her home rather than her surroundings. Which is why she didn’t see the debris from a neighbor’s market stall heading straight in her direction.
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Monsoon season was always a precarious time of year in Colchis. As were most times of year truthfully, but autumn was particularly challenging. The weather could turn in an instant. Clio and Leia had helped her do all the basic preparations for both their home and the shop as well. They were generally well-prepared, so as the winds began to pick up there was little left to do.
She quickly herded her younger siblings into the house, ready to hole up for the night and hope the storm wasn’t too terribly catastrophic.
At least she thought it would be that simple until Calantha suddenly realized she had left her blanket at the shop. It was the only thing she had from their mother - something that had been sewn for her before her birth. It soothed her, so it was little surprise that realizing she didn’t have it and might be trapped inside for days it was quite distressing. What Myrrine wasn’t expecting was for her baby sister’s solution to be to run out into the storm to retrieve it herself.
Fortunately, she was able to quickly catch her and shove her back through the door. “Go back inside this instant or I will make sure you don’t leave it until Apellaios at least! I will fetch it and you will stay here. Clio, watch her. I will be right back.”
Myrrine was cursing under her breath as she stepped out the door of their home. “Every one of you had better stay put, understand?” she yelled back at her younger siblings before securing the door to their home behind her. She quickly dashed across the street to step inside their shop. Pausing to light a lantern, she looked in all the usual places, growing more and more panicked as she couldn’t find it anywhere.
Calantha would never settle without it and that would result in everyone’s nerves being tested and before they knew it, the whole bunch of them at each other’s throats in no time.
It was as she was crawling underneath the counter that a thought struck her. She had found it here and washed it just the other day. Which meant it was in the washbasket at home right now. Which only made her curse more as she jolted upright - promptly hitting her head on the counter above her. Thankfully that cursed blanket was already at home because she was already on her last nerve.
Rubbing her head, she stood up, this time carefully avoiding any further potential injuries. However, as she made certain the shop was secured against the storm that was nearly upon them, her mind was clouded with frustration. Enough that as she stepped into the heavy wind, her mind was fixed on the pointlessness of this entire situation, the throbbing of her head and the chill of the wind on her mostly bare arms as she had run out in too much of a hurry to grab appropriate covering. Her gaze was focused on the door of her home rather than her surroundings. Which is why she didn’t see the debris from a neighbor’s market stall heading straight in her direction.
Monsoon season was always a precarious time of year in Colchis. As were most times of year truthfully, but autumn was particularly challenging. The weather could turn in an instant. Clio and Leia had helped her do all the basic preparations for both their home and the shop as well. They were generally well-prepared, so as the winds began to pick up there was little left to do.
She quickly herded her younger siblings into the house, ready to hole up for the night and hope the storm wasn’t too terribly catastrophic.
At least she thought it would be that simple until Calantha suddenly realized she had left her blanket at the shop. It was the only thing she had from their mother - something that had been sewn for her before her birth. It soothed her, so it was little surprise that realizing she didn’t have it and might be trapped inside for days it was quite distressing. What Myrrine wasn’t expecting was for her baby sister’s solution to be to run out into the storm to retrieve it herself.
Fortunately, she was able to quickly catch her and shove her back through the door. “Go back inside this instant or I will make sure you don’t leave it until Apellaios at least! I will fetch it and you will stay here. Clio, watch her. I will be right back.”
Myrrine was cursing under her breath as she stepped out the door of their home. “Every one of you had better stay put, understand?” she yelled back at her younger siblings before securing the door to their home behind her. She quickly dashed across the street to step inside their shop. Pausing to light a lantern, she looked in all the usual places, growing more and more panicked as she couldn’t find it anywhere.
Calantha would never settle without it and that would result in everyone’s nerves being tested and before they knew it, the whole bunch of them at each other’s throats in no time.
It was as she was crawling underneath the counter that a thought struck her. She had found it here and washed it just the other day. Which meant it was in the washbasket at home right now. Which only made her curse more as she jolted upright - promptly hitting her head on the counter above her. Thankfully that cursed blanket was already at home because she was already on her last nerve.
Rubbing her head, she stood up, this time carefully avoiding any further potential injuries. However, as she made certain the shop was secured against the storm that was nearly upon them, her mind was clouded with frustration. Enough that as she stepped into the heavy wind, her mind was fixed on the pointlessness of this entire situation, the throbbing of her head and the chill of the wind on her mostly bare arms as she had run out in too much of a hurry to grab appropriate covering. Her gaze was focused on the door of her home rather than her surroundings. Which is why she didn’t see the debris from a neighbor’s market stall heading straight in her direction.
Khanh lugged the barrel into the house and came back out in time to hear Somra offering to help as she whipped down the street. “Here,” he took the very last of the meats and handed them to her. It was then that he noticed Akhmad being terribly chatty about the Master Informer. In this neat row of houses, they were relatively safe from the worst of the wind, though that wasn’t to say it didn’t roar down the cobbles at them, its invisible fingers grasping the edges of their clothes. Khanh did not want to get in the Master Informer’s way, and he definitely didn’t want Akhmad, who looked more like a leper than anything else, snagging attention, either. The last thing anyone needed was a shout of “UNCLEAN!” and for Akhmad to be forcibly thrown out of the city.
“You do the windows,” he said to Akhmad, taking the salted meats from the man’s shoulders and dumping them into Somra’s waiting arms. Khanh was the lightest of any of them and possibly, by that virtue, might look the least suspicious. “I’ll go see to that.” He was half way down the street when he turned back to Akhmad, though Khanh was still walking backward. His hands were cupped beside his mouth so that he could be heard over the ever rising wind and rain. “Get Somra some dry clothes!”
Yes, he absolutely had noticed the way the girl’s clothes stuck to her like a second skin but hadn’t spared a single actual thought towards it until now. He had things to attend to and at the moment, his thoughts weren’t licentious and were far more practical: if she got too cold, she’d get sick. If she got sick, Tiye might not have the herbs to heal her. If they had to go break into a physician’s shop, they might incur the wrath of the gods. Everyone knew healers were protected by gods and Khanh was hesitant to piss off foreign gods, even if they were a lot weaker than the Egyptian Divine Lords.
That done, he spun back around with fluid grace and jogged out into the din. Immediately a wet smack hit his face as someone’s lost shawl wrapped half way around his head. Khanh jerked it away from him and tossed it on the ground as he moved, passing right between Myrrine and yet another huge wet cloth spinning right at them. Khanh caught this one, impressed and concerned by the speed with which this tarp hit him and he tossed it behind him as he’d done the shawl. It hit the ground at Myrrine’s feet. Khanh, not knowing who she was or her connection to Nahash, simply pointed at her.
“Home, woman!” was all he said in heavily accented Greek, thinking this was no place for a woman on her own. That done, he jogged towards Magnus to offer himself as a hand to whatever the Master informer wanted. Except that he didn’t actually wait to be told what to do. The wind was rolling barrels around, which Khanh hefted and stashed behind whatever solid wall he came across. There was too much to do on his own but he wasn’t alone; others had come and were doing the same, clearing what they could, though Khanh was absolutely sure he wouldn’t be reaching the hideout any time soon. Not with things flying all over the place and he cursed Akhmad and his bossy helpfulness. This was the mute’s fault. Guilting him into helping these Greeks with their ill put market stalls. If they knew they had storms like this, then wasn’t it silly of them to put them directly in harm’s way?
Those were his thoughts as he lugged barrels and crates and, confusingly, a chair, to safety.
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Khanh lugged the barrel into the house and came back out in time to hear Somra offering to help as she whipped down the street. “Here,” he took the very last of the meats and handed them to her. It was then that he noticed Akhmad being terribly chatty about the Master Informer. In this neat row of houses, they were relatively safe from the worst of the wind, though that wasn’t to say it didn’t roar down the cobbles at them, its invisible fingers grasping the edges of their clothes. Khanh did not want to get in the Master Informer’s way, and he definitely didn’t want Akhmad, who looked more like a leper than anything else, snagging attention, either. The last thing anyone needed was a shout of “UNCLEAN!” and for Akhmad to be forcibly thrown out of the city.
“You do the windows,” he said to Akhmad, taking the salted meats from the man’s shoulders and dumping them into Somra’s waiting arms. Khanh was the lightest of any of them and possibly, by that virtue, might look the least suspicious. “I’ll go see to that.” He was half way down the street when he turned back to Akhmad, though Khanh was still walking backward. His hands were cupped beside his mouth so that he could be heard over the ever rising wind and rain. “Get Somra some dry clothes!”
Yes, he absolutely had noticed the way the girl’s clothes stuck to her like a second skin but hadn’t spared a single actual thought towards it until now. He had things to attend to and at the moment, his thoughts weren’t licentious and were far more practical: if she got too cold, she’d get sick. If she got sick, Tiye might not have the herbs to heal her. If they had to go break into a physician’s shop, they might incur the wrath of the gods. Everyone knew healers were protected by gods and Khanh was hesitant to piss off foreign gods, even if they were a lot weaker than the Egyptian Divine Lords.
That done, he spun back around with fluid grace and jogged out into the din. Immediately a wet smack hit his face as someone’s lost shawl wrapped half way around his head. Khanh jerked it away from him and tossed it on the ground as he moved, passing right between Myrrine and yet another huge wet cloth spinning right at them. Khanh caught this one, impressed and concerned by the speed with which this tarp hit him and he tossed it behind him as he’d done the shawl. It hit the ground at Myrrine’s feet. Khanh, not knowing who she was or her connection to Nahash, simply pointed at her.
“Home, woman!” was all he said in heavily accented Greek, thinking this was no place for a woman on her own. That done, he jogged towards Magnus to offer himself as a hand to whatever the Master informer wanted. Except that he didn’t actually wait to be told what to do. The wind was rolling barrels around, which Khanh hefted and stashed behind whatever solid wall he came across. There was too much to do on his own but he wasn’t alone; others had come and were doing the same, clearing what they could, though Khanh was absolutely sure he wouldn’t be reaching the hideout any time soon. Not with things flying all over the place and he cursed Akhmad and his bossy helpfulness. This was the mute’s fault. Guilting him into helping these Greeks with their ill put market stalls. If they knew they had storms like this, then wasn’t it silly of them to put them directly in harm’s way?
Those were his thoughts as he lugged barrels and crates and, confusingly, a chair, to safety.
Khanh lugged the barrel into the house and came back out in time to hear Somra offering to help as she whipped down the street. “Here,” he took the very last of the meats and handed them to her. It was then that he noticed Akhmad being terribly chatty about the Master Informer. In this neat row of houses, they were relatively safe from the worst of the wind, though that wasn’t to say it didn’t roar down the cobbles at them, its invisible fingers grasping the edges of their clothes. Khanh did not want to get in the Master Informer’s way, and he definitely didn’t want Akhmad, who looked more like a leper than anything else, snagging attention, either. The last thing anyone needed was a shout of “UNCLEAN!” and for Akhmad to be forcibly thrown out of the city.
“You do the windows,” he said to Akhmad, taking the salted meats from the man’s shoulders and dumping them into Somra’s waiting arms. Khanh was the lightest of any of them and possibly, by that virtue, might look the least suspicious. “I’ll go see to that.” He was half way down the street when he turned back to Akhmad, though Khanh was still walking backward. His hands were cupped beside his mouth so that he could be heard over the ever rising wind and rain. “Get Somra some dry clothes!”
Yes, he absolutely had noticed the way the girl’s clothes stuck to her like a second skin but hadn’t spared a single actual thought towards it until now. He had things to attend to and at the moment, his thoughts weren’t licentious and were far more practical: if she got too cold, she’d get sick. If she got sick, Tiye might not have the herbs to heal her. If they had to go break into a physician’s shop, they might incur the wrath of the gods. Everyone knew healers were protected by gods and Khanh was hesitant to piss off foreign gods, even if they were a lot weaker than the Egyptian Divine Lords.
That done, he spun back around with fluid grace and jogged out into the din. Immediately a wet smack hit his face as someone’s lost shawl wrapped half way around his head. Khanh jerked it away from him and tossed it on the ground as he moved, passing right between Myrrine and yet another huge wet cloth spinning right at them. Khanh caught this one, impressed and concerned by the speed with which this tarp hit him and he tossed it behind him as he’d done the shawl. It hit the ground at Myrrine’s feet. Khanh, not knowing who she was or her connection to Nahash, simply pointed at her.
“Home, woman!” was all he said in heavily accented Greek, thinking this was no place for a woman on her own. That done, he jogged towards Magnus to offer himself as a hand to whatever the Master informer wanted. Except that he didn’t actually wait to be told what to do. The wind was rolling barrels around, which Khanh hefted and stashed behind whatever solid wall he came across. There was too much to do on his own but he wasn’t alone; others had come and were doing the same, clearing what they could, though Khanh was absolutely sure he wouldn’t be reaching the hideout any time soon. Not with things flying all over the place and he cursed Akhmad and his bossy helpfulness. This was the mute’s fault. Guilting him into helping these Greeks with their ill put market stalls. If they knew they had storms like this, then wasn’t it silly of them to put them directly in harm’s way?
Those were his thoughts as he lugged barrels and crates and, confusingly, a chair, to safety.
His sharp gaze and quick mind was quick to take note of who ran and who stayed, with many of the citizens in the Lower Levels helping each other to secure their belongings. Unlike those who lived in the Upper Levels of the capitol, for the ones of the poorer end of Midas, many things they had was all they had, and a thorough damage done by a storm this level may mean weeks of going hungry to bed as they tried to make up for their losses.
Quickly jumping into the fray to help one of the merchants Magnus recognized from the market as someone he often bought fruits for his mother from, he fought against the strong winds to secure tarp to the ground to prevent the cart he would use on his daily trek to the Agora to be blown away and shattered against the docks. The portly man only had daughters, so much of the job of securing and hammering fell to him. It was clear to Magnus that he hadn't gotten around to much of it, which would be disastrous for a family that size with that level of income.
Finally managing to hammer in the last board to the window, the Master Informer hurried the portly merchant indoors while brushing off his thanks, bracing himself against the winds strong enough to blow one slighter then him off their feet, as he looked around for anyone else who needed help. No doubt his parents would scold him once he returned for putting himself in such peril, but Magnus's nature just meant he couldn't sit still and watch.
His eyes was quick to catch a set of men hurrying indoors with what appeared to be cured meat, yet Magnus scowled when he noticed one wrapped in bandages, and one who looked far more foreign then Magnus could recall. A man with picture perfect memory, he could never forget a face once he's seen it, and Magnus had pretty much seen and filed away every face he's seen in Colchis.
Of course, it was arguable that there were many merchants and travellers traversing and out of the capitol of Colchis on a daily basis. But the fact that he had recently identified people of unknown origin from the logs of the docks, just on the heels of an attempt of murder against a crown prince and the three unidentified bodies in a mine unsanctioned by the crown... the coincidences of so many things happening at the same time had the Master Informer pause in the middle of the street, his eyes squinting as he tried to get a closer look despite the falling rain.
Watching the bandaged man as he made his way towards a charred looking building, like one of those that was never properly repaired after the fires a few months ago.
They had no proper place to stay then? Despite his observation, only more questions grew. He remembered faintly, seeing or hearing someone of such description before. Had it been around where the dead body of the girl at the temples were found, before he had left for Oroboea where the maid from the Dikasitirio had been identified?
Despite his wish to linger and follow their actions even more when a slighter looking person (female? Magnus guessed, but couldn't be sure at a distance) appeared, he was distracted when the foreign looking man began jogging in his direction after addressing Myrrine - except the man, foreign as he was, did not see flying debris heading in his direction as he began hauling barrels and crates. Had this been any other situation with perhaps far less storms, thunder, rain and imminent drowning, Magnus would perhaps notice with much confusion that despite obvious reluctance on his face, he still seemed to be helping the villagers.
Except the Master Informer was quick to register a flying stray pole from a merchant's stall heading right for Khanh's head, and in a spur of the moment, he dived across the short distance to catch Khanh as he began to haul a chair (what was it doing there?!), hitting the man with enough force so they both ended up sprawled on the ground with Magnus on top of the foreigner, just as the pole flew right across where Khanh's neck had been mere seconds ago.
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His sharp gaze and quick mind was quick to take note of who ran and who stayed, with many of the citizens in the Lower Levels helping each other to secure their belongings. Unlike those who lived in the Upper Levels of the capitol, for the ones of the poorer end of Midas, many things they had was all they had, and a thorough damage done by a storm this level may mean weeks of going hungry to bed as they tried to make up for their losses.
Quickly jumping into the fray to help one of the merchants Magnus recognized from the market as someone he often bought fruits for his mother from, he fought against the strong winds to secure tarp to the ground to prevent the cart he would use on his daily trek to the Agora to be blown away and shattered against the docks. The portly man only had daughters, so much of the job of securing and hammering fell to him. It was clear to Magnus that he hadn't gotten around to much of it, which would be disastrous for a family that size with that level of income.
Finally managing to hammer in the last board to the window, the Master Informer hurried the portly merchant indoors while brushing off his thanks, bracing himself against the winds strong enough to blow one slighter then him off their feet, as he looked around for anyone else who needed help. No doubt his parents would scold him once he returned for putting himself in such peril, but Magnus's nature just meant he couldn't sit still and watch.
His eyes was quick to catch a set of men hurrying indoors with what appeared to be cured meat, yet Magnus scowled when he noticed one wrapped in bandages, and one who looked far more foreign then Magnus could recall. A man with picture perfect memory, he could never forget a face once he's seen it, and Magnus had pretty much seen and filed away every face he's seen in Colchis.
Of course, it was arguable that there were many merchants and travellers traversing and out of the capitol of Colchis on a daily basis. But the fact that he had recently identified people of unknown origin from the logs of the docks, just on the heels of an attempt of murder against a crown prince and the three unidentified bodies in a mine unsanctioned by the crown... the coincidences of so many things happening at the same time had the Master Informer pause in the middle of the street, his eyes squinting as he tried to get a closer look despite the falling rain.
Watching the bandaged man as he made his way towards a charred looking building, like one of those that was never properly repaired after the fires a few months ago.
They had no proper place to stay then? Despite his observation, only more questions grew. He remembered faintly, seeing or hearing someone of such description before. Had it been around where the dead body of the girl at the temples were found, before he had left for Oroboea where the maid from the Dikasitirio had been identified?
Despite his wish to linger and follow their actions even more when a slighter looking person (female? Magnus guessed, but couldn't be sure at a distance) appeared, he was distracted when the foreign looking man began jogging in his direction after addressing Myrrine - except the man, foreign as he was, did not see flying debris heading in his direction as he began hauling barrels and crates. Had this been any other situation with perhaps far less storms, thunder, rain and imminent drowning, Magnus would perhaps notice with much confusion that despite obvious reluctance on his face, he still seemed to be helping the villagers.
Except the Master Informer was quick to register a flying stray pole from a merchant's stall heading right for Khanh's head, and in a spur of the moment, he dived across the short distance to catch Khanh as he began to haul a chair (what was it doing there?!), hitting the man with enough force so they both ended up sprawled on the ground with Magnus on top of the foreigner, just as the pole flew right across where Khanh's neck had been mere seconds ago.
His sharp gaze and quick mind was quick to take note of who ran and who stayed, with many of the citizens in the Lower Levels helping each other to secure their belongings. Unlike those who lived in the Upper Levels of the capitol, for the ones of the poorer end of Midas, many things they had was all they had, and a thorough damage done by a storm this level may mean weeks of going hungry to bed as they tried to make up for their losses.
Quickly jumping into the fray to help one of the merchants Magnus recognized from the market as someone he often bought fruits for his mother from, he fought against the strong winds to secure tarp to the ground to prevent the cart he would use on his daily trek to the Agora to be blown away and shattered against the docks. The portly man only had daughters, so much of the job of securing and hammering fell to him. It was clear to Magnus that he hadn't gotten around to much of it, which would be disastrous for a family that size with that level of income.
Finally managing to hammer in the last board to the window, the Master Informer hurried the portly merchant indoors while brushing off his thanks, bracing himself against the winds strong enough to blow one slighter then him off their feet, as he looked around for anyone else who needed help. No doubt his parents would scold him once he returned for putting himself in such peril, but Magnus's nature just meant he couldn't sit still and watch.
His eyes was quick to catch a set of men hurrying indoors with what appeared to be cured meat, yet Magnus scowled when he noticed one wrapped in bandages, and one who looked far more foreign then Magnus could recall. A man with picture perfect memory, he could never forget a face once he's seen it, and Magnus had pretty much seen and filed away every face he's seen in Colchis.
Of course, it was arguable that there were many merchants and travellers traversing and out of the capitol of Colchis on a daily basis. But the fact that he had recently identified people of unknown origin from the logs of the docks, just on the heels of an attempt of murder against a crown prince and the three unidentified bodies in a mine unsanctioned by the crown... the coincidences of so many things happening at the same time had the Master Informer pause in the middle of the street, his eyes squinting as he tried to get a closer look despite the falling rain.
Watching the bandaged man as he made his way towards a charred looking building, like one of those that was never properly repaired after the fires a few months ago.
They had no proper place to stay then? Despite his observation, only more questions grew. He remembered faintly, seeing or hearing someone of such description before. Had it been around where the dead body of the girl at the temples were found, before he had left for Oroboea where the maid from the Dikasitirio had been identified?
Despite his wish to linger and follow their actions even more when a slighter looking person (female? Magnus guessed, but couldn't be sure at a distance) appeared, he was distracted when the foreign looking man began jogging in his direction after addressing Myrrine - except the man, foreign as he was, did not see flying debris heading in his direction as he began hauling barrels and crates. Had this been any other situation with perhaps far less storms, thunder, rain and imminent drowning, Magnus would perhaps notice with much confusion that despite obvious reluctance on his face, he still seemed to be helping the villagers.
Except the Master Informer was quick to register a flying stray pole from a merchant's stall heading right for Khanh's head, and in a spur of the moment, he dived across the short distance to catch Khanh as he began to haul a chair (what was it doing there?!), hitting the man with enough force so they both ended up sprawled on the ground with Magnus on top of the foreigner, just as the pole flew right across where Khanh's neck had been mere seconds ago.
When Somra appeared from inside the hideout and offered her aid, Akhmad looked up. Whilst she was slim and dainty in appearance, he knew the kinds of tricks and acrobatics that she could afford. He knew that she was stronger than she looked and that her offer to help was not something flimsy or made only in a sense of politeness. As such, he was pleased that she had made it. Zai had never much offered to aid in practical requirements, preferring the more 'fun' missions, and there had been others in the group here and there, exiled whenever they crossed a line too far, who had been lazy in nature. Somra would win points with the others if she continued to behave as a member of the team and pulled her own weight.
Akhmad offered a little nod and the look in his eyes was approving as she came closer, holding out hands that were genuine in their offer to help. His gaze tracked down her figure for a moment, noting her attire and the way that it clung. Before he could say anything, or come up with a task that would be useful for her to take on as her own, Khanh was quicker on the uptake. Suddenly, the meats were being taken from Akhmad's shoulder and deposited them with the girl.
Instead, he was given the task of securing the windows, which meant that Akhmad would need to find supplies. Nodding at his orders, Akhmad looked about himself and noted a broken wagon. The thing had clearly been blown, rolling down the street and hitting several buildings along the way because now it sat, severed in half and flopped on its side. One of its wheels were gone and the underside frame that held it strong was snapped. It would be useless as a cart now - a complete replacement required - which meant that Akhmad was confident the owner would not miss it.
Hurrying to the other side of the street where it lay, he had just caught his hands around one of the wooden bars that ran the vehicle's length when Khanh called back to him. Another nod was his acceptance of the mission to find Somra warmer clothes. He would get those when he went in search of nails and tools. First, he needed the wood to create shutters over the window openings in their little hideout.
Taking a hard grab on the edge of the cart, Akhmad settled a violent kick against its base boards and felt the wood whine and grown against him. To more kicks and the nails that held it together lost their grip and the thing shattered under his hold. Two planks of wood, large enough to be nailed over a window, fell to the ground.
They had an old barn door inside the hideout that they normally used to prop against the entryway at night, so there was no need to block off that. But they needed enough for the three windows in the structure. One at front beside the front door, the other at the back on the opposing wall, and one upstairs.
Akhmad kicked again, working at another piece of the cart. He ducked as flying debris started to lift from the ground and fly through the air. The wind was getting stronger and quickly too if the expressions of surprise on the faces of the Greeks were anything to go by.
Shifting to try and stand on the pieces he had already broken free, not wanting them to fly away, Akhmad then turned his other leg to the task of breaking off more. It was a difficult balance to strike and the wood beneath his foot would slip as he shifted his weight to kick out hard...
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When Somra appeared from inside the hideout and offered her aid, Akhmad looked up. Whilst she was slim and dainty in appearance, he knew the kinds of tricks and acrobatics that she could afford. He knew that she was stronger than she looked and that her offer to help was not something flimsy or made only in a sense of politeness. As such, he was pleased that she had made it. Zai had never much offered to aid in practical requirements, preferring the more 'fun' missions, and there had been others in the group here and there, exiled whenever they crossed a line too far, who had been lazy in nature. Somra would win points with the others if she continued to behave as a member of the team and pulled her own weight.
Akhmad offered a little nod and the look in his eyes was approving as she came closer, holding out hands that were genuine in their offer to help. His gaze tracked down her figure for a moment, noting her attire and the way that it clung. Before he could say anything, or come up with a task that would be useful for her to take on as her own, Khanh was quicker on the uptake. Suddenly, the meats were being taken from Akhmad's shoulder and deposited them with the girl.
Instead, he was given the task of securing the windows, which meant that Akhmad would need to find supplies. Nodding at his orders, Akhmad looked about himself and noted a broken wagon. The thing had clearly been blown, rolling down the street and hitting several buildings along the way because now it sat, severed in half and flopped on its side. One of its wheels were gone and the underside frame that held it strong was snapped. It would be useless as a cart now - a complete replacement required - which meant that Akhmad was confident the owner would not miss it.
Hurrying to the other side of the street where it lay, he had just caught his hands around one of the wooden bars that ran the vehicle's length when Khanh called back to him. Another nod was his acceptance of the mission to find Somra warmer clothes. He would get those when he went in search of nails and tools. First, he needed the wood to create shutters over the window openings in their little hideout.
Taking a hard grab on the edge of the cart, Akhmad settled a violent kick against its base boards and felt the wood whine and grown against him. To more kicks and the nails that held it together lost their grip and the thing shattered under his hold. Two planks of wood, large enough to be nailed over a window, fell to the ground.
They had an old barn door inside the hideout that they normally used to prop against the entryway at night, so there was no need to block off that. But they needed enough for the three windows in the structure. One at front beside the front door, the other at the back on the opposing wall, and one upstairs.
Akhmad kicked again, working at another piece of the cart. He ducked as flying debris started to lift from the ground and fly through the air. The wind was getting stronger and quickly too if the expressions of surprise on the faces of the Greeks were anything to go by.
Shifting to try and stand on the pieces he had already broken free, not wanting them to fly away, Akhmad then turned his other leg to the task of breaking off more. It was a difficult balance to strike and the wood beneath his foot would slip as he shifted his weight to kick out hard...
When Somra appeared from inside the hideout and offered her aid, Akhmad looked up. Whilst she was slim and dainty in appearance, he knew the kinds of tricks and acrobatics that she could afford. He knew that she was stronger than she looked and that her offer to help was not something flimsy or made only in a sense of politeness. As such, he was pleased that she had made it. Zai had never much offered to aid in practical requirements, preferring the more 'fun' missions, and there had been others in the group here and there, exiled whenever they crossed a line too far, who had been lazy in nature. Somra would win points with the others if she continued to behave as a member of the team and pulled her own weight.
Akhmad offered a little nod and the look in his eyes was approving as she came closer, holding out hands that were genuine in their offer to help. His gaze tracked down her figure for a moment, noting her attire and the way that it clung. Before he could say anything, or come up with a task that would be useful for her to take on as her own, Khanh was quicker on the uptake. Suddenly, the meats were being taken from Akhmad's shoulder and deposited them with the girl.
Instead, he was given the task of securing the windows, which meant that Akhmad would need to find supplies. Nodding at his orders, Akhmad looked about himself and noted a broken wagon. The thing had clearly been blown, rolling down the street and hitting several buildings along the way because now it sat, severed in half and flopped on its side. One of its wheels were gone and the underside frame that held it strong was snapped. It would be useless as a cart now - a complete replacement required - which meant that Akhmad was confident the owner would not miss it.
Hurrying to the other side of the street where it lay, he had just caught his hands around one of the wooden bars that ran the vehicle's length when Khanh called back to him. Another nod was his acceptance of the mission to find Somra warmer clothes. He would get those when he went in search of nails and tools. First, he needed the wood to create shutters over the window openings in their little hideout.
Taking a hard grab on the edge of the cart, Akhmad settled a violent kick against its base boards and felt the wood whine and grown against him. To more kicks and the nails that held it together lost their grip and the thing shattered under his hold. Two planks of wood, large enough to be nailed over a window, fell to the ground.
They had an old barn door inside the hideout that they normally used to prop against the entryway at night, so there was no need to block off that. But they needed enough for the three windows in the structure. One at front beside the front door, the other at the back on the opposing wall, and one upstairs.
Akhmad kicked again, working at another piece of the cart. He ducked as flying debris started to lift from the ground and fly through the air. The wind was getting stronger and quickly too if the expressions of surprise on the faces of the Greeks were anything to go by.
Shifting to try and stand on the pieces he had already broken free, not wanting them to fly away, Akhmad then turned his other leg to the task of breaking off more. It was a difficult balance to strike and the wood beneath his foot would slip as he shifted his weight to kick out hard...
Euterpe was dreadfully lost.
Normally a woman of kind and gentle words, she was cursing herself as she slogged through the wind and rain, hopelessly searching for clues on how to get back to the temple. It was her own fault, she knew; she never should have volunteered her help, not with the storm’s imminent arrival. But the priestess was the tenderhearted sort, and there was an illness spreading through the acolytes’ wing that autumn. She only offered to keep the ones who should have been helping from going out in the wind and rain.
Their supplies were fairly stocked, but they needed more, so Euterpe had suggested she go to the market to fetch a few extra necessities for the women in her own wing. The problem was, the priestess so rarely left the temple that she didn’t know the ins and outs of the city very well. Once her work was done in the marketplace and clouds started gathering on the horizon, she knew it was time to head back. Only… which way was back?
A poor sense of direction combined with a basic inability to read the path markers meant that one wrong turn ended up in disaster, and somehow Euterpe was in the lower levels of Midas without even knowing how exactly she got here.
Each path she took led her further into the winding labyrinth of the lower city, sure she was going the right way when, in fact, she was heading in the opposite direction. The farther she got from the temple, the worse the storm picked up, and Euterpe knew she needed to take shelter soon. But the question was… where? She had no idea where she even was. How could she find a place to ride out the worst of the storm?
By now, the wind was nearly too strong for her to even walk, ducking behind walls and tucking herself in the alcoves of buildings when it blew particularly hard. She was afraid to keep going on at the rate she was; it was clear she wasn’t going to navigate her way back home in a storm like this. Gods, but why had she volunteered for this?!
I serve your daughter, mighty Zeus, so perhaps you might hear my plea, she prayed silently as she pulled the hood of her sodden cloak tighter around her face. She knew Aphrodite had no province over such storms, but her father certainly did. Maybe he would hear her prayer? If you cannot halt the storm, please let me find safety in it. It seems a cruel fate to end up stranded on the streets while divine wrath tears up the very walls around me.
Wood was cracking nearby, shattered debris flying down the stone pathways between buildings. Crying out sharply, Euterpe flattered herself against the closest wall as a large board came hurtling down the alley where she walked. The wind was only picking up, and things were bound to get worse. She had to find help. And fast.
It was hard to see through the thick rain and the protective cover of the cloth she pulled over her face, but she thought she saw people a little further down the path. One hand on the wall, she stumbled, determined, in their direction, only to have the next gale of wind knock her clean off her feet. Knees striking the stone below her with a painful slap, she cried out again and braced herself with her forearms before her face hit the ground too.
Wincing in pain as blood dripped sluggishly down one knee from a crack in the stone, she pulled herself up again only to be knocked down once more by yet another flying scrap of wood. Turning back, she only got to witness the horror of what was coming for a brief moment before the contraption the wood came from simply collapsed. Knocked to the ground, and the whipping wind preventing her from pulling herself up in time, she found herself trapped by the debris, almost buried by splintered wood and mounds of figs that had once been some sort of fruit cart.
“Oh, gods, help me!” she cried out in alarm, hoping beyond hope that the wind wouldn’t simply snatch her words away. If she was close enough to see others, surely they could hear her? “Please, someone! I’m stuck!”
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Euterpe was dreadfully lost.
Normally a woman of kind and gentle words, she was cursing herself as she slogged through the wind and rain, hopelessly searching for clues on how to get back to the temple. It was her own fault, she knew; she never should have volunteered her help, not with the storm’s imminent arrival. But the priestess was the tenderhearted sort, and there was an illness spreading through the acolytes’ wing that autumn. She only offered to keep the ones who should have been helping from going out in the wind and rain.
Their supplies were fairly stocked, but they needed more, so Euterpe had suggested she go to the market to fetch a few extra necessities for the women in her own wing. The problem was, the priestess so rarely left the temple that she didn’t know the ins and outs of the city very well. Once her work was done in the marketplace and clouds started gathering on the horizon, she knew it was time to head back. Only… which way was back?
A poor sense of direction combined with a basic inability to read the path markers meant that one wrong turn ended up in disaster, and somehow Euterpe was in the lower levels of Midas without even knowing how exactly she got here.
Each path she took led her further into the winding labyrinth of the lower city, sure she was going the right way when, in fact, she was heading in the opposite direction. The farther she got from the temple, the worse the storm picked up, and Euterpe knew she needed to take shelter soon. But the question was… where? She had no idea where she even was. How could she find a place to ride out the worst of the storm?
By now, the wind was nearly too strong for her to even walk, ducking behind walls and tucking herself in the alcoves of buildings when it blew particularly hard. She was afraid to keep going on at the rate she was; it was clear she wasn’t going to navigate her way back home in a storm like this. Gods, but why had she volunteered for this?!
I serve your daughter, mighty Zeus, so perhaps you might hear my plea, she prayed silently as she pulled the hood of her sodden cloak tighter around her face. She knew Aphrodite had no province over such storms, but her father certainly did. Maybe he would hear her prayer? If you cannot halt the storm, please let me find safety in it. It seems a cruel fate to end up stranded on the streets while divine wrath tears up the very walls around me.
Wood was cracking nearby, shattered debris flying down the stone pathways between buildings. Crying out sharply, Euterpe flattered herself against the closest wall as a large board came hurtling down the alley where she walked. The wind was only picking up, and things were bound to get worse. She had to find help. And fast.
It was hard to see through the thick rain and the protective cover of the cloth she pulled over her face, but she thought she saw people a little further down the path. One hand on the wall, she stumbled, determined, in their direction, only to have the next gale of wind knock her clean off her feet. Knees striking the stone below her with a painful slap, she cried out again and braced herself with her forearms before her face hit the ground too.
Wincing in pain as blood dripped sluggishly down one knee from a crack in the stone, she pulled herself up again only to be knocked down once more by yet another flying scrap of wood. Turning back, she only got to witness the horror of what was coming for a brief moment before the contraption the wood came from simply collapsed. Knocked to the ground, and the whipping wind preventing her from pulling herself up in time, she found herself trapped by the debris, almost buried by splintered wood and mounds of figs that had once been some sort of fruit cart.
“Oh, gods, help me!” she cried out in alarm, hoping beyond hope that the wind wouldn’t simply snatch her words away. If she was close enough to see others, surely they could hear her? “Please, someone! I’m stuck!”
Euterpe was dreadfully lost.
Normally a woman of kind and gentle words, she was cursing herself as she slogged through the wind and rain, hopelessly searching for clues on how to get back to the temple. It was her own fault, she knew; she never should have volunteered her help, not with the storm’s imminent arrival. But the priestess was the tenderhearted sort, and there was an illness spreading through the acolytes’ wing that autumn. She only offered to keep the ones who should have been helping from going out in the wind and rain.
Their supplies were fairly stocked, but they needed more, so Euterpe had suggested she go to the market to fetch a few extra necessities for the women in her own wing. The problem was, the priestess so rarely left the temple that she didn’t know the ins and outs of the city very well. Once her work was done in the marketplace and clouds started gathering on the horizon, she knew it was time to head back. Only… which way was back?
A poor sense of direction combined with a basic inability to read the path markers meant that one wrong turn ended up in disaster, and somehow Euterpe was in the lower levels of Midas without even knowing how exactly she got here.
Each path she took led her further into the winding labyrinth of the lower city, sure she was going the right way when, in fact, she was heading in the opposite direction. The farther she got from the temple, the worse the storm picked up, and Euterpe knew she needed to take shelter soon. But the question was… where? She had no idea where she even was. How could she find a place to ride out the worst of the storm?
By now, the wind was nearly too strong for her to even walk, ducking behind walls and tucking herself in the alcoves of buildings when it blew particularly hard. She was afraid to keep going on at the rate she was; it was clear she wasn’t going to navigate her way back home in a storm like this. Gods, but why had she volunteered for this?!
I serve your daughter, mighty Zeus, so perhaps you might hear my plea, she prayed silently as she pulled the hood of her sodden cloak tighter around her face. She knew Aphrodite had no province over such storms, but her father certainly did. Maybe he would hear her prayer? If you cannot halt the storm, please let me find safety in it. It seems a cruel fate to end up stranded on the streets while divine wrath tears up the very walls around me.
Wood was cracking nearby, shattered debris flying down the stone pathways between buildings. Crying out sharply, Euterpe flattered herself against the closest wall as a large board came hurtling down the alley where she walked. The wind was only picking up, and things were bound to get worse. She had to find help. And fast.
It was hard to see through the thick rain and the protective cover of the cloth she pulled over her face, but she thought she saw people a little further down the path. One hand on the wall, she stumbled, determined, in their direction, only to have the next gale of wind knock her clean off her feet. Knees striking the stone below her with a painful slap, she cried out again and braced herself with her forearms before her face hit the ground too.
Wincing in pain as blood dripped sluggishly down one knee from a crack in the stone, she pulled herself up again only to be knocked down once more by yet another flying scrap of wood. Turning back, she only got to witness the horror of what was coming for a brief moment before the contraption the wood came from simply collapsed. Knocked to the ground, and the whipping wind preventing her from pulling herself up in time, she found herself trapped by the debris, almost buried by splintered wood and mounds of figs that had once been some sort of fruit cart.
“Oh, gods, help me!” she cried out in alarm, hoping beyond hope that the wind wouldn’t simply snatch her words away. If she was close enough to see others, surely they could hear her? “Please, someone! I’m stuck!”
Somra did not miss Akhmad’s gaze on her, aware that with the material clinging to her body, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. She raised a bit of an eyebrow... did he just... check her out? No, there was no way. Akhmad was... well he was Akhmad. He was not a regular man, she had never seen him really show interest in anything beyond their work, and certainly not a woman. She chalked it up to him judging her for her choice of attire now that the weather had turned sour.
Somra managed to get the small fire going, carefully contained so it didn’t catch and burn the place more than it already was. She put a heavy metal pot over the flames so that the water would start boiling, hot tea would warm them all up and stave off any sickness from being chilled. She then turned to look out the window where she saw Akhmad struggling to keep the wood he had collected from flying away as he tried to collect more. She sighed a little, longing to stay inside near the warm fire, to change into something dry and wait out the storm.
But that didn’t seem to be in the cards just yet.
Instead, knowing that the low burning fire would not catch, she headed back out into the storm. She could not just leave Akhmad struggling out there on his own, and it didn’t seem like there was really anyone else around that would help.
She ducked as some sort of debris flew just over her head, so fast that she didn’t even know what it was. She did not want to be out here for long, if the wind got much stronger, she herself would be flying through the air she was sure, her small size definitely did not help.
“Here.” She yelled out over the wind and rain, reaching down she pulled the wood out from under Akhmad’s foot. She turned with it in her arms and started trying to make her way back to the house, the extra surface area of the wood nearly allowed the wind to pick her up, causing her to be off balance for a second.
But she grit her teeth and leaned what weight she had into the wind, determined to make it back to the house, even if she had to fight the wind itself to do so.
She made it back once more, just barely, thankful for the shelter of the house, she dropped the boards out of the way of the door and moved to sit by the fire, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath from the effort it had taken to fight the wind. She could not go back out there, not in this wind unless she really did want to be blown away.
She chewed her bottom lip, there was nothing else she could do to help out there. All she could do was sit inside and hope the men would make it back in time to hide together from the storm. She did not want to have to worry about any of them being stuck some where else.
She rested for a few moments in the warmth, but knew she needed dry clothes, and ones that covered more of her than her own.
She stared at the spot where Khanh kept his clothing.
She would just have to face him if he was upset.
She stood from her spot and went to his things, quickly stripping her own clothes off, she found some of his clothing and slipped it on instead, the dryness and thickness of the material immediately making her feel warmer and more comfortable.
Now that that was done, she gathered her dried tea leaves and brought them over to the water that had just begun to boil, still determined to have a hot drink for the men when they returned.
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Somra did not miss Akhmad’s gaze on her, aware that with the material clinging to her body, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. She raised a bit of an eyebrow... did he just... check her out? No, there was no way. Akhmad was... well he was Akhmad. He was not a regular man, she had never seen him really show interest in anything beyond their work, and certainly not a woman. She chalked it up to him judging her for her choice of attire now that the weather had turned sour.
Somra managed to get the small fire going, carefully contained so it didn’t catch and burn the place more than it already was. She put a heavy metal pot over the flames so that the water would start boiling, hot tea would warm them all up and stave off any sickness from being chilled. She then turned to look out the window where she saw Akhmad struggling to keep the wood he had collected from flying away as he tried to collect more. She sighed a little, longing to stay inside near the warm fire, to change into something dry and wait out the storm.
But that didn’t seem to be in the cards just yet.
Instead, knowing that the low burning fire would not catch, she headed back out into the storm. She could not just leave Akhmad struggling out there on his own, and it didn’t seem like there was really anyone else around that would help.
She ducked as some sort of debris flew just over her head, so fast that she didn’t even know what it was. She did not want to be out here for long, if the wind got much stronger, she herself would be flying through the air she was sure, her small size definitely did not help.
“Here.” She yelled out over the wind and rain, reaching down she pulled the wood out from under Akhmad’s foot. She turned with it in her arms and started trying to make her way back to the house, the extra surface area of the wood nearly allowed the wind to pick her up, causing her to be off balance for a second.
But she grit her teeth and leaned what weight she had into the wind, determined to make it back to the house, even if she had to fight the wind itself to do so.
She made it back once more, just barely, thankful for the shelter of the house, she dropped the boards out of the way of the door and moved to sit by the fire, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath from the effort it had taken to fight the wind. She could not go back out there, not in this wind unless she really did want to be blown away.
She chewed her bottom lip, there was nothing else she could do to help out there. All she could do was sit inside and hope the men would make it back in time to hide together from the storm. She did not want to have to worry about any of them being stuck some where else.
She rested for a few moments in the warmth, but knew she needed dry clothes, and ones that covered more of her than her own.
She stared at the spot where Khanh kept his clothing.
She would just have to face him if he was upset.
She stood from her spot and went to his things, quickly stripping her own clothes off, she found some of his clothing and slipped it on instead, the dryness and thickness of the material immediately making her feel warmer and more comfortable.
Now that that was done, she gathered her dried tea leaves and brought them over to the water that had just begun to boil, still determined to have a hot drink for the men when they returned.
Somra did not miss Akhmad’s gaze on her, aware that with the material clinging to her body, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. She raised a bit of an eyebrow... did he just... check her out? No, there was no way. Akhmad was... well he was Akhmad. He was not a regular man, she had never seen him really show interest in anything beyond their work, and certainly not a woman. She chalked it up to him judging her for her choice of attire now that the weather had turned sour.
Somra managed to get the small fire going, carefully contained so it didn’t catch and burn the place more than it already was. She put a heavy metal pot over the flames so that the water would start boiling, hot tea would warm them all up and stave off any sickness from being chilled. She then turned to look out the window where she saw Akhmad struggling to keep the wood he had collected from flying away as he tried to collect more. She sighed a little, longing to stay inside near the warm fire, to change into something dry and wait out the storm.
But that didn’t seem to be in the cards just yet.
Instead, knowing that the low burning fire would not catch, she headed back out into the storm. She could not just leave Akhmad struggling out there on his own, and it didn’t seem like there was really anyone else around that would help.
She ducked as some sort of debris flew just over her head, so fast that she didn’t even know what it was. She did not want to be out here for long, if the wind got much stronger, she herself would be flying through the air she was sure, her small size definitely did not help.
“Here.” She yelled out over the wind and rain, reaching down she pulled the wood out from under Akhmad’s foot. She turned with it in her arms and started trying to make her way back to the house, the extra surface area of the wood nearly allowed the wind to pick her up, causing her to be off balance for a second.
But she grit her teeth and leaned what weight she had into the wind, determined to make it back to the house, even if she had to fight the wind itself to do so.
She made it back once more, just barely, thankful for the shelter of the house, she dropped the boards out of the way of the door and moved to sit by the fire, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath from the effort it had taken to fight the wind. She could not go back out there, not in this wind unless she really did want to be blown away.
She chewed her bottom lip, there was nothing else she could do to help out there. All she could do was sit inside and hope the men would make it back in time to hide together from the storm. She did not want to have to worry about any of them being stuck some where else.
She rested for a few moments in the warmth, but knew she needed dry clothes, and ones that covered more of her than her own.
She stared at the spot where Khanh kept his clothing.
She would just have to face him if he was upset.
She stood from her spot and went to his things, quickly stripping her own clothes off, she found some of his clothing and slipped it on instead, the dryness and thickness of the material immediately making her feel warmer and more comfortable.
Now that that was done, she gathered her dried tea leaves and brought them over to the water that had just begun to boil, still determined to have a hot drink for the men when they returned.
Myrrine had allowed herself to be too distracted by her own thoughts.
That was the only explanation for how she had missed the tarp that the man threw at her feet. She was just about to thank him when he snapped two words at her. That bristled against her nerves. Part of her wanted to rebel simply because he had ordered her or scold him for presuming to, but she forced her temper down. Judging from his accent, perhaps he simply didn’t know much Greek.
Of course, the realization that he was a foreigner only drew her mind to Hashe. Wherever he was, she just hoped that he was safe. He was a seasoned traveler, so she had faith in him, but not all places were prone to these sorts of terrible weather. She didn’t know if he had traveled to Colchis ever before, enough to be familiar with such storms. She could only pray he was safe somewhere and that she would see him again soon.
It was the sound of a feminine cry that drew her attention. Her eyes sharply returned to the door. Had one of her sisters been foolish enough to disobey and try to come after her? Yet there was no sign of her sisters nearby. Her gaze shifted farther down the street, away from the men. She saw the girl with flaming hair on the ground just a moment before the remnants of a fruit cart collapsed atop her.
There was no hesitation as she ran towards her, quickly kneeling on the ground before her, trying to see the girl trapped inside. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” she assured her, voice raised to be heard over the winds. She studied the debris before her, trying to see the easiest way to free the girl without further injuring her. “I’m going to get you out, okay?” She kept talking out of habit, knowing that she surely had to be frightened being trapped and likely hurt. Talking would distract her.
She glanced back towards the men, seeing one tackle the other to the ground. She wanted to shout for help, but it seemed they were in no position to give it. Muttering a silent curse within her mind, she turned her attention to the cart once more. “I’m going to get you free from this and then we’ll run to my home, alright?” Though phrased as a question, there was no room for disagreement in her tone. “We’ll get you out of this weather and warm and tended to, and then we’ll ride out the storm together.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart? I’m Myrrine.” She tentatively grasped a larger piece of the intact wood, pulling at it to see if it might be the starting point she needed. They needed to hurry, but she worried if she just started pulling, the pile might only crush her more. “Alright, I’m going to try to dig you out of here, but I need you to tell me if it starts feeling heavier, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, but we need to get you out of here quickly.”
With that, she set to her task, tugging free chunks of wood, trying her best to pull from the top so what little structure remained didn’t collapse upon the poor girl. She ignored the sharp edged that cut into her hands and the splinters of wood that embedded themselves in her flesh. That mattered nothing compared to another life.
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Myrrine had allowed herself to be too distracted by her own thoughts.
That was the only explanation for how she had missed the tarp that the man threw at her feet. She was just about to thank him when he snapped two words at her. That bristled against her nerves. Part of her wanted to rebel simply because he had ordered her or scold him for presuming to, but she forced her temper down. Judging from his accent, perhaps he simply didn’t know much Greek.
Of course, the realization that he was a foreigner only drew her mind to Hashe. Wherever he was, she just hoped that he was safe. He was a seasoned traveler, so she had faith in him, but not all places were prone to these sorts of terrible weather. She didn’t know if he had traveled to Colchis ever before, enough to be familiar with such storms. She could only pray he was safe somewhere and that she would see him again soon.
It was the sound of a feminine cry that drew her attention. Her eyes sharply returned to the door. Had one of her sisters been foolish enough to disobey and try to come after her? Yet there was no sign of her sisters nearby. Her gaze shifted farther down the street, away from the men. She saw the girl with flaming hair on the ground just a moment before the remnants of a fruit cart collapsed atop her.
There was no hesitation as she ran towards her, quickly kneeling on the ground before her, trying to see the girl trapped inside. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” she assured her, voice raised to be heard over the winds. She studied the debris before her, trying to see the easiest way to free the girl without further injuring her. “I’m going to get you out, okay?” She kept talking out of habit, knowing that she surely had to be frightened being trapped and likely hurt. Talking would distract her.
She glanced back towards the men, seeing one tackle the other to the ground. She wanted to shout for help, but it seemed they were in no position to give it. Muttering a silent curse within her mind, she turned her attention to the cart once more. “I’m going to get you free from this and then we’ll run to my home, alright?” Though phrased as a question, there was no room for disagreement in her tone. “We’ll get you out of this weather and warm and tended to, and then we’ll ride out the storm together.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart? I’m Myrrine.” She tentatively grasped a larger piece of the intact wood, pulling at it to see if it might be the starting point she needed. They needed to hurry, but she worried if she just started pulling, the pile might only crush her more. “Alright, I’m going to try to dig you out of here, but I need you to tell me if it starts feeling heavier, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, but we need to get you out of here quickly.”
With that, she set to her task, tugging free chunks of wood, trying her best to pull from the top so what little structure remained didn’t collapse upon the poor girl. She ignored the sharp edged that cut into her hands and the splinters of wood that embedded themselves in her flesh. That mattered nothing compared to another life.
Myrrine had allowed herself to be too distracted by her own thoughts.
That was the only explanation for how she had missed the tarp that the man threw at her feet. She was just about to thank him when he snapped two words at her. That bristled against her nerves. Part of her wanted to rebel simply because he had ordered her or scold him for presuming to, but she forced her temper down. Judging from his accent, perhaps he simply didn’t know much Greek.
Of course, the realization that he was a foreigner only drew her mind to Hashe. Wherever he was, she just hoped that he was safe. He was a seasoned traveler, so she had faith in him, but not all places were prone to these sorts of terrible weather. She didn’t know if he had traveled to Colchis ever before, enough to be familiar with such storms. She could only pray he was safe somewhere and that she would see him again soon.
It was the sound of a feminine cry that drew her attention. Her eyes sharply returned to the door. Had one of her sisters been foolish enough to disobey and try to come after her? Yet there was no sign of her sisters nearby. Her gaze shifted farther down the street, away from the men. She saw the girl with flaming hair on the ground just a moment before the remnants of a fruit cart collapsed atop her.
There was no hesitation as she ran towards her, quickly kneeling on the ground before her, trying to see the girl trapped inside. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” she assured her, voice raised to be heard over the winds. She studied the debris before her, trying to see the easiest way to free the girl without further injuring her. “I’m going to get you out, okay?” She kept talking out of habit, knowing that she surely had to be frightened being trapped and likely hurt. Talking would distract her.
She glanced back towards the men, seeing one tackle the other to the ground. She wanted to shout for help, but it seemed they were in no position to give it. Muttering a silent curse within her mind, she turned her attention to the cart once more. “I’m going to get you free from this and then we’ll run to my home, alright?” Though phrased as a question, there was no room for disagreement in her tone. “We’ll get you out of this weather and warm and tended to, and then we’ll ride out the storm together.”
“What’s your name, sweetheart? I’m Myrrine.” She tentatively grasped a larger piece of the intact wood, pulling at it to see if it might be the starting point she needed. They needed to hurry, but she worried if she just started pulling, the pile might only crush her more. “Alright, I’m going to try to dig you out of here, but I need you to tell me if it starts feeling heavier, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, but we need to get you out of here quickly.”
With that, she set to her task, tugging free chunks of wood, trying her best to pull from the top so what little structure remained didn’t collapse upon the poor girl. She ignored the sharp edged that cut into her hands and the splinters of wood that embedded themselves in her flesh. That mattered nothing compared to another life.
When Euterpe heard the sound of another woman’s voice, she felt sure her prayers must have been answered. Trembling with relief, she let out a shuddering sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she whispered to the god of thunder, tears forming in her eyes. Surely, her time in the temple must have counted for something if divine intervention was so hasty. “As soon as I’m able, I will be sure to make a sacrifice in your temple.” The voice only came closer, and Euterpe’s heart soared. Thank all the divines in existence she would not have to endure this alone!
“Here, I’m in here!” she yelled over the sound of the rain, the other woman’s voice practically echoing her own. The priestess wasn’t sure if she had ever heard a sweeter sound in that moment as her rescuer assured her she was there to help. “May all the gods on Olympus bless you,” Euterpe responded as her tears spilled over, voice effusive with emotion muffled by the debris around her. “For I surely do!”
The woman introduced herself as Myrrine in a calming tone, carefully starting to pull chunks of wood away from the mountain covering her. “Euterpe,” the priestess offered her own name, curling into a tighter ball as the remnants of the cart started to shift around her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. I was nearly certain no one would be able to hear me in all this mess.”
Each piece of wood Myrrine ripped away shifted the rest of the pile more, Euterpe curling up tighter and tighter until she couldn’t curl any more. The priestess wished there was something she could to help herself, but there was only so much room for her to move beneath the rubble. All she could be thankful for at this point was that it wasn’t a larger structure that fell on her. Ostensibly, the two of them could clear it away and rush to safety, so long as nothing else impeded their progress.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have even had the thought, for nearly as soon as she did, she heard the telltale crack of wood somewhere behind them. Stiffening nervously, her breath came in short, erratic gasps, her eyes wide and unblinking in her fear. If only she could see what was going on!
“Myrrine, look out!” she cried in alarm when whatever it was started to fall, crashing to the ground and covering her further. Hopefully, her savior was not caught up in it, as well! “Please, are you all right?” Her voice was frantic as she listened for reassurance that Myrrine was not trapped now too.
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When Euterpe heard the sound of another woman’s voice, she felt sure her prayers must have been answered. Trembling with relief, she let out a shuddering sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she whispered to the god of thunder, tears forming in her eyes. Surely, her time in the temple must have counted for something if divine intervention was so hasty. “As soon as I’m able, I will be sure to make a sacrifice in your temple.” The voice only came closer, and Euterpe’s heart soared. Thank all the divines in existence she would not have to endure this alone!
“Here, I’m in here!” she yelled over the sound of the rain, the other woman’s voice practically echoing her own. The priestess wasn’t sure if she had ever heard a sweeter sound in that moment as her rescuer assured her she was there to help. “May all the gods on Olympus bless you,” Euterpe responded as her tears spilled over, voice effusive with emotion muffled by the debris around her. “For I surely do!”
The woman introduced herself as Myrrine in a calming tone, carefully starting to pull chunks of wood away from the mountain covering her. “Euterpe,” the priestess offered her own name, curling into a tighter ball as the remnants of the cart started to shift around her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. I was nearly certain no one would be able to hear me in all this mess.”
Each piece of wood Myrrine ripped away shifted the rest of the pile more, Euterpe curling up tighter and tighter until she couldn’t curl any more. The priestess wished there was something she could to help herself, but there was only so much room for her to move beneath the rubble. All she could be thankful for at this point was that it wasn’t a larger structure that fell on her. Ostensibly, the two of them could clear it away and rush to safety, so long as nothing else impeded their progress.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have even had the thought, for nearly as soon as she did, she heard the telltale crack of wood somewhere behind them. Stiffening nervously, her breath came in short, erratic gasps, her eyes wide and unblinking in her fear. If only she could see what was going on!
“Myrrine, look out!” she cried in alarm when whatever it was started to fall, crashing to the ground and covering her further. Hopefully, her savior was not caught up in it, as well! “Please, are you all right?” Her voice was frantic as she listened for reassurance that Myrrine was not trapped now too.
When Euterpe heard the sound of another woman’s voice, she felt sure her prayers must have been answered. Trembling with relief, she let out a shuddering sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she whispered to the god of thunder, tears forming in her eyes. Surely, her time in the temple must have counted for something if divine intervention was so hasty. “As soon as I’m able, I will be sure to make a sacrifice in your temple.” The voice only came closer, and Euterpe’s heart soared. Thank all the divines in existence she would not have to endure this alone!
“Here, I’m in here!” she yelled over the sound of the rain, the other woman’s voice practically echoing her own. The priestess wasn’t sure if she had ever heard a sweeter sound in that moment as her rescuer assured her she was there to help. “May all the gods on Olympus bless you,” Euterpe responded as her tears spilled over, voice effusive with emotion muffled by the debris around her. “For I surely do!”
The woman introduced herself as Myrrine in a calming tone, carefully starting to pull chunks of wood away from the mountain covering her. “Euterpe,” the priestess offered her own name, curling into a tighter ball as the remnants of the cart started to shift around her. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. I was nearly certain no one would be able to hear me in all this mess.”
Each piece of wood Myrrine ripped away shifted the rest of the pile more, Euterpe curling up tighter and tighter until she couldn’t curl any more. The priestess wished there was something she could to help herself, but there was only so much room for her to move beneath the rubble. All she could be thankful for at this point was that it wasn’t a larger structure that fell on her. Ostensibly, the two of them could clear it away and rush to safety, so long as nothing else impeded their progress.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have even had the thought, for nearly as soon as she did, she heard the telltale crack of wood somewhere behind them. Stiffening nervously, her breath came in short, erratic gasps, her eyes wide and unblinking in her fear. If only she could see what was going on!
“Myrrine, look out!” she cried in alarm when whatever it was started to fall, crashing to the ground and covering her further. Hopefully, her savior was not caught up in it, as well! “Please, are you all right?” Her voice was frantic as she listened for reassurance that Myrrine was not trapped now too.
The wind howled and Khanh had never had such trouble getting a chair to stay put. Every time he set it down, the gale had it edging sideways and so Khanh bent down to put a huge crate in the chair’s seat. Let the storm try and force the chair back now. He’d just set both fists on his hips, green eyes narrowed to slits as he dared the obstinate furniture to move another inch, when something barreled into him from behind. Khanh rolled, arms instinctively bearhugging his attacker as the two of them rolled on the wet ground. Something pinged hard against the stones and Khanh jerked as a pole went end over end right where he’d been standing.
His wide green eyes wandered back across the cobblestones as he realized he was still hugging whoever it was on top of him. The sloping forehead and prominent nose of the master informer were nearly against his own and Khanh found himself staring into bright blue eyes, beneath quirked, heavy brows. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do in that moment. This was about the very last way he wanted to meet the Master Informer, if ever meet him at all. In fact, if not for Akhmad’s big mouth, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place! More debris flapped in the wind, billowing off Magnus’s back and bouncing off the top of Khanh’s head on its way to tumble through the streets of Midas.
He heard a crack and looked around Magnus’s shoulder to find Akhmad breaking off wood from a wagon that had tipped over. That was nice. Though, this man was still on top of him and that had to stop. Khanh shimmied out from under the Master Informer, bracing back on his hands and trying to slide his legs free. “Thank you,” he said, using the formal Greek he’d learned, rather than a slang version that might have been used by someone more familiar with the language. However, their little interlude was cut short. Khanh looked up in time to see that the woman he’d literally just rescued was now coming to the aid of a girl with such a shock of red hair as Khanh had never seen before.
He spared one last look at Magnus before he shot to his feet. Taking exactly one look to make sure nothing too horrifying was flying towards him, Khanh darted up the street towards the two women. At least Somra was safe inside like she was supposed to be. Akhmad was doing what he should be to protect their place, and now these two random women were here? Khanh was going to dump them into Magnus’s lap. He was Greek. They were his responsibility, right? Khanh wasn’t from this land. Better to take them to the Master Informer, rather than his own hideout, where he wanted exactly zero Greeks to be.
The rubble pile would be no trouble on its own but with the intensity of the wind and the driving rain, it was slick, splintery, and wood flew in any number of directions as soon as he lifted a plank from the pile until he revealed the women.. This was not the cart that Akhmad had stolen from, but another, and smaller, thankfully, though no less lethal in potential. “Come,” Khanh called above the wind, reaching down a hand first to Myrrine and then to Euterpe. His intention was to get both women across the street and literally into Magnus’s arms. Then the tall, slim man could escort them away from the hideout and Khanh could go help Akhmad nail down the rest of the boards...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The wind howled and Khanh had never had such trouble getting a chair to stay put. Every time he set it down, the gale had it edging sideways and so Khanh bent down to put a huge crate in the chair’s seat. Let the storm try and force the chair back now. He’d just set both fists on his hips, green eyes narrowed to slits as he dared the obstinate furniture to move another inch, when something barreled into him from behind. Khanh rolled, arms instinctively bearhugging his attacker as the two of them rolled on the wet ground. Something pinged hard against the stones and Khanh jerked as a pole went end over end right where he’d been standing.
His wide green eyes wandered back across the cobblestones as he realized he was still hugging whoever it was on top of him. The sloping forehead and prominent nose of the master informer were nearly against his own and Khanh found himself staring into bright blue eyes, beneath quirked, heavy brows. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do in that moment. This was about the very last way he wanted to meet the Master Informer, if ever meet him at all. In fact, if not for Akhmad’s big mouth, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place! More debris flapped in the wind, billowing off Magnus’s back and bouncing off the top of Khanh’s head on its way to tumble through the streets of Midas.
He heard a crack and looked around Magnus’s shoulder to find Akhmad breaking off wood from a wagon that had tipped over. That was nice. Though, this man was still on top of him and that had to stop. Khanh shimmied out from under the Master Informer, bracing back on his hands and trying to slide his legs free. “Thank you,” he said, using the formal Greek he’d learned, rather than a slang version that might have been used by someone more familiar with the language. However, their little interlude was cut short. Khanh looked up in time to see that the woman he’d literally just rescued was now coming to the aid of a girl with such a shock of red hair as Khanh had never seen before.
He spared one last look at Magnus before he shot to his feet. Taking exactly one look to make sure nothing too horrifying was flying towards him, Khanh darted up the street towards the two women. At least Somra was safe inside like she was supposed to be. Akhmad was doing what he should be to protect their place, and now these two random women were here? Khanh was going to dump them into Magnus’s lap. He was Greek. They were his responsibility, right? Khanh wasn’t from this land. Better to take them to the Master Informer, rather than his own hideout, where he wanted exactly zero Greeks to be.
The rubble pile would be no trouble on its own but with the intensity of the wind and the driving rain, it was slick, splintery, and wood flew in any number of directions as soon as he lifted a plank from the pile until he revealed the women.. This was not the cart that Akhmad had stolen from, but another, and smaller, thankfully, though no less lethal in potential. “Come,” Khanh called above the wind, reaching down a hand first to Myrrine and then to Euterpe. His intention was to get both women across the street and literally into Magnus’s arms. Then the tall, slim man could escort them away from the hideout and Khanh could go help Akhmad nail down the rest of the boards...
The wind howled and Khanh had never had such trouble getting a chair to stay put. Every time he set it down, the gale had it edging sideways and so Khanh bent down to put a huge crate in the chair’s seat. Let the storm try and force the chair back now. He’d just set both fists on his hips, green eyes narrowed to slits as he dared the obstinate furniture to move another inch, when something barreled into him from behind. Khanh rolled, arms instinctively bearhugging his attacker as the two of them rolled on the wet ground. Something pinged hard against the stones and Khanh jerked as a pole went end over end right where he’d been standing.
His wide green eyes wandered back across the cobblestones as he realized he was still hugging whoever it was on top of him. The sloping forehead and prominent nose of the master informer were nearly against his own and Khanh found himself staring into bright blue eyes, beneath quirked, heavy brows. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do in that moment. This was about the very last way he wanted to meet the Master Informer, if ever meet him at all. In fact, if not for Akhmad’s big mouth, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place! More debris flapped in the wind, billowing off Magnus’s back and bouncing off the top of Khanh’s head on its way to tumble through the streets of Midas.
He heard a crack and looked around Magnus’s shoulder to find Akhmad breaking off wood from a wagon that had tipped over. That was nice. Though, this man was still on top of him and that had to stop. Khanh shimmied out from under the Master Informer, bracing back on his hands and trying to slide his legs free. “Thank you,” he said, using the formal Greek he’d learned, rather than a slang version that might have been used by someone more familiar with the language. However, their little interlude was cut short. Khanh looked up in time to see that the woman he’d literally just rescued was now coming to the aid of a girl with such a shock of red hair as Khanh had never seen before.
He spared one last look at Magnus before he shot to his feet. Taking exactly one look to make sure nothing too horrifying was flying towards him, Khanh darted up the street towards the two women. At least Somra was safe inside like she was supposed to be. Akhmad was doing what he should be to protect their place, and now these two random women were here? Khanh was going to dump them into Magnus’s lap. He was Greek. They were his responsibility, right? Khanh wasn’t from this land. Better to take them to the Master Informer, rather than his own hideout, where he wanted exactly zero Greeks to be.
The rubble pile would be no trouble on its own but with the intensity of the wind and the driving rain, it was slick, splintery, and wood flew in any number of directions as soon as he lifted a plank from the pile until he revealed the women.. This was not the cart that Akhmad had stolen from, but another, and smaller, thankfully, though no less lethal in potential. “Come,” Khanh called above the wind, reaching down a hand first to Myrrine and then to Euterpe. His intention was to get both women across the street and literally into Magnus’s arms. Then the tall, slim man could escort them away from the hideout and Khanh could go help Akhmad nail down the rest of the boards...