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The manner of the Abaddi family was one carefully constructed by the matriarchs that ran it. Built from the finest of stone with large open rooms and spaces, money had been saved upon its size rather than its quality. Two storeys of height made it noticeable and a smaller footprint kept the costs of land low. The Abaddi had been wise to save on the construction of the property without risking the finery that would have been expected of a new noble household. It was likely Osiria's forward thinking that had been assured such a thing. The manor itself had been built just under half a decade ago. Yet the family had only been finalised as a Hei in recent months. The home of the great General Sethtah had been suitable as it was but also open to the construction of spires and the addition of luxuries that brought it to the level of courtly power.
The structure of the home within itself was simple enough. Two storeys, the upper rooms of which were smaller than their brothers below, meant that a wide balcony encircled the property around the upper floor. At its very centre was a square courtyard, shaded by yards of pretty silk, thin enough to see the stars on a clear night. Aside from a small fountain at its centre, trickling in peaceful serenity, the bright foliage and greenery were the main focus of the outside space turned inside reverie. They were fine specimens, carefully tended to and never permitted to grow large and gaudy.
The same could be said for the interior’s chambers. White stone, gold mosaic work, amber drapes around alabaster columns. The floors were either clear or lined with brightly coloured stones and pieces of fine glass and the alcoves along the corridors help only a single piece of artwork each. Never did the decor of the Abaddi household suggest a propensity to pomp and circumstance. Yet neither did it appear poor or insubstantial compared to the noble houses that had come before them.
It was all so carefully attuned and perfectly balanced that it made Rubiah feel the strongest and oddest desire to grab a large pot of red paint and smear it down the corridors. To grab the drapes and twist them into patterns along the walls. To smear pomegranate seeds over the mouths of the statues or to mark dirty footprints down the corridor. Childish ventures to be sure and a little out of character for her. She was a rebel by nature, it was true, but normally her schemes were on a more cerebral level, a bigger canvas on which to paint. Games and antics were not her sort of playground. And yet, the dull quaintness of the Saraaya made her regress to the mindset of a dribbling infant.
Maybe an infant was what was needed... she considered, for a moment, wandering around the balcony on the upper level, removing herself from her own chambers and heading down towards that of her sister's. Perhaps a toddler would ensure the necessary destruction of such a place so that it wouldn't reserve the right to appear so anally retentive anymore.
Rubiah snorted to herself.
Then again, any kid of Sethtah and Ressiah's would be so carefully polite and conscientious, there was no risk of him causing anything more than a few fingerprints on his study tablets. In short... a wuss.
Kids should be wild. Violent. Stretching themselves to the limits of their abilities and finding what made their hearts beat faster. They needed to get dirt under their fingernails and grazes on their knees. Their cheeks slapped for cheekiness and their spines hardened with revolutionary determination. They had to feel the beat of adventure in their veins.
Not learn their hieroglyphics.
Pushing such thoughts aside - for she was hardly likely to have a kid on who to land such words of wisdom - Rubiah focused on the task at hand. Which led her into the sleeping quarters of her sister and the husband that shared them. The columns that flanked the open archways of the chamber were lined with white silk curtains, wrapped and around the stances. Beyond them was a room of pristine care - already seen to by the servants for the day - and left to its own devices by a couple busy to start their day. Ressiah would be out to see to contacts and making visits to local businesses. Sethtah would be seeing to his own duties as a Sirdar and General. The man was busy. And a courageous one to take on such responsibilities...
At least Rubiah could admit to that.
But the room in which the couple slept was nothing to flatter. Like the rest of the house it was dull and plain. The only hint of personal touch was in the floral scarf of peaches and plum tones that hung over a mirror in the far corner. Rubiah could see Ressiah assessing her vision there in the morning and turned away from it. She knew what she was looking for. And it would be somewhere in the bronze chest at the end of the couple's bed.
It had been only a few nights ago that Sethtah had presented his wife with a gift at the dining table. Rubiah had stayed silent when the pin - designed to hold up the shoulder of a gown or tunic - was revealed inside its little gold box. Rimmed in gold, the crimson stone had been large and ornate, twisted and shaped into a pretty and fluid design. The gold had curled and scrolled over the jewel to emphasis it's form and Rubiah had found her eyes drawn to the piece.
Her sister had fallen in love with it as far Rubiah could tell but they were each as good an actress as the other when they chose to be. Rubiah had proven it by smiling in joy over her sister's happiness and insisting that she pin it to her dress then and there.
Now, Rubiah was more truthful to herself and her own desires, as she lifted the lid of the large bronze chest. Inside, she knew that Ressiah kept her more cared for pieces of jewellery within a little onyx box tucked in the bottom corner of the container. It was there that she would find the pin that she wanted for herself...
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The manner of the Abaddi family was one carefully constructed by the matriarchs that ran it. Built from the finest of stone with large open rooms and spaces, money had been saved upon its size rather than its quality. Two storeys of height made it noticeable and a smaller footprint kept the costs of land low. The Abaddi had been wise to save on the construction of the property without risking the finery that would have been expected of a new noble household. It was likely Osiria's forward thinking that had been assured such a thing. The manor itself had been built just under half a decade ago. Yet the family had only been finalised as a Hei in recent months. The home of the great General Sethtah had been suitable as it was but also open to the construction of spires and the addition of luxuries that brought it to the level of courtly power.
The structure of the home within itself was simple enough. Two storeys, the upper rooms of which were smaller than their brothers below, meant that a wide balcony encircled the property around the upper floor. At its very centre was a square courtyard, shaded by yards of pretty silk, thin enough to see the stars on a clear night. Aside from a small fountain at its centre, trickling in peaceful serenity, the bright foliage and greenery were the main focus of the outside space turned inside reverie. They were fine specimens, carefully tended to and never permitted to grow large and gaudy.
The same could be said for the interior’s chambers. White stone, gold mosaic work, amber drapes around alabaster columns. The floors were either clear or lined with brightly coloured stones and pieces of fine glass and the alcoves along the corridors help only a single piece of artwork each. Never did the decor of the Abaddi household suggest a propensity to pomp and circumstance. Yet neither did it appear poor or insubstantial compared to the noble houses that had come before them.
It was all so carefully attuned and perfectly balanced that it made Rubiah feel the strongest and oddest desire to grab a large pot of red paint and smear it down the corridors. To grab the drapes and twist them into patterns along the walls. To smear pomegranate seeds over the mouths of the statues or to mark dirty footprints down the corridor. Childish ventures to be sure and a little out of character for her. She was a rebel by nature, it was true, but normally her schemes were on a more cerebral level, a bigger canvas on which to paint. Games and antics were not her sort of playground. And yet, the dull quaintness of the Saraaya made her regress to the mindset of a dribbling infant.
Maybe an infant was what was needed... she considered, for a moment, wandering around the balcony on the upper level, removing herself from her own chambers and heading down towards that of her sister's. Perhaps a toddler would ensure the necessary destruction of such a place so that it wouldn't reserve the right to appear so anally retentive anymore.
Rubiah snorted to herself.
Then again, any kid of Sethtah and Ressiah's would be so carefully polite and conscientious, there was no risk of him causing anything more than a few fingerprints on his study tablets. In short... a wuss.
Kids should be wild. Violent. Stretching themselves to the limits of their abilities and finding what made their hearts beat faster. They needed to get dirt under their fingernails and grazes on their knees. Their cheeks slapped for cheekiness and their spines hardened with revolutionary determination. They had to feel the beat of adventure in their veins.
Not learn their hieroglyphics.
Pushing such thoughts aside - for she was hardly likely to have a kid on who to land such words of wisdom - Rubiah focused on the task at hand. Which led her into the sleeping quarters of her sister and the husband that shared them. The columns that flanked the open archways of the chamber were lined with white silk curtains, wrapped and around the stances. Beyond them was a room of pristine care - already seen to by the servants for the day - and left to its own devices by a couple busy to start their day. Ressiah would be out to see to contacts and making visits to local businesses. Sethtah would be seeing to his own duties as a Sirdar and General. The man was busy. And a courageous one to take on such responsibilities...
At least Rubiah could admit to that.
But the room in which the couple slept was nothing to flatter. Like the rest of the house it was dull and plain. The only hint of personal touch was in the floral scarf of peaches and plum tones that hung over a mirror in the far corner. Rubiah could see Ressiah assessing her vision there in the morning and turned away from it. She knew what she was looking for. And it would be somewhere in the bronze chest at the end of the couple's bed.
It had been only a few nights ago that Sethtah had presented his wife with a gift at the dining table. Rubiah had stayed silent when the pin - designed to hold up the shoulder of a gown or tunic - was revealed inside its little gold box. Rimmed in gold, the crimson stone had been large and ornate, twisted and shaped into a pretty and fluid design. The gold had curled and scrolled over the jewel to emphasis it's form and Rubiah had found her eyes drawn to the piece.
Her sister had fallen in love with it as far Rubiah could tell but they were each as good an actress as the other when they chose to be. Rubiah had proven it by smiling in joy over her sister's happiness and insisting that she pin it to her dress then and there.
Now, Rubiah was more truthful to herself and her own desires, as she lifted the lid of the large bronze chest. Inside, she knew that Ressiah kept her more cared for pieces of jewellery within a little onyx box tucked in the bottom corner of the container. It was there that she would find the pin that she wanted for herself...
The manner of the Abaddi family was one carefully constructed by the matriarchs that ran it. Built from the finest of stone with large open rooms and spaces, money had been saved upon its size rather than its quality. Two storeys of height made it noticeable and a smaller footprint kept the costs of land low. The Abaddi had been wise to save on the construction of the property without risking the finery that would have been expected of a new noble household. It was likely Osiria's forward thinking that had been assured such a thing. The manor itself had been built just under half a decade ago. Yet the family had only been finalised as a Hei in recent months. The home of the great General Sethtah had been suitable as it was but also open to the construction of spires and the addition of luxuries that brought it to the level of courtly power.
The structure of the home within itself was simple enough. Two storeys, the upper rooms of which were smaller than their brothers below, meant that a wide balcony encircled the property around the upper floor. At its very centre was a square courtyard, shaded by yards of pretty silk, thin enough to see the stars on a clear night. Aside from a small fountain at its centre, trickling in peaceful serenity, the bright foliage and greenery were the main focus of the outside space turned inside reverie. They were fine specimens, carefully tended to and never permitted to grow large and gaudy.
The same could be said for the interior’s chambers. White stone, gold mosaic work, amber drapes around alabaster columns. The floors were either clear or lined with brightly coloured stones and pieces of fine glass and the alcoves along the corridors help only a single piece of artwork each. Never did the decor of the Abaddi household suggest a propensity to pomp and circumstance. Yet neither did it appear poor or insubstantial compared to the noble houses that had come before them.
It was all so carefully attuned and perfectly balanced that it made Rubiah feel the strongest and oddest desire to grab a large pot of red paint and smear it down the corridors. To grab the drapes and twist them into patterns along the walls. To smear pomegranate seeds over the mouths of the statues or to mark dirty footprints down the corridor. Childish ventures to be sure and a little out of character for her. She was a rebel by nature, it was true, but normally her schemes were on a more cerebral level, a bigger canvas on which to paint. Games and antics were not her sort of playground. And yet, the dull quaintness of the Saraaya made her regress to the mindset of a dribbling infant.
Maybe an infant was what was needed... she considered, for a moment, wandering around the balcony on the upper level, removing herself from her own chambers and heading down towards that of her sister's. Perhaps a toddler would ensure the necessary destruction of such a place so that it wouldn't reserve the right to appear so anally retentive anymore.
Rubiah snorted to herself.
Then again, any kid of Sethtah and Ressiah's would be so carefully polite and conscientious, there was no risk of him causing anything more than a few fingerprints on his study tablets. In short... a wuss.
Kids should be wild. Violent. Stretching themselves to the limits of their abilities and finding what made their hearts beat faster. They needed to get dirt under their fingernails and grazes on their knees. Their cheeks slapped for cheekiness and their spines hardened with revolutionary determination. They had to feel the beat of adventure in their veins.
Not learn their hieroglyphics.
Pushing such thoughts aside - for she was hardly likely to have a kid on who to land such words of wisdom - Rubiah focused on the task at hand. Which led her into the sleeping quarters of her sister and the husband that shared them. The columns that flanked the open archways of the chamber were lined with white silk curtains, wrapped and around the stances. Beyond them was a room of pristine care - already seen to by the servants for the day - and left to its own devices by a couple busy to start their day. Ressiah would be out to see to contacts and making visits to local businesses. Sethtah would be seeing to his own duties as a Sirdar and General. The man was busy. And a courageous one to take on such responsibilities...
At least Rubiah could admit to that.
But the room in which the couple slept was nothing to flatter. Like the rest of the house it was dull and plain. The only hint of personal touch was in the floral scarf of peaches and plum tones that hung over a mirror in the far corner. Rubiah could see Ressiah assessing her vision there in the morning and turned away from it. She knew what she was looking for. And it would be somewhere in the bronze chest at the end of the couple's bed.
It had been only a few nights ago that Sethtah had presented his wife with a gift at the dining table. Rubiah had stayed silent when the pin - designed to hold up the shoulder of a gown or tunic - was revealed inside its little gold box. Rimmed in gold, the crimson stone had been large and ornate, twisted and shaped into a pretty and fluid design. The gold had curled and scrolled over the jewel to emphasis it's form and Rubiah had found her eyes drawn to the piece.
Her sister had fallen in love with it as far Rubiah could tell but they were each as good an actress as the other when they chose to be. Rubiah had proven it by smiling in joy over her sister's happiness and insisting that she pin it to her dress then and there.
Now, Rubiah was more truthful to herself and her own desires, as she lifted the lid of the large bronze chest. Inside, she knew that Ressiah kept her more cared for pieces of jewellery within a little onyx box tucked in the bottom corner of the container. It was there that she would find the pin that she wanted for herself...
Everything was in order, which was how Osiria preferred it. They might even be able to start in on some of those 'embellishments', that had been casually mentioned by her family when talking about the other homes in the area. Their's was a blank canvas, constructed upward to save on land cost and built at the lower end of the spectrum of acceptable decor and opulence for nobility. Five years passed, they recovered from the initial building, and now could be given a few more touches of extravagance. She would let Ressiah have the final say in what she wanted to decorate the home with. After all, it had been Osiria who had convinced her to take only what they had. Draped fabrics, embedded glass, and minimal artwork filled the house with carefully balanced color. Perhaps color might be added to the marble halls or some furs imported from the Northern lands to add softness to the metals and stones. Gold was always popular, she mused, taking in the corridor she walked down. Perhaps hangings from the ceiling? Or weapons displays to showcase Sethtah's military status? Personal touches of any sort would make it feel less like the temples in their decorative natures and more like a home. Of course, it would never reach the cluttered, dirty state of their childhood home after their parents passed, but it could look a little more livable...
Movement up ahead caught her eye and she paused in her step, craning her head to see who might be about the house at this time. Fumisa, perhaps? Sethtah would have departed early in the morning to attend to his duties and she knew that Ressiah had gone out as well. Praise be to the gods, it spared Osiria the necessity of doing so herself. She was pleased by her sister-in-law's growing abilities in managing their house, but this came with the worry that, soon, there would be no need for Osiria's aid. It might not be long before it was time for her to actively seek a husband among the court's eligible men. Until that time was upon her, though, she would continue about her duties.
At the moment, that included a bit of reading in the wake of her last discussion with the scholar, Khufu of Benin. She had been on her way to find a cool place suitable for reading when she'd crossed paths with this unexpected person. A flash of dark braids immediately caused her mood to darken.
Rubiah was, of course, welcome in their home. That didn't mean that Osiria liked the free reign she had over the house. She didn't trust her, and believed that Ressiah's love of her sister had placed blinders on her. Of course, Osiria couldn't say that she wasn't sometimes guilty of the same, but she saw that as beside the point. Rubiah was a schemer and manipulator and Osiria had caught her more than once attempting to weasel her way about in some selfish design or another. Seeing her wandering the rooms made her nervous.
Brows slightly furrowed, Osiria set off after her, quietly tracing the other woman's steps. Her suspicions grew when she saw that it was her brother and Ressiah's room that Rubiah had chosen to enter. There was no reason Rubiah could have for being there, with both Sethtah and Ressiah out. Quickening her pace, Osiria traversed the rest of the hall and antechamber, coming to a stop in the doorway of the sleeping quarters.
She found Rubiah rummaging through the bronze chest at the foot of the bed and her eyes narrowed just slightly. Somehow, she doubted that Rubiah had obtained permission to dig through the things kept there.
She forced a neutral expression onto her face before speaking.
"What is it you're looking for, Rubiah?" her tone was pleasant, polite, without accusation.
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Check out their information page here.
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Everything was in order, which was how Osiria preferred it. They might even be able to start in on some of those 'embellishments', that had been casually mentioned by her family when talking about the other homes in the area. Their's was a blank canvas, constructed upward to save on land cost and built at the lower end of the spectrum of acceptable decor and opulence for nobility. Five years passed, they recovered from the initial building, and now could be given a few more touches of extravagance. She would let Ressiah have the final say in what she wanted to decorate the home with. After all, it had been Osiria who had convinced her to take only what they had. Draped fabrics, embedded glass, and minimal artwork filled the house with carefully balanced color. Perhaps color might be added to the marble halls or some furs imported from the Northern lands to add softness to the metals and stones. Gold was always popular, she mused, taking in the corridor she walked down. Perhaps hangings from the ceiling? Or weapons displays to showcase Sethtah's military status? Personal touches of any sort would make it feel less like the temples in their decorative natures and more like a home. Of course, it would never reach the cluttered, dirty state of their childhood home after their parents passed, but it could look a little more livable...
Movement up ahead caught her eye and she paused in her step, craning her head to see who might be about the house at this time. Fumisa, perhaps? Sethtah would have departed early in the morning to attend to his duties and she knew that Ressiah had gone out as well. Praise be to the gods, it spared Osiria the necessity of doing so herself. She was pleased by her sister-in-law's growing abilities in managing their house, but this came with the worry that, soon, there would be no need for Osiria's aid. It might not be long before it was time for her to actively seek a husband among the court's eligible men. Until that time was upon her, though, she would continue about her duties.
At the moment, that included a bit of reading in the wake of her last discussion with the scholar, Khufu of Benin. She had been on her way to find a cool place suitable for reading when she'd crossed paths with this unexpected person. A flash of dark braids immediately caused her mood to darken.
Rubiah was, of course, welcome in their home. That didn't mean that Osiria liked the free reign she had over the house. She didn't trust her, and believed that Ressiah's love of her sister had placed blinders on her. Of course, Osiria couldn't say that she wasn't sometimes guilty of the same, but she saw that as beside the point. Rubiah was a schemer and manipulator and Osiria had caught her more than once attempting to weasel her way about in some selfish design or another. Seeing her wandering the rooms made her nervous.
Brows slightly furrowed, Osiria set off after her, quietly tracing the other woman's steps. Her suspicions grew when she saw that it was her brother and Ressiah's room that Rubiah had chosen to enter. There was no reason Rubiah could have for being there, with both Sethtah and Ressiah out. Quickening her pace, Osiria traversed the rest of the hall and antechamber, coming to a stop in the doorway of the sleeping quarters.
She found Rubiah rummaging through the bronze chest at the foot of the bed and her eyes narrowed just slightly. Somehow, she doubted that Rubiah had obtained permission to dig through the things kept there.
She forced a neutral expression onto her face before speaking.
"What is it you're looking for, Rubiah?" her tone was pleasant, polite, without accusation.
Everything was in order, which was how Osiria preferred it. They might even be able to start in on some of those 'embellishments', that had been casually mentioned by her family when talking about the other homes in the area. Their's was a blank canvas, constructed upward to save on land cost and built at the lower end of the spectrum of acceptable decor and opulence for nobility. Five years passed, they recovered from the initial building, and now could be given a few more touches of extravagance. She would let Ressiah have the final say in what she wanted to decorate the home with. After all, it had been Osiria who had convinced her to take only what they had. Draped fabrics, embedded glass, and minimal artwork filled the house with carefully balanced color. Perhaps color might be added to the marble halls or some furs imported from the Northern lands to add softness to the metals and stones. Gold was always popular, she mused, taking in the corridor she walked down. Perhaps hangings from the ceiling? Or weapons displays to showcase Sethtah's military status? Personal touches of any sort would make it feel less like the temples in their decorative natures and more like a home. Of course, it would never reach the cluttered, dirty state of their childhood home after their parents passed, but it could look a little more livable...
Movement up ahead caught her eye and she paused in her step, craning her head to see who might be about the house at this time. Fumisa, perhaps? Sethtah would have departed early in the morning to attend to his duties and she knew that Ressiah had gone out as well. Praise be to the gods, it spared Osiria the necessity of doing so herself. She was pleased by her sister-in-law's growing abilities in managing their house, but this came with the worry that, soon, there would be no need for Osiria's aid. It might not be long before it was time for her to actively seek a husband among the court's eligible men. Until that time was upon her, though, she would continue about her duties.
At the moment, that included a bit of reading in the wake of her last discussion with the scholar, Khufu of Benin. She had been on her way to find a cool place suitable for reading when she'd crossed paths with this unexpected person. A flash of dark braids immediately caused her mood to darken.
Rubiah was, of course, welcome in their home. That didn't mean that Osiria liked the free reign she had over the house. She didn't trust her, and believed that Ressiah's love of her sister had placed blinders on her. Of course, Osiria couldn't say that she wasn't sometimes guilty of the same, but she saw that as beside the point. Rubiah was a schemer and manipulator and Osiria had caught her more than once attempting to weasel her way about in some selfish design or another. Seeing her wandering the rooms made her nervous.
Brows slightly furrowed, Osiria set off after her, quietly tracing the other woman's steps. Her suspicions grew when she saw that it was her brother and Ressiah's room that Rubiah had chosen to enter. There was no reason Rubiah could have for being there, with both Sethtah and Ressiah out. Quickening her pace, Osiria traversed the rest of the hall and antechamber, coming to a stop in the doorway of the sleeping quarters.
She found Rubiah rummaging through the bronze chest at the foot of the bed and her eyes narrowed just slightly. Somehow, she doubted that Rubiah had obtained permission to dig through the things kept there.
She forced a neutral expression onto her face before speaking.
"What is it you're looking for, Rubiah?" her tone was pleasant, polite, without accusation.
When she had heard the steps coming down the corridor, Rubiah had quickly calculated that she had not the time to put everything back where she had found it, shut the chest and then make a run or hide for it. In so many cons or thieveries, people got caught because they acted as a guilty party should, running for cover or trying to act 'normal' when approached by a suspicious entity. Instead, Rubiah went with the 'blag it' theorem. People didn't read guilt in your features if you had zero guilt to feel. And, honestly, Rubiah genuinely had no hints of conscience or worry over taking from Ressiah whatever she wanted. The two of them had always said growing up: what is mine, is yours. And whilst Rubiah had never returned that sentiment, Ressiah had always remained true to it. So, in that sense, it was impossible for Rubiah to steal anything from her sister. Not that she would be hindered if it wasn't.
Knowing that she would be unable to perpetuate a natural appearance of inactivity in a room she wasn't supposed to be in, Rubiah didn't bother to change her course of action as the footsteps came closer and a figure entered into the doorway. She remained where she was, on her knees, elbow deep in the bronze chest, looking for that pin...
The voice that interrupted her was one that Rubiah knew well and was always irked by, Osiria was a woman that she neither liked nor understood. A person without a cause or place, she had found herself in her brother’s home playing second fiddle to a woman who had already claimed the position of Sirdett. And yet Osiria lorded about the Saraaya with as much authority as if she were the Queen herself.
It was hypocrisy like this - where actual power didn't match attitude - that Rubiah found the most annoying in the world. It was one thing to unfairly claim privilege that you were born to. It was another entirely to claim that you had something you didn't.
Rubiah was always working her way into events and places that she shouldn't be allowed, perpetuating a lie of omission that she belonged there. But she worked that based on her own charm and her own abilities. She never tried to claim that she was anything more than she was. Not technically.
And it was this fine line that formulated Rubiah's distaste for Osiria. She felt her misguided. Ignorant of her own lack of importance. And clinging to a role of authority that was not hers to hold. It was pitiful. And it only irked deeper when Osiria tried to turn that so-called authority upon her.
Like now, asking her what she was looking for. Whilst there was no accusation in the woman's tone, both were fully aware that the other did not like them. And Rubiah could just imagine the suspicious swirling in her head.
Pasting a smooth and polite smile on her face, however, Rubiah showed no such hostility as she looked up, apparently surprised at Osiria's presence and then tilted her head and rolled her eyes. A soft sigh parted her lips.
"I was trying to find an old bracelet of mine. Ressiah borrowed it and said I could take it back whenever I wanted but my sister is so messy it is hard to find anything in this room..." She offered a light shrug of her shoulders as if to say 'what can you do, eh?' and then started to pack things back into the chest. "I shall just have to ask her when she returns home, I guess..."
Her eyes flashed up to Osiria who wore a gown of fine silks. It swirled in a mixture of greens and yellows. "Such a pretty dress by the way, sister." She suggested with a smile....
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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When she had heard the steps coming down the corridor, Rubiah had quickly calculated that she had not the time to put everything back where she had found it, shut the chest and then make a run or hide for it. In so many cons or thieveries, people got caught because they acted as a guilty party should, running for cover or trying to act 'normal' when approached by a suspicious entity. Instead, Rubiah went with the 'blag it' theorem. People didn't read guilt in your features if you had zero guilt to feel. And, honestly, Rubiah genuinely had no hints of conscience or worry over taking from Ressiah whatever she wanted. The two of them had always said growing up: what is mine, is yours. And whilst Rubiah had never returned that sentiment, Ressiah had always remained true to it. So, in that sense, it was impossible for Rubiah to steal anything from her sister. Not that she would be hindered if it wasn't.
Knowing that she would be unable to perpetuate a natural appearance of inactivity in a room she wasn't supposed to be in, Rubiah didn't bother to change her course of action as the footsteps came closer and a figure entered into the doorway. She remained where she was, on her knees, elbow deep in the bronze chest, looking for that pin...
The voice that interrupted her was one that Rubiah knew well and was always irked by, Osiria was a woman that she neither liked nor understood. A person without a cause or place, she had found herself in her brother’s home playing second fiddle to a woman who had already claimed the position of Sirdett. And yet Osiria lorded about the Saraaya with as much authority as if she were the Queen herself.
It was hypocrisy like this - where actual power didn't match attitude - that Rubiah found the most annoying in the world. It was one thing to unfairly claim privilege that you were born to. It was another entirely to claim that you had something you didn't.
Rubiah was always working her way into events and places that she shouldn't be allowed, perpetuating a lie of omission that she belonged there. But she worked that based on her own charm and her own abilities. She never tried to claim that she was anything more than she was. Not technically.
And it was this fine line that formulated Rubiah's distaste for Osiria. She felt her misguided. Ignorant of her own lack of importance. And clinging to a role of authority that was not hers to hold. It was pitiful. And it only irked deeper when Osiria tried to turn that so-called authority upon her.
Like now, asking her what she was looking for. Whilst there was no accusation in the woman's tone, both were fully aware that the other did not like them. And Rubiah could just imagine the suspicious swirling in her head.
Pasting a smooth and polite smile on her face, however, Rubiah showed no such hostility as she looked up, apparently surprised at Osiria's presence and then tilted her head and rolled her eyes. A soft sigh parted her lips.
"I was trying to find an old bracelet of mine. Ressiah borrowed it and said I could take it back whenever I wanted but my sister is so messy it is hard to find anything in this room..." She offered a light shrug of her shoulders as if to say 'what can you do, eh?' and then started to pack things back into the chest. "I shall just have to ask her when she returns home, I guess..."
Her eyes flashed up to Osiria who wore a gown of fine silks. It swirled in a mixture of greens and yellows. "Such a pretty dress by the way, sister." She suggested with a smile....
When she had heard the steps coming down the corridor, Rubiah had quickly calculated that she had not the time to put everything back where she had found it, shut the chest and then make a run or hide for it. In so many cons or thieveries, people got caught because they acted as a guilty party should, running for cover or trying to act 'normal' when approached by a suspicious entity. Instead, Rubiah went with the 'blag it' theorem. People didn't read guilt in your features if you had zero guilt to feel. And, honestly, Rubiah genuinely had no hints of conscience or worry over taking from Ressiah whatever she wanted. The two of them had always said growing up: what is mine, is yours. And whilst Rubiah had never returned that sentiment, Ressiah had always remained true to it. So, in that sense, it was impossible for Rubiah to steal anything from her sister. Not that she would be hindered if it wasn't.
Knowing that she would be unable to perpetuate a natural appearance of inactivity in a room she wasn't supposed to be in, Rubiah didn't bother to change her course of action as the footsteps came closer and a figure entered into the doorway. She remained where she was, on her knees, elbow deep in the bronze chest, looking for that pin...
The voice that interrupted her was one that Rubiah knew well and was always irked by, Osiria was a woman that she neither liked nor understood. A person without a cause or place, she had found herself in her brother’s home playing second fiddle to a woman who had already claimed the position of Sirdett. And yet Osiria lorded about the Saraaya with as much authority as if she were the Queen herself.
It was hypocrisy like this - where actual power didn't match attitude - that Rubiah found the most annoying in the world. It was one thing to unfairly claim privilege that you were born to. It was another entirely to claim that you had something you didn't.
Rubiah was always working her way into events and places that she shouldn't be allowed, perpetuating a lie of omission that she belonged there. But she worked that based on her own charm and her own abilities. She never tried to claim that she was anything more than she was. Not technically.
And it was this fine line that formulated Rubiah's distaste for Osiria. She felt her misguided. Ignorant of her own lack of importance. And clinging to a role of authority that was not hers to hold. It was pitiful. And it only irked deeper when Osiria tried to turn that so-called authority upon her.
Like now, asking her what she was looking for. Whilst there was no accusation in the woman's tone, both were fully aware that the other did not like them. And Rubiah could just imagine the suspicious swirling in her head.
Pasting a smooth and polite smile on her face, however, Rubiah showed no such hostility as she looked up, apparently surprised at Osiria's presence and then tilted her head and rolled her eyes. A soft sigh parted her lips.
"I was trying to find an old bracelet of mine. Ressiah borrowed it and said I could take it back whenever I wanted but my sister is so messy it is hard to find anything in this room..." She offered a light shrug of her shoulders as if to say 'what can you do, eh?' and then started to pack things back into the chest. "I shall just have to ask her when she returns home, I guess..."
Her eyes flashed up to Osiria who wore a gown of fine silks. It swirled in a mixture of greens and yellows. "Such a pretty dress by the way, sister." She suggested with a smile....