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Kesi didn’t see Alexandria in ages. She didn’t quite miss it too much. She liked being part of the circus now, even if she didn’t have much to do. She wanted to learn things and tried studying with the acrobats, but her papa would only have her do boring chores while mama and Nem got to do all the fun stuff. It was super unfair! He was so mean. Kesi would whine to her brother, but her papa didn’t change his ways.
But today that didn’t matter! Kesi was happy because Nem said he’d take her to the market! She liked the Alexandrian market. There were cool things there you couldn’t get anywhere else in Egypt. There was a lot of Greek stuff! They had a weird language and worshiped weird gods, but their stuff was really cool! Kesi liked to look at all the pretty trinkets and jewelry and pretend she was some Greek Princess and Nem was her Prince. She didn’t tell him that though. The only pretend she ever played with him was circus, but now they were a part of the circus so she didn’t get to play that with him anymore.
“Oh, Nem, Nem!” Kesi said excitedly holding his hand. “Let’s get some grapes, Nem! Look!” Her eyes were wide and she dragged him to the fruit stand. There were all types of fruits, each one more and more mouth-watering. The grapes especially looked amazing. Round and plump, they were probably filled with so much juice!
“Issa?” A voice said, cutting through Kesi’s thoughts. Her eyes went up and it was the fruit seller, a wide, jolly smile on his face. “Issa, is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch! You look like the spitting image of your mother.”
“Umm….” Kesi blinked at the stranger. He looked familiar? Suddenly her head started to hurt. She moved behind her brother, peeking behind him.
“Oh, don’t be shy. You and your father used to come by my stand every Sunday. Speaking of, my condolences. I went by your home after the death but it seemed you had already gone to your other family.” He looked at Nem with a smile.
“Um, mister. Can I have a peach?” She asked him from behind her brother. She was feeling real… weird.
“Oh of course!” He grabbed two really big, fresh peaches. “Don’t worry, on the house. I’m just so happy to see my favorite little customer again.” He handed one to Kesi and held the other out to Nem. “And her cousin too!”
Kesi bit her lip. She held the peach in her hand, but her stomach was bubbling nervously. “Mister, I’m Kesi. Not Issa-,” Her head was truly pounding now. Issa… that name sounded so familiar. Why did it? And why did that guy look so familiar too? Kesi felt a pang in her heart like something was missing. Or maybe she missed this guy? That was weird. Why would she miss a stranger? The only person Kesi ever missed was her big brother. Never a random stranger.
She felt so dizzy. Her mind had racing thoughts and Kesi couldn’t grasp them. It was like she was in the ocean and waves were going wild. She was drowning, head barely able to bob above the water. The thoughts were threatening to take over. Kesi was going to drown.
“Nem, can we go home?” Kesi gripped the cloth of his clothes. Her voice was really quiet. “I don’t feel good. Mommy would have medicine right? I know daddy wanted us to get something on the way back, but I feel really bad.” She now completely hid behind her brother. This stranger was scaring her, making her feel things she wasn’t expecting to feel. Hurt, fear, confusion, all sorts of emotions were running through the child, making her ill.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The jolly man said, his eyes wide. “I hadn’t meant to scare you, little one. You just look exactly like a girl I used to know. Please, take the peaches anyway. I’m sorry to have upset you, child.”
“Nem,” she mumbled again to her brother’s back. “I really, really want to go home.” But… where was home?
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Kesi didn’t see Alexandria in ages. She didn’t quite miss it too much. She liked being part of the circus now, even if she didn’t have much to do. She wanted to learn things and tried studying with the acrobats, but her papa would only have her do boring chores while mama and Nem got to do all the fun stuff. It was super unfair! He was so mean. Kesi would whine to her brother, but her papa didn’t change his ways.
But today that didn’t matter! Kesi was happy because Nem said he’d take her to the market! She liked the Alexandrian market. There were cool things there you couldn’t get anywhere else in Egypt. There was a lot of Greek stuff! They had a weird language and worshiped weird gods, but their stuff was really cool! Kesi liked to look at all the pretty trinkets and jewelry and pretend she was some Greek Princess and Nem was her Prince. She didn’t tell him that though. The only pretend she ever played with him was circus, but now they were a part of the circus so she didn’t get to play that with him anymore.
“Oh, Nem, Nem!” Kesi said excitedly holding his hand. “Let’s get some grapes, Nem! Look!” Her eyes were wide and she dragged him to the fruit stand. There were all types of fruits, each one more and more mouth-watering. The grapes especially looked amazing. Round and plump, they were probably filled with so much juice!
“Issa?” A voice said, cutting through Kesi’s thoughts. Her eyes went up and it was the fruit seller, a wide, jolly smile on his face. “Issa, is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch! You look like the spitting image of your mother.”
“Umm….” Kesi blinked at the stranger. He looked familiar? Suddenly her head started to hurt. She moved behind her brother, peeking behind him.
“Oh, don’t be shy. You and your father used to come by my stand every Sunday. Speaking of, my condolences. I went by your home after the death but it seemed you had already gone to your other family.” He looked at Nem with a smile.
“Um, mister. Can I have a peach?” She asked him from behind her brother. She was feeling real… weird.
“Oh of course!” He grabbed two really big, fresh peaches. “Don’t worry, on the house. I’m just so happy to see my favorite little customer again.” He handed one to Kesi and held the other out to Nem. “And her cousin too!”
Kesi bit her lip. She held the peach in her hand, but her stomach was bubbling nervously. “Mister, I’m Kesi. Not Issa-,” Her head was truly pounding now. Issa… that name sounded so familiar. Why did it? And why did that guy look so familiar too? Kesi felt a pang in her heart like something was missing. Or maybe she missed this guy? That was weird. Why would she miss a stranger? The only person Kesi ever missed was her big brother. Never a random stranger.
She felt so dizzy. Her mind had racing thoughts and Kesi couldn’t grasp them. It was like she was in the ocean and waves were going wild. She was drowning, head barely able to bob above the water. The thoughts were threatening to take over. Kesi was going to drown.
“Nem, can we go home?” Kesi gripped the cloth of his clothes. Her voice was really quiet. “I don’t feel good. Mommy would have medicine right? I know daddy wanted us to get something on the way back, but I feel really bad.” She now completely hid behind her brother. This stranger was scaring her, making her feel things she wasn’t expecting to feel. Hurt, fear, confusion, all sorts of emotions were running through the child, making her ill.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The jolly man said, his eyes wide. “I hadn’t meant to scare you, little one. You just look exactly like a girl I used to know. Please, take the peaches anyway. I’m sorry to have upset you, child.”
“Nem,” she mumbled again to her brother’s back. “I really, really want to go home.” But… where was home?
Kesi didn’t see Alexandria in ages. She didn’t quite miss it too much. She liked being part of the circus now, even if she didn’t have much to do. She wanted to learn things and tried studying with the acrobats, but her papa would only have her do boring chores while mama and Nem got to do all the fun stuff. It was super unfair! He was so mean. Kesi would whine to her brother, but her papa didn’t change his ways.
But today that didn’t matter! Kesi was happy because Nem said he’d take her to the market! She liked the Alexandrian market. There were cool things there you couldn’t get anywhere else in Egypt. There was a lot of Greek stuff! They had a weird language and worshiped weird gods, but their stuff was really cool! Kesi liked to look at all the pretty trinkets and jewelry and pretend she was some Greek Princess and Nem was her Prince. She didn’t tell him that though. The only pretend she ever played with him was circus, but now they were a part of the circus so she didn’t get to play that with him anymore.
“Oh, Nem, Nem!” Kesi said excitedly holding his hand. “Let’s get some grapes, Nem! Look!” Her eyes were wide and she dragged him to the fruit stand. There were all types of fruits, each one more and more mouth-watering. The grapes especially looked amazing. Round and plump, they were probably filled with so much juice!
“Issa?” A voice said, cutting through Kesi’s thoughts. Her eyes went up and it was the fruit seller, a wide, jolly smile on his face. “Issa, is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch! You look like the spitting image of your mother.”
“Umm….” Kesi blinked at the stranger. He looked familiar? Suddenly her head started to hurt. She moved behind her brother, peeking behind him.
“Oh, don’t be shy. You and your father used to come by my stand every Sunday. Speaking of, my condolences. I went by your home after the death but it seemed you had already gone to your other family.” He looked at Nem with a smile.
“Um, mister. Can I have a peach?” She asked him from behind her brother. She was feeling real… weird.
“Oh of course!” He grabbed two really big, fresh peaches. “Don’t worry, on the house. I’m just so happy to see my favorite little customer again.” He handed one to Kesi and held the other out to Nem. “And her cousin too!”
Kesi bit her lip. She held the peach in her hand, but her stomach was bubbling nervously. “Mister, I’m Kesi. Not Issa-,” Her head was truly pounding now. Issa… that name sounded so familiar. Why did it? And why did that guy look so familiar too? Kesi felt a pang in her heart like something was missing. Or maybe she missed this guy? That was weird. Why would she miss a stranger? The only person Kesi ever missed was her big brother. Never a random stranger.
She felt so dizzy. Her mind had racing thoughts and Kesi couldn’t grasp them. It was like she was in the ocean and waves were going wild. She was drowning, head barely able to bob above the water. The thoughts were threatening to take over. Kesi was going to drown.
“Nem, can we go home?” Kesi gripped the cloth of his clothes. Her voice was really quiet. “I don’t feel good. Mommy would have medicine right? I know daddy wanted us to get something on the way back, but I feel really bad.” She now completely hid behind her brother. This stranger was scaring her, making her feel things she wasn’t expecting to feel. Hurt, fear, confusion, all sorts of emotions were running through the child, making her ill.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The jolly man said, his eyes wide. “I hadn’t meant to scare you, little one. You just look exactly like a girl I used to know. Please, take the peaches anyway. I’m sorry to have upset you, child.”
“Nem,” she mumbled again to her brother’s back. “I really, really want to go home.” But… where was home?
It's fine, to bring Kesi along, isn't it?
Amenemhat held the thought deep within, a reservation even as he told his sister that he'd take her to the market. Alexandria was home, for both the doppelganger Kesi and Amenemhat himself, but in that same vein it was a potential liability to bring her along with him. Or, worse still, for Somgi to send Kesi along on her own to fetch things for the circus. Even though Amenemhat had the machinations of a circus to learn, he made the time for his sister. She'd been Kesi for six years now. Half of her life, she'd lived under the false pretense of being the youngest child of Somgi of Cairo, blood that would never inherit but always be a part of the circus.
But, she wasn't.
Kesi of the Tempest of Set was a painted facade over the bulwark that was Issa of Alexandria. Where once the girl was nothing, she'd been made anew. And so, the young Amenemhat hoped that the treatment he'd given her all those years ago and fortified by creating this life for her would hold. She shouted out for him, holding his hand and dragging him along towards a fruit stand. It was good, that she liked grapes, it was a sign that everything was working as it should.
Peaches taste terrible, he affirmed to himself just as the world began to ground to a halt.
"Issa?"
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Amenemhat wanted the merchant to shut up as soon as he started. He wanted to shove one of his peaches down his throat and watch him turn blue as he said it again, as he compared Kesi of Alexandria to some no-name dead bitch six years gone. Then, Kesi moved from in plain view of the filthy merchant to standing behind him.
"Um, mister. Can I have a peach?"
This didn't bode well. Keeping Kesi here for too much longer might serve to undo all of the progress she'd made. Then, she'd have to suffer. The idea of punishing Kesi for the actions of some hapless merchant was... not quite abhorrent but repulsive nonetheless. He didn't speak for a long moment, never looking behind him to Kesi. Instead, amber eyes seemed intent on boring a hole through the merchant's skull. He took a step forward, just two feet of wood separating himself from the man before he gripped at a golden pendant that hung from the man's neck.
He yanked with force, pulling his hand away just as the momentum would send the merchant plummeting into his stall.
"Didn't you hear her? Her name is Kesi, ingrate."
The desire to further settle the lesson within the man drew deeper, anger throwing heat within his chest that threatened to overwhelm the entirety of his body. He felt the tremors against his shawl. He pulled a couple coins out from his pocket and tossed them on the floor. He took several vines of grapes before he threw the offered peaches to the ground. With a pivot of his foot, he crushed one of them, juice spraying against the sole of his foot as he took his sister's hand anew.
"Yes, let's go home, sister. We'll find you some medicine."
His grasp was tight on her hand as he pulled them away from the stall. In the distance, the merchant would groan and stare quizzically at the two of them until they vanished at a turn and quickly approached the caravan. Immediately upon their arrival, he shouted out to a slave,
"Bring me Rekhmire, immediately. Kesi's suffered a terrible shock."
He pulled his sister into his embrace before he said,
"Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do."
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Check out their information page here.
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It's fine, to bring Kesi along, isn't it?
Amenemhat held the thought deep within, a reservation even as he told his sister that he'd take her to the market. Alexandria was home, for both the doppelganger Kesi and Amenemhat himself, but in that same vein it was a potential liability to bring her along with him. Or, worse still, for Somgi to send Kesi along on her own to fetch things for the circus. Even though Amenemhat had the machinations of a circus to learn, he made the time for his sister. She'd been Kesi for six years now. Half of her life, she'd lived under the false pretense of being the youngest child of Somgi of Cairo, blood that would never inherit but always be a part of the circus.
But, she wasn't.
Kesi of the Tempest of Set was a painted facade over the bulwark that was Issa of Alexandria. Where once the girl was nothing, she'd been made anew. And so, the young Amenemhat hoped that the treatment he'd given her all those years ago and fortified by creating this life for her would hold. She shouted out for him, holding his hand and dragging him along towards a fruit stand. It was good, that she liked grapes, it was a sign that everything was working as it should.
Peaches taste terrible, he affirmed to himself just as the world began to ground to a halt.
"Issa?"
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Amenemhat wanted the merchant to shut up as soon as he started. He wanted to shove one of his peaches down his throat and watch him turn blue as he said it again, as he compared Kesi of Alexandria to some no-name dead bitch six years gone. Then, Kesi moved from in plain view of the filthy merchant to standing behind him.
"Um, mister. Can I have a peach?"
This didn't bode well. Keeping Kesi here for too much longer might serve to undo all of the progress she'd made. Then, she'd have to suffer. The idea of punishing Kesi for the actions of some hapless merchant was... not quite abhorrent but repulsive nonetheless. He didn't speak for a long moment, never looking behind him to Kesi. Instead, amber eyes seemed intent on boring a hole through the merchant's skull. He took a step forward, just two feet of wood separating himself from the man before he gripped at a golden pendant that hung from the man's neck.
He yanked with force, pulling his hand away just as the momentum would send the merchant plummeting into his stall.
"Didn't you hear her? Her name is Kesi, ingrate."
The desire to further settle the lesson within the man drew deeper, anger throwing heat within his chest that threatened to overwhelm the entirety of his body. He felt the tremors against his shawl. He pulled a couple coins out from his pocket and tossed them on the floor. He took several vines of grapes before he threw the offered peaches to the ground. With a pivot of his foot, he crushed one of them, juice spraying against the sole of his foot as he took his sister's hand anew.
"Yes, let's go home, sister. We'll find you some medicine."
His grasp was tight on her hand as he pulled them away from the stall. In the distance, the merchant would groan and stare quizzically at the two of them until they vanished at a turn and quickly approached the caravan. Immediately upon their arrival, he shouted out to a slave,
"Bring me Rekhmire, immediately. Kesi's suffered a terrible shock."
He pulled his sister into his embrace before he said,
"Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do."
It's fine, to bring Kesi along, isn't it?
Amenemhat held the thought deep within, a reservation even as he told his sister that he'd take her to the market. Alexandria was home, for both the doppelganger Kesi and Amenemhat himself, but in that same vein it was a potential liability to bring her along with him. Or, worse still, for Somgi to send Kesi along on her own to fetch things for the circus. Even though Amenemhat had the machinations of a circus to learn, he made the time for his sister. She'd been Kesi for six years now. Half of her life, she'd lived under the false pretense of being the youngest child of Somgi of Cairo, blood that would never inherit but always be a part of the circus.
But, she wasn't.
Kesi of the Tempest of Set was a painted facade over the bulwark that was Issa of Alexandria. Where once the girl was nothing, she'd been made anew. And so, the young Amenemhat hoped that the treatment he'd given her all those years ago and fortified by creating this life for her would hold. She shouted out for him, holding his hand and dragging him along towards a fruit stand. It was good, that she liked grapes, it was a sign that everything was working as it should.
Peaches taste terrible, he affirmed to himself just as the world began to ground to a halt.
"Issa?"
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Amenemhat wanted the merchant to shut up as soon as he started. He wanted to shove one of his peaches down his throat and watch him turn blue as he said it again, as he compared Kesi of Alexandria to some no-name dead bitch six years gone. Then, Kesi moved from in plain view of the filthy merchant to standing behind him.
"Um, mister. Can I have a peach?"
This didn't bode well. Keeping Kesi here for too much longer might serve to undo all of the progress she'd made. Then, she'd have to suffer. The idea of punishing Kesi for the actions of some hapless merchant was... not quite abhorrent but repulsive nonetheless. He didn't speak for a long moment, never looking behind him to Kesi. Instead, amber eyes seemed intent on boring a hole through the merchant's skull. He took a step forward, just two feet of wood separating himself from the man before he gripped at a golden pendant that hung from the man's neck.
He yanked with force, pulling his hand away just as the momentum would send the merchant plummeting into his stall.
"Didn't you hear her? Her name is Kesi, ingrate."
The desire to further settle the lesson within the man drew deeper, anger throwing heat within his chest that threatened to overwhelm the entirety of his body. He felt the tremors against his shawl. He pulled a couple coins out from his pocket and tossed them on the floor. He took several vines of grapes before he threw the offered peaches to the ground. With a pivot of his foot, he crushed one of them, juice spraying against the sole of his foot as he took his sister's hand anew.
"Yes, let's go home, sister. We'll find you some medicine."
His grasp was tight on her hand as he pulled them away from the stall. In the distance, the merchant would groan and stare quizzically at the two of them until they vanished at a turn and quickly approached the caravan. Immediately upon their arrival, he shouted out to a slave,
"Bring me Rekhmire, immediately. Kesi's suffered a terrible shock."
He pulled his sister into his embrace before he said,
"Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do."
"Pig fat, bitumen, and resin."
Two hands pushed a slave out of a tent full of ingredients, balms, and poisons. Rekhmire narrowed his eyes at the slave, handing over a small pouch of greek coins, Drachmae they called them. He didn't care much for greek things unless they had the direct purpose of being used for healing or experimentation. "And if you fail to bring me back the proper amounts on that list I will convince Somgi to allow me to experiment on you."
With that little threat, he shoved the slave onto the street proper. "Go." He demanded before turning back to his tent, running a hand through his dark hair. However, it wasn't long before he heard a set of footsteps running up behind him. "What the hell do you need now?!" He barked out turning around only to see it was a completely different slave approaching him.
"Amenemhat requests your aid. The girl, Kesi has... suffered a shock."
Rekhmire grumbled to himself about needing a break but walked back into his tent. He pulled a large bottle of opium off of the shelf and putting it on one of his tables, one which had straps. He wasn't sure exactly what the nature of the situation was, but he wasn't going to take any chances.
"Slave, carry this table, and lead me to the girl."
-----
Shortly they were in front of Amenemhat and Kesi, and Rekhmire took the table from the slave and set it on the ground. He turned to Amenemhat and gave the young man a slight nod of respect, though in his normal indifferent way. Unlike his father who had a high opinion of Amenhotep and very clearly showed it, Rekhmire preferred to keep his opinions of the Ringmasters, and those slated to inherit the title of Ringmaster, very close to his chest. He preferred to keep them believing that he had no opinion on any of them whatsoever.
He looked over at Kesi, placing one hand under her chin to look into her eyes to examine her. He pulled back before turning back to Nem, "Would you care to put the girl on the table and strap her in? She might react better to you doing so, than I."
With that, he turned towards the slave that had carried the table. "After I dose Kesi, you and I are to carry her back to my tent. If you relent even an inch, I have a particular flesh-eating poison that I picked up last year from Damascus that I am anxious to try." After the slave gave a nod, he harumphed before turning back to Amenemhat and Kesi. "What exactly happened? I don't see any external abrasions, so I'm guessing internal, some sort of mental issue perhaps?"
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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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"Pig fat, bitumen, and resin."
Two hands pushed a slave out of a tent full of ingredients, balms, and poisons. Rekhmire narrowed his eyes at the slave, handing over a small pouch of greek coins, Drachmae they called them. He didn't care much for greek things unless they had the direct purpose of being used for healing or experimentation. "And if you fail to bring me back the proper amounts on that list I will convince Somgi to allow me to experiment on you."
With that little threat, he shoved the slave onto the street proper. "Go." He demanded before turning back to his tent, running a hand through his dark hair. However, it wasn't long before he heard a set of footsteps running up behind him. "What the hell do you need now?!" He barked out turning around only to see it was a completely different slave approaching him.
"Amenemhat requests your aid. The girl, Kesi has... suffered a shock."
Rekhmire grumbled to himself about needing a break but walked back into his tent. He pulled a large bottle of opium off of the shelf and putting it on one of his tables, one which had straps. He wasn't sure exactly what the nature of the situation was, but he wasn't going to take any chances.
"Slave, carry this table, and lead me to the girl."
-----
Shortly they were in front of Amenemhat and Kesi, and Rekhmire took the table from the slave and set it on the ground. He turned to Amenemhat and gave the young man a slight nod of respect, though in his normal indifferent way. Unlike his father who had a high opinion of Amenhotep and very clearly showed it, Rekhmire preferred to keep his opinions of the Ringmasters, and those slated to inherit the title of Ringmaster, very close to his chest. He preferred to keep them believing that he had no opinion on any of them whatsoever.
He looked over at Kesi, placing one hand under her chin to look into her eyes to examine her. He pulled back before turning back to Nem, "Would you care to put the girl on the table and strap her in? She might react better to you doing so, than I."
With that, he turned towards the slave that had carried the table. "After I dose Kesi, you and I are to carry her back to my tent. If you relent even an inch, I have a particular flesh-eating poison that I picked up last year from Damascus that I am anxious to try." After the slave gave a nod, he harumphed before turning back to Amenemhat and Kesi. "What exactly happened? I don't see any external abrasions, so I'm guessing internal, some sort of mental issue perhaps?"
"Pig fat, bitumen, and resin."
Two hands pushed a slave out of a tent full of ingredients, balms, and poisons. Rekhmire narrowed his eyes at the slave, handing over a small pouch of greek coins, Drachmae they called them. He didn't care much for greek things unless they had the direct purpose of being used for healing or experimentation. "And if you fail to bring me back the proper amounts on that list I will convince Somgi to allow me to experiment on you."
With that little threat, he shoved the slave onto the street proper. "Go." He demanded before turning back to his tent, running a hand through his dark hair. However, it wasn't long before he heard a set of footsteps running up behind him. "What the hell do you need now?!" He barked out turning around only to see it was a completely different slave approaching him.
"Amenemhat requests your aid. The girl, Kesi has... suffered a shock."
Rekhmire grumbled to himself about needing a break but walked back into his tent. He pulled a large bottle of opium off of the shelf and putting it on one of his tables, one which had straps. He wasn't sure exactly what the nature of the situation was, but he wasn't going to take any chances.
"Slave, carry this table, and lead me to the girl."
-----
Shortly they were in front of Amenemhat and Kesi, and Rekhmire took the table from the slave and set it on the ground. He turned to Amenemhat and gave the young man a slight nod of respect, though in his normal indifferent way. Unlike his father who had a high opinion of Amenhotep and very clearly showed it, Rekhmire preferred to keep his opinions of the Ringmasters, and those slated to inherit the title of Ringmaster, very close to his chest. He preferred to keep them believing that he had no opinion on any of them whatsoever.
He looked over at Kesi, placing one hand under her chin to look into her eyes to examine her. He pulled back before turning back to Nem, "Would you care to put the girl on the table and strap her in? She might react better to you doing so, than I."
With that, he turned towards the slave that had carried the table. "After I dose Kesi, you and I are to carry her back to my tent. If you relent even an inch, I have a particular flesh-eating poison that I picked up last year from Damascus that I am anxious to try." After the slave gave a nod, he harumphed before turning back to Amenemhat and Kesi. "What exactly happened? I don't see any external abrasions, so I'm guessing internal, some sort of mental issue perhaps?"
Why was her brother doing that? Kesi watched with wide-eyed horror as he pulled the merchant into his stall and crushed the peaches to the ground. She was stumbling trying to keep up with her brother who seemed to move so quickly. Why did he seem so angry? The merchant was nice! He gave them free peaches and had a friendly smile. Kesi didn’t feel sick because of him, right? She may have been a little scared, but that wasn’t necessary.
Kesi didn’t like that she was questioning her brother. She never did that, and it brought another wave of sickness. His hand was tight holding her own, now allowing the child to pull from his grip. The world felt so, so blurry. Nothing made sense. Her brother was angry, the merchant was confusing, and Kesi was ill.
Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do.
“No, no, no!” Kesi struggled against her brother now. She didn’t want to see Rekhmire. Her daddy liked him, and anybody her daddy liked was someone Kesi didn’t like. “Mommy will have medicine, Nem! I want to see mommy!”
Tears were starting to fill her eyes. Kesi didn’t cry too often. She used to cry a lot, she thinks. But not anymore. She was strong for mommy and Nem. But she really, really didn’t want to see Rekhmire. She was panicking. That panic only grew when Rekhmire arrived.
She struggled, even more, trying to turn her head this way and that in his strong grip. This wasn’t what Kesi meant by wanting to go home. She wouldn’t have told her brother she felt ill if that meant seeing Rekhmire. This wasn’t okay! She wasn’t happy. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.
“I’m okay, I’m okay!” She tried to insist. Her eyes were wide, looking from Rekhmire and her brother. “I don’t wanna be on the table! I’m okay! I just wanted to see mommy that’s it. I’m sorry I lied about being sick. I’m really, really not!”
She didn’t want to go on the table. And she didn’t want Rekhmire’s icky medicine. She just wanted her mommy and for her brother to stop being so scary. Was that so much for the little girl to desire? She wiped away her tears and looked up at her brother with her pleading eyes. “See, I’m okay, Nem! I was just scared, that’s it. I pinky promise. He was a really, really scary stranger. I-I really am okay.”
She tried to move away from the pair. If they approached her to put her on the table she would do her best and slip away to run. Even if meant biting her brother or kicking Rekhmire. She was tiny and she was quick and she was not by any means desiring to be under the doctor’s care. She didn’t need it. She just needed some tea that mommy would make and to be soothed and comforted. Maybe she could drink it at the docks and have some peaches there and watch the ships go by. She didn’t need medicine, and she didn’t need him, and right now she really, really, didn’t need her brother.
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Why was her brother doing that? Kesi watched with wide-eyed horror as he pulled the merchant into his stall and crushed the peaches to the ground. She was stumbling trying to keep up with her brother who seemed to move so quickly. Why did he seem so angry? The merchant was nice! He gave them free peaches and had a friendly smile. Kesi didn’t feel sick because of him, right? She may have been a little scared, but that wasn’t necessary.
Kesi didn’t like that she was questioning her brother. She never did that, and it brought another wave of sickness. His hand was tight holding her own, now allowing the child to pull from his grip. The world felt so, so blurry. Nothing made sense. Her brother was angry, the merchant was confusing, and Kesi was ill.
Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do.
“No, no, no!” Kesi struggled against her brother now. She didn’t want to see Rekhmire. Her daddy liked him, and anybody her daddy liked was someone Kesi didn’t like. “Mommy will have medicine, Nem! I want to see mommy!”
Tears were starting to fill her eyes. Kesi didn’t cry too often. She used to cry a lot, she thinks. But not anymore. She was strong for mommy and Nem. But she really, really didn’t want to see Rekhmire. She was panicking. That panic only grew when Rekhmire arrived.
She struggled, even more, trying to turn her head this way and that in his strong grip. This wasn’t what Kesi meant by wanting to go home. She wouldn’t have told her brother she felt ill if that meant seeing Rekhmire. This wasn’t okay! She wasn’t happy. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.
“I’m okay, I’m okay!” She tried to insist. Her eyes were wide, looking from Rekhmire and her brother. “I don’t wanna be on the table! I’m okay! I just wanted to see mommy that’s it. I’m sorry I lied about being sick. I’m really, really not!”
She didn’t want to go on the table. And she didn’t want Rekhmire’s icky medicine. She just wanted her mommy and for her brother to stop being so scary. Was that so much for the little girl to desire? She wiped away her tears and looked up at her brother with her pleading eyes. “See, I’m okay, Nem! I was just scared, that’s it. I pinky promise. He was a really, really scary stranger. I-I really am okay.”
She tried to move away from the pair. If they approached her to put her on the table she would do her best and slip away to run. Even if meant biting her brother or kicking Rekhmire. She was tiny and she was quick and she was not by any means desiring to be under the doctor’s care. She didn’t need it. She just needed some tea that mommy would make and to be soothed and comforted. Maybe she could drink it at the docks and have some peaches there and watch the ships go by. She didn’t need medicine, and she didn’t need him, and right now she really, really, didn’t need her brother.
Why was her brother doing that? Kesi watched with wide-eyed horror as he pulled the merchant into his stall and crushed the peaches to the ground. She was stumbling trying to keep up with her brother who seemed to move so quickly. Why did he seem so angry? The merchant was nice! He gave them free peaches and had a friendly smile. Kesi didn’t feel sick because of him, right? She may have been a little scared, but that wasn’t necessary.
Kesi didn’t like that she was questioning her brother. She never did that, and it brought another wave of sickness. His hand was tight holding her own, now allowing the child to pull from his grip. The world felt so, so blurry. Nothing made sense. Her brother was angry, the merchant was confusing, and Kesi was ill.
Trust me, Kesi. Rekhmire will know what to do.
“No, no, no!” Kesi struggled against her brother now. She didn’t want to see Rekhmire. Her daddy liked him, and anybody her daddy liked was someone Kesi didn’t like. “Mommy will have medicine, Nem! I want to see mommy!”
Tears were starting to fill her eyes. Kesi didn’t cry too often. She used to cry a lot, she thinks. But not anymore. She was strong for mommy and Nem. But she really, really didn’t want to see Rekhmire. She was panicking. That panic only grew when Rekhmire arrived.
She struggled, even more, trying to turn her head this way and that in his strong grip. This wasn’t what Kesi meant by wanting to go home. She wouldn’t have told her brother she felt ill if that meant seeing Rekhmire. This wasn’t okay! She wasn’t happy. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.
“I’m okay, I’m okay!” She tried to insist. Her eyes were wide, looking from Rekhmire and her brother. “I don’t wanna be on the table! I’m okay! I just wanted to see mommy that’s it. I’m sorry I lied about being sick. I’m really, really not!”
She didn’t want to go on the table. And she didn’t want Rekhmire’s icky medicine. She just wanted her mommy and for her brother to stop being so scary. Was that so much for the little girl to desire? She wiped away her tears and looked up at her brother with her pleading eyes. “See, I’m okay, Nem! I was just scared, that’s it. I pinky promise. He was a really, really scary stranger. I-I really am okay.”
She tried to move away from the pair. If they approached her to put her on the table she would do her best and slip away to run. Even if meant biting her brother or kicking Rekhmire. She was tiny and she was quick and she was not by any means desiring to be under the doctor’s care. She didn’t need it. She just needed some tea that mommy would make and to be soothed and comforted. Maybe she could drink it at the docks and have some peaches there and watch the ships go by. She didn’t need medicine, and she didn’t need him, and right now she really, really, didn’t need her brother.
"No, no, no!"
The illusion of siblinghood seemed to hang on by a string. The way she referred to their parents only seemed to inform the notion that the young doppelganger was falling out of line. Surely, it was that merchant's fault, trudging up memories that should no longer exist. The brain was an incredibly mysterious thing to all of the world, and yet... the profound fact that it could remember things even through the innumerable attempts to make it forget.
Issa is buried, but still there. Surely, the doctor knows a way to submerge her again.
While Kesi cried, it became all the more apparent to the boy that his sister this was not. The doppelganger was a lie, a fabrication that needed to remain. She tried and failed to lie convincingly, she cried and made it known to the world that there was something amiss. Her conduct, even to Amenemhat who tried his utmost to love the fake-Kesi as if she were real... When it came down to the wire, Amenemhat could not convince himself that the lie was a truth. She was weak. She was pitiable. This was no young girl who'd solicited the aid of a poisoner to make herself useful. This was a terrified child begging to be released.
But, mama needed her here.
"You're not okay. Lies don't suit you well, sister. Everyone else..." he continued, looking over to the rest of the circus, which seemed dumbstruck at the ruckus being caused.
"You all have practice and tasks to tend to. Leave us."
There seemed a chill within Nem's voice. There was no effort to console, no attempt to seem the better man than Rekhmire in the moment. What was left was contempt, disregard. In his eyes, Kesi of Alexandria was no more, and the girl Issa in front of him needed to become the lie once again. Nem looked to the slave that was setting a table onto the ground, one that held straps on each corner and despite himself, the curiosity welled up. Rekhmire was very much a professional in ways that the young Nem or Somgi were not. The more time he spent in the circus, the more he realized that Amenhotep's methods were incomplete. The more he realized the journal he'd spent dissecting and analyzing was an incomplete compendium. One that needed to be pruned of its flaws, then its strengths expanded upon further.
Rekhmire is an intelligent man, keeping irrelevant opinions out of the fray and letting himself delve fully into his work. I've heard gagged screams coming from his tent. He gets up to a bit of fun.
It wasn't Nem's place to judge, only to observe and participate when needed. Rekhmire offered the proper respect when requesting his assistance, and he shrugged his shoulders at the added observation.
"Kesi seems to suffer the same episodes that my mother suffered when she was younger," he commented. At the lie, his expression was impassive. Her words in the moment meant nothing to him. She was Issa, wanting mommy and daddy and seeing him as little more than a stranger. It was clear that the girl would struggle, but Nem wasn't in the mood to allow her the opportunity. The 'toxins', known to an older Amenemhat to be opiates and lotus blossom mashed into a fine powder, would do what they always had. Issa of Alexandria would turn back into Kesi, and surely, the harsh treatment at Nem's hands would be forgotten.
It wouldn't do for the puppet-girl to cry to her 'mommy'. Mother and Somgi aren't to be informed.
Fortunately, the ringmaster and his wife had business to attend to elsewhere, leaving Rekhmire and Nem effectively in charge of the circus. The young man raised his hand, intent upon wrangling his sister's throat. Depriving her of air would suffice as a means of rendering her docile until the dose could be administered and she could be given her treatment. If she lashed at him, he'd weather the blows as his grasp tightened, and once he was allowed to continue he looked to Rekhmire.
"Do it. Let's get her out of here. I'll help you carry her myself."
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"No, no, no!"
The illusion of siblinghood seemed to hang on by a string. The way she referred to their parents only seemed to inform the notion that the young doppelganger was falling out of line. Surely, it was that merchant's fault, trudging up memories that should no longer exist. The brain was an incredibly mysterious thing to all of the world, and yet... the profound fact that it could remember things even through the innumerable attempts to make it forget.
Issa is buried, but still there. Surely, the doctor knows a way to submerge her again.
While Kesi cried, it became all the more apparent to the boy that his sister this was not. The doppelganger was a lie, a fabrication that needed to remain. She tried and failed to lie convincingly, she cried and made it known to the world that there was something amiss. Her conduct, even to Amenemhat who tried his utmost to love the fake-Kesi as if she were real... When it came down to the wire, Amenemhat could not convince himself that the lie was a truth. She was weak. She was pitiable. This was no young girl who'd solicited the aid of a poisoner to make herself useful. This was a terrified child begging to be released.
But, mama needed her here.
"You're not okay. Lies don't suit you well, sister. Everyone else..." he continued, looking over to the rest of the circus, which seemed dumbstruck at the ruckus being caused.
"You all have practice and tasks to tend to. Leave us."
There seemed a chill within Nem's voice. There was no effort to console, no attempt to seem the better man than Rekhmire in the moment. What was left was contempt, disregard. In his eyes, Kesi of Alexandria was no more, and the girl Issa in front of him needed to become the lie once again. Nem looked to the slave that was setting a table onto the ground, one that held straps on each corner and despite himself, the curiosity welled up. Rekhmire was very much a professional in ways that the young Nem or Somgi were not. The more time he spent in the circus, the more he realized that Amenhotep's methods were incomplete. The more he realized the journal he'd spent dissecting and analyzing was an incomplete compendium. One that needed to be pruned of its flaws, then its strengths expanded upon further.
Rekhmire is an intelligent man, keeping irrelevant opinions out of the fray and letting himself delve fully into his work. I've heard gagged screams coming from his tent. He gets up to a bit of fun.
It wasn't Nem's place to judge, only to observe and participate when needed. Rekhmire offered the proper respect when requesting his assistance, and he shrugged his shoulders at the added observation.
"Kesi seems to suffer the same episodes that my mother suffered when she was younger," he commented. At the lie, his expression was impassive. Her words in the moment meant nothing to him. She was Issa, wanting mommy and daddy and seeing him as little more than a stranger. It was clear that the girl would struggle, but Nem wasn't in the mood to allow her the opportunity. The 'toxins', known to an older Amenemhat to be opiates and lotus blossom mashed into a fine powder, would do what they always had. Issa of Alexandria would turn back into Kesi, and surely, the harsh treatment at Nem's hands would be forgotten.
It wouldn't do for the puppet-girl to cry to her 'mommy'. Mother and Somgi aren't to be informed.
Fortunately, the ringmaster and his wife had business to attend to elsewhere, leaving Rekhmire and Nem effectively in charge of the circus. The young man raised his hand, intent upon wrangling his sister's throat. Depriving her of air would suffice as a means of rendering her docile until the dose could be administered and she could be given her treatment. If she lashed at him, he'd weather the blows as his grasp tightened, and once he was allowed to continue he looked to Rekhmire.
"Do it. Let's get her out of here. I'll help you carry her myself."
"No, no, no!"
The illusion of siblinghood seemed to hang on by a string. The way she referred to their parents only seemed to inform the notion that the young doppelganger was falling out of line. Surely, it was that merchant's fault, trudging up memories that should no longer exist. The brain was an incredibly mysterious thing to all of the world, and yet... the profound fact that it could remember things even through the innumerable attempts to make it forget.
Issa is buried, but still there. Surely, the doctor knows a way to submerge her again.
While Kesi cried, it became all the more apparent to the boy that his sister this was not. The doppelganger was a lie, a fabrication that needed to remain. She tried and failed to lie convincingly, she cried and made it known to the world that there was something amiss. Her conduct, even to Amenemhat who tried his utmost to love the fake-Kesi as if she were real... When it came down to the wire, Amenemhat could not convince himself that the lie was a truth. She was weak. She was pitiable. This was no young girl who'd solicited the aid of a poisoner to make herself useful. This was a terrified child begging to be released.
But, mama needed her here.
"You're not okay. Lies don't suit you well, sister. Everyone else..." he continued, looking over to the rest of the circus, which seemed dumbstruck at the ruckus being caused.
"You all have practice and tasks to tend to. Leave us."
There seemed a chill within Nem's voice. There was no effort to console, no attempt to seem the better man than Rekhmire in the moment. What was left was contempt, disregard. In his eyes, Kesi of Alexandria was no more, and the girl Issa in front of him needed to become the lie once again. Nem looked to the slave that was setting a table onto the ground, one that held straps on each corner and despite himself, the curiosity welled up. Rekhmire was very much a professional in ways that the young Nem or Somgi were not. The more time he spent in the circus, the more he realized that Amenhotep's methods were incomplete. The more he realized the journal he'd spent dissecting and analyzing was an incomplete compendium. One that needed to be pruned of its flaws, then its strengths expanded upon further.
Rekhmire is an intelligent man, keeping irrelevant opinions out of the fray and letting himself delve fully into his work. I've heard gagged screams coming from his tent. He gets up to a bit of fun.
It wasn't Nem's place to judge, only to observe and participate when needed. Rekhmire offered the proper respect when requesting his assistance, and he shrugged his shoulders at the added observation.
"Kesi seems to suffer the same episodes that my mother suffered when she was younger," he commented. At the lie, his expression was impassive. Her words in the moment meant nothing to him. She was Issa, wanting mommy and daddy and seeing him as little more than a stranger. It was clear that the girl would struggle, but Nem wasn't in the mood to allow her the opportunity. The 'toxins', known to an older Amenemhat to be opiates and lotus blossom mashed into a fine powder, would do what they always had. Issa of Alexandria would turn back into Kesi, and surely, the harsh treatment at Nem's hands would be forgotten.
It wouldn't do for the puppet-girl to cry to her 'mommy'. Mother and Somgi aren't to be informed.
Fortunately, the ringmaster and his wife had business to attend to elsewhere, leaving Rekhmire and Nem effectively in charge of the circus. The young man raised his hand, intent upon wrangling his sister's throat. Depriving her of air would suffice as a means of rendering her docile until the dose could be administered and she could be given her treatment. If she lashed at him, he'd weather the blows as his grasp tightened, and once he was allowed to continue he looked to Rekhmire.
"Do it. Let's get her out of here. I'll help you carry her myself."
There was more going on here than Nem was talking about. That much was obvious. The way the girl looked seemed as if there were two personalities each vying for dominance. On the one hand, she seemed as hesitant of him as she usually did. On the other hand, she looked like she was distrusting her brother. A trait that he had never seen on the girl.
He glanced over at her, his hand turning the bottle of opium in his hand. "Kesi," he started calmly, "anyone fool can see there's something affecting you. Just go with me and your brother and we'll sort this out. If nothing's wrong you'll be out before you know it."
Originally, he had intended on giving the opium to her orally to calm her down. But now, given the hysterics, he was starting to see that another method was needed to avoid issues. He opened a compartment in the table to pull out one of his sewing needles, which were all strapped down so if he were to move the table, his tools wouldn't be dispersed everywhere. He pulled the thin sewing needle out of the table and closed the drawer.
During his time studying medicine under Sethos, he had learned from the man who was Rekhmire's father that sewing needles could have multiple uses in medicine. For example, one could dip a needle in some infusion, poison, or concoction and then pierce the skin with the needle. For the needle to be effective, the concoction would have to be either coated along near the entire length or made specifically for the needle.
Luckily the opium in his bottle would classify, though it could also be taken a different way. And if the needle was hollow, which this one was, then it could apply more than the normal amount.
With the proper tools in hand, his eyes turned to Amenemhat as the young man spoke. "Episodes? Hmm." At this point, his thoughts turned to the various medical journals he had written, before furrowing his brows. Something seemed off about that. But this wasn't the time to ask. Not with the girl still in hysterics.
He watched with mild confusion as the young man grabbed his sister by the throat to restrain her. But it mattered little to him as he soon got the confirmation he needed. He turned around to make sure that the girl couldn't see what he was doing, unscrewing the lid of the opium, and dipping the needle inside. Once he was satisfied that the needle had the proper dosage, he walked up behind her, so as to avoid any attacks from her arms. From there he moved to plunge the needle into Kesi's neck just under Nem's hand, careful to keep the coated needle away from his skin.
If he were successful, he helped Nem put her onto the table, and fastening the straps on her hands and feet. Then he glanced over at Nem and furrowed his eyes at the young man. He moved to the end of the table to lift it up before asking Nem a question while the girl wasn't in a state to focus on their conversation.
"What exactly is wrong with her." He started, before immediately continuing so that Amenemhat couldn't lie to him again. "From what I have in my personal medical journals, and my predecessor's, what's ailing her doesn't match any issues her mother had."
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There was more going on here than Nem was talking about. That much was obvious. The way the girl looked seemed as if there were two personalities each vying for dominance. On the one hand, she seemed as hesitant of him as she usually did. On the other hand, she looked like she was distrusting her brother. A trait that he had never seen on the girl.
He glanced over at her, his hand turning the bottle of opium in his hand. "Kesi," he started calmly, "anyone fool can see there's something affecting you. Just go with me and your brother and we'll sort this out. If nothing's wrong you'll be out before you know it."
Originally, he had intended on giving the opium to her orally to calm her down. But now, given the hysterics, he was starting to see that another method was needed to avoid issues. He opened a compartment in the table to pull out one of his sewing needles, which were all strapped down so if he were to move the table, his tools wouldn't be dispersed everywhere. He pulled the thin sewing needle out of the table and closed the drawer.
During his time studying medicine under Sethos, he had learned from the man who was Rekhmire's father that sewing needles could have multiple uses in medicine. For example, one could dip a needle in some infusion, poison, or concoction and then pierce the skin with the needle. For the needle to be effective, the concoction would have to be either coated along near the entire length or made specifically for the needle.
Luckily the opium in his bottle would classify, though it could also be taken a different way. And if the needle was hollow, which this one was, then it could apply more than the normal amount.
With the proper tools in hand, his eyes turned to Amenemhat as the young man spoke. "Episodes? Hmm." At this point, his thoughts turned to the various medical journals he had written, before furrowing his brows. Something seemed off about that. But this wasn't the time to ask. Not with the girl still in hysterics.
He watched with mild confusion as the young man grabbed his sister by the throat to restrain her. But it mattered little to him as he soon got the confirmation he needed. He turned around to make sure that the girl couldn't see what he was doing, unscrewing the lid of the opium, and dipping the needle inside. Once he was satisfied that the needle had the proper dosage, he walked up behind her, so as to avoid any attacks from her arms. From there he moved to plunge the needle into Kesi's neck just under Nem's hand, careful to keep the coated needle away from his skin.
If he were successful, he helped Nem put her onto the table, and fastening the straps on her hands and feet. Then he glanced over at Nem and furrowed his eyes at the young man. He moved to the end of the table to lift it up before asking Nem a question while the girl wasn't in a state to focus on their conversation.
"What exactly is wrong with her." He started, before immediately continuing so that Amenemhat couldn't lie to him again. "From what I have in my personal medical journals, and my predecessor's, what's ailing her doesn't match any issues her mother had."
There was more going on here than Nem was talking about. That much was obvious. The way the girl looked seemed as if there were two personalities each vying for dominance. On the one hand, she seemed as hesitant of him as she usually did. On the other hand, she looked like she was distrusting her brother. A trait that he had never seen on the girl.
He glanced over at her, his hand turning the bottle of opium in his hand. "Kesi," he started calmly, "anyone fool can see there's something affecting you. Just go with me and your brother and we'll sort this out. If nothing's wrong you'll be out before you know it."
Originally, he had intended on giving the opium to her orally to calm her down. But now, given the hysterics, he was starting to see that another method was needed to avoid issues. He opened a compartment in the table to pull out one of his sewing needles, which were all strapped down so if he were to move the table, his tools wouldn't be dispersed everywhere. He pulled the thin sewing needle out of the table and closed the drawer.
During his time studying medicine under Sethos, he had learned from the man who was Rekhmire's father that sewing needles could have multiple uses in medicine. For example, one could dip a needle in some infusion, poison, or concoction and then pierce the skin with the needle. For the needle to be effective, the concoction would have to be either coated along near the entire length or made specifically for the needle.
Luckily the opium in his bottle would classify, though it could also be taken a different way. And if the needle was hollow, which this one was, then it could apply more than the normal amount.
With the proper tools in hand, his eyes turned to Amenemhat as the young man spoke. "Episodes? Hmm." At this point, his thoughts turned to the various medical journals he had written, before furrowing his brows. Something seemed off about that. But this wasn't the time to ask. Not with the girl still in hysterics.
He watched with mild confusion as the young man grabbed his sister by the throat to restrain her. But it mattered little to him as he soon got the confirmation he needed. He turned around to make sure that the girl couldn't see what he was doing, unscrewing the lid of the opium, and dipping the needle inside. Once he was satisfied that the needle had the proper dosage, he walked up behind her, so as to avoid any attacks from her arms. From there he moved to plunge the needle into Kesi's neck just under Nem's hand, careful to keep the coated needle away from his skin.
If he were successful, he helped Nem put her onto the table, and fastening the straps on her hands and feet. Then he glanced over at Nem and furrowed his eyes at the young man. He moved to the end of the table to lift it up before asking Nem a question while the girl wasn't in a state to focus on their conversation.
"What exactly is wrong with her." He started, before immediately continuing so that Amenemhat couldn't lie to him again. "From what I have in my personal medical journals, and my predecessor's, what's ailing her doesn't match any issues her mother had."
Kesi could not be here. She didn’t want Rekhmire. She was scared, and she couldn’t understand why her brother was insisting on him. She just wanted mommy. Mommy would make this better! Why couldn’t Nem see that?
When he reached to grab her, she moved to run away. Before Kesi knew it though, his hand was on her throat. She kicked at him, clawed at his hand until her nails broke flesh just to try to loosen the grasp. It didn’t loosen, it tightened. Her air was getting constricted and all she could do was struggle, face turning red, and tears sliding down her cheeks. She did not even notice the doctor as he came up from her behind her. She just stared up at her brother with a wide-eyed look of betrayal and hurt. This wasn’t the brother she knew. He protected her from pain, he didn’t cause it.
Then the needle pierced her skin. She felt it go in, but she didn’t feel it go out. The world was already starting to spin and it was too easy to strap the child on the table. Kesi’s head tilted this way and that, and laughter bubbled from her lips but she wasn’t quite sure why. She tried to move in the straps but her hands and feet would not budge, firmly stuck on the table.
They were speaking, but Kesi couldn’t hear them. She didn’t have any voice guiding her this time. She was alone, floating, flying in the air with nothing but the hard table to catch her if she fell.
Kesi’s eyes closed. The moving world was making her ill. It wasn’t fun being ill. It was horrible. It was terrible. And yet even with closed eyes, she could still see warped visions in her mind. She could see the merchant, handing her the peach with a joyous smile. But when Kesi reached for it, it was always out of her grasp. Her brother had it instead, squishing it under his foot.
She giggled some more, head flopping to one side. “Big brother hates me,” She said in a sing-song voice. More laughter, even though her words brought nothing but pain. “I was a bad girl.” But she didn’t know why. “And he hates me. Like daddy.”
Why was this so funny? She should be crushed. Devastated. But everything felt good. As much as one half of her was in agony at the idea of Amenemhat hating her now, another part of her relished that idea. Another part of her wanted him to hate her. And that hidden, dark side of Kesi was what was causing the bubbling laughter from her lips. He should hate her. Nem hurt her. Only people who hurt Kesi hated Kesi.
But what did Kesi do? She couldn’t figure it out, and now it was even harder to think. She was just a little ill and now she’s strapped to a table after her brother choked her. Her emotions were truly split, a visual representation of the tear within her. She still had tears that were quickly cascading down her cheeks, and yet the laughter just never ended. She felt as if there was a war between two minds, and Kesi didn’t know which side to support.
One thing was for certain, both sides felt alone. The one side no longer had Nem. Nem was horribly mad at her. He probably thought she was disgusting. Kesi didn’t know why that is. But he didn’t want his little sister anymore. He would even wish that she just drowned in the Nile. She was bad because maybe she was scared of the merchant.
But the other side felt even worse. The other side was alone always. She had no one, nothing. It was like one of the holes her daddy trapped her in once. It was dark, empty, filled with solitude.
Solitude.
This was another thing both sides agreed on. Suddenly the laughter stopped. She felt trapped, alone. The colors weren’t fun anymore. They were dark, scary. She couldn’t see. There was no one around her. She started thrashing with the straps. She felt closed in. She felt terrified. She was alone. She was all alone. “N-Nem?” Her voice cracked. She tried so hard to get out of her restraints to no avail. “N-Nem w-where are you? I-I’m scared.”
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Kesi could not be here. She didn’t want Rekhmire. She was scared, and she couldn’t understand why her brother was insisting on him. She just wanted mommy. Mommy would make this better! Why couldn’t Nem see that?
When he reached to grab her, she moved to run away. Before Kesi knew it though, his hand was on her throat. She kicked at him, clawed at his hand until her nails broke flesh just to try to loosen the grasp. It didn’t loosen, it tightened. Her air was getting constricted and all she could do was struggle, face turning red, and tears sliding down her cheeks. She did not even notice the doctor as he came up from her behind her. She just stared up at her brother with a wide-eyed look of betrayal and hurt. This wasn’t the brother she knew. He protected her from pain, he didn’t cause it.
Then the needle pierced her skin. She felt it go in, but she didn’t feel it go out. The world was already starting to spin and it was too easy to strap the child on the table. Kesi’s head tilted this way and that, and laughter bubbled from her lips but she wasn’t quite sure why. She tried to move in the straps but her hands and feet would not budge, firmly stuck on the table.
They were speaking, but Kesi couldn’t hear them. She didn’t have any voice guiding her this time. She was alone, floating, flying in the air with nothing but the hard table to catch her if she fell.
Kesi’s eyes closed. The moving world was making her ill. It wasn’t fun being ill. It was horrible. It was terrible. And yet even with closed eyes, she could still see warped visions in her mind. She could see the merchant, handing her the peach with a joyous smile. But when Kesi reached for it, it was always out of her grasp. Her brother had it instead, squishing it under his foot.
She giggled some more, head flopping to one side. “Big brother hates me,” She said in a sing-song voice. More laughter, even though her words brought nothing but pain. “I was a bad girl.” But she didn’t know why. “And he hates me. Like daddy.”
Why was this so funny? She should be crushed. Devastated. But everything felt good. As much as one half of her was in agony at the idea of Amenemhat hating her now, another part of her relished that idea. Another part of her wanted him to hate her. And that hidden, dark side of Kesi was what was causing the bubbling laughter from her lips. He should hate her. Nem hurt her. Only people who hurt Kesi hated Kesi.
But what did Kesi do? She couldn’t figure it out, and now it was even harder to think. She was just a little ill and now she’s strapped to a table after her brother choked her. Her emotions were truly split, a visual representation of the tear within her. She still had tears that were quickly cascading down her cheeks, and yet the laughter just never ended. She felt as if there was a war between two minds, and Kesi didn’t know which side to support.
One thing was for certain, both sides felt alone. The one side no longer had Nem. Nem was horribly mad at her. He probably thought she was disgusting. Kesi didn’t know why that is. But he didn’t want his little sister anymore. He would even wish that she just drowned in the Nile. She was bad because maybe she was scared of the merchant.
But the other side felt even worse. The other side was alone always. She had no one, nothing. It was like one of the holes her daddy trapped her in once. It was dark, empty, filled with solitude.
Solitude.
This was another thing both sides agreed on. Suddenly the laughter stopped. She felt trapped, alone. The colors weren’t fun anymore. They were dark, scary. She couldn’t see. There was no one around her. She started thrashing with the straps. She felt closed in. She felt terrified. She was alone. She was all alone. “N-Nem?” Her voice cracked. She tried so hard to get out of her restraints to no avail. “N-Nem w-where are you? I-I’m scared.”
Kesi could not be here. She didn’t want Rekhmire. She was scared, and she couldn’t understand why her brother was insisting on him. She just wanted mommy. Mommy would make this better! Why couldn’t Nem see that?
When he reached to grab her, she moved to run away. Before Kesi knew it though, his hand was on her throat. She kicked at him, clawed at his hand until her nails broke flesh just to try to loosen the grasp. It didn’t loosen, it tightened. Her air was getting constricted and all she could do was struggle, face turning red, and tears sliding down her cheeks. She did not even notice the doctor as he came up from her behind her. She just stared up at her brother with a wide-eyed look of betrayal and hurt. This wasn’t the brother she knew. He protected her from pain, he didn’t cause it.
Then the needle pierced her skin. She felt it go in, but she didn’t feel it go out. The world was already starting to spin and it was too easy to strap the child on the table. Kesi’s head tilted this way and that, and laughter bubbled from her lips but she wasn’t quite sure why. She tried to move in the straps but her hands and feet would not budge, firmly stuck on the table.
They were speaking, but Kesi couldn’t hear them. She didn’t have any voice guiding her this time. She was alone, floating, flying in the air with nothing but the hard table to catch her if she fell.
Kesi’s eyes closed. The moving world was making her ill. It wasn’t fun being ill. It was horrible. It was terrible. And yet even with closed eyes, she could still see warped visions in her mind. She could see the merchant, handing her the peach with a joyous smile. But when Kesi reached for it, it was always out of her grasp. Her brother had it instead, squishing it under his foot.
She giggled some more, head flopping to one side. “Big brother hates me,” She said in a sing-song voice. More laughter, even though her words brought nothing but pain. “I was a bad girl.” But she didn’t know why. “And he hates me. Like daddy.”
Why was this so funny? She should be crushed. Devastated. But everything felt good. As much as one half of her was in agony at the idea of Amenemhat hating her now, another part of her relished that idea. Another part of her wanted him to hate her. And that hidden, dark side of Kesi was what was causing the bubbling laughter from her lips. He should hate her. Nem hurt her. Only people who hurt Kesi hated Kesi.
But what did Kesi do? She couldn’t figure it out, and now it was even harder to think. She was just a little ill and now she’s strapped to a table after her brother choked her. Her emotions were truly split, a visual representation of the tear within her. She still had tears that were quickly cascading down her cheeks, and yet the laughter just never ended. She felt as if there was a war between two minds, and Kesi didn’t know which side to support.
One thing was for certain, both sides felt alone. The one side no longer had Nem. Nem was horribly mad at her. He probably thought she was disgusting. Kesi didn’t know why that is. But he didn’t want his little sister anymore. He would even wish that she just drowned in the Nile. She was bad because maybe she was scared of the merchant.
But the other side felt even worse. The other side was alone always. She had no one, nothing. It was like one of the holes her daddy trapped her in once. It was dark, empty, filled with solitude.
Solitude.
This was another thing both sides agreed on. Suddenly the laughter stopped. She felt trapped, alone. The colors weren’t fun anymore. They were dark, scary. She couldn’t see. There was no one around her. She started thrashing with the straps. She felt closed in. She felt terrified. She was alone. She was all alone. “N-Nem?” Her voice cracked. She tried so hard to get out of her restraints to no avail. “N-Nem w-where are you? I-I’m scared.”
"Episodes? Hmm."
Amenemhat could tell that Rekhmire would not be so easily deceived, even as he did his utmost to make the lie convincing. It was difficult for youth and falsehood to overcome a wealth of experience that eclipsed even the number of years Nem had been alive. He needed to rethink his course of action, but it was difficult in the midst of it all. He battled Kesi, whose fingers clawed into his arm as he wrangled the breath from her lungs. But, it was moot. Just as Nem wouldn't get away with lying to Rekhmire, so too was the doppelganger helpless against the years the boy had spent honing his body in aid of the circus.
Then, her movements slowed, her face turned red and Rekhmire produced a needle, giving Nem the leave to stop choking his fake sister and help in tying her down onto the table. Once it was done, he intended to help Rekhmire take the girl into his tent. There was no reason to attempt to further mislead the doctor, but there was no cause for them to air out the truth for everyone to listen to. Sensitive matters were not meant to see the light of day. In the moment, Kesi and her idiosynchrasies were ignored.
The doctor could help restore her to... relative normalcy and he was satisfied at that. However, the particulars of it all were... difficult to come up with. Should he tell Rekhmire everything? Was Rekhmire lying about being unaware for the sake of the slaves and performers? Truly, the young man couldn't tell one way or another. The doctor was an enigma, a cold man with a sharp intelligence that made it difficult to analyze him. At least, without him being aware of it.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier," he began. The Tempest's heir moved to shut the folds of the tent, making sure as he did that there was no one in their vicinity. Nem decided that the full truth was unnecessary. Rekhmire did not need to know that the doppelganger was just that. He could treat her without having every detail of what transpired in the past. There were... after all, reasons for him to keep that bit of knowledge to himself. Instead, he elected to tell the truth. An incomplete truth. A telling of what had transpired years ago before both Nem himself and Kesi were brought over to the circus.
"You're right. My mother's condition is entirely unlike Kesi's. Six years ago, my father decided that Kesi needed to be 'put under'," he alluded to the treatment and how Amenhotep had referred to it in his journals. Perhaps Rekhmire was learned in these ways, but from what he'd seen the doctor's methods were more refined than his grandfather's original missives implied that circus 'education' was handled.
"She misbehaved and rather than do it himself, he demanded that I do it. Both of us were to enroll in different forms of education."
As he spoke, Nem brushed fingers through his young sister's hair. Affectionate enough now that she'd been dispossessed of her struggle and was appropriately tied down. He need not hurt her any longer. Rekhmire could be the one responsible for it. Rekmire could be the one to correct this relapse into the broken state of Issa of Alexandria. He preferred it this way. Hearing Kesi state that he hated her... it wasn't wounding, and though it was unexpected he remained relatively impassive at the admission. What happened after, however, was altogether distinct.
"N-Nem w-where are you? I-I'm scared."
Of course she was. While Nem had grown into adulthood in the circus, Kesi remained a child. A child old enough to work and suffer under her father's supervision, but still one that did not know the ways of the world. He wanted to protect her, to care about her. But, he'd do so only for Kesi, not the girl Issa who threatened to break free. The fingers in his sister's hair continued, his fingertips weaving a light pattern along her scalp as he said,
"The method was an older sort. My grandfather's notes alluded to a method where opium was heated and inhaled, similar to the drug peddled on the streets and inside of our circus during shows. However, it's much stronger. Som-My father provided the drug and had me administer and employ the tactics as Amenhotep prescribed. Surely, you're familiar? They might be rudimentary as far as your experience is concerned. But until today... they've been effective."
Nem thought back to the marketplace and Kesi's encounter with the merchant as he elaborated.
"The merchant in town said something he shouldn't have. In my... haste to silence him I grew a bit too violent for my own good. The entire ordeal seems to have unsettled her deeply enough to break some of the habits that my father wished ingrained into her."
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"Episodes? Hmm."
Amenemhat could tell that Rekhmire would not be so easily deceived, even as he did his utmost to make the lie convincing. It was difficult for youth and falsehood to overcome a wealth of experience that eclipsed even the number of years Nem had been alive. He needed to rethink his course of action, but it was difficult in the midst of it all. He battled Kesi, whose fingers clawed into his arm as he wrangled the breath from her lungs. But, it was moot. Just as Nem wouldn't get away with lying to Rekhmire, so too was the doppelganger helpless against the years the boy had spent honing his body in aid of the circus.
Then, her movements slowed, her face turned red and Rekhmire produced a needle, giving Nem the leave to stop choking his fake sister and help in tying her down onto the table. Once it was done, he intended to help Rekhmire take the girl into his tent. There was no reason to attempt to further mislead the doctor, but there was no cause for them to air out the truth for everyone to listen to. Sensitive matters were not meant to see the light of day. In the moment, Kesi and her idiosynchrasies were ignored.
The doctor could help restore her to... relative normalcy and he was satisfied at that. However, the particulars of it all were... difficult to come up with. Should he tell Rekhmire everything? Was Rekhmire lying about being unaware for the sake of the slaves and performers? Truly, the young man couldn't tell one way or another. The doctor was an enigma, a cold man with a sharp intelligence that made it difficult to analyze him. At least, without him being aware of it.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier," he began. The Tempest's heir moved to shut the folds of the tent, making sure as he did that there was no one in their vicinity. Nem decided that the full truth was unnecessary. Rekhmire did not need to know that the doppelganger was just that. He could treat her without having every detail of what transpired in the past. There were... after all, reasons for him to keep that bit of knowledge to himself. Instead, he elected to tell the truth. An incomplete truth. A telling of what had transpired years ago before both Nem himself and Kesi were brought over to the circus.
"You're right. My mother's condition is entirely unlike Kesi's. Six years ago, my father decided that Kesi needed to be 'put under'," he alluded to the treatment and how Amenhotep had referred to it in his journals. Perhaps Rekhmire was learned in these ways, but from what he'd seen the doctor's methods were more refined than his grandfather's original missives implied that circus 'education' was handled.
"She misbehaved and rather than do it himself, he demanded that I do it. Both of us were to enroll in different forms of education."
As he spoke, Nem brushed fingers through his young sister's hair. Affectionate enough now that she'd been dispossessed of her struggle and was appropriately tied down. He need not hurt her any longer. Rekhmire could be the one responsible for it. Rekmire could be the one to correct this relapse into the broken state of Issa of Alexandria. He preferred it this way. Hearing Kesi state that he hated her... it wasn't wounding, and though it was unexpected he remained relatively impassive at the admission. What happened after, however, was altogether distinct.
"N-Nem w-where are you? I-I'm scared."
Of course she was. While Nem had grown into adulthood in the circus, Kesi remained a child. A child old enough to work and suffer under her father's supervision, but still one that did not know the ways of the world. He wanted to protect her, to care about her. But, he'd do so only for Kesi, not the girl Issa who threatened to break free. The fingers in his sister's hair continued, his fingertips weaving a light pattern along her scalp as he said,
"The method was an older sort. My grandfather's notes alluded to a method where opium was heated and inhaled, similar to the drug peddled on the streets and inside of our circus during shows. However, it's much stronger. Som-My father provided the drug and had me administer and employ the tactics as Amenhotep prescribed. Surely, you're familiar? They might be rudimentary as far as your experience is concerned. But until today... they've been effective."
Nem thought back to the marketplace and Kesi's encounter with the merchant as he elaborated.
"The merchant in town said something he shouldn't have. In my... haste to silence him I grew a bit too violent for my own good. The entire ordeal seems to have unsettled her deeply enough to break some of the habits that my father wished ingrained into her."
"Episodes? Hmm."
Amenemhat could tell that Rekhmire would not be so easily deceived, even as he did his utmost to make the lie convincing. It was difficult for youth and falsehood to overcome a wealth of experience that eclipsed even the number of years Nem had been alive. He needed to rethink his course of action, but it was difficult in the midst of it all. He battled Kesi, whose fingers clawed into his arm as he wrangled the breath from her lungs. But, it was moot. Just as Nem wouldn't get away with lying to Rekhmire, so too was the doppelganger helpless against the years the boy had spent honing his body in aid of the circus.
Then, her movements slowed, her face turned red and Rekhmire produced a needle, giving Nem the leave to stop choking his fake sister and help in tying her down onto the table. Once it was done, he intended to help Rekhmire take the girl into his tent. There was no reason to attempt to further mislead the doctor, but there was no cause for them to air out the truth for everyone to listen to. Sensitive matters were not meant to see the light of day. In the moment, Kesi and her idiosynchrasies were ignored.
The doctor could help restore her to... relative normalcy and he was satisfied at that. However, the particulars of it all were... difficult to come up with. Should he tell Rekhmire everything? Was Rekhmire lying about being unaware for the sake of the slaves and performers? Truly, the young man couldn't tell one way or another. The doctor was an enigma, a cold man with a sharp intelligence that made it difficult to analyze him. At least, without him being aware of it.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier," he began. The Tempest's heir moved to shut the folds of the tent, making sure as he did that there was no one in their vicinity. Nem decided that the full truth was unnecessary. Rekhmire did not need to know that the doppelganger was just that. He could treat her without having every detail of what transpired in the past. There were... after all, reasons for him to keep that bit of knowledge to himself. Instead, he elected to tell the truth. An incomplete truth. A telling of what had transpired years ago before both Nem himself and Kesi were brought over to the circus.
"You're right. My mother's condition is entirely unlike Kesi's. Six years ago, my father decided that Kesi needed to be 'put under'," he alluded to the treatment and how Amenhotep had referred to it in his journals. Perhaps Rekhmire was learned in these ways, but from what he'd seen the doctor's methods were more refined than his grandfather's original missives implied that circus 'education' was handled.
"She misbehaved and rather than do it himself, he demanded that I do it. Both of us were to enroll in different forms of education."
As he spoke, Nem brushed fingers through his young sister's hair. Affectionate enough now that she'd been dispossessed of her struggle and was appropriately tied down. He need not hurt her any longer. Rekhmire could be the one responsible for it. Rekmire could be the one to correct this relapse into the broken state of Issa of Alexandria. He preferred it this way. Hearing Kesi state that he hated her... it wasn't wounding, and though it was unexpected he remained relatively impassive at the admission. What happened after, however, was altogether distinct.
"N-Nem w-where are you? I-I'm scared."
Of course she was. While Nem had grown into adulthood in the circus, Kesi remained a child. A child old enough to work and suffer under her father's supervision, but still one that did not know the ways of the world. He wanted to protect her, to care about her. But, he'd do so only for Kesi, not the girl Issa who threatened to break free. The fingers in his sister's hair continued, his fingertips weaving a light pattern along her scalp as he said,
"The method was an older sort. My grandfather's notes alluded to a method where opium was heated and inhaled, similar to the drug peddled on the streets and inside of our circus during shows. However, it's much stronger. Som-My father provided the drug and had me administer and employ the tactics as Amenhotep prescribed. Surely, you're familiar? They might be rudimentary as far as your experience is concerned. But until today... they've been effective."
Nem thought back to the marketplace and Kesi's encounter with the merchant as he elaborated.
"The merchant in town said something he shouldn't have. In my... haste to silence him I grew a bit too violent for my own good. The entire ordeal seems to have unsettled her deeply enough to break some of the habits that my father wished ingrained into her."
Rekhmire watched with the needle in hand as Kesi started to feel the effects of the opium running through her system. He doubted he'd need to apply another dose, but he wanted to be ready. After they got her on the table and strapped in, he turned back towards Amenemhat expecting some type of answer. When he didn't get one, he simply nodded and lifted up one side of the table in conjunction with Nem and carried her back to his tent.
He couldn't help but be internally amused at the young girl's antics while on the drugs he had administered, but of course, it was to be expected. She was young, and he had delivered an additional half a dosage by using his hollow needle.
Some small part of him wondered how the girl would react to him experimenting on her while she was on opium. How would she react to the pain of such experiments? At the same time, Rekhmire knew that such an event was merely a pondering of a 'what-if' unless another family took control of the circus.
Not that he would do such a thing anyway. He would never tell the two before him, but he personally held a high opinion of the two children of Somgi. While Somgi seemed an idiot and cared more for the coins in his pocket than the pride of entertainment, Nem and Kesi breathed the circus. They reminded him more of their grandfather than they did of Somgi.
He didn't know Amenhotep as well as Sothos, but from what he knew of the man, he felt he would have liked the man, despite his preference of keeping such opinions to himself.
- Sometime Later -
Finally, they had reached Rehkmire's tent and the table was carefully set down in its usual place. As Amenemhat spoke, Rekhmire's eyes drifted up towards the young man, before raising a brow.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier."
Easier? So what was going on with Kesi was some secret then? Something kept from the majority of the Tempest and kept within the family itself perhaps? It would make sense, then, why his father's journals did not match the girl's behavior.
If anything it seemed something more in line with the indoctrination of his father's day. He pulled a chair up beside the table, to allow Amenemhat to sit, should he desire it, before listening as the young man spoke again. "Put under?" He asked, not expecting a reply in any way as the young man was still speaking. Indoctrination was seeming more and more likely. The methods of their grandfather were primitive compared to the methods Rekhmire had devised.
He had utmost respect for Amenhotep for devising the methods in the first place, as without them, Rekhmire would not have been able to make any new methods. Yet, still, there was something... crude about the old method.
His thoughts on the indoctrination seemed to be almost confirmed when Amenemhat continued speaking. "By put under, you refer to indoctrination, correct?"
He turned his gaze towards the girl who lay strapped down on the table and pondered on this information. "Then I assume you want me to reinforce this indoctrination. Stop this... relapse, if you will." He moved over towards the shelf that sat to the left of his strapped table. The lower shelves contained most of what he used for experimentations, but the upper two shelves were specifically for indoctrination.
Without waiting for a confirmation on whether this was indeed correct, he started picking through his stocks searching for the items he needed. If he was incorrect, he could always get the correct materials then. He pulled down a bottle of the opioid mixture. Originally, it had been Opium infused with lotus blossom, but Rekhmire had added his own personal mixture to it.
While originally, according to his father's notes and what the man had taught him, the drug relied on a lesser form of hypnosis, Rekhmire had refined that. He added Valerian, which he'd obtained from greek traders at any port he could, along with a small number of other plants with hypnotic effects. All of this while making sure not to dilute the effects of the opium and lotus flower. In short, making this new mixture was a delicate process.
He combined the new hypnotic plants with a toy top he had bought from some children after he'd learned the potential uses of motion in hypnosis. He had carefully recarved the top after testing it out multiple times, to add extra spin time to the top.
Both of these items he placed down on a table beside the girl, waiting on Nem's confirmation before he began working proper.
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Check out their information page here.
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Rekhmire watched with the needle in hand as Kesi started to feel the effects of the opium running through her system. He doubted he'd need to apply another dose, but he wanted to be ready. After they got her on the table and strapped in, he turned back towards Amenemhat expecting some type of answer. When he didn't get one, he simply nodded and lifted up one side of the table in conjunction with Nem and carried her back to his tent.
He couldn't help but be internally amused at the young girl's antics while on the drugs he had administered, but of course, it was to be expected. She was young, and he had delivered an additional half a dosage by using his hollow needle.
Some small part of him wondered how the girl would react to him experimenting on her while she was on opium. How would she react to the pain of such experiments? At the same time, Rekhmire knew that such an event was merely a pondering of a 'what-if' unless another family took control of the circus.
Not that he would do such a thing anyway. He would never tell the two before him, but he personally held a high opinion of the two children of Somgi. While Somgi seemed an idiot and cared more for the coins in his pocket than the pride of entertainment, Nem and Kesi breathed the circus. They reminded him more of their grandfather than they did of Somgi.
He didn't know Amenhotep as well as Sothos, but from what he knew of the man, he felt he would have liked the man, despite his preference of keeping such opinions to himself.
- Sometime Later -
Finally, they had reached Rehkmire's tent and the table was carefully set down in its usual place. As Amenemhat spoke, Rekhmire's eyes drifted up towards the young man, before raising a brow.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier."
Easier? So what was going on with Kesi was some secret then? Something kept from the majority of the Tempest and kept within the family itself perhaps? It would make sense, then, why his father's journals did not match the girl's behavior.
If anything it seemed something more in line with the indoctrination of his father's day. He pulled a chair up beside the table, to allow Amenemhat to sit, should he desire it, before listening as the young man spoke again. "Put under?" He asked, not expecting a reply in any way as the young man was still speaking. Indoctrination was seeming more and more likely. The methods of their grandfather were primitive compared to the methods Rekhmire had devised.
He had utmost respect for Amenhotep for devising the methods in the first place, as without them, Rekhmire would not have been able to make any new methods. Yet, still, there was something... crude about the old method.
His thoughts on the indoctrination seemed to be almost confirmed when Amenemhat continued speaking. "By put under, you refer to indoctrination, correct?"
He turned his gaze towards the girl who lay strapped down on the table and pondered on this information. "Then I assume you want me to reinforce this indoctrination. Stop this... relapse, if you will." He moved over towards the shelf that sat to the left of his strapped table. The lower shelves contained most of what he used for experimentations, but the upper two shelves were specifically for indoctrination.
Without waiting for a confirmation on whether this was indeed correct, he started picking through his stocks searching for the items he needed. If he was incorrect, he could always get the correct materials then. He pulled down a bottle of the opioid mixture. Originally, it had been Opium infused with lotus blossom, but Rekhmire had added his own personal mixture to it.
While originally, according to his father's notes and what the man had taught him, the drug relied on a lesser form of hypnosis, Rekhmire had refined that. He added Valerian, which he'd obtained from greek traders at any port he could, along with a small number of other plants with hypnotic effects. All of this while making sure not to dilute the effects of the opium and lotus flower. In short, making this new mixture was a delicate process.
He combined the new hypnotic plants with a toy top he had bought from some children after he'd learned the potential uses of motion in hypnosis. He had carefully recarved the top after testing it out multiple times, to add extra spin time to the top.
Both of these items he placed down on a table beside the girl, waiting on Nem's confirmation before he began working proper.
Rekhmire watched with the needle in hand as Kesi started to feel the effects of the opium running through her system. He doubted he'd need to apply another dose, but he wanted to be ready. After they got her on the table and strapped in, he turned back towards Amenemhat expecting some type of answer. When he didn't get one, he simply nodded and lifted up one side of the table in conjunction with Nem and carried her back to his tent.
He couldn't help but be internally amused at the young girl's antics while on the drugs he had administered, but of course, it was to be expected. She was young, and he had delivered an additional half a dosage by using his hollow needle.
Some small part of him wondered how the girl would react to him experimenting on her while she was on opium. How would she react to the pain of such experiments? At the same time, Rekhmire knew that such an event was merely a pondering of a 'what-if' unless another family took control of the circus.
Not that he would do such a thing anyway. He would never tell the two before him, but he personally held a high opinion of the two children of Somgi. While Somgi seemed an idiot and cared more for the coins in his pocket than the pride of entertainment, Nem and Kesi breathed the circus. They reminded him more of their grandfather than they did of Somgi.
He didn't know Amenhotep as well as Sothos, but from what he knew of the man, he felt he would have liked the man, despite his preference of keeping such opinions to himself.
- Sometime Later -
Finally, they had reached Rehkmire's tent and the table was carefully set down in its usual place. As Amenemhat spoke, Rekhmire's eyes drifted up towards the young man, before raising a brow.
"Now that we are alone, this is easier."
Easier? So what was going on with Kesi was some secret then? Something kept from the majority of the Tempest and kept within the family itself perhaps? It would make sense, then, why his father's journals did not match the girl's behavior.
If anything it seemed something more in line with the indoctrination of his father's day. He pulled a chair up beside the table, to allow Amenemhat to sit, should he desire it, before listening as the young man spoke again. "Put under?" He asked, not expecting a reply in any way as the young man was still speaking. Indoctrination was seeming more and more likely. The methods of their grandfather were primitive compared to the methods Rekhmire had devised.
He had utmost respect for Amenhotep for devising the methods in the first place, as without them, Rekhmire would not have been able to make any new methods. Yet, still, there was something... crude about the old method.
His thoughts on the indoctrination seemed to be almost confirmed when Amenemhat continued speaking. "By put under, you refer to indoctrination, correct?"
He turned his gaze towards the girl who lay strapped down on the table and pondered on this information. "Then I assume you want me to reinforce this indoctrination. Stop this... relapse, if you will." He moved over towards the shelf that sat to the left of his strapped table. The lower shelves contained most of what he used for experimentations, but the upper two shelves were specifically for indoctrination.
Without waiting for a confirmation on whether this was indeed correct, he started picking through his stocks searching for the items he needed. If he was incorrect, he could always get the correct materials then. He pulled down a bottle of the opioid mixture. Originally, it had been Opium infused with lotus blossom, but Rekhmire had added his own personal mixture to it.
While originally, according to his father's notes and what the man had taught him, the drug relied on a lesser form of hypnosis, Rekhmire had refined that. He added Valerian, which he'd obtained from greek traders at any port he could, along with a small number of other plants with hypnotic effects. All of this while making sure not to dilute the effects of the opium and lotus flower. In short, making this new mixture was a delicate process.
He combined the new hypnotic plants with a toy top he had bought from some children after he'd learned the potential uses of motion in hypnosis. He had carefully recarved the top after testing it out multiple times, to add extra spin time to the top.
Both of these items he placed down on a table beside the girl, waiting on Nem's confirmation before he began working proper.
The house of Amenhotep was not one that let its secrets hang out for all to hear. Even within the Tempest of Set, the family that was the circus, there were those who weren't meant to be privy to everything. Circles within circles, and while Rekhmire was more than within his right to have access to secrets, he knew better than most that they were secrets. The fact of this need not be elaborated upon, and Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set would guard this knowledge until his death. The family built by Amenhotep of Momborah was not so easily breached.
The young heir was more than willing to remain standing, to keep his proximity close to Kesi's as his sister continued to play under the pull of the drugs. He knew that their power would continue to flow through her veins, but there was always a sort of lull before the time of utility. In the interim, he'd answer Rekhmire's questions, then allow the man to continue as he would. He called it indoctrination, and it was. But, to Amenemhat, it was compulsory education. Those that did not meet the standard of the Tempest of Set, slaves that were unruly and unable to fall into conformity... they required this education in order to acclimate to life at the circus.
The alternative was far more brutalizing in nature and incentivized subservience to fear rather than adulation and purpose in being one with the circus. Amenemhat understood, intrinsically, that adoration was a more powerful lure than fear. Always, he strived to make himself better, to strengthen his ability to inspire rather than destroy. But, there was a time for both and Amenemhat was more inclined towards the latter. In time, he'd seek to grow better at it, in understanding people and making them love him rather than fear him.
When Rekhmire asked his next question, he arched his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps the doctor had moved so far past the methods Nem learned from Amenhotep's notes that the term was no longer applicable to what he did. It was, truly, rather intriguing to understand that. Amenhotep was perhaps limited by his busy life and left it to those more inclined to expand upon his understanding of the human mind and how to unravel it.
"Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir."
He wanted to be polite, but the question seemed an unnecessary addition. His assumptions were correct, of course, but it was... slow. Nem wasn't used to being questioned, but moreover, he thought that the doctor would be wise enough to know his intentions without needing them verified. However, he'd allow the man the indulgence, or rather, the inquiry without much fight about it. He needed to remain in the doctor's good graces in the event that such measures need be taken again.
To protect Kesi from unnecessary harm from our father, and to protect my mother's own fragile sense of balance. Seeing Kesi in this way would surely break her.
More than anything else, Amenemhat wished to preserve Layla's mentality that the girl she'd kidnapped and brought home was her daughter. Even if that meant harming the girl to do it. Especially if it meant that. Amenemhat couldn't help but feel the twisted sense of satisfaction in watching the girl prone on the table, strapped in place. She was Issa, the girl who constantly fought against the reincarnation of Kesi of Alexandria.
Erase her, Rekhmire, he commanded him silently as he answered his question aloud,
"Yes, she needs to be re-educated. And if you don't mind, good doctor, I would like to be involved. Kesi is my sister, and I was perhaps too heavy-handed in the past with that education. I'm afraid that the girl is unhinged."
Was he, though? Her state of mental health really wasn't his concern so long as she behaved like the Kesi he knew.
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The house of Amenhotep was not one that let its secrets hang out for all to hear. Even within the Tempest of Set, the family that was the circus, there were those who weren't meant to be privy to everything. Circles within circles, and while Rekhmire was more than within his right to have access to secrets, he knew better than most that they were secrets. The fact of this need not be elaborated upon, and Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set would guard this knowledge until his death. The family built by Amenhotep of Momborah was not so easily breached.
The young heir was more than willing to remain standing, to keep his proximity close to Kesi's as his sister continued to play under the pull of the drugs. He knew that their power would continue to flow through her veins, but there was always a sort of lull before the time of utility. In the interim, he'd answer Rekhmire's questions, then allow the man to continue as he would. He called it indoctrination, and it was. But, to Amenemhat, it was compulsory education. Those that did not meet the standard of the Tempest of Set, slaves that were unruly and unable to fall into conformity... they required this education in order to acclimate to life at the circus.
The alternative was far more brutalizing in nature and incentivized subservience to fear rather than adulation and purpose in being one with the circus. Amenemhat understood, intrinsically, that adoration was a more powerful lure than fear. Always, he strived to make himself better, to strengthen his ability to inspire rather than destroy. But, there was a time for both and Amenemhat was more inclined towards the latter. In time, he'd seek to grow better at it, in understanding people and making them love him rather than fear him.
When Rekhmire asked his next question, he arched his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps the doctor had moved so far past the methods Nem learned from Amenhotep's notes that the term was no longer applicable to what he did. It was, truly, rather intriguing to understand that. Amenhotep was perhaps limited by his busy life and left it to those more inclined to expand upon his understanding of the human mind and how to unravel it.
"Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir."
He wanted to be polite, but the question seemed an unnecessary addition. His assumptions were correct, of course, but it was... slow. Nem wasn't used to being questioned, but moreover, he thought that the doctor would be wise enough to know his intentions without needing them verified. However, he'd allow the man the indulgence, or rather, the inquiry without much fight about it. He needed to remain in the doctor's good graces in the event that such measures need be taken again.
To protect Kesi from unnecessary harm from our father, and to protect my mother's own fragile sense of balance. Seeing Kesi in this way would surely break her.
More than anything else, Amenemhat wished to preserve Layla's mentality that the girl she'd kidnapped and brought home was her daughter. Even if that meant harming the girl to do it. Especially if it meant that. Amenemhat couldn't help but feel the twisted sense of satisfaction in watching the girl prone on the table, strapped in place. She was Issa, the girl who constantly fought against the reincarnation of Kesi of Alexandria.
Erase her, Rekhmire, he commanded him silently as he answered his question aloud,
"Yes, she needs to be re-educated. And if you don't mind, good doctor, I would like to be involved. Kesi is my sister, and I was perhaps too heavy-handed in the past with that education. I'm afraid that the girl is unhinged."
Was he, though? Her state of mental health really wasn't his concern so long as she behaved like the Kesi he knew.
The house of Amenhotep was not one that let its secrets hang out for all to hear. Even within the Tempest of Set, the family that was the circus, there were those who weren't meant to be privy to everything. Circles within circles, and while Rekhmire was more than within his right to have access to secrets, he knew better than most that they were secrets. The fact of this need not be elaborated upon, and Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set would guard this knowledge until his death. The family built by Amenhotep of Momborah was not so easily breached.
The young heir was more than willing to remain standing, to keep his proximity close to Kesi's as his sister continued to play under the pull of the drugs. He knew that their power would continue to flow through her veins, but there was always a sort of lull before the time of utility. In the interim, he'd answer Rekhmire's questions, then allow the man to continue as he would. He called it indoctrination, and it was. But, to Amenemhat, it was compulsory education. Those that did not meet the standard of the Tempest of Set, slaves that were unruly and unable to fall into conformity... they required this education in order to acclimate to life at the circus.
The alternative was far more brutalizing in nature and incentivized subservience to fear rather than adulation and purpose in being one with the circus. Amenemhat understood, intrinsically, that adoration was a more powerful lure than fear. Always, he strived to make himself better, to strengthen his ability to inspire rather than destroy. But, there was a time for both and Amenemhat was more inclined towards the latter. In time, he'd seek to grow better at it, in understanding people and making them love him rather than fear him.
When Rekhmire asked his next question, he arched his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps the doctor had moved so far past the methods Nem learned from Amenhotep's notes that the term was no longer applicable to what he did. It was, truly, rather intriguing to understand that. Amenhotep was perhaps limited by his busy life and left it to those more inclined to expand upon his understanding of the human mind and how to unravel it.
"Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir."
He wanted to be polite, but the question seemed an unnecessary addition. His assumptions were correct, of course, but it was... slow. Nem wasn't used to being questioned, but moreover, he thought that the doctor would be wise enough to know his intentions without needing them verified. However, he'd allow the man the indulgence, or rather, the inquiry without much fight about it. He needed to remain in the doctor's good graces in the event that such measures need be taken again.
To protect Kesi from unnecessary harm from our father, and to protect my mother's own fragile sense of balance. Seeing Kesi in this way would surely break her.
More than anything else, Amenemhat wished to preserve Layla's mentality that the girl she'd kidnapped and brought home was her daughter. Even if that meant harming the girl to do it. Especially if it meant that. Amenemhat couldn't help but feel the twisted sense of satisfaction in watching the girl prone on the table, strapped in place. She was Issa, the girl who constantly fought against the reincarnation of Kesi of Alexandria.
Erase her, Rekhmire, he commanded him silently as he answered his question aloud,
"Yes, she needs to be re-educated. And if you don't mind, good doctor, I would like to be involved. Kesi is my sister, and I was perhaps too heavy-handed in the past with that education. I'm afraid that the girl is unhinged."
Was he, though? Her state of mental health really wasn't his concern so long as she behaved like the Kesi he knew.
Rekhmire had no fondness for secrets when medicine was involved. He could see why one might keep secrets close to one's chest, but when medicine got involved he found the idea of clinging to secrets that might help the patient rather foolish. However, out of respect, the man would allow the young man to keep his.
When the young man did not take the seat, Rekhmire left it there, just in case he wanted it later. He leaned over and looked into the eyes of the girl. He didn't expect the Opium to last for too much longer. He had only applied the one dose, after all. But he could use that state between euphoria and normalcy.
“Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir.”
He nodded at Nem's words, "Indeed. I've spent many years doing the work that my father did prior and that your grandfather started." He then grunted lightly as he opened the table to pull out a fresh new modified sewing needle. "And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
He placed the needle next to his bottle of opium, before pulling his other table closer. He pulled the top of the table off of the rest, before flipping it upside down. Each side of the top had holes carved into it to match the prongs that the table-top went onto. On the underside, Rekhmire had crudely made walls about an inch from the edges. The walls themselves were barely an inch high.
"If you would like to be involved than I would like you to speak with the girl. Reinforce what you need to reinforce. The mental methods haven't changed all that much. However, keep her focus on this top. The motion combined with the new concoction will make her far more susceptible to suggestion, and far more likely to retain suggestion."
He moved the table so it would be in Kesi's vision from where she was. He placed the top on the table with the walls before spinning it. It looped around in a circle for a few seconds before stabilizing into nearly a single point. This was the point that he picked up his needle and dipped it into the concoction of opium, Valerian among other such hypnotics. He then pierced Kesi's neck with the needle applying a new dose. He would have to carefully monitor to make sure he didn't overapply or underapply the concoction.
He walked around to the other side of the table, bringing the smaller table with his concoction to the other side as well, allowing Nem to get closer to her. He placed a hand on her forehead. "Kesi, can you hear me? I need you to focus on the top for me. Look at the top and think of dancers spinning in time to the music. Think of the circus and how each part of it is constantly in motion. Think of the snakecharmers snakes moving at their whims. While you have the vision of the circus and the top firmly in your mind, your brother would a few words. Just don't look away from the top."
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Rekhmire had no fondness for secrets when medicine was involved. He could see why one might keep secrets close to one's chest, but when medicine got involved he found the idea of clinging to secrets that might help the patient rather foolish. However, out of respect, the man would allow the young man to keep his.
When the young man did not take the seat, Rekhmire left it there, just in case he wanted it later. He leaned over and looked into the eyes of the girl. He didn't expect the Opium to last for too much longer. He had only applied the one dose, after all. But he could use that state between euphoria and normalcy.
“Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir.”
He nodded at Nem's words, "Indeed. I've spent many years doing the work that my father did prior and that your grandfather started." He then grunted lightly as he opened the table to pull out a fresh new modified sewing needle. "And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
He placed the needle next to his bottle of opium, before pulling his other table closer. He pulled the top of the table off of the rest, before flipping it upside down. Each side of the top had holes carved into it to match the prongs that the table-top went onto. On the underside, Rekhmire had crudely made walls about an inch from the edges. The walls themselves were barely an inch high.
"If you would like to be involved than I would like you to speak with the girl. Reinforce what you need to reinforce. The mental methods haven't changed all that much. However, keep her focus on this top. The motion combined with the new concoction will make her far more susceptible to suggestion, and far more likely to retain suggestion."
He moved the table so it would be in Kesi's vision from where she was. He placed the top on the table with the walls before spinning it. It looped around in a circle for a few seconds before stabilizing into nearly a single point. This was the point that he picked up his needle and dipped it into the concoction of opium, Valerian among other such hypnotics. He then pierced Kesi's neck with the needle applying a new dose. He would have to carefully monitor to make sure he didn't overapply or underapply the concoction.
He walked around to the other side of the table, bringing the smaller table with his concoction to the other side as well, allowing Nem to get closer to her. He placed a hand on her forehead. "Kesi, can you hear me? I need you to focus on the top for me. Look at the top and think of dancers spinning in time to the music. Think of the circus and how each part of it is constantly in motion. Think of the snakecharmers snakes moving at their whims. While you have the vision of the circus and the top firmly in your mind, your brother would a few words. Just don't look away from the top."
Rekhmire had no fondness for secrets when medicine was involved. He could see why one might keep secrets close to one's chest, but when medicine got involved he found the idea of clinging to secrets that might help the patient rather foolish. However, out of respect, the man would allow the young man to keep his.
When the young man did not take the seat, Rekhmire left it there, just in case he wanted it later. He leaned over and looked into the eyes of the girl. He didn't expect the Opium to last for too much longer. He had only applied the one dose, after all. But he could use that state between euphoria and normalcy.
“Yes. It is a term I learned in his notes. It refers to the moment when the drugs render the mind pliable to external influence. There is a particular... defining trait that makes it look almost as if the victim is unconscious, then when their senses return to them they find it difficult to resist the education. Something that I'm sure you've seen many a time, sir.”
He nodded at Nem's words, "Indeed. I've spent many years doing the work that my father did prior and that your grandfather started." He then grunted lightly as he opened the table to pull out a fresh new modified sewing needle. "And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
He placed the needle next to his bottle of opium, before pulling his other table closer. He pulled the top of the table off of the rest, before flipping it upside down. Each side of the top had holes carved into it to match the prongs that the table-top went onto. On the underside, Rekhmire had crudely made walls about an inch from the edges. The walls themselves were barely an inch high.
"If you would like to be involved than I would like you to speak with the girl. Reinforce what you need to reinforce. The mental methods haven't changed all that much. However, keep her focus on this top. The motion combined with the new concoction will make her far more susceptible to suggestion, and far more likely to retain suggestion."
He moved the table so it would be in Kesi's vision from where she was. He placed the top on the table with the walls before spinning it. It looped around in a circle for a few seconds before stabilizing into nearly a single point. This was the point that he picked up his needle and dipped it into the concoction of opium, Valerian among other such hypnotics. He then pierced Kesi's neck with the needle applying a new dose. He would have to carefully monitor to make sure he didn't overapply or underapply the concoction.
He walked around to the other side of the table, bringing the smaller table with his concoction to the other side as well, allowing Nem to get closer to her. He placed a hand on her forehead. "Kesi, can you hear me? I need you to focus on the top for me. Look at the top and think of dancers spinning in time to the music. Think of the circus and how each part of it is constantly in motion. Think of the snakecharmers snakes moving at their whims. While you have the vision of the circus and the top firmly in your mind, your brother would a few words. Just don't look away from the top."
Despite her brother’s fingers on her scalp, Kesi felt horribly alone. There was no anchor centering herself to reality. She was falling deeper and deeper into the darkest depths of her mind, where all that existed were various emotions, shattered and separated. Nothing was whole, everything was broken.
She wanted to hold her brother’s hand. She wanted to know that everything was going to be fine. She didn’t want to feel this alone. Kesi knew she had to stay calm. She couldn’t panic. But it was just so hard, not knowing what she had done to have her mind go into a delirious blur. What did the child do to deserve this?
Find yourself, Issa.
There was a voice floating in her head. But Kesi couldn’t make any sense of it. Find herself? How could she when there were so many fragments of a broken human? Kesi did not feel real. She was chaos in human form. She was pieces of emotions that inhabited one body. She could not find herself when there was no one to be found.
“N-Nem,” she said weakly. She just wanted her brother. He would find her, he always did. He protected her from daddy, and played with her, and helped her and guided her. Kesi was nothing without him. She was a child, lost and confused until Nem found her and led her down the right path. “I-I need you.”
But Nem could never enter her mind. There was no one here but the various egos of Kesi. A Kesi of desire, a Kesi of innocence, a Kesi that nurtured, and one that hated, among many other fragments. Any euphoria she once felt was gone, faded, and instead replaced with sadness and fear. Her fingers stretched out, her hand desperately moving. It wanted to desperately search for her brother.
Center yourself, Issa. Focus on the top.
Now two different voices were piercing through the child’s psyche, each vying for equal attention. Her eyes followed the top. Round and round it went. Dark orbs centered on a single point.
Resist, Issa. Resist. Think of the circus and how each part is constantly in motion.
The acrobats and their dancing, the jugglers and their tossing, the drummers with the constant beating. At the center of it all was not Somgi of Cairo but Amenemhat of Alexandria. Like how they played pretend, he painted a picture that was so beautiful, so magical. But this image would become reality, as her brother truly took the center stage.
RESIST, ISSA.
The girl’s voice shouted, startling the girl. Her eyes widen, but she could see nothing but the top as it spun round and round. Her mind that had been previously trying to refocus instead it was lulled once more to a state between euphoria and normalcy. It was relaxed, malleable, no longer this dark place where fragments existed. It was as blurry as Kesi’s vision. A mist of darkness, a fog, searching ever more for it’s guiding light.
You are not broken. Let me complete you.
Issa is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch!
“Mister, I’m Kesi, not Issa.” Her voice was a whisper, a breath. Banish the thought, focus on the top. Eyes spun round and round. Think of the snakes as they danced to a charmer’s pungi. Think of the fire dancers as they played with their flame. Think of the circus. Only think of the Tempest of Set.
Kesi’s mind was ready to be molded. The girl’s resistant shouts were now buzzing in the back of her mind. Like clay, Kesi was ready to be shaped. All she needed was her architect.
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Despite her brother’s fingers on her scalp, Kesi felt horribly alone. There was no anchor centering herself to reality. She was falling deeper and deeper into the darkest depths of her mind, where all that existed were various emotions, shattered and separated. Nothing was whole, everything was broken.
She wanted to hold her brother’s hand. She wanted to know that everything was going to be fine. She didn’t want to feel this alone. Kesi knew she had to stay calm. She couldn’t panic. But it was just so hard, not knowing what she had done to have her mind go into a delirious blur. What did the child do to deserve this?
Find yourself, Issa.
There was a voice floating in her head. But Kesi couldn’t make any sense of it. Find herself? How could she when there were so many fragments of a broken human? Kesi did not feel real. She was chaos in human form. She was pieces of emotions that inhabited one body. She could not find herself when there was no one to be found.
“N-Nem,” she said weakly. She just wanted her brother. He would find her, he always did. He protected her from daddy, and played with her, and helped her and guided her. Kesi was nothing without him. She was a child, lost and confused until Nem found her and led her down the right path. “I-I need you.”
But Nem could never enter her mind. There was no one here but the various egos of Kesi. A Kesi of desire, a Kesi of innocence, a Kesi that nurtured, and one that hated, among many other fragments. Any euphoria she once felt was gone, faded, and instead replaced with sadness and fear. Her fingers stretched out, her hand desperately moving. It wanted to desperately search for her brother.
Center yourself, Issa. Focus on the top.
Now two different voices were piercing through the child’s psyche, each vying for equal attention. Her eyes followed the top. Round and round it went. Dark orbs centered on a single point.
Resist, Issa. Resist. Think of the circus and how each part is constantly in motion.
The acrobats and their dancing, the jugglers and their tossing, the drummers with the constant beating. At the center of it all was not Somgi of Cairo but Amenemhat of Alexandria. Like how they played pretend, he painted a picture that was so beautiful, so magical. But this image would become reality, as her brother truly took the center stage.
RESIST, ISSA.
The girl’s voice shouted, startling the girl. Her eyes widen, but she could see nothing but the top as it spun round and round. Her mind that had been previously trying to refocus instead it was lulled once more to a state between euphoria and normalcy. It was relaxed, malleable, no longer this dark place where fragments existed. It was as blurry as Kesi’s vision. A mist of darkness, a fog, searching ever more for it’s guiding light.
You are not broken. Let me complete you.
Issa is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch!
“Mister, I’m Kesi, not Issa.” Her voice was a whisper, a breath. Banish the thought, focus on the top. Eyes spun round and round. Think of the snakes as they danced to a charmer’s pungi. Think of the fire dancers as they played with their flame. Think of the circus. Only think of the Tempest of Set.
Kesi’s mind was ready to be molded. The girl’s resistant shouts were now buzzing in the back of her mind. Like clay, Kesi was ready to be shaped. All she needed was her architect.
Despite her brother’s fingers on her scalp, Kesi felt horribly alone. There was no anchor centering herself to reality. She was falling deeper and deeper into the darkest depths of her mind, where all that existed were various emotions, shattered and separated. Nothing was whole, everything was broken.
She wanted to hold her brother’s hand. She wanted to know that everything was going to be fine. She didn’t want to feel this alone. Kesi knew she had to stay calm. She couldn’t panic. But it was just so hard, not knowing what she had done to have her mind go into a delirious blur. What did the child do to deserve this?
Find yourself, Issa.
There was a voice floating in her head. But Kesi couldn’t make any sense of it. Find herself? How could she when there were so many fragments of a broken human? Kesi did not feel real. She was chaos in human form. She was pieces of emotions that inhabited one body. She could not find herself when there was no one to be found.
“N-Nem,” she said weakly. She just wanted her brother. He would find her, he always did. He protected her from daddy, and played with her, and helped her and guided her. Kesi was nothing without him. She was a child, lost and confused until Nem found her and led her down the right path. “I-I need you.”
But Nem could never enter her mind. There was no one here but the various egos of Kesi. A Kesi of desire, a Kesi of innocence, a Kesi that nurtured, and one that hated, among many other fragments. Any euphoria she once felt was gone, faded, and instead replaced with sadness and fear. Her fingers stretched out, her hand desperately moving. It wanted to desperately search for her brother.
Center yourself, Issa. Focus on the top.
Now two different voices were piercing through the child’s psyche, each vying for equal attention. Her eyes followed the top. Round and round it went. Dark orbs centered on a single point.
Resist, Issa. Resist. Think of the circus and how each part is constantly in motion.
The acrobats and their dancing, the jugglers and their tossing, the drummers with the constant beating. At the center of it all was not Somgi of Cairo but Amenemhat of Alexandria. Like how they played pretend, he painted a picture that was so beautiful, so magical. But this image would become reality, as her brother truly took the center stage.
RESIST, ISSA.
The girl’s voice shouted, startling the girl. Her eyes widen, but she could see nothing but the top as it spun round and round. Her mind that had been previously trying to refocus instead it was lulled once more to a state between euphoria and normalcy. It was relaxed, malleable, no longer this dark place where fragments existed. It was as blurry as Kesi’s vision. A mist of darkness, a fog, searching ever more for it’s guiding light.
You are not broken. Let me complete you.
Issa is that you? My, my you’ve barely grown an inch!
“Mister, I’m Kesi, not Issa.” Her voice was a whisper, a breath. Banish the thought, focus on the top. Eyes spun round and round. Think of the snakes as they danced to a charmer’s pungi. Think of the fire dancers as they played with their flame. Think of the circus. Only think of the Tempest of Set.
Kesi’s mind was ready to be molded. The girl’s resistant shouts were now buzzing in the back of her mind. Like clay, Kesi was ready to be shaped. All she needed was her architect.
"And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
Nem didn't understand. The fact that he was better than the rest of the people in the Tempest of Set would have little to do with how he spoke to them. While Amenemhat couldn't claim expertise on the machinations of the human mind, he did understand propriety and how pursuing it allowed people to fall into line with one's intentions. He understood that the tilt of one's voice, the words that they used, all of it was incredibly relevant. 'Sir' wasn't used to put Amenemhat down. It was used to make Rekhmire more palatable to him.
But, if the doctor wanted to prove a point to him, it mattered very little to the heir what he called him. He nodded in understanding, abstaining from rolling his eyes as he watched Rekhmire set down the needle. It was a curious tool, and he paid careful attention to the sheen that Kesi's blood placed on it, the sharp point that, while puncturing the neck, didn't cause the girl to bleed out. He shifted his gaze over Rekhmire as he asked of Nem what was needed to continue. A smidge of discomfort was brought along. Speak to her? Reinforce the conditioning? That involved letting out secrets that he didn't want to tell. Could Amenemhat come to the desired result without Rekhmire knowing everything?
Unlikely. But, Rekhmire has been at this circus longer than I have. His experience has proven invaluable, and gaining his full confidence at the cost of this... What would Rekhmire have to gain if he knew the truth?
The answer was nothing. The circus was Rekhmire's home just as it was Amenemhat's, and he decided, in that moment, to let him in. The heir moved to release his sister from her restraints. He sought to lift her to a seated position, letting her listen to Rekhmire's command and facing her towards the top. He waited for Rekhmire to finish in entirety, figuring that the more refined methods he used also required the same sort of unchanging attention that the antiquated ones did. Then, he covered Kesi's ears with his palms for just a moment, gently kneading fingers against the girl's temples.
"I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions."
He made his point, then immediately sought to turn his full attention over to the doppelganger Kesi. Amenemhat released a small cough, allowing his voice to twist, to lower from the booming lilt he practiced in rehearsals and shows to the softer cadence that he reserved for specific occasions. His whisper poured into his sister's ear as he began. He took note of the man's description of the drug he implemented, the use of the top and then he began in earnest,
"That's right, Kesi. You are Kesi, my sister and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo. You hit your head. Your memory is not what it was. Think back, dear sister, of the days when we played circus in Alexandria. Think of the dreams we held, the nights we spent pondering about what life in the circus was like. Let everything else...
Fall away."
As he spoke, he placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, offering his support as he elaborated.
"Issa is a fabrication. An illusion. That man thought you were someone else. The circus is your home, it always has been waiting for you to come to it. Let everything else fall away, let your illusions dissolve and remember. Remember reality. Remember me. Listen to your big brother, Kesi."
Before he pulled his hands off from her, he let one final whisper pour into her ear,
"Big brother knows best."
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"And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
Nem didn't understand. The fact that he was better than the rest of the people in the Tempest of Set would have little to do with how he spoke to them. While Amenemhat couldn't claim expertise on the machinations of the human mind, he did understand propriety and how pursuing it allowed people to fall into line with one's intentions. He understood that the tilt of one's voice, the words that they used, all of it was incredibly relevant. 'Sir' wasn't used to put Amenemhat down. It was used to make Rekhmire more palatable to him.
But, if the doctor wanted to prove a point to him, it mattered very little to the heir what he called him. He nodded in understanding, abstaining from rolling his eyes as he watched Rekhmire set down the needle. It was a curious tool, and he paid careful attention to the sheen that Kesi's blood placed on it, the sharp point that, while puncturing the neck, didn't cause the girl to bleed out. He shifted his gaze over Rekhmire as he asked of Nem what was needed to continue. A smidge of discomfort was brought along. Speak to her? Reinforce the conditioning? That involved letting out secrets that he didn't want to tell. Could Amenemhat come to the desired result without Rekhmire knowing everything?
Unlikely. But, Rekhmire has been at this circus longer than I have. His experience has proven invaluable, and gaining his full confidence at the cost of this... What would Rekhmire have to gain if he knew the truth?
The answer was nothing. The circus was Rekhmire's home just as it was Amenemhat's, and he decided, in that moment, to let him in. The heir moved to release his sister from her restraints. He sought to lift her to a seated position, letting her listen to Rekhmire's command and facing her towards the top. He waited for Rekhmire to finish in entirety, figuring that the more refined methods he used also required the same sort of unchanging attention that the antiquated ones did. Then, he covered Kesi's ears with his palms for just a moment, gently kneading fingers against the girl's temples.
"I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions."
He made his point, then immediately sought to turn his full attention over to the doppelganger Kesi. Amenemhat released a small cough, allowing his voice to twist, to lower from the booming lilt he practiced in rehearsals and shows to the softer cadence that he reserved for specific occasions. His whisper poured into his sister's ear as he began. He took note of the man's description of the drug he implemented, the use of the top and then he began in earnest,
"That's right, Kesi. You are Kesi, my sister and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo. You hit your head. Your memory is not what it was. Think back, dear sister, of the days when we played circus in Alexandria. Think of the dreams we held, the nights we spent pondering about what life in the circus was like. Let everything else...
Fall away."
As he spoke, he placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, offering his support as he elaborated.
"Issa is a fabrication. An illusion. That man thought you were someone else. The circus is your home, it always has been waiting for you to come to it. Let everything else fall away, let your illusions dissolve and remember. Remember reality. Remember me. Listen to your big brother, Kesi."
Before he pulled his hands off from her, he let one final whisper pour into her ear,
"Big brother knows best."
"And don't call me sir. You'll be ringmaster someday. Get used to being superior to others."
Nem didn't understand. The fact that he was better than the rest of the people in the Tempest of Set would have little to do with how he spoke to them. While Amenemhat couldn't claim expertise on the machinations of the human mind, he did understand propriety and how pursuing it allowed people to fall into line with one's intentions. He understood that the tilt of one's voice, the words that they used, all of it was incredibly relevant. 'Sir' wasn't used to put Amenemhat down. It was used to make Rekhmire more palatable to him.
But, if the doctor wanted to prove a point to him, it mattered very little to the heir what he called him. He nodded in understanding, abstaining from rolling his eyes as he watched Rekhmire set down the needle. It was a curious tool, and he paid careful attention to the sheen that Kesi's blood placed on it, the sharp point that, while puncturing the neck, didn't cause the girl to bleed out. He shifted his gaze over Rekhmire as he asked of Nem what was needed to continue. A smidge of discomfort was brought along. Speak to her? Reinforce the conditioning? That involved letting out secrets that he didn't want to tell. Could Amenemhat come to the desired result without Rekhmire knowing everything?
Unlikely. But, Rekhmire has been at this circus longer than I have. His experience has proven invaluable, and gaining his full confidence at the cost of this... What would Rekhmire have to gain if he knew the truth?
The answer was nothing. The circus was Rekhmire's home just as it was Amenemhat's, and he decided, in that moment, to let him in. The heir moved to release his sister from her restraints. He sought to lift her to a seated position, letting her listen to Rekhmire's command and facing her towards the top. He waited for Rekhmire to finish in entirety, figuring that the more refined methods he used also required the same sort of unchanging attention that the antiquated ones did. Then, he covered Kesi's ears with his palms for just a moment, gently kneading fingers against the girl's temples.
"I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions."
He made his point, then immediately sought to turn his full attention over to the doppelganger Kesi. Amenemhat released a small cough, allowing his voice to twist, to lower from the booming lilt he practiced in rehearsals and shows to the softer cadence that he reserved for specific occasions. His whisper poured into his sister's ear as he began. He took note of the man's description of the drug he implemented, the use of the top and then he began in earnest,
"That's right, Kesi. You are Kesi, my sister and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo. You hit your head. Your memory is not what it was. Think back, dear sister, of the days when we played circus in Alexandria. Think of the dreams we held, the nights we spent pondering about what life in the circus was like. Let everything else...
Fall away."
As he spoke, he placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, offering his support as he elaborated.
"Issa is a fabrication. An illusion. That man thought you were someone else. The circus is your home, it always has been waiting for you to come to it. Let everything else fall away, let your illusions dissolve and remember. Remember reality. Remember me. Listen to your big brother, Kesi."
Before he pulled his hands off from her, he let one final whisper pour into her ear,
"Big brother knows best."
Let everything else fall away.
Once more Kesi delved deep into her mind, tumbling through memories and moments. She could hear voices echoing as she fell deeper and deeper. Flashes of people and faces that were going to fast for her to comprehend.
You have years ahead of you. Go and play… or something. Big brother, can I go to the circus? Come back to me, Kesi. Come home. I’m just happy to see my favorite little customer again.
Kesi felt her body stop. She was floating, hovering staring at a void of darkness. She couldn’t see past this darkness, as if a block was placed in her mind not allowing the child access. But she wanted to go further, deeper into the black, to see what lies within. She desired it.
She needed it.
I can help you, she heard a whisper. Kesi, come into this darkness. Let me come out. I’ll give you what you desire.
What Kesi wanted most was to see this darkness. But she was scared. She did not know what lied within.
Let everything else fall away.
Kesi fell away and replaced was something… else. Something that wasn’t afraid to peek into the darkness. Something that had desires, and would chase her desires to no end. Into the darkness, she went.
Issa, a peach. It’s sweet, just like my baby girl.
Kesi felt rocked. The voice was of a man, one that was so familiar and yet she could not quite place it. Her heart yearned for this person, whoever he was. Deeper she wanted to explore. This Kesi was uninhibited by fear. She sought only what she wanted, the greed that was held back for her to be subservient to her brother.
The child was locked away and protected. The scared, broken girl would be quiet, and soon forget this day even occurred. In absence of a brother to shield her from harm, or a mother that sought to fight for the safety of her daughter, it was up to herself to form a wall around the child who knew so little and was affected by so much. You are Kesi, my sister, and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo.
Names were irrelevant. He was right, she was Kesi. All the pieces inside of the girl, broken beyond repair, were pieces of Kesi. But the name meant nothing. It did not matter who she was. The child inside, the girl who desired, they were simply beings that inhabited this body. Should the stranger call her Issa and the man call her Kesi, the result was the same. She did not care. All she wanted was for her desires to be sated and to protect the child who knew not how to fend for herself.
“I want a peach.” The words came out in a voice the body never used. It was more confident, strong. The tears stopped. Tears would not get her what she wanted. What she wanted was a peach. This was not a request. This was a command.
And for her eyes to stop staring at this spinning top. And yet, despite the new ego being formed in order to protect the first one, this one still struggled. Her mind was still sluggish, and her gaze could not leave what was before her. It had wants and needs, but it was not yet strong enough to break the spell the witch doctor was putting her under. Her body tried to move again, though it was weak by the myriad of drugs administered to her today.
Hide little girl, hide away. I will protect you, child. Sleep, and I will fight to resist. Issa, you must resist.
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Let everything else fall away.
Once more Kesi delved deep into her mind, tumbling through memories and moments. She could hear voices echoing as she fell deeper and deeper. Flashes of people and faces that were going to fast for her to comprehend.
You have years ahead of you. Go and play… or something. Big brother, can I go to the circus? Come back to me, Kesi. Come home. I’m just happy to see my favorite little customer again.
Kesi felt her body stop. She was floating, hovering staring at a void of darkness. She couldn’t see past this darkness, as if a block was placed in her mind not allowing the child access. But she wanted to go further, deeper into the black, to see what lies within. She desired it.
She needed it.
I can help you, she heard a whisper. Kesi, come into this darkness. Let me come out. I’ll give you what you desire.
What Kesi wanted most was to see this darkness. But she was scared. She did not know what lied within.
Let everything else fall away.
Kesi fell away and replaced was something… else. Something that wasn’t afraid to peek into the darkness. Something that had desires, and would chase her desires to no end. Into the darkness, she went.
Issa, a peach. It’s sweet, just like my baby girl.
Kesi felt rocked. The voice was of a man, one that was so familiar and yet she could not quite place it. Her heart yearned for this person, whoever he was. Deeper she wanted to explore. This Kesi was uninhibited by fear. She sought only what she wanted, the greed that was held back for her to be subservient to her brother.
The child was locked away and protected. The scared, broken girl would be quiet, and soon forget this day even occurred. In absence of a brother to shield her from harm, or a mother that sought to fight for the safety of her daughter, it was up to herself to form a wall around the child who knew so little and was affected by so much. You are Kesi, my sister, and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo.
Names were irrelevant. He was right, she was Kesi. All the pieces inside of the girl, broken beyond repair, were pieces of Kesi. But the name meant nothing. It did not matter who she was. The child inside, the girl who desired, they were simply beings that inhabited this body. Should the stranger call her Issa and the man call her Kesi, the result was the same. She did not care. All she wanted was for her desires to be sated and to protect the child who knew not how to fend for herself.
“I want a peach.” The words came out in a voice the body never used. It was more confident, strong. The tears stopped. Tears would not get her what she wanted. What she wanted was a peach. This was not a request. This was a command.
And for her eyes to stop staring at this spinning top. And yet, despite the new ego being formed in order to protect the first one, this one still struggled. Her mind was still sluggish, and her gaze could not leave what was before her. It had wants and needs, but it was not yet strong enough to break the spell the witch doctor was putting her under. Her body tried to move again, though it was weak by the myriad of drugs administered to her today.
Hide little girl, hide away. I will protect you, child. Sleep, and I will fight to resist. Issa, you must resist.
Let everything else fall away.
Once more Kesi delved deep into her mind, tumbling through memories and moments. She could hear voices echoing as she fell deeper and deeper. Flashes of people and faces that were going to fast for her to comprehend.
You have years ahead of you. Go and play… or something. Big brother, can I go to the circus? Come back to me, Kesi. Come home. I’m just happy to see my favorite little customer again.
Kesi felt her body stop. She was floating, hovering staring at a void of darkness. She couldn’t see past this darkness, as if a block was placed in her mind not allowing the child access. But she wanted to go further, deeper into the black, to see what lies within. She desired it.
She needed it.
I can help you, she heard a whisper. Kesi, come into this darkness. Let me come out. I’ll give you what you desire.
What Kesi wanted most was to see this darkness. But she was scared. She did not know what lied within.
Let everything else fall away.
Kesi fell away and replaced was something… else. Something that wasn’t afraid to peek into the darkness. Something that had desires, and would chase her desires to no end. Into the darkness, she went.
Issa, a peach. It’s sweet, just like my baby girl.
Kesi felt rocked. The voice was of a man, one that was so familiar and yet she could not quite place it. Her heart yearned for this person, whoever he was. Deeper she wanted to explore. This Kesi was uninhibited by fear. She sought only what she wanted, the greed that was held back for her to be subservient to her brother.
The child was locked away and protected. The scared, broken girl would be quiet, and soon forget this day even occurred. In absence of a brother to shield her from harm, or a mother that sought to fight for the safety of her daughter, it was up to herself to form a wall around the child who knew so little and was affected by so much. You are Kesi, my sister, and the daughter of Somgi of Cairo.
Names were irrelevant. He was right, she was Kesi. All the pieces inside of the girl, broken beyond repair, were pieces of Kesi. But the name meant nothing. It did not matter who she was. The child inside, the girl who desired, they were simply beings that inhabited this body. Should the stranger call her Issa and the man call her Kesi, the result was the same. She did not care. All she wanted was for her desires to be sated and to protect the child who knew not how to fend for herself.
“I want a peach.” The words came out in a voice the body never used. It was more confident, strong. The tears stopped. Tears would not get her what she wanted. What she wanted was a peach. This was not a request. This was a command.
And for her eyes to stop staring at this spinning top. And yet, despite the new ego being formed in order to protect the first one, this one still struggled. Her mind was still sluggish, and her gaze could not leave what was before her. It had wants and needs, but it was not yet strong enough to break the spell the witch doctor was putting her under. Her body tried to move again, though it was weak by the myriad of drugs administered to her today.
Hide little girl, hide away. I will protect you, child. Sleep, and I will fight to resist. Issa, you must resist.
When Amenemhat had changed Kesi's seating position, Rekhmire was slightly confused as to why. Those who had been through an indoctrination before had a chance of being able to resist their second indoctrination. The second indoctrination was a strange one.
Normally Rekhmire indoctrinated people over nearly a month period. It could take longer or shorter depending on the will of the subject. The first was generally the strongest unless they had experience with Opium before, in which case the first would take up the properties of the second.
The third and onwards would normally give the subject a stronger resistance each attempt as they got used to it, but this was where the hypnosis came in. Each indoctrination was merged with hypnosis to make sure the drug broke down the mind in exactly the right way without adverse effects. The more sessions with hypnosis, the better it worked.
However, the second was the point where the hypnosis was still fresh, and the first point where the subject would have greater resistance. The combination made the second indoctrination session the most important. He would keep a careful eye on her arms to make sure she didn't lash out.
“I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions.”
Rekhmire listened to Nem's words somewhat curiously. While he wanted to know the truth of the matter, the truth did not matter to him personally, only in doing what needed to be done for Kesi.
As Nem spoke, Rekhmire began to be more and more surprised by the situation before him. Was Kesi not Kesi? What exactly was going on here? He would certainly have questions when this was over.
He turned his gaze back to Kesi, watching carefully. He stared into her eyes to make sure that it didn't move from the top. He also wanted to make sure she wasn't resisting the indoctrination. However, what he found didn't give him hope. And when she finally spoke, in a completely different type of voice, he grabbed his needle quickly, dipping it into the bottle. He wouldn't apply it yet, it was too soon. But he wanted to be ready in case he needed to apply another dose at a moment's notice.
He moved over to the table with the top. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but he wanted to make sure that it would still be going if his concerns came true. Carefully, not to break her line of sight, he quickly gripped the top of the top and gave it another spin. The top circled again and he watched her eyes to see if it followed the top around as it stabilized.
He then moved back around to the other side of the table, behind Kesi, to be ready at a moment's notice.
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Check out their information page here.
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When Amenemhat had changed Kesi's seating position, Rekhmire was slightly confused as to why. Those who had been through an indoctrination before had a chance of being able to resist their second indoctrination. The second indoctrination was a strange one.
Normally Rekhmire indoctrinated people over nearly a month period. It could take longer or shorter depending on the will of the subject. The first was generally the strongest unless they had experience with Opium before, in which case the first would take up the properties of the second.
The third and onwards would normally give the subject a stronger resistance each attempt as they got used to it, but this was where the hypnosis came in. Each indoctrination was merged with hypnosis to make sure the drug broke down the mind in exactly the right way without adverse effects. The more sessions with hypnosis, the better it worked.
However, the second was the point where the hypnosis was still fresh, and the first point where the subject would have greater resistance. The combination made the second indoctrination session the most important. He would keep a careful eye on her arms to make sure she didn't lash out.
“I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions.”
Rekhmire listened to Nem's words somewhat curiously. While he wanted to know the truth of the matter, the truth did not matter to him personally, only in doing what needed to be done for Kesi.
As Nem spoke, Rekhmire began to be more and more surprised by the situation before him. Was Kesi not Kesi? What exactly was going on here? He would certainly have questions when this was over.
He turned his gaze back to Kesi, watching carefully. He stared into her eyes to make sure that it didn't move from the top. He also wanted to make sure she wasn't resisting the indoctrination. However, what he found didn't give him hope. And when she finally spoke, in a completely different type of voice, he grabbed his needle quickly, dipping it into the bottle. He wouldn't apply it yet, it was too soon. But he wanted to be ready in case he needed to apply another dose at a moment's notice.
He moved over to the table with the top. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but he wanted to make sure that it would still be going if his concerns came true. Carefully, not to break her line of sight, he quickly gripped the top of the top and gave it another spin. The top circled again and he watched her eyes to see if it followed the top around as it stabilized.
He then moved back around to the other side of the table, behind Kesi, to be ready at a moment's notice.
When Amenemhat had changed Kesi's seating position, Rekhmire was slightly confused as to why. Those who had been through an indoctrination before had a chance of being able to resist their second indoctrination. The second indoctrination was a strange one.
Normally Rekhmire indoctrinated people over nearly a month period. It could take longer or shorter depending on the will of the subject. The first was generally the strongest unless they had experience with Opium before, in which case the first would take up the properties of the second.
The third and onwards would normally give the subject a stronger resistance each attempt as they got used to it, but this was where the hypnosis came in. Each indoctrination was merged with hypnosis to make sure the drug broke down the mind in exactly the right way without adverse effects. The more sessions with hypnosis, the better it worked.
However, the second was the point where the hypnosis was still fresh, and the first point where the subject would have greater resistance. The combination made the second indoctrination session the most important. He would keep a careful eye on her arms to make sure she didn't lash out.
“I'll do as you say. As I speak, you'll probably figure out the truth. Once this is over, I will answer all of your questions.”
Rekhmire listened to Nem's words somewhat curiously. While he wanted to know the truth of the matter, the truth did not matter to him personally, only in doing what needed to be done for Kesi.
As Nem spoke, Rekhmire began to be more and more surprised by the situation before him. Was Kesi not Kesi? What exactly was going on here? He would certainly have questions when this was over.
He turned his gaze back to Kesi, watching carefully. He stared into her eyes to make sure that it didn't move from the top. He also wanted to make sure she wasn't resisting the indoctrination. However, what he found didn't give him hope. And when she finally spoke, in a completely different type of voice, he grabbed his needle quickly, dipping it into the bottle. He wouldn't apply it yet, it was too soon. But he wanted to be ready in case he needed to apply another dose at a moment's notice.
He moved over to the table with the top. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but he wanted to make sure that it would still be going if his concerns came true. Carefully, not to break her line of sight, he quickly gripped the top of the top and gave it another spin. The top circled again and he watched her eyes to see if it followed the top around as it stabilized.
He then moved back around to the other side of the table, behind Kesi, to be ready at a moment's notice.