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Setting the stage, he raised both hands, queuing for the slaves that directed hooded lanterns to fix groups of them in his direction. The lanterns all served to, in unison, provide a means of directing the attention of the crowd. Set in the fixed position, Amenemhat offered the crowd a bow, his features curved into a wide smile as he let his gaze shift between faces that moved through the open tarp of the tent and those already settled into their seats.
"Welcome, welcome," he let out, in a booming voice that registered to the very ends of the show tent. He felt the elation in his chest, the tension that waxed for but a moment before waning and releasing a surge of adrenaline throughout his body.
"Without further ado, let the show begin."
The ringmaster flourished with one hand, ending in a deep bow before he stepped back and out of the range of the light. Turning his back once he was out of sight, he was keen to watch the first act. Zein and Delia were seasoned performers but had not been working together for very long. They seemed to click immediately, making the sort of relationship that compelled the ringmaster to throw them together more and more often. The crowd seemed to love them, and Amenemhat loved that the crowd's love made him more money. He chuckled backstage before he shifted his weight and turned a corner. The layer of paint covering his body needed to be cleansed off and given to a different layer.
The mask of the ringmaster, he called it. He brought a slave over to him, a young girl who seemed unable to look him in the eye. She brushed the paint along his legs as he fixed it upon his arms. Another servant, a man in his early thirties... none of their names ever mattered. Interchangeable and often traded, these slaves were not normally mistreated, but neither did Amenemhat pretend he cared who they were. They served their purpose, and Amenemhat was layered in a thin, dark paint, up to his neck. Then, he donned his mask, a featureless black facade that covered all but his eyes. Prepared for what followed, he found himself on a trajectory with Miri, the fortune teller.
She hid in the back of the show tent, where Nem often moved around with the aid of slaves and paid help. She was in the way, and moreover, she wasn't outside doing her job. Of course, there weren't many who lingered outside of the show tent when everything started, and so... Amenemhat wasn't displeased about that. What he cared about, however, was that she wasn't making herself useful.
"I didn't know that your job was to peek at the performance and be of no use, Miri," he said, the reprimand clear in his voice even while his tone did not waver from neutrality. Shouting would serve to disrupt the show, and instead, he cocked his head towards one of the nearby cages that were meant for a much later act. Then, towards the untended to tightrope that needed to be fastened to poled that held the showtent in place.
"You could brave the cats, or fasten the tightrope. There is plenty to do even if you aren't being of use in your assigned post," he said, at last narrowing his gaze to portray some amount of disappointment. In truth, everything was just fine. The Tempest of Set did not need every performer working outside, but... he also hadn't seen the knife thrower in his brief tour about the showgrounds. There needed to be some people, like Kesi or Zephyra, people who could entertain the rabble who couldn't afford the ticket entry.
"Make a decision or I'll make it for you," he told her, with the widest smile cast upon his lips. In his distraction and the distant noises of the crowd and the performers on stage, he didn't hear approaching footsteps...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Amenemhat took center stage, first.
Setting the stage, he raised both hands, queuing for the slaves that directed hooded lanterns to fix groups of them in his direction. The lanterns all served to, in unison, provide a means of directing the attention of the crowd. Set in the fixed position, Amenemhat offered the crowd a bow, his features curved into a wide smile as he let his gaze shift between faces that moved through the open tarp of the tent and those already settled into their seats.
"Welcome, welcome," he let out, in a booming voice that registered to the very ends of the show tent. He felt the elation in his chest, the tension that waxed for but a moment before waning and releasing a surge of adrenaline throughout his body.
"Without further ado, let the show begin."
The ringmaster flourished with one hand, ending in a deep bow before he stepped back and out of the range of the light. Turning his back once he was out of sight, he was keen to watch the first act. Zein and Delia were seasoned performers but had not been working together for very long. They seemed to click immediately, making the sort of relationship that compelled the ringmaster to throw them together more and more often. The crowd seemed to love them, and Amenemhat loved that the crowd's love made him more money. He chuckled backstage before he shifted his weight and turned a corner. The layer of paint covering his body needed to be cleansed off and given to a different layer.
The mask of the ringmaster, he called it. He brought a slave over to him, a young girl who seemed unable to look him in the eye. She brushed the paint along his legs as he fixed it upon his arms. Another servant, a man in his early thirties... none of their names ever mattered. Interchangeable and often traded, these slaves were not normally mistreated, but neither did Amenemhat pretend he cared who they were. They served their purpose, and Amenemhat was layered in a thin, dark paint, up to his neck. Then, he donned his mask, a featureless black facade that covered all but his eyes. Prepared for what followed, he found himself on a trajectory with Miri, the fortune teller.
She hid in the back of the show tent, where Nem often moved around with the aid of slaves and paid help. She was in the way, and moreover, she wasn't outside doing her job. Of course, there weren't many who lingered outside of the show tent when everything started, and so... Amenemhat wasn't displeased about that. What he cared about, however, was that she wasn't making herself useful.
"I didn't know that your job was to peek at the performance and be of no use, Miri," he said, the reprimand clear in his voice even while his tone did not waver from neutrality. Shouting would serve to disrupt the show, and instead, he cocked his head towards one of the nearby cages that were meant for a much later act. Then, towards the untended to tightrope that needed to be fastened to poled that held the showtent in place.
"You could brave the cats, or fasten the tightrope. There is plenty to do even if you aren't being of use in your assigned post," he said, at last narrowing his gaze to portray some amount of disappointment. In truth, everything was just fine. The Tempest of Set did not need every performer working outside, but... he also hadn't seen the knife thrower in his brief tour about the showgrounds. There needed to be some people, like Kesi or Zephyra, people who could entertain the rabble who couldn't afford the ticket entry.
"Make a decision or I'll make it for you," he told her, with the widest smile cast upon his lips. In his distraction and the distant noises of the crowd and the performers on stage, he didn't hear approaching footsteps...
Amenemhat took center stage, first.
Setting the stage, he raised both hands, queuing for the slaves that directed hooded lanterns to fix groups of them in his direction. The lanterns all served to, in unison, provide a means of directing the attention of the crowd. Set in the fixed position, Amenemhat offered the crowd a bow, his features curved into a wide smile as he let his gaze shift between faces that moved through the open tarp of the tent and those already settled into their seats.
"Welcome, welcome," he let out, in a booming voice that registered to the very ends of the show tent. He felt the elation in his chest, the tension that waxed for but a moment before waning and releasing a surge of adrenaline throughout his body.
"Without further ado, let the show begin."
The ringmaster flourished with one hand, ending in a deep bow before he stepped back and out of the range of the light. Turning his back once he was out of sight, he was keen to watch the first act. Zein and Delia were seasoned performers but had not been working together for very long. They seemed to click immediately, making the sort of relationship that compelled the ringmaster to throw them together more and more often. The crowd seemed to love them, and Amenemhat loved that the crowd's love made him more money. He chuckled backstage before he shifted his weight and turned a corner. The layer of paint covering his body needed to be cleansed off and given to a different layer.
The mask of the ringmaster, he called it. He brought a slave over to him, a young girl who seemed unable to look him in the eye. She brushed the paint along his legs as he fixed it upon his arms. Another servant, a man in his early thirties... none of their names ever mattered. Interchangeable and often traded, these slaves were not normally mistreated, but neither did Amenemhat pretend he cared who they were. They served their purpose, and Amenemhat was layered in a thin, dark paint, up to his neck. Then, he donned his mask, a featureless black facade that covered all but his eyes. Prepared for what followed, he found himself on a trajectory with Miri, the fortune teller.
She hid in the back of the show tent, where Nem often moved around with the aid of slaves and paid help. She was in the way, and moreover, she wasn't outside doing her job. Of course, there weren't many who lingered outside of the show tent when everything started, and so... Amenemhat wasn't displeased about that. What he cared about, however, was that she wasn't making herself useful.
"I didn't know that your job was to peek at the performance and be of no use, Miri," he said, the reprimand clear in his voice even while his tone did not waver from neutrality. Shouting would serve to disrupt the show, and instead, he cocked his head towards one of the nearby cages that were meant for a much later act. Then, towards the untended to tightrope that needed to be fastened to poled that held the showtent in place.
"You could brave the cats, or fasten the tightrope. There is plenty to do even if you aren't being of use in your assigned post," he said, at last narrowing his gaze to portray some amount of disappointment. In truth, everything was just fine. The Tempest of Set did not need every performer working outside, but... he also hadn't seen the knife thrower in his brief tour about the showgrounds. There needed to be some people, like Kesi or Zephyra, people who could entertain the rabble who couldn't afford the ticket entry.
"Make a decision or I'll make it for you," he told her, with the widest smile cast upon his lips. In his distraction and the distant noises of the crowd and the performers on stage, he didn't hear approaching footsteps...
Even with years under her belt of being part of the circus, Zephyra still was not entirely used to it all. It was a kind of beautiful pandemonium she’d never seen outside of the Tempest of Set, and while she relished in the craziness, it at times was still startlingly overwhelming. Every little bit was a kick to the senses. A wild, wondrous kick, but a kick nonetheless. Amenemhat and the other performers were excellent at their roles, so much so that she was tempted to call them perfect. It did not mean that everything was flawless, but it had the perfection of the chaos that they all seemed so fond of. It was a chaos that had grown on her as time had passed, even if she wouldn’t readily admit it. Who would even care to know?
Delia and Zein were enthralling to gaze at, and Zephyra had stopped for a few minutes in what she was doing to watch them. Long enough to watch them and the crowd, but not long enough that her lapse of focus on her own tasks was noticed. Or, she hoped. When no one shouted at her, it seemed she was in the clear. Luckily there wasn’t much else the knife thrower had to do for her own possible performance, wherever that ended up being. Her knives were upon her person, and while targets were placed in specific areas, Zephyra didn’t need a target to perform. Anything could become one.
It would have been amazing to continue observing the spectacle that the people flocked to see, but Zephyra had her own dealings to focus on. A few of their patrons would find their pockets a little lighter come the morning. Zephyra’s, in a total coincidental manner, were heavier. It was now a matter of waiting backstage for whatever Amenemhat ordered her to do. Anyone else who might need help didn’t usually come to her, leaving her at times too without direction. There were things she did for the circus, but she knew she was never anyone’s first choice.
She hadn’t meant to shift closer to the ringmaster and Miri while waiting. It just kind of happened, and she caught the tail end of the ringmaster’s words to the other woman. What kind of decision was Miri supposed to be making? Zephyra paused to actively listen in, curiosity getting the better of her. Eavesdropping was dangerous, but in the busyness of everything going on around them, it was highly doubtful that anything she was to overhear would be of secrecy or great value. She wasn’t being super sneaky, either.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Even with years under her belt of being part of the circus, Zephyra still was not entirely used to it all. It was a kind of beautiful pandemonium she’d never seen outside of the Tempest of Set, and while she relished in the craziness, it at times was still startlingly overwhelming. Every little bit was a kick to the senses. A wild, wondrous kick, but a kick nonetheless. Amenemhat and the other performers were excellent at their roles, so much so that she was tempted to call them perfect. It did not mean that everything was flawless, but it had the perfection of the chaos that they all seemed so fond of. It was a chaos that had grown on her as time had passed, even if she wouldn’t readily admit it. Who would even care to know?
Delia and Zein were enthralling to gaze at, and Zephyra had stopped for a few minutes in what she was doing to watch them. Long enough to watch them and the crowd, but not long enough that her lapse of focus on her own tasks was noticed. Or, she hoped. When no one shouted at her, it seemed she was in the clear. Luckily there wasn’t much else the knife thrower had to do for her own possible performance, wherever that ended up being. Her knives were upon her person, and while targets were placed in specific areas, Zephyra didn’t need a target to perform. Anything could become one.
It would have been amazing to continue observing the spectacle that the people flocked to see, but Zephyra had her own dealings to focus on. A few of their patrons would find their pockets a little lighter come the morning. Zephyra’s, in a total coincidental manner, were heavier. It was now a matter of waiting backstage for whatever Amenemhat ordered her to do. Anyone else who might need help didn’t usually come to her, leaving her at times too without direction. There were things she did for the circus, but she knew she was never anyone’s first choice.
She hadn’t meant to shift closer to the ringmaster and Miri while waiting. It just kind of happened, and she caught the tail end of the ringmaster’s words to the other woman. What kind of decision was Miri supposed to be making? Zephyra paused to actively listen in, curiosity getting the better of her. Eavesdropping was dangerous, but in the busyness of everything going on around them, it was highly doubtful that anything she was to overhear would be of secrecy or great value. She wasn’t being super sneaky, either.
Even with years under her belt of being part of the circus, Zephyra still was not entirely used to it all. It was a kind of beautiful pandemonium she’d never seen outside of the Tempest of Set, and while she relished in the craziness, it at times was still startlingly overwhelming. Every little bit was a kick to the senses. A wild, wondrous kick, but a kick nonetheless. Amenemhat and the other performers were excellent at their roles, so much so that she was tempted to call them perfect. It did not mean that everything was flawless, but it had the perfection of the chaos that they all seemed so fond of. It was a chaos that had grown on her as time had passed, even if she wouldn’t readily admit it. Who would even care to know?
Delia and Zein were enthralling to gaze at, and Zephyra had stopped for a few minutes in what she was doing to watch them. Long enough to watch them and the crowd, but not long enough that her lapse of focus on her own tasks was noticed. Or, she hoped. When no one shouted at her, it seemed she was in the clear. Luckily there wasn’t much else the knife thrower had to do for her own possible performance, wherever that ended up being. Her knives were upon her person, and while targets were placed in specific areas, Zephyra didn’t need a target to perform. Anything could become one.
It would have been amazing to continue observing the spectacle that the people flocked to see, but Zephyra had her own dealings to focus on. A few of their patrons would find their pockets a little lighter come the morning. Zephyra’s, in a total coincidental manner, were heavier. It was now a matter of waiting backstage for whatever Amenemhat ordered her to do. Anyone else who might need help didn’t usually come to her, leaving her at times too without direction. There were things she did for the circus, but she knew she was never anyone’s first choice.
She hadn’t meant to shift closer to the ringmaster and Miri while waiting. It just kind of happened, and she caught the tail end of the ringmaster’s words to the other woman. What kind of decision was Miri supposed to be making? Zephyra paused to actively listen in, curiosity getting the better of her. Eavesdropping was dangerous, but in the busyness of everything going on around them, it was highly doubtful that anything she was to overhear would be of secrecy or great value. She wasn’t being super sneaky, either.
Rubiah's lip was curled in annoyance. Her hair was falling about her face, the beads and threaded silver tinkling about her. The metal pieces brushed against one another to make a low hiss of frisson. Like a threatened rattlesnake, casting its warning upon those who dared to come near. Her eyes were harsh upon the little girl as she stared up at her with fearful eyes and the two boys that came running over were defiant as only brothers could be.
With only a sister herself, Rubiah had only the relationships between other street kids to know what it meant when a young male puffed out his chest like that. They only did it when threatening those who treated their blood ill. It didn't matter that they likely wailed on their sister themselves when they were amongst family. They just wouldn't allow strangers to do such a thing.
Children were such hypocrites... Mostly because they weren't yet smart enough to be self-aware. Which also meant that there was zero point in talking to them or discussing any form of issue because they simply wouldn't get it. They looked at the world through their own wounded eyes and saw the entirety of people as servants to dance around their self-focused core.
Think again, kid... Rubiah thought to herself. The world doesn't give a shit. You'd be better to learn that sooner rather than later...
Unfortunately, it looked like the onlookers in their particular vicinity weren't as considerate as Rubiah. They didn't want the kids to learn so important a lesson and came flocking to them like mother hens around fallen chicks. They cooed and hissed and gave harsh judgement over the evil villain that had knocked the girl to the ground. It didn't matter that it had been an accident. That she had only sought to free her skirt - something that the unmannered little girl should never have grabbed at in the first place. No, these kids had babying parents that would turn them into selfish and grabbing little mites.
The first cry of disregard came from a woman that spoke with a Grecian accent. With the accusation that the baby on the floor was just a little girl, Rubiah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had been a little girl once. And by this child's age she was more than capable of understanding how tears and crying worked. How it could twist the adults around you into simpering idiots. This one was one of them. If she thought a light tumble to the ground had hurt the kid, she was an idiot. Rubiah could tell. The tears were all for show.
'I'm sure whatever it was, it didn't necessitate you making a young child cry.' The second woman admonished as she came closer. This one bent to see to the young one in a way that was clearly maternal. With the appearance of a young one, it was surprising that she had so many children but Rubiah supposed that was her husband's doing. Some men just couldn't resist and didn't care if their women grew heavy with their young over and again. They weren't the ones who had to go through the pain of childbirth after all. Despite that one happenstance so long ago, Rubiah had always been careful to ensure that such things never happened to her.
"I didn't." Rubiah denied easily enough. Her tone was not defensive but casual. "She decided to bawl all by herself." She assured the woman with a sweet and overly polite smile. Her meaning was clear. The act she had committed did not require tears. But the child was trying them anyway.
'Will there be blood, do you suppose?'
The words were not for Rubiah's attention but she heard them all the same. A beautiful woman that she had seen around the Moghadam complex murmured them to a man that was watching with close attention.
Ah... so that was the pervert in question.
With a curl to her lips, Rubiah considered the woman's words. It was true that she had fought in the past. Her nails were used to the sting of ripping skin and her tongue had tasted the blood of those she had been forced to bite. She had pulled hair from roots and she had broken limbs. Life on the streets of Qalha had been brutal. Especially for girls. And she had never lost a fight yet. If she had lost, she'd have died. It was a good incentive.
But here and now she wasn't interested. Not with this homemaker and her soft little family.
The appearance of Skylla - the woman who was tending to the Queen in her illnesses these last few months - had Rubiah finally submitting to the eyeroll that she could no longer resist. The child didn't need a physician. She needed a kick to the rear and a hard lesson in what the world was really like. And none of these people were courageous enough to offer it. None of them were willing to be the monster in the little girl's eyes.
With a sigh and a wave of a hand, Rubiah turned on her heel, her words passing over her shoulder in a manner that dismissed them all from her attention.
"I'm going to watch the real show." She told them, not caring who followed or might take offence. There were plenty in this crowd whom she could charm and get to know and she wasn't about to play games with the kiddywinks and pander to their coddling parents. Tonight was a night for snakes and blades and all manner of dangerous thing...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rubiah's lip was curled in annoyance. Her hair was falling about her face, the beads and threaded silver tinkling about her. The metal pieces brushed against one another to make a low hiss of frisson. Like a threatened rattlesnake, casting its warning upon those who dared to come near. Her eyes were harsh upon the little girl as she stared up at her with fearful eyes and the two boys that came running over were defiant as only brothers could be.
With only a sister herself, Rubiah had only the relationships between other street kids to know what it meant when a young male puffed out his chest like that. They only did it when threatening those who treated their blood ill. It didn't matter that they likely wailed on their sister themselves when they were amongst family. They just wouldn't allow strangers to do such a thing.
Children were such hypocrites... Mostly because they weren't yet smart enough to be self-aware. Which also meant that there was zero point in talking to them or discussing any form of issue because they simply wouldn't get it. They looked at the world through their own wounded eyes and saw the entirety of people as servants to dance around their self-focused core.
Think again, kid... Rubiah thought to herself. The world doesn't give a shit. You'd be better to learn that sooner rather than later...
Unfortunately, it looked like the onlookers in their particular vicinity weren't as considerate as Rubiah. They didn't want the kids to learn so important a lesson and came flocking to them like mother hens around fallen chicks. They cooed and hissed and gave harsh judgement over the evil villain that had knocked the girl to the ground. It didn't matter that it had been an accident. That she had only sought to free her skirt - something that the unmannered little girl should never have grabbed at in the first place. No, these kids had babying parents that would turn them into selfish and grabbing little mites.
The first cry of disregard came from a woman that spoke with a Grecian accent. With the accusation that the baby on the floor was just a little girl, Rubiah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had been a little girl once. And by this child's age she was more than capable of understanding how tears and crying worked. How it could twist the adults around you into simpering idiots. This one was one of them. If she thought a light tumble to the ground had hurt the kid, she was an idiot. Rubiah could tell. The tears were all for show.
'I'm sure whatever it was, it didn't necessitate you making a young child cry.' The second woman admonished as she came closer. This one bent to see to the young one in a way that was clearly maternal. With the appearance of a young one, it was surprising that she had so many children but Rubiah supposed that was her husband's doing. Some men just couldn't resist and didn't care if their women grew heavy with their young over and again. They weren't the ones who had to go through the pain of childbirth after all. Despite that one happenstance so long ago, Rubiah had always been careful to ensure that such things never happened to her.
"I didn't." Rubiah denied easily enough. Her tone was not defensive but casual. "She decided to bawl all by herself." She assured the woman with a sweet and overly polite smile. Her meaning was clear. The act she had committed did not require tears. But the child was trying them anyway.
'Will there be blood, do you suppose?'
The words were not for Rubiah's attention but she heard them all the same. A beautiful woman that she had seen around the Moghadam complex murmured them to a man that was watching with close attention.
Ah... so that was the pervert in question.
With a curl to her lips, Rubiah considered the woman's words. It was true that she had fought in the past. Her nails were used to the sting of ripping skin and her tongue had tasted the blood of those she had been forced to bite. She had pulled hair from roots and she had broken limbs. Life on the streets of Qalha had been brutal. Especially for girls. And she had never lost a fight yet. If she had lost, she'd have died. It was a good incentive.
But here and now she wasn't interested. Not with this homemaker and her soft little family.
The appearance of Skylla - the woman who was tending to the Queen in her illnesses these last few months - had Rubiah finally submitting to the eyeroll that she could no longer resist. The child didn't need a physician. She needed a kick to the rear and a hard lesson in what the world was really like. And none of these people were courageous enough to offer it. None of them were willing to be the monster in the little girl's eyes.
With a sigh and a wave of a hand, Rubiah turned on her heel, her words passing over her shoulder in a manner that dismissed them all from her attention.
"I'm going to watch the real show." She told them, not caring who followed or might take offence. There were plenty in this crowd whom she could charm and get to know and she wasn't about to play games with the kiddywinks and pander to their coddling parents. Tonight was a night for snakes and blades and all manner of dangerous thing...
Rubiah's lip was curled in annoyance. Her hair was falling about her face, the beads and threaded silver tinkling about her. The metal pieces brushed against one another to make a low hiss of frisson. Like a threatened rattlesnake, casting its warning upon those who dared to come near. Her eyes were harsh upon the little girl as she stared up at her with fearful eyes and the two boys that came running over were defiant as only brothers could be.
With only a sister herself, Rubiah had only the relationships between other street kids to know what it meant when a young male puffed out his chest like that. They only did it when threatening those who treated their blood ill. It didn't matter that they likely wailed on their sister themselves when they were amongst family. They just wouldn't allow strangers to do such a thing.
Children were such hypocrites... Mostly because they weren't yet smart enough to be self-aware. Which also meant that there was zero point in talking to them or discussing any form of issue because they simply wouldn't get it. They looked at the world through their own wounded eyes and saw the entirety of people as servants to dance around their self-focused core.
Think again, kid... Rubiah thought to herself. The world doesn't give a shit. You'd be better to learn that sooner rather than later...
Unfortunately, it looked like the onlookers in their particular vicinity weren't as considerate as Rubiah. They didn't want the kids to learn so important a lesson and came flocking to them like mother hens around fallen chicks. They cooed and hissed and gave harsh judgement over the evil villain that had knocked the girl to the ground. It didn't matter that it had been an accident. That she had only sought to free her skirt - something that the unmannered little girl should never have grabbed at in the first place. No, these kids had babying parents that would turn them into selfish and grabbing little mites.
The first cry of disregard came from a woman that spoke with a Grecian accent. With the accusation that the baby on the floor was just a little girl, Rubiah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had been a little girl once. And by this child's age she was more than capable of understanding how tears and crying worked. How it could twist the adults around you into simpering idiots. This one was one of them. If she thought a light tumble to the ground had hurt the kid, she was an idiot. Rubiah could tell. The tears were all for show.
'I'm sure whatever it was, it didn't necessitate you making a young child cry.' The second woman admonished as she came closer. This one bent to see to the young one in a way that was clearly maternal. With the appearance of a young one, it was surprising that she had so many children but Rubiah supposed that was her husband's doing. Some men just couldn't resist and didn't care if their women grew heavy with their young over and again. They weren't the ones who had to go through the pain of childbirth after all. Despite that one happenstance so long ago, Rubiah had always been careful to ensure that such things never happened to her.
"I didn't." Rubiah denied easily enough. Her tone was not defensive but casual. "She decided to bawl all by herself." She assured the woman with a sweet and overly polite smile. Her meaning was clear. The act she had committed did not require tears. But the child was trying them anyway.
'Will there be blood, do you suppose?'
The words were not for Rubiah's attention but she heard them all the same. A beautiful woman that she had seen around the Moghadam complex murmured them to a man that was watching with close attention.
Ah... so that was the pervert in question.
With a curl to her lips, Rubiah considered the woman's words. It was true that she had fought in the past. Her nails were used to the sting of ripping skin and her tongue had tasted the blood of those she had been forced to bite. She had pulled hair from roots and she had broken limbs. Life on the streets of Qalha had been brutal. Especially for girls. And she had never lost a fight yet. If she had lost, she'd have died. It was a good incentive.
But here and now she wasn't interested. Not with this homemaker and her soft little family.
The appearance of Skylla - the woman who was tending to the Queen in her illnesses these last few months - had Rubiah finally submitting to the eyeroll that she could no longer resist. The child didn't need a physician. She needed a kick to the rear and a hard lesson in what the world was really like. And none of these people were courageous enough to offer it. None of them were willing to be the monster in the little girl's eyes.
With a sigh and a wave of a hand, Rubiah turned on her heel, her words passing over her shoulder in a manner that dismissed them all from her attention.
"I'm going to watch the real show." She told them, not caring who followed or might take offence. There were plenty in this crowd whom she could charm and get to know and she wasn't about to play games with the kiddywinks and pander to their coddling parents. Tonight was a night for snakes and blades and all manner of dangerous thing...
Her customers listened attentively as she spoke, offering indulgent smiles in turn as she explained where she was from and offered their children sweets. The man even asked for clarification on which lord she meant, Callidora shaking her head as she answered, “No, not the Sirdar. His heir, Lord Akhenaten.” She imagined father and son drew on many of the same resources, but there was still a distinction between the two. However, once Akhenaten took over… gods, Dora could only imagine the sort of wealth she would be able to accrue. If only she could talk to Skylla, hear what she thought about all this, maybe convince her that staying wouldn’t be so bad…
It was as if the woman was summoned by her thoughts, Callidora catching a flash of dark hair out of the corner of her eye. At first, she thought it was nothing; this was Egypt, after all, and Skylla looked more like the natives here than she did anyone back in Greece. But when she turned to look, caught the profile of her face, it was all she could do to remember to keep breathing.
The incident with her customers and their child was nearly forgotten, watching with hungry eyes as the woman approached the fallen child herself. The woman who had knocked her over might as well have been talking underwater for all Callidora heard of her speech, her gaze riveted on her physician lover as she offered to take a look at the little girl’s face. Was this some illusion? Had she been overcome by the heat, hallucinating the things she wanted but knew she couldn’t have?
No. Skylla was here. Now, at this circus, right in front of her, pretending not to see her. Which was what Dora ought to be doing instead of gawking, quickly dropping her eyes back to her work while her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She hadn’t laid eyes on the woman since that fateful day all those weeks ago where they’d been dragged to certain death, each declaring their love for the other with the fervency of one about to meet their demise. She didn’t regret saying it, not in the least, but to see the woman now, all these weeks later…
Had anyone noticed the way her attention was instantly captured by the cunning beauty in front of her? Would whispers circulate once more of her perversion and snatch from her everything she had so recently attained? She had to keep herself under control. She couldn’t let her mistakes of the past redefine her slowly ascending future.
With distant attention, she heard the slave girl emerge to announce the beginning of the show, those wandering among the stalls slowly beginning to trickle into the larger tent. The woman who knocked the child to the ground was among them, dismissing the rest of those present from her attention as she stalked off toward the show. Part of Dora wished the others would follow suit and leave Skylla behind; if only she could grab her attention, maybe sneak her off somewhere in the confusion of the circus complex so they could speak alone, learn how the other fared in all these weeks of absence. Part of her wished Skylla would simply follow the others and go watch the show herself. Either way, Dora would remain where she was until most of the patrons were gone—both to maximize her sales and keep an eye on her inventory lest any grabby little hands make off with things not meant for them.
Biting her lip, she turned her attention to straightening her scattered wares into something more presentable, briefly clenching her fingers to halt their trembling. Every now and then, her glance stole over to Skylla, doing her best to keep the looks veiled and surreptitious. Would she notice and come back over? Could they speak, after all?
Finally, she couldn’t stand it, coming around the front of her stall as if checking to see how her rearrangement had affected the overall aesthetic. ‘Accidentally,’ she knocked into the physician, using the collision to give a show of false apologies, leaning in quickly to murmur in her ear, “Meet me behind the main tent. Twenty minutes.”
Sliding away from her, she made another apology before heading back behind her stall and turning a charming smile on the nameless straggler who approached.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Her customers listened attentively as she spoke, offering indulgent smiles in turn as she explained where she was from and offered their children sweets. The man even asked for clarification on which lord she meant, Callidora shaking her head as she answered, “No, not the Sirdar. His heir, Lord Akhenaten.” She imagined father and son drew on many of the same resources, but there was still a distinction between the two. However, once Akhenaten took over… gods, Dora could only imagine the sort of wealth she would be able to accrue. If only she could talk to Skylla, hear what she thought about all this, maybe convince her that staying wouldn’t be so bad…
It was as if the woman was summoned by her thoughts, Callidora catching a flash of dark hair out of the corner of her eye. At first, she thought it was nothing; this was Egypt, after all, and Skylla looked more like the natives here than she did anyone back in Greece. But when she turned to look, caught the profile of her face, it was all she could do to remember to keep breathing.
The incident with her customers and their child was nearly forgotten, watching with hungry eyes as the woman approached the fallen child herself. The woman who had knocked her over might as well have been talking underwater for all Callidora heard of her speech, her gaze riveted on her physician lover as she offered to take a look at the little girl’s face. Was this some illusion? Had she been overcome by the heat, hallucinating the things she wanted but knew she couldn’t have?
No. Skylla was here. Now, at this circus, right in front of her, pretending not to see her. Which was what Dora ought to be doing instead of gawking, quickly dropping her eyes back to her work while her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She hadn’t laid eyes on the woman since that fateful day all those weeks ago where they’d been dragged to certain death, each declaring their love for the other with the fervency of one about to meet their demise. She didn’t regret saying it, not in the least, but to see the woman now, all these weeks later…
Had anyone noticed the way her attention was instantly captured by the cunning beauty in front of her? Would whispers circulate once more of her perversion and snatch from her everything she had so recently attained? She had to keep herself under control. She couldn’t let her mistakes of the past redefine her slowly ascending future.
With distant attention, she heard the slave girl emerge to announce the beginning of the show, those wandering among the stalls slowly beginning to trickle into the larger tent. The woman who knocked the child to the ground was among them, dismissing the rest of those present from her attention as she stalked off toward the show. Part of Dora wished the others would follow suit and leave Skylla behind; if only she could grab her attention, maybe sneak her off somewhere in the confusion of the circus complex so they could speak alone, learn how the other fared in all these weeks of absence. Part of her wished Skylla would simply follow the others and go watch the show herself. Either way, Dora would remain where she was until most of the patrons were gone—both to maximize her sales and keep an eye on her inventory lest any grabby little hands make off with things not meant for them.
Biting her lip, she turned her attention to straightening her scattered wares into something more presentable, briefly clenching her fingers to halt their trembling. Every now and then, her glance stole over to Skylla, doing her best to keep the looks veiled and surreptitious. Would she notice and come back over? Could they speak, after all?
Finally, she couldn’t stand it, coming around the front of her stall as if checking to see how her rearrangement had affected the overall aesthetic. ‘Accidentally,’ she knocked into the physician, using the collision to give a show of false apologies, leaning in quickly to murmur in her ear, “Meet me behind the main tent. Twenty minutes.”
Sliding away from her, she made another apology before heading back behind her stall and turning a charming smile on the nameless straggler who approached.
Her customers listened attentively as she spoke, offering indulgent smiles in turn as she explained where she was from and offered their children sweets. The man even asked for clarification on which lord she meant, Callidora shaking her head as she answered, “No, not the Sirdar. His heir, Lord Akhenaten.” She imagined father and son drew on many of the same resources, but there was still a distinction between the two. However, once Akhenaten took over… gods, Dora could only imagine the sort of wealth she would be able to accrue. If only she could talk to Skylla, hear what she thought about all this, maybe convince her that staying wouldn’t be so bad…
It was as if the woman was summoned by her thoughts, Callidora catching a flash of dark hair out of the corner of her eye. At first, she thought it was nothing; this was Egypt, after all, and Skylla looked more like the natives here than she did anyone back in Greece. But when she turned to look, caught the profile of her face, it was all she could do to remember to keep breathing.
The incident with her customers and their child was nearly forgotten, watching with hungry eyes as the woman approached the fallen child herself. The woman who had knocked her over might as well have been talking underwater for all Callidora heard of her speech, her gaze riveted on her physician lover as she offered to take a look at the little girl’s face. Was this some illusion? Had she been overcome by the heat, hallucinating the things she wanted but knew she couldn’t have?
No. Skylla was here. Now, at this circus, right in front of her, pretending not to see her. Which was what Dora ought to be doing instead of gawking, quickly dropping her eyes back to her work while her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She hadn’t laid eyes on the woman since that fateful day all those weeks ago where they’d been dragged to certain death, each declaring their love for the other with the fervency of one about to meet their demise. She didn’t regret saying it, not in the least, but to see the woman now, all these weeks later…
Had anyone noticed the way her attention was instantly captured by the cunning beauty in front of her? Would whispers circulate once more of her perversion and snatch from her everything she had so recently attained? She had to keep herself under control. She couldn’t let her mistakes of the past redefine her slowly ascending future.
With distant attention, she heard the slave girl emerge to announce the beginning of the show, those wandering among the stalls slowly beginning to trickle into the larger tent. The woman who knocked the child to the ground was among them, dismissing the rest of those present from her attention as she stalked off toward the show. Part of Dora wished the others would follow suit and leave Skylla behind; if only she could grab her attention, maybe sneak her off somewhere in the confusion of the circus complex so they could speak alone, learn how the other fared in all these weeks of absence. Part of her wished Skylla would simply follow the others and go watch the show herself. Either way, Dora would remain where she was until most of the patrons were gone—both to maximize her sales and keep an eye on her inventory lest any grabby little hands make off with things not meant for them.
Biting her lip, she turned her attention to straightening her scattered wares into something more presentable, briefly clenching her fingers to halt their trembling. Every now and then, her glance stole over to Skylla, doing her best to keep the looks veiled and surreptitious. Would she notice and come back over? Could they speak, after all?
Finally, she couldn’t stand it, coming around the front of her stall as if checking to see how her rearrangement had affected the overall aesthetic. ‘Accidentally,’ she knocked into the physician, using the collision to give a show of false apologies, leaning in quickly to murmur in her ear, “Meet me behind the main tent. Twenty minutes.”
Sliding away from her, she made another apology before heading back behind her stall and turning a charming smile on the nameless straggler who approached.
Despite her small size, Kahi can snarl quite like a mother tigress if she wanted to be, especially when it came to her own child. Having never grown up with much protection from her own parents, the woman had swore never to let that happen to her own children the moment Neferu had been born. She did not mollycoddle or pamper her children, for sure, but that didn't mean someone else could lift a finger against them.
Scowling when the young noble lady (or so Kahi assumed, from the finery in which she was draped with) denied her own responsibility in causing her young and only daughter to try. Almost immediately, Neferu and Djoser spoke up squabbling, words one on top of the other as they tried to defend their sister, but Kahi hushed them with a glare and nudged her head to reinforce her instruction for the eldest to bring their siblings back to where Khufu stood.
"I can assure you I know my daughter well, and she does not decide to cry for no reason." Kahi retorted with a steel edge to her words. Despite her want to ensure an apology was issued to Tef-Amun however, even Kahi knew, despite not being of Egyptian birth, that trying to insist with one born of noble blood would be akin to her sentencing her family to certain death, especially as she was unsure who had the pharoah's ear.
So in spite of herself, Kahi bit her tongue and glared at the retreating back of the noble lady, before finally heaving a sigh and turning to trudge back to where Khufu was, smiling when she saw Mayet there. "I guess we should go watch the show as well?" she murmured, shifting to pass the weight of a sleeping Astekhu to Khufu, and nudging Neferu and Djoser towards Mayet in hopes her friend would be able to take charge of the two boys (one of which being her own son, a story for another day), before picking up Tef-Amun and balancing the girl with the tear streaked face on her hip.
Wiping her daugher's face, Kahi couldn't help but only lightly scold the girl for her rowdy behavior, rolling her eyes when she finally buried her head in her mother's neck. Once sure her daughter had truly understood the gravity of what could have happened, only then did Kahi turn to her husband and Mayet, a slightly fed-up tone to her voice as she asked, "Did you manage to get some tickets for us?" the question was directed to Khufu first, as the young mother linked her arms with Mayet and grinned at her friend, clearly glad the other could join them.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Despite her small size, Kahi can snarl quite like a mother tigress if she wanted to be, especially when it came to her own child. Having never grown up with much protection from her own parents, the woman had swore never to let that happen to her own children the moment Neferu had been born. She did not mollycoddle or pamper her children, for sure, but that didn't mean someone else could lift a finger against them.
Scowling when the young noble lady (or so Kahi assumed, from the finery in which she was draped with) denied her own responsibility in causing her young and only daughter to try. Almost immediately, Neferu and Djoser spoke up squabbling, words one on top of the other as they tried to defend their sister, but Kahi hushed them with a glare and nudged her head to reinforce her instruction for the eldest to bring their siblings back to where Khufu stood.
"I can assure you I know my daughter well, and she does not decide to cry for no reason." Kahi retorted with a steel edge to her words. Despite her want to ensure an apology was issued to Tef-Amun however, even Kahi knew, despite not being of Egyptian birth, that trying to insist with one born of noble blood would be akin to her sentencing her family to certain death, especially as she was unsure who had the pharoah's ear.
So in spite of herself, Kahi bit her tongue and glared at the retreating back of the noble lady, before finally heaving a sigh and turning to trudge back to where Khufu was, smiling when she saw Mayet there. "I guess we should go watch the show as well?" she murmured, shifting to pass the weight of a sleeping Astekhu to Khufu, and nudging Neferu and Djoser towards Mayet in hopes her friend would be able to take charge of the two boys (one of which being her own son, a story for another day), before picking up Tef-Amun and balancing the girl with the tear streaked face on her hip.
Wiping her daugher's face, Kahi couldn't help but only lightly scold the girl for her rowdy behavior, rolling her eyes when she finally buried her head in her mother's neck. Once sure her daughter had truly understood the gravity of what could have happened, only then did Kahi turn to her husband and Mayet, a slightly fed-up tone to her voice as she asked, "Did you manage to get some tickets for us?" the question was directed to Khufu first, as the young mother linked her arms with Mayet and grinned at her friend, clearly glad the other could join them.
Despite her small size, Kahi can snarl quite like a mother tigress if she wanted to be, especially when it came to her own child. Having never grown up with much protection from her own parents, the woman had swore never to let that happen to her own children the moment Neferu had been born. She did not mollycoddle or pamper her children, for sure, but that didn't mean someone else could lift a finger against them.
Scowling when the young noble lady (or so Kahi assumed, from the finery in which she was draped with) denied her own responsibility in causing her young and only daughter to try. Almost immediately, Neferu and Djoser spoke up squabbling, words one on top of the other as they tried to defend their sister, but Kahi hushed them with a glare and nudged her head to reinforce her instruction for the eldest to bring their siblings back to where Khufu stood.
"I can assure you I know my daughter well, and she does not decide to cry for no reason." Kahi retorted with a steel edge to her words. Despite her want to ensure an apology was issued to Tef-Amun however, even Kahi knew, despite not being of Egyptian birth, that trying to insist with one born of noble blood would be akin to her sentencing her family to certain death, especially as she was unsure who had the pharoah's ear.
So in spite of herself, Kahi bit her tongue and glared at the retreating back of the noble lady, before finally heaving a sigh and turning to trudge back to where Khufu was, smiling when she saw Mayet there. "I guess we should go watch the show as well?" she murmured, shifting to pass the weight of a sleeping Astekhu to Khufu, and nudging Neferu and Djoser towards Mayet in hopes her friend would be able to take charge of the two boys (one of which being her own son, a story for another day), before picking up Tef-Amun and balancing the girl with the tear streaked face on her hip.
Wiping her daugher's face, Kahi couldn't help but only lightly scold the girl for her rowdy behavior, rolling her eyes when she finally buried her head in her mother's neck. Once sure her daughter had truly understood the gravity of what could have happened, only then did Kahi turn to her husband and Mayet, a slightly fed-up tone to her voice as she asked, "Did you manage to get some tickets for us?" the question was directed to Khufu first, as the young mother linked her arms with Mayet and grinned at her friend, clearly glad the other could join them.
Feiyan paced back and forth across the living space she shared with her sister, waiting for the multicolored paint on her body, which had been liberally sprinkled with gold dust, to dry. There was no breeze but the heat of the Egyptian evening would dry it quickly so that she could dress for her performance. Lihua was still being painted, lying on her back while female slaves adorned her with color. Feiyan preferred to be painted by handsome strapping men. Arousal was the secret to her seductive performances, and this was how she prepared herself for it … letting attractive men decorate her with gorgeous hues, first lying on her front and then, after that had dried, lying on her back.
She didn’t think that Lihua approved, but she had never said anything about it, fully aware that the youngest Liu sister’s sensuality was integral to the Clique’s success. The usual excitement and anticipation that accompanied an impending performance trilled through Feiyan's veins as well, tempered by a healthy dose of apprehension and anxiety. It as always like this before she went onstage. To be overconfident was to fail, but realizing the possibility of failure made one strive harder for perfection. And perfection was what she intended to deliver tonight.
Finally dry, she put on her costume, a short purple pleated skirt bordered at the edges with cloth of gold. Feiyan wished she could go bare-breasted like most of the other performers but her bosom was too large and full. She had started binding her breasts when they became bruised from being tossed from one acrobat to another. They also tended to get in the way. Now she wore a silk cloth around them. The ties were tucked securely in back. The fabric was flesh colored, trimmed with rows of multicolored beads interspersed with glass jewels.
Hanging from it were jeweled chains that she artfully arranged across her torso and then fastened at the belt of her skirt. One of the handsome slaves fixed the chains at her back. Feiyan’s costume was completed by more golden jeweled chains spiraling around her legs and arms. Her feet were left bare. The young acrobat’s long black hair had already been arranged into many tiny multicolored braids woven through with lengths of beads that also wound around the ends. A circlet of glass jewels adorned her forehead and a matching choker encircled her neck.
As she was admiring herself in the full-length mirror that had been a gift from one of her admirers, the tent flap opened. Feiyan smiled as Tau walked in. The paint on the acrobat’s muscular body looked more colorful than hers because of the naturally dark color of his skin. “You’re as beautiful as always,” he said, coming up from behind her and flicking one of her beaded braids.
“So are you,” she answered as she turned toward him. Tau was an exceedingly handsome man, and while he and Feiyan often flirted shamelessly with each other, their relationship was platonic. Many of the performers believed they were lovers because of how many nights she had recently spent in his tent, but what they were actually doing was working on a daring stunt that would awe audience and circus members alike. Nobody knew what they were planning but the two of them.
Tau’s story was similar to Feiyan’s own. He had been kidnapped as a young child and sold to the circus. Like her, he had no memories of his own land or family, but believed he might have been born in Bedoa because the people from that kingdom had features and coloring similar to his own. Tau, which meant ‘lion,’ was a name he had chosen for himself. He had been nine when the Liu sisters had arrived at the circus, and he had become fast friends with both of them, though he was closest with Feiyan.
The two often performed breathtaking acts together, but the one they planned on executing tonight was the most ambitious and dangerous stunt they had ever attempted. They had perfected it during many nights of secret practice that had resulted in a fair amount of injuries and bruises. The pain would be worth the reaction from the audience. They had come for a hair-raising experience and that was what they would receive. Moving to her left side, Tau whispered into Feiyan’s good ear. “Is the safeguard in place?”
She nodded toward her ankles, both wrapped in thick golden chains. “It’s there.”
“Good. If something goes wrong ...”
“I will be fine,” Feiyan assured him. Her heart pounded with excitement, eager to stun everyone in attendence. “Just be at the right place at the right time.”
“Don’t worry,” Tau replied, “I will.”
A slave entered the tent and announced that the show was about to begin. Lihua joined them and the three performers stepped into the night. Feiyan looked up at the stars and smiled as they headed to the main tent.
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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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Feiyan paced back and forth across the living space she shared with her sister, waiting for the multicolored paint on her body, which had been liberally sprinkled with gold dust, to dry. There was no breeze but the heat of the Egyptian evening would dry it quickly so that she could dress for her performance. Lihua was still being painted, lying on her back while female slaves adorned her with color. Feiyan preferred to be painted by handsome strapping men. Arousal was the secret to her seductive performances, and this was how she prepared herself for it … letting attractive men decorate her with gorgeous hues, first lying on her front and then, after that had dried, lying on her back.
She didn’t think that Lihua approved, but she had never said anything about it, fully aware that the youngest Liu sister’s sensuality was integral to the Clique’s success. The usual excitement and anticipation that accompanied an impending performance trilled through Feiyan's veins as well, tempered by a healthy dose of apprehension and anxiety. It as always like this before she went onstage. To be overconfident was to fail, but realizing the possibility of failure made one strive harder for perfection. And perfection was what she intended to deliver tonight.
Finally dry, she put on her costume, a short purple pleated skirt bordered at the edges with cloth of gold. Feiyan wished she could go bare-breasted like most of the other performers but her bosom was too large and full. She had started binding her breasts when they became bruised from being tossed from one acrobat to another. They also tended to get in the way. Now she wore a silk cloth around them. The ties were tucked securely in back. The fabric was flesh colored, trimmed with rows of multicolored beads interspersed with glass jewels.
Hanging from it were jeweled chains that she artfully arranged across her torso and then fastened at the belt of her skirt. One of the handsome slaves fixed the chains at her back. Feiyan’s costume was completed by more golden jeweled chains spiraling around her legs and arms. Her feet were left bare. The young acrobat’s long black hair had already been arranged into many tiny multicolored braids woven through with lengths of beads that also wound around the ends. A circlet of glass jewels adorned her forehead and a matching choker encircled her neck.
As she was admiring herself in the full-length mirror that had been a gift from one of her admirers, the tent flap opened. Feiyan smiled as Tau walked in. The paint on the acrobat’s muscular body looked more colorful than hers because of the naturally dark color of his skin. “You’re as beautiful as always,” he said, coming up from behind her and flicking one of her beaded braids.
“So are you,” she answered as she turned toward him. Tau was an exceedingly handsome man, and while he and Feiyan often flirted shamelessly with each other, their relationship was platonic. Many of the performers believed they were lovers because of how many nights she had recently spent in his tent, but what they were actually doing was working on a daring stunt that would awe audience and circus members alike. Nobody knew what they were planning but the two of them.
Tau’s story was similar to Feiyan’s own. He had been kidnapped as a young child and sold to the circus. Like her, he had no memories of his own land or family, but believed he might have been born in Bedoa because the people from that kingdom had features and coloring similar to his own. Tau, which meant ‘lion,’ was a name he had chosen for himself. He had been nine when the Liu sisters had arrived at the circus, and he had become fast friends with both of them, though he was closest with Feiyan.
The two often performed breathtaking acts together, but the one they planned on executing tonight was the most ambitious and dangerous stunt they had ever attempted. They had perfected it during many nights of secret practice that had resulted in a fair amount of injuries and bruises. The pain would be worth the reaction from the audience. They had come for a hair-raising experience and that was what they would receive. Moving to her left side, Tau whispered into Feiyan’s good ear. “Is the safeguard in place?”
She nodded toward her ankles, both wrapped in thick golden chains. “It’s there.”
“Good. If something goes wrong ...”
“I will be fine,” Feiyan assured him. Her heart pounded with excitement, eager to stun everyone in attendence. “Just be at the right place at the right time.”
“Don’t worry,” Tau replied, “I will.”
A slave entered the tent and announced that the show was about to begin. Lihua joined them and the three performers stepped into the night. Feiyan looked up at the stars and smiled as they headed to the main tent.
Feiyan paced back and forth across the living space she shared with her sister, waiting for the multicolored paint on her body, which had been liberally sprinkled with gold dust, to dry. There was no breeze but the heat of the Egyptian evening would dry it quickly so that she could dress for her performance. Lihua was still being painted, lying on her back while female slaves adorned her with color. Feiyan preferred to be painted by handsome strapping men. Arousal was the secret to her seductive performances, and this was how she prepared herself for it … letting attractive men decorate her with gorgeous hues, first lying on her front and then, after that had dried, lying on her back.
She didn’t think that Lihua approved, but she had never said anything about it, fully aware that the youngest Liu sister’s sensuality was integral to the Clique’s success. The usual excitement and anticipation that accompanied an impending performance trilled through Feiyan's veins as well, tempered by a healthy dose of apprehension and anxiety. It as always like this before she went onstage. To be overconfident was to fail, but realizing the possibility of failure made one strive harder for perfection. And perfection was what she intended to deliver tonight.
Finally dry, she put on her costume, a short purple pleated skirt bordered at the edges with cloth of gold. Feiyan wished she could go bare-breasted like most of the other performers but her bosom was too large and full. She had started binding her breasts when they became bruised from being tossed from one acrobat to another. They also tended to get in the way. Now she wore a silk cloth around them. The ties were tucked securely in back. The fabric was flesh colored, trimmed with rows of multicolored beads interspersed with glass jewels.
Hanging from it were jeweled chains that she artfully arranged across her torso and then fastened at the belt of her skirt. One of the handsome slaves fixed the chains at her back. Feiyan’s costume was completed by more golden jeweled chains spiraling around her legs and arms. Her feet were left bare. The young acrobat’s long black hair had already been arranged into many tiny multicolored braids woven through with lengths of beads that also wound around the ends. A circlet of glass jewels adorned her forehead and a matching choker encircled her neck.
As she was admiring herself in the full-length mirror that had been a gift from one of her admirers, the tent flap opened. Feiyan smiled as Tau walked in. The paint on the acrobat’s muscular body looked more colorful than hers because of the naturally dark color of his skin. “You’re as beautiful as always,” he said, coming up from behind her and flicking one of her beaded braids.
“So are you,” she answered as she turned toward him. Tau was an exceedingly handsome man, and while he and Feiyan often flirted shamelessly with each other, their relationship was platonic. Many of the performers believed they were lovers because of how many nights she had recently spent in his tent, but what they were actually doing was working on a daring stunt that would awe audience and circus members alike. Nobody knew what they were planning but the two of them.
Tau’s story was similar to Feiyan’s own. He had been kidnapped as a young child and sold to the circus. Like her, he had no memories of his own land or family, but believed he might have been born in Bedoa because the people from that kingdom had features and coloring similar to his own. Tau, which meant ‘lion,’ was a name he had chosen for himself. He had been nine when the Liu sisters had arrived at the circus, and he had become fast friends with both of them, though he was closest with Feiyan.
The two often performed breathtaking acts together, but the one they planned on executing tonight was the most ambitious and dangerous stunt they had ever attempted. They had perfected it during many nights of secret practice that had resulted in a fair amount of injuries and bruises. The pain would be worth the reaction from the audience. They had come for a hair-raising experience and that was what they would receive. Moving to her left side, Tau whispered into Feiyan’s good ear. “Is the safeguard in place?”
She nodded toward her ankles, both wrapped in thick golden chains. “It’s there.”
“Good. If something goes wrong ...”
“I will be fine,” Feiyan assured him. Her heart pounded with excitement, eager to stun everyone in attendence. “Just be at the right place at the right time.”
“Don’t worry,” Tau replied, “I will.”
A slave entered the tent and announced that the show was about to begin. Lihua joined them and the three performers stepped into the night. Feiyan looked up at the stars and smiled as they headed to the main tent.
Mayet’s slanted gaze had narrowed on the women…Rubiah if her memory served correctly, and she was confident it did. That it would be her in the centre of some confrontation with Kahi was almost enough to make Mayet wish she had not come, she had her reasons to dislike the brash girl. Keeping her distance so she did not say -or do - anything that she would come to regret, Mayet only gave a slight huff of a dry laugh at Kufu’s weary resignation to his wife’s temper.
“I would not be averse to such a thing,” she said, folding her arms across her chest with a cold gaze directed toward to the other woman in the standoff.
But it appeared the Gods were not going to grant her such a blessing on this night, for before long Kahi was returning with the entire brood.
“To help you wrangle this parade of terrors?” she asked a moment later as Kahi and ushered the two boys towards her. “How can I refuse.” Taking a small hand within each of her own, Mayet arched a brow at Kahi. “You couldn’t have let that one see some teeth, ibib? A pity.” She had yet to speak to her friend of Osorsen’s fascination with that particular girl but now was not exactly the venue for it, so Mayet pasted a smile on her face for the children and stooped to talk to them a moment, an attempt to cool her simmering temper. Overhearing Kahi’s question to Khufu, she stood gracefully. “No need. Consider this a gift from Osorsen given he cannot favour us with his company”. Once she had decided to come, she’d despatched one of the slaves to procure tickets enough for them all, and she handed them off to Khufu with a warning look. “Do not try and refuse me, Khufu, I shall hear none of it.”
If there was a small, petty pleasure in spending Oso’s coin when he was not here to enjoy it, then he only had himself to blame and seeing Rubiah had only cemented the idea. Mayet turned her thoughts away from the woman though and instead accepted her friend’s arm looping through hers as they began to move toward the canvas structure. “ Where did you even hear of this place Kahi?” she asked, looking over the strange mix of people that the travelling show had drawn in. “ I have heard they have a woman who speaks the future, and another who can fold herself into knots like a snake.”
They would find out soon enough anyway, Mayet grasping one small child’s hand as they entered the darker interior of the tent to find some seats.
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Mayet’s slanted gaze had narrowed on the women…Rubiah if her memory served correctly, and she was confident it did. That it would be her in the centre of some confrontation with Kahi was almost enough to make Mayet wish she had not come, she had her reasons to dislike the brash girl. Keeping her distance so she did not say -or do - anything that she would come to regret, Mayet only gave a slight huff of a dry laugh at Kufu’s weary resignation to his wife’s temper.
“I would not be averse to such a thing,” she said, folding her arms across her chest with a cold gaze directed toward to the other woman in the standoff.
But it appeared the Gods were not going to grant her such a blessing on this night, for before long Kahi was returning with the entire brood.
“To help you wrangle this parade of terrors?” she asked a moment later as Kahi and ushered the two boys towards her. “How can I refuse.” Taking a small hand within each of her own, Mayet arched a brow at Kahi. “You couldn’t have let that one see some teeth, ibib? A pity.” She had yet to speak to her friend of Osorsen’s fascination with that particular girl but now was not exactly the venue for it, so Mayet pasted a smile on her face for the children and stooped to talk to them a moment, an attempt to cool her simmering temper. Overhearing Kahi’s question to Khufu, she stood gracefully. “No need. Consider this a gift from Osorsen given he cannot favour us with his company”. Once she had decided to come, she’d despatched one of the slaves to procure tickets enough for them all, and she handed them off to Khufu with a warning look. “Do not try and refuse me, Khufu, I shall hear none of it.”
If there was a small, petty pleasure in spending Oso’s coin when he was not here to enjoy it, then he only had himself to blame and seeing Rubiah had only cemented the idea. Mayet turned her thoughts away from the woman though and instead accepted her friend’s arm looping through hers as they began to move toward the canvas structure. “ Where did you even hear of this place Kahi?” she asked, looking over the strange mix of people that the travelling show had drawn in. “ I have heard they have a woman who speaks the future, and another who can fold herself into knots like a snake.”
They would find out soon enough anyway, Mayet grasping one small child’s hand as they entered the darker interior of the tent to find some seats.
Mayet’s slanted gaze had narrowed on the women…Rubiah if her memory served correctly, and she was confident it did. That it would be her in the centre of some confrontation with Kahi was almost enough to make Mayet wish she had not come, she had her reasons to dislike the brash girl. Keeping her distance so she did not say -or do - anything that she would come to regret, Mayet only gave a slight huff of a dry laugh at Kufu’s weary resignation to his wife’s temper.
“I would not be averse to such a thing,” she said, folding her arms across her chest with a cold gaze directed toward to the other woman in the standoff.
But it appeared the Gods were not going to grant her such a blessing on this night, for before long Kahi was returning with the entire brood.
“To help you wrangle this parade of terrors?” she asked a moment later as Kahi and ushered the two boys towards her. “How can I refuse.” Taking a small hand within each of her own, Mayet arched a brow at Kahi. “You couldn’t have let that one see some teeth, ibib? A pity.” She had yet to speak to her friend of Osorsen’s fascination with that particular girl but now was not exactly the venue for it, so Mayet pasted a smile on her face for the children and stooped to talk to them a moment, an attempt to cool her simmering temper. Overhearing Kahi’s question to Khufu, she stood gracefully. “No need. Consider this a gift from Osorsen given he cannot favour us with his company”. Once she had decided to come, she’d despatched one of the slaves to procure tickets enough for them all, and she handed them off to Khufu with a warning look. “Do not try and refuse me, Khufu, I shall hear none of it.”
If there was a small, petty pleasure in spending Oso’s coin when he was not here to enjoy it, then he only had himself to blame and seeing Rubiah had only cemented the idea. Mayet turned her thoughts away from the woman though and instead accepted her friend’s arm looping through hers as they began to move toward the canvas structure. “ Where did you even hear of this place Kahi?” she asked, looking over the strange mix of people that the travelling show had drawn in. “ I have heard they have a woman who speaks the future, and another who can fold herself into knots like a snake.”
They would find out soon enough anyway, Mayet grasping one small child’s hand as they entered the darker interior of the tent to find some seats.
Khufu’s eyes trailed after the offending woman as she took her leave, seemingly upset that his daughter had gotten attention and she herself had only gotten negative attention. He knew his daughter was okay, had he thought she was truly hurt, he would have rushed over to her whether his wife had or not, but if this woman had thought people were going to praise her for knocking over a small child and then acting high and mighty about it, she was very wrong. Needless to say, he was not sad to see her leave. Though he had a vague feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.
As he turned back to the Greek merchant, he couldn’t help but notice how she stared at one of the women who had moved to tend to his daughter. Interesting. There was something in that look, he didn’t know what exactly, but it had caught this attention. Khufu’s curiosity was never truly satisfied, and now this was another thing that he was curious about. What would he find if he dug a little deeper into either of these women? And the fact that this Greek merchant was apparently working for the young H’Sheifa heir, who had held no interest in anything but himself and from what Khufu had heard, alcohol for the past few years? And now, he apparently was employing foreign merchants? Interesting.
He wasn’t one to gossip, but there might be something more intriguing than any simple gossip. Something strange was going on, and this Greek woman seemed to be in the middle of it. But for now, he would enjoy his time out with his family.
As his wife handed him their sleeping child, Khufu took him with no arguments, holding the child against him so his slumber could go mostly uninterrupted. While he worked most days and was away sometimes for said work, and Kahi took care of the kids and household full time, when he was around, he was an involved father. He would not leave her fully alone to take care of their children, just as his father had never done such to his mother, right up until his untimely passing.
“I…” He started, trying to come up with an excuse for his wife why he hadn’t gotten the tickets, and come up with how he was going to manage to get them for them now. But before he could say any more, Mayet was stepping in and declaring that she had tickets for them.
And before he could argue, she was telling him not to. His wife’s best friend knew him far too well, that much was for sure.
“Send our appreciation to Lord Moghadam for such kindness.” He said simply. Mayet was as stubborn as his wife, and arguing with either of them would get him about as far as arguing with the unmoving stones of the pyramids.
Khufu followed the two women, his brood of children split between the three of them, now calmed as they were wrangled by three adults.
As Mayet brought up a woman who could see the future, Khufu had to bite back a laugh, recalling his misadventure with that exact woman and Zoser a few drunken days ago. He hadn’t quite told his wife about that one yet.
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Khufu’s eyes trailed after the offending woman as she took her leave, seemingly upset that his daughter had gotten attention and she herself had only gotten negative attention. He knew his daughter was okay, had he thought she was truly hurt, he would have rushed over to her whether his wife had or not, but if this woman had thought people were going to praise her for knocking over a small child and then acting high and mighty about it, she was very wrong. Needless to say, he was not sad to see her leave. Though he had a vague feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.
As he turned back to the Greek merchant, he couldn’t help but notice how she stared at one of the women who had moved to tend to his daughter. Interesting. There was something in that look, he didn’t know what exactly, but it had caught this attention. Khufu’s curiosity was never truly satisfied, and now this was another thing that he was curious about. What would he find if he dug a little deeper into either of these women? And the fact that this Greek merchant was apparently working for the young H’Sheifa heir, who had held no interest in anything but himself and from what Khufu had heard, alcohol for the past few years? And now, he apparently was employing foreign merchants? Interesting.
He wasn’t one to gossip, but there might be something more intriguing than any simple gossip. Something strange was going on, and this Greek woman seemed to be in the middle of it. But for now, he would enjoy his time out with his family.
As his wife handed him their sleeping child, Khufu took him with no arguments, holding the child against him so his slumber could go mostly uninterrupted. While he worked most days and was away sometimes for said work, and Kahi took care of the kids and household full time, when he was around, he was an involved father. He would not leave her fully alone to take care of their children, just as his father had never done such to his mother, right up until his untimely passing.
“I…” He started, trying to come up with an excuse for his wife why he hadn’t gotten the tickets, and come up with how he was going to manage to get them for them now. But before he could say any more, Mayet was stepping in and declaring that she had tickets for them.
And before he could argue, she was telling him not to. His wife’s best friend knew him far too well, that much was for sure.
“Send our appreciation to Lord Moghadam for such kindness.” He said simply. Mayet was as stubborn as his wife, and arguing with either of them would get him about as far as arguing with the unmoving stones of the pyramids.
Khufu followed the two women, his brood of children split between the three of them, now calmed as they were wrangled by three adults.
As Mayet brought up a woman who could see the future, Khufu had to bite back a laugh, recalling his misadventure with that exact woman and Zoser a few drunken days ago. He hadn’t quite told his wife about that one yet.
Khufu’s eyes trailed after the offending woman as she took her leave, seemingly upset that his daughter had gotten attention and she herself had only gotten negative attention. He knew his daughter was okay, had he thought she was truly hurt, he would have rushed over to her whether his wife had or not, but if this woman had thought people were going to praise her for knocking over a small child and then acting high and mighty about it, she was very wrong. Needless to say, he was not sad to see her leave. Though he had a vague feeling that he had seen her somewhere before.
As he turned back to the Greek merchant, he couldn’t help but notice how she stared at one of the women who had moved to tend to his daughter. Interesting. There was something in that look, he didn’t know what exactly, but it had caught this attention. Khufu’s curiosity was never truly satisfied, and now this was another thing that he was curious about. What would he find if he dug a little deeper into either of these women? And the fact that this Greek merchant was apparently working for the young H’Sheifa heir, who had held no interest in anything but himself and from what Khufu had heard, alcohol for the past few years? And now, he apparently was employing foreign merchants? Interesting.
He wasn’t one to gossip, but there might be something more intriguing than any simple gossip. Something strange was going on, and this Greek woman seemed to be in the middle of it. But for now, he would enjoy his time out with his family.
As his wife handed him their sleeping child, Khufu took him with no arguments, holding the child against him so his slumber could go mostly uninterrupted. While he worked most days and was away sometimes for said work, and Kahi took care of the kids and household full time, when he was around, he was an involved father. He would not leave her fully alone to take care of their children, just as his father had never done such to his mother, right up until his untimely passing.
“I…” He started, trying to come up with an excuse for his wife why he hadn’t gotten the tickets, and come up with how he was going to manage to get them for them now. But before he could say any more, Mayet was stepping in and declaring that she had tickets for them.
And before he could argue, she was telling him not to. His wife’s best friend knew him far too well, that much was for sure.
“Send our appreciation to Lord Moghadam for such kindness.” He said simply. Mayet was as stubborn as his wife, and arguing with either of them would get him about as far as arguing with the unmoving stones of the pyramids.
Khufu followed the two women, his brood of children split between the three of them, now calmed as they were wrangled by three adults.
As Mayet brought up a woman who could see the future, Khufu had to bite back a laugh, recalling his misadventure with that exact woman and Zoser a few drunken days ago. He hadn’t quite told his wife about that one yet.
It was best that she didn't even look in the direction of her former lover. Were they former lovers or were they just keeping their distance until the time was right? Skylla wasn't sure, but even so, it wasn't safe for her to go about oogling her female lover in a land that would see them stoned for having any sort of relationship with them that was even slightly romantic or physical. The shame that came with being dragged out of their inn room, naked and screaming was still burning hot between her shoulder blades even now. If only because if she and Callidora crossed that bridge once more, they would not be caught. If they were, they would be, absolutely, deceased. There would be no stopping their deaths a second time around.
The Pharaoh wouldn't save her again, no matter how valuable she was to ensuring that his unborn heir was born healthy and happy.
Skylla was complacent with the idea that she would go into the big tent, watch the show, and that would be all that came of the night. She and Callidora couldn't risk being caught in one another's arms. Especially because it seemed that she had found her own footing and didn't need Skylla's help whatsoever. That burned a little bit. What deals had she made to ensure that she and Dora could eventually make it out of Egypt, and now here she was working for one of them.
The physician jumped slightly when Callidora bumped into her, making a show of cleaning up the front of her stall. She tensed when the woman leaned into her ear and then she was turning away as soon as she had heard the woman's words. She didn't nod, but she needed to find a way to kill twenty minutes of time, so she decided to wander through the remaining stalls before the entrance to the circus, finding that it was easiest to kill time by looking at things she didn't need, nor want, but would be nice to have anyway. She silently fingered a fine rug that she thought might fit perfectly in her little room within the palace.
At the very least, it would make the floor less cold in the morning. Then again, Egypt did not have the same problems with cold that Colchis did. Even on the island, sometimes the mornings and nights were chilly. Skylla contented herself to think of these things rather than the fact that her lover was just a few stalls away and was now intent on speaking with her. For a moment, the woman thought that maybe she would just stand Callidora up and that would be the complete end of it. But she couldn't do that. For some reason, admitting love and affection made it that much harder to be the cold bitch she favored herself to be.
So the palace physician made a big show of shopping, while all the while drifting in the direction that Callidora had instructed of her.
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It was best that she didn't even look in the direction of her former lover. Were they former lovers or were they just keeping their distance until the time was right? Skylla wasn't sure, but even so, it wasn't safe for her to go about oogling her female lover in a land that would see them stoned for having any sort of relationship with them that was even slightly romantic or physical. The shame that came with being dragged out of their inn room, naked and screaming was still burning hot between her shoulder blades even now. If only because if she and Callidora crossed that bridge once more, they would not be caught. If they were, they would be, absolutely, deceased. There would be no stopping their deaths a second time around.
The Pharaoh wouldn't save her again, no matter how valuable she was to ensuring that his unborn heir was born healthy and happy.
Skylla was complacent with the idea that she would go into the big tent, watch the show, and that would be all that came of the night. She and Callidora couldn't risk being caught in one another's arms. Especially because it seemed that she had found her own footing and didn't need Skylla's help whatsoever. That burned a little bit. What deals had she made to ensure that she and Dora could eventually make it out of Egypt, and now here she was working for one of them.
The physician jumped slightly when Callidora bumped into her, making a show of cleaning up the front of her stall. She tensed when the woman leaned into her ear and then she was turning away as soon as she had heard the woman's words. She didn't nod, but she needed to find a way to kill twenty minutes of time, so she decided to wander through the remaining stalls before the entrance to the circus, finding that it was easiest to kill time by looking at things she didn't need, nor want, but would be nice to have anyway. She silently fingered a fine rug that she thought might fit perfectly in her little room within the palace.
At the very least, it would make the floor less cold in the morning. Then again, Egypt did not have the same problems with cold that Colchis did. Even on the island, sometimes the mornings and nights were chilly. Skylla contented herself to think of these things rather than the fact that her lover was just a few stalls away and was now intent on speaking with her. For a moment, the woman thought that maybe she would just stand Callidora up and that would be the complete end of it. But she couldn't do that. For some reason, admitting love and affection made it that much harder to be the cold bitch she favored herself to be.
So the palace physician made a big show of shopping, while all the while drifting in the direction that Callidora had instructed of her.
It was best that she didn't even look in the direction of her former lover. Were they former lovers or were they just keeping their distance until the time was right? Skylla wasn't sure, but even so, it wasn't safe for her to go about oogling her female lover in a land that would see them stoned for having any sort of relationship with them that was even slightly romantic or physical. The shame that came with being dragged out of their inn room, naked and screaming was still burning hot between her shoulder blades even now. If only because if she and Callidora crossed that bridge once more, they would not be caught. If they were, they would be, absolutely, deceased. There would be no stopping their deaths a second time around.
The Pharaoh wouldn't save her again, no matter how valuable she was to ensuring that his unborn heir was born healthy and happy.
Skylla was complacent with the idea that she would go into the big tent, watch the show, and that would be all that came of the night. She and Callidora couldn't risk being caught in one another's arms. Especially because it seemed that she had found her own footing and didn't need Skylla's help whatsoever. That burned a little bit. What deals had she made to ensure that she and Dora could eventually make it out of Egypt, and now here she was working for one of them.
The physician jumped slightly when Callidora bumped into her, making a show of cleaning up the front of her stall. She tensed when the woman leaned into her ear and then she was turning away as soon as she had heard the woman's words. She didn't nod, but she needed to find a way to kill twenty minutes of time, so she decided to wander through the remaining stalls before the entrance to the circus, finding that it was easiest to kill time by looking at things she didn't need, nor want, but would be nice to have anyway. She silently fingered a fine rug that she thought might fit perfectly in her little room within the palace.
At the very least, it would make the floor less cold in the morning. Then again, Egypt did not have the same problems with cold that Colchis did. Even on the island, sometimes the mornings and nights were chilly. Skylla contented herself to think of these things rather than the fact that her lover was just a few stalls away and was now intent on speaking with her. For a moment, the woman thought that maybe she would just stand Callidora up and that would be the complete end of it. But she couldn't do that. For some reason, admitting love and affection made it that much harder to be the cold bitch she favored herself to be.
So the palace physician made a big show of shopping, while all the while drifting in the direction that Callidora had instructed of her.
She had laughed yet she knew Mayet meant well. Afterall, her friend had basically been helping to wrangle her 'brood of terrors' since the day she had given birth to Neferu, and Kahi honestly didn't know what she would've done without her friend. If there was anyone at all she'd trust, she'd trust them in the hands of her friend. "Didn't want to let the boys think punching someone is good." she murmured in an undertone. Afterall, Kahi did her best in ensuring her sons and daughter's learned that violence was never the solution. It was bad enough Tef-Amun would rather climb trees then learn housework at the moment, but she did not need to defend children when one decided to punch the other's eye black in a village.
Turning her head to her husband when Khufu trailed off on the tickets, it seemed to opportune a time for Mayet to turn up with tickets, that her husband's look of relief was too telling. With a promising night ahead of them however, Kahi simply gave a knowing smile mixed with amusement, but let the matter slide. Instead, the woman merely grinned at her friend. "What would we do without you." Kahi murmured gratefully, as they whole troop made their way in.
"In the market, I suppose. They're difficult to miss though." With a huge tent, lights ablazing every night and almost every sound Kahi has ever heard of and more going on, one would have to be blind and deaf to miss this sight that came to Cairo. Cairo was a busy port, but nothing quite like this.
Surprise was evident in her eyes as Mayet spoke of anomalies in the human kind Kahi had only thought came out in stories and fairytales, and it was obvious from the widened eyes of the two boys she held in her hands, that her sons were equally fascinated. Tef-Amun already squirmed in her arms, her earlier foibles forgotten as she whined about her eagerness to find the woman who could fold herself into knots, but Kahi shot her daughter a stern look, just at an angle that allowed her to cacth Khufu's swallowed laughter.
Knowing of her husband's glib tongue (even if she trusted him to not do anything about it, and he's never proven otherwise), Kahi couldn't help but raise a teasing brow at him as they entered the darkened interior. "Something you forgot to tell me, husband?" she asked in amusement, following behind Mayet to find seats for their little entourage.
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She had laughed yet she knew Mayet meant well. Afterall, her friend had basically been helping to wrangle her 'brood of terrors' since the day she had given birth to Neferu, and Kahi honestly didn't know what she would've done without her friend. If there was anyone at all she'd trust, she'd trust them in the hands of her friend. "Didn't want to let the boys think punching someone is good." she murmured in an undertone. Afterall, Kahi did her best in ensuring her sons and daughter's learned that violence was never the solution. It was bad enough Tef-Amun would rather climb trees then learn housework at the moment, but she did not need to defend children when one decided to punch the other's eye black in a village.
Turning her head to her husband when Khufu trailed off on the tickets, it seemed to opportune a time for Mayet to turn up with tickets, that her husband's look of relief was too telling. With a promising night ahead of them however, Kahi simply gave a knowing smile mixed with amusement, but let the matter slide. Instead, the woman merely grinned at her friend. "What would we do without you." Kahi murmured gratefully, as they whole troop made their way in.
"In the market, I suppose. They're difficult to miss though." With a huge tent, lights ablazing every night and almost every sound Kahi has ever heard of and more going on, one would have to be blind and deaf to miss this sight that came to Cairo. Cairo was a busy port, but nothing quite like this.
Surprise was evident in her eyes as Mayet spoke of anomalies in the human kind Kahi had only thought came out in stories and fairytales, and it was obvious from the widened eyes of the two boys she held in her hands, that her sons were equally fascinated. Tef-Amun already squirmed in her arms, her earlier foibles forgotten as she whined about her eagerness to find the woman who could fold herself into knots, but Kahi shot her daughter a stern look, just at an angle that allowed her to cacth Khufu's swallowed laughter.
Knowing of her husband's glib tongue (even if she trusted him to not do anything about it, and he's never proven otherwise), Kahi couldn't help but raise a teasing brow at him as they entered the darkened interior. "Something you forgot to tell me, husband?" she asked in amusement, following behind Mayet to find seats for their little entourage.
She had laughed yet she knew Mayet meant well. Afterall, her friend had basically been helping to wrangle her 'brood of terrors' since the day she had given birth to Neferu, and Kahi honestly didn't know what she would've done without her friend. If there was anyone at all she'd trust, she'd trust them in the hands of her friend. "Didn't want to let the boys think punching someone is good." she murmured in an undertone. Afterall, Kahi did her best in ensuring her sons and daughter's learned that violence was never the solution. It was bad enough Tef-Amun would rather climb trees then learn housework at the moment, but she did not need to defend children when one decided to punch the other's eye black in a village.
Turning her head to her husband when Khufu trailed off on the tickets, it seemed to opportune a time for Mayet to turn up with tickets, that her husband's look of relief was too telling. With a promising night ahead of them however, Kahi simply gave a knowing smile mixed with amusement, but let the matter slide. Instead, the woman merely grinned at her friend. "What would we do without you." Kahi murmured gratefully, as they whole troop made their way in.
"In the market, I suppose. They're difficult to miss though." With a huge tent, lights ablazing every night and almost every sound Kahi has ever heard of and more going on, one would have to be blind and deaf to miss this sight that came to Cairo. Cairo was a busy port, but nothing quite like this.
Surprise was evident in her eyes as Mayet spoke of anomalies in the human kind Kahi had only thought came out in stories and fairytales, and it was obvious from the widened eyes of the two boys she held in her hands, that her sons were equally fascinated. Tef-Amun already squirmed in her arms, her earlier foibles forgotten as she whined about her eagerness to find the woman who could fold herself into knots, but Kahi shot her daughter a stern look, just at an angle that allowed her to cacth Khufu's swallowed laughter.
Knowing of her husband's glib tongue (even if she trusted him to not do anything about it, and he's never proven otherwise), Kahi couldn't help but raise a teasing brow at him as they entered the darkened interior. "Something you forgot to tell me, husband?" she asked in amusement, following behind Mayet to find seats for their little entourage.
Callidora’s heart was in her throat as the allotted twenty minutes passed, smiling and exchanging her wares with the last few stragglers of the day—all the while pretending as if she wasn’t shaking with excitement and nerves alike, dropping a few coins that scattered into the sand below. Get yourself together, Dora, she silently reprimanded herself, stooping down to pick up the errant currency. You’re going to give yourself away before you’ve even spoken a word.
But she could hardly help herself. It had been weeks since the last time she saw Skylla. Weeks of wondering, worrying, hoping that she was still hale and whole. To see her here now, so unexpectedly, was affecting her in ways she hadn’t expected, stirring all manner of anxiety, elation, and even desire. Though she knew it was forbidden, had nearly died for that fact, she couldn’t help the thrill of lust that crept slowly down her spine, warming her core and bringing a dreaminess to her gaze. The way the setting run reflected in the luster of her lover’s gaze, the way it brought out the warmer tones in the otherwise cool depths of her hair, the mouthwatering curve of hip and thigh… by the gods, Dora was only human.
Those twenty minutes seemed to drag on into eternity, watching as the last patrons melted away and towards the show inside. When she could no longer see anyone else milling among the stands and tents, only then did Dora slip away, quietly and surreptitiously behind the circus’s main tent where she had asked Skylla to meet her. It was darker back here, and her eyes struggled to adjust, but once they did, the vision before her stole her breath once more.
“Skylla.” Her name was whispered like a prayer; had anyone told Callidora in that moment that Skylla was a goddess, she would not have hesitated to believe them. The darkness made a mystery of her, dulling her lustrous beauty into something more shadowy and secretive. No less alluring because of it, the merchant’s heart sped up in her chest, thudding loudly enough she was sure anyone within a mile would be able to hear it.
Hesitation had her frozen in place, hand halfway outstretched as if to pull the woman into her grasp. However, with the weeks that had passed between them, she was suddenly unsure that the physician would even welcome her touch. What if that incident had served to separate them forever, not just the temporary absence like they had planned? What if Skylla looked at her and all she could see was the trauma of that night, feel the cold damp of the Pharaoh’s dungeon as they locked fingers through the metal bars that separated them?
Clearing her throat, she dropped her hand, gesturing for the other woman to follow her. “Come on, I know a place we can go that I doubt anyone will find us. The show’s on, but you never know who might stumble back here.” Half a smile was nearly lost in the encroaching darkness, turning her head to assure Skylla drifted after her footsteps. A twisted corner, veering off a path, and they were standing in front of a much smaller tent than most that surrounded it, the faded canvas leaving no hints as to what it concealed.
“In here,” she murmured, opening the flap and ushering Skylla inside before following close behind.
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Callidora’s heart was in her throat as the allotted twenty minutes passed, smiling and exchanging her wares with the last few stragglers of the day—all the while pretending as if she wasn’t shaking with excitement and nerves alike, dropping a few coins that scattered into the sand below. Get yourself together, Dora, she silently reprimanded herself, stooping down to pick up the errant currency. You’re going to give yourself away before you’ve even spoken a word.
But she could hardly help herself. It had been weeks since the last time she saw Skylla. Weeks of wondering, worrying, hoping that she was still hale and whole. To see her here now, so unexpectedly, was affecting her in ways she hadn’t expected, stirring all manner of anxiety, elation, and even desire. Though she knew it was forbidden, had nearly died for that fact, she couldn’t help the thrill of lust that crept slowly down her spine, warming her core and bringing a dreaminess to her gaze. The way the setting run reflected in the luster of her lover’s gaze, the way it brought out the warmer tones in the otherwise cool depths of her hair, the mouthwatering curve of hip and thigh… by the gods, Dora was only human.
Those twenty minutes seemed to drag on into eternity, watching as the last patrons melted away and towards the show inside. When she could no longer see anyone else milling among the stands and tents, only then did Dora slip away, quietly and surreptitiously behind the circus’s main tent where she had asked Skylla to meet her. It was darker back here, and her eyes struggled to adjust, but once they did, the vision before her stole her breath once more.
“Skylla.” Her name was whispered like a prayer; had anyone told Callidora in that moment that Skylla was a goddess, she would not have hesitated to believe them. The darkness made a mystery of her, dulling her lustrous beauty into something more shadowy and secretive. No less alluring because of it, the merchant’s heart sped up in her chest, thudding loudly enough she was sure anyone within a mile would be able to hear it.
Hesitation had her frozen in place, hand halfway outstretched as if to pull the woman into her grasp. However, with the weeks that had passed between them, she was suddenly unsure that the physician would even welcome her touch. What if that incident had served to separate them forever, not just the temporary absence like they had planned? What if Skylla looked at her and all she could see was the trauma of that night, feel the cold damp of the Pharaoh’s dungeon as they locked fingers through the metal bars that separated them?
Clearing her throat, she dropped her hand, gesturing for the other woman to follow her. “Come on, I know a place we can go that I doubt anyone will find us. The show’s on, but you never know who might stumble back here.” Half a smile was nearly lost in the encroaching darkness, turning her head to assure Skylla drifted after her footsteps. A twisted corner, veering off a path, and they were standing in front of a much smaller tent than most that surrounded it, the faded canvas leaving no hints as to what it concealed.
“In here,” she murmured, opening the flap and ushering Skylla inside before following close behind.
Callidora’s heart was in her throat as the allotted twenty minutes passed, smiling and exchanging her wares with the last few stragglers of the day—all the while pretending as if she wasn’t shaking with excitement and nerves alike, dropping a few coins that scattered into the sand below. Get yourself together, Dora, she silently reprimanded herself, stooping down to pick up the errant currency. You’re going to give yourself away before you’ve even spoken a word.
But she could hardly help herself. It had been weeks since the last time she saw Skylla. Weeks of wondering, worrying, hoping that she was still hale and whole. To see her here now, so unexpectedly, was affecting her in ways she hadn’t expected, stirring all manner of anxiety, elation, and even desire. Though she knew it was forbidden, had nearly died for that fact, she couldn’t help the thrill of lust that crept slowly down her spine, warming her core and bringing a dreaminess to her gaze. The way the setting run reflected in the luster of her lover’s gaze, the way it brought out the warmer tones in the otherwise cool depths of her hair, the mouthwatering curve of hip and thigh… by the gods, Dora was only human.
Those twenty minutes seemed to drag on into eternity, watching as the last patrons melted away and towards the show inside. When she could no longer see anyone else milling among the stands and tents, only then did Dora slip away, quietly and surreptitiously behind the circus’s main tent where she had asked Skylla to meet her. It was darker back here, and her eyes struggled to adjust, but once they did, the vision before her stole her breath once more.
“Skylla.” Her name was whispered like a prayer; had anyone told Callidora in that moment that Skylla was a goddess, she would not have hesitated to believe them. The darkness made a mystery of her, dulling her lustrous beauty into something more shadowy and secretive. No less alluring because of it, the merchant’s heart sped up in her chest, thudding loudly enough she was sure anyone within a mile would be able to hear it.
Hesitation had her frozen in place, hand halfway outstretched as if to pull the woman into her grasp. However, with the weeks that had passed between them, she was suddenly unsure that the physician would even welcome her touch. What if that incident had served to separate them forever, not just the temporary absence like they had planned? What if Skylla looked at her and all she could see was the trauma of that night, feel the cold damp of the Pharaoh’s dungeon as they locked fingers through the metal bars that separated them?
Clearing her throat, she dropped her hand, gesturing for the other woman to follow her. “Come on, I know a place we can go that I doubt anyone will find us. The show’s on, but you never know who might stumble back here.” Half a smile was nearly lost in the encroaching darkness, turning her head to assure Skylla drifted after her footsteps. A twisted corner, veering off a path, and they were standing in front of a much smaller tent than most that surrounded it, the faded canvas leaving no hints as to what it concealed.
“In here,” she murmured, opening the flap and ushering Skylla inside before following close behind.
Nia was positively elated as she settled into the crowd that so eagerly waited for the show to begin. It was not the first time she had been to the circus; after meeting Kesi several years previously, she had been granted special access behind the scenes of the show, able to observe the various performers and how they prepared for their acts. The first time she had seen the finished show they had put together was like magic, the costumes, the paints, the performances, the fire… it all came together into something almost otherworldly, an experience she had never forgotten even in the hazy years of substance abuse that followed.
It was no less magical now for seeing it again; after all, it was never the same show twice. They were always incorporating new acts, new performers, new spectacles in order to keep their audiences engaged. And engaged she was, her eyes widening in excitement as she stood on her toes to gain a better view of the ringmaster. His appearance and announcement brought the show to a beginning, and from the moment the first drums beat, she was utterly entranced.
Her brother was forgotten at her side as the enraptured noblewomen watched the fire dancer and juggler’s collaboration in wide-eyed amazement. She oohed and ahhed and gasped with the rest of the crowd, her hands clasped and wrung in delight as the pair wove their intricate and dangerous dance. If Nia could have started her life over in a different place and time, she would’ve loved to have done such things, to perform such feats of daring skill and preen as the crowd around her fawned in adoration. What a thrill it must be, to hold so many people so firmly within your grasp, to keep their gazes on you as you presented them with the act you had honed for so many weeks to utter perfection. Her next sigh was a wistful one, dark gaze softening as she watched the almost erotic give and take of the performers, the intimate exchange that had them all captivated. Perhaps one day she would have the chance at such ecstatic freedom, where all that mattered was the applause…
Cheers and applause roared through the tent as the pair completed their act, Nia’s as loud and enthusiastic as anyone else’s. Delia and Zein melted away as the ringmaster reappeared, announcing that the show was to begin in earnest—a broad smile suffusing her features. If that act had only been a warm-up, what other wonders and curiosities were set to come? Whatever it was, the noblewoman awaited it with anticipation, watching with bated breath for the next performers to arrive…
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Nia was positively elated as she settled into the crowd that so eagerly waited for the show to begin. It was not the first time she had been to the circus; after meeting Kesi several years previously, she had been granted special access behind the scenes of the show, able to observe the various performers and how they prepared for their acts. The first time she had seen the finished show they had put together was like magic, the costumes, the paints, the performances, the fire… it all came together into something almost otherworldly, an experience she had never forgotten even in the hazy years of substance abuse that followed.
It was no less magical now for seeing it again; after all, it was never the same show twice. They were always incorporating new acts, new performers, new spectacles in order to keep their audiences engaged. And engaged she was, her eyes widening in excitement as she stood on her toes to gain a better view of the ringmaster. His appearance and announcement brought the show to a beginning, and from the moment the first drums beat, she was utterly entranced.
Her brother was forgotten at her side as the enraptured noblewomen watched the fire dancer and juggler’s collaboration in wide-eyed amazement. She oohed and ahhed and gasped with the rest of the crowd, her hands clasped and wrung in delight as the pair wove their intricate and dangerous dance. If Nia could have started her life over in a different place and time, she would’ve loved to have done such things, to perform such feats of daring skill and preen as the crowd around her fawned in adoration. What a thrill it must be, to hold so many people so firmly within your grasp, to keep their gazes on you as you presented them with the act you had honed for so many weeks to utter perfection. Her next sigh was a wistful one, dark gaze softening as she watched the almost erotic give and take of the performers, the intimate exchange that had them all captivated. Perhaps one day she would have the chance at such ecstatic freedom, where all that mattered was the applause…
Cheers and applause roared through the tent as the pair completed their act, Nia’s as loud and enthusiastic as anyone else’s. Delia and Zein melted away as the ringmaster reappeared, announcing that the show was to begin in earnest—a broad smile suffusing her features. If that act had only been a warm-up, what other wonders and curiosities were set to come? Whatever it was, the noblewoman awaited it with anticipation, watching with bated breath for the next performers to arrive…
Nia was positively elated as she settled into the crowd that so eagerly waited for the show to begin. It was not the first time she had been to the circus; after meeting Kesi several years previously, she had been granted special access behind the scenes of the show, able to observe the various performers and how they prepared for their acts. The first time she had seen the finished show they had put together was like magic, the costumes, the paints, the performances, the fire… it all came together into something almost otherworldly, an experience she had never forgotten even in the hazy years of substance abuse that followed.
It was no less magical now for seeing it again; after all, it was never the same show twice. They were always incorporating new acts, new performers, new spectacles in order to keep their audiences engaged. And engaged she was, her eyes widening in excitement as she stood on her toes to gain a better view of the ringmaster. His appearance and announcement brought the show to a beginning, and from the moment the first drums beat, she was utterly entranced.
Her brother was forgotten at her side as the enraptured noblewomen watched the fire dancer and juggler’s collaboration in wide-eyed amazement. She oohed and ahhed and gasped with the rest of the crowd, her hands clasped and wrung in delight as the pair wove their intricate and dangerous dance. If Nia could have started her life over in a different place and time, she would’ve loved to have done such things, to perform such feats of daring skill and preen as the crowd around her fawned in adoration. What a thrill it must be, to hold so many people so firmly within your grasp, to keep their gazes on you as you presented them with the act you had honed for so many weeks to utter perfection. Her next sigh was a wistful one, dark gaze softening as she watched the almost erotic give and take of the performers, the intimate exchange that had them all captivated. Perhaps one day she would have the chance at such ecstatic freedom, where all that mattered was the applause…
Cheers and applause roared through the tent as the pair completed their act, Nia’s as loud and enthusiastic as anyone else’s. Delia and Zein melted away as the ringmaster reappeared, announcing that the show was to begin in earnest—a broad smile suffusing her features. If that act had only been a warm-up, what other wonders and curiosities were set to come? Whatever it was, the noblewoman awaited it with anticipation, watching with bated breath for the next performers to arrive…
Eventually, the first flaming sword was handed to Zein, and the hoops were discarded for the moment. Delia danced, claiming a lit rope-dart from someone in the shadows, twirling hoops of fire as she twirled, carelessly, aimlessly. She was one with the flames, and they were one with her.
@zein threw the first sword, and she caught it in her free hand, stumbling for a moment, the burning rope-dart pressing briefly to her painted hip, as she lowered to the ground. The look on her face was one of hurt, as she lashed out at Zein with the sword he’d thrown, missing him by just a hair.
She turned and sauntered away from Zein, toward the audience, sword in one hand, rope-dart creating shapes in the darkened arena as she walked. It was almost a menacing gait, begging Zein to chase her down. The story was unfolding.
The movement of the rope-dart was rapid, harsh, no longer a fluid and calm twist of the wrist. With her back turned to him, she tossed the sword, flinging it as hard as she could over her shoulder.
They were fighting. The same routine--new lovers, a fight, he’d win her heart, and she’d dance with him again. It was a dance like the fire they used; irrational, unable to be tamed, unable to be controlled. It was thrilling, angry; it was hot.
In every sense of the word. She brought the rope-dart close to her body, as she circled Zein, dark eyes narrowed, watching him from afar. She threw her arm out towards him, and the lit end of the rope-dart would come near to his face, but not touch him—anger, anger, and hatred at the moment.
And as a hoop was handed to him, lit with the same flames they were currently playing with, she smirked and turned her back to it. ‘No,’ she seemed to be saying. As the hoop was tossed towards her, she extended her arm, empty palm upwards, and began to twirl the circle around her arm, high above her head. Eventually, she was directing the lit hoop down her body in sensual movements.
‘Win me back,’ her body language suggested, as she switched the rope-dart to her other hand, catching the hoop as she stepped out of it, and flinging it back to him.
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Eventually, the first flaming sword was handed to Zein, and the hoops were discarded for the moment. Delia danced, claiming a lit rope-dart from someone in the shadows, twirling hoops of fire as she twirled, carelessly, aimlessly. She was one with the flames, and they were one with her.
@zein threw the first sword, and she caught it in her free hand, stumbling for a moment, the burning rope-dart pressing briefly to her painted hip, as she lowered to the ground. The look on her face was one of hurt, as she lashed out at Zein with the sword he’d thrown, missing him by just a hair.
She turned and sauntered away from Zein, toward the audience, sword in one hand, rope-dart creating shapes in the darkened arena as she walked. It was almost a menacing gait, begging Zein to chase her down. The story was unfolding.
The movement of the rope-dart was rapid, harsh, no longer a fluid and calm twist of the wrist. With her back turned to him, she tossed the sword, flinging it as hard as she could over her shoulder.
They were fighting. The same routine--new lovers, a fight, he’d win her heart, and she’d dance with him again. It was a dance like the fire they used; irrational, unable to be tamed, unable to be controlled. It was thrilling, angry; it was hot.
In every sense of the word. She brought the rope-dart close to her body, as she circled Zein, dark eyes narrowed, watching him from afar. She threw her arm out towards him, and the lit end of the rope-dart would come near to his face, but not touch him—anger, anger, and hatred at the moment.
And as a hoop was handed to him, lit with the same flames they were currently playing with, she smirked and turned her back to it. ‘No,’ she seemed to be saying. As the hoop was tossed towards her, she extended her arm, empty palm upwards, and began to twirl the circle around her arm, high above her head. Eventually, she was directing the lit hoop down her body in sensual movements.
‘Win me back,’ her body language suggested, as she switched the rope-dart to her other hand, catching the hoop as she stepped out of it, and flinging it back to him.
Eventually, the first flaming sword was handed to Zein, and the hoops were discarded for the moment. Delia danced, claiming a lit rope-dart from someone in the shadows, twirling hoops of fire as she twirled, carelessly, aimlessly. She was one with the flames, and they were one with her.
@zein threw the first sword, and she caught it in her free hand, stumbling for a moment, the burning rope-dart pressing briefly to her painted hip, as she lowered to the ground. The look on her face was one of hurt, as she lashed out at Zein with the sword he’d thrown, missing him by just a hair.
She turned and sauntered away from Zein, toward the audience, sword in one hand, rope-dart creating shapes in the darkened arena as she walked. It was almost a menacing gait, begging Zein to chase her down. The story was unfolding.
The movement of the rope-dart was rapid, harsh, no longer a fluid and calm twist of the wrist. With her back turned to him, she tossed the sword, flinging it as hard as she could over her shoulder.
They were fighting. The same routine--new lovers, a fight, he’d win her heart, and she’d dance with him again. It was a dance like the fire they used; irrational, unable to be tamed, unable to be controlled. It was thrilling, angry; it was hot.
In every sense of the word. She brought the rope-dart close to her body, as she circled Zein, dark eyes narrowed, watching him from afar. She threw her arm out towards him, and the lit end of the rope-dart would come near to his face, but not touch him—anger, anger, and hatred at the moment.
And as a hoop was handed to him, lit with the same flames they were currently playing with, she smirked and turned her back to it. ‘No,’ she seemed to be saying. As the hoop was tossed towards her, she extended her arm, empty palm upwards, and began to twirl the circle around her arm, high above her head. Eventually, she was directing the lit hoop down her body in sensual movements.
‘Win me back,’ her body language suggested, as she switched the rope-dart to her other hand, catching the hoop as she stepped out of it, and flinging it back to him.
This performance was as old as time, but something Zein enjoyed immensely. He loved his chemistry with Delia, for all it was manufactured for the stage. In fact, were it real, it likely would have scared him away. Zein was not one for something serious. At least romantically. This performance and commitment was about as serious as he got. His surprised and concerned reaction felt natural when she feigned hurt. Of course, he was always concerned he might actually hurt Delia when throwing flaming swords her way, but she was capable enough to manage on her own.
As they moved around the ring, Zein caught sight of Miri watching from the sidelines and he gave her a wink. He still hadn’t quite figured the girl out, but enjoyed their awkward interactions. He was glad to see she was watching the show, though Amenemhat likely wouldn’t be as pleased. Their ringmaster hated idle hands. At least during a show.
The juggler focused back on their performance, knowing that if he didn’t pay special attention he was about to get whipped in the face. He looked at the right time for the rope came as close to him as it could, startling a gasp from the audience. Zein grinned at the challenge that was suddenly posed. It was as if her anger couldn’t dissuade him. If anything, it encouraged him. It made him want to be close to her, to be her lover.
Sometimes he wished his performances weren’t so clever. As they moved about, Zein’s eyes roamed past many women that were interesting to him. Of course, he couldn’t have an eye for them while on stage--what would that say about their performance? However, when approached later, they often didn’t say no.
It was time to be more enticing. Win her back. Zein looked to where Nem would be standing on the side, out of sight from most. He was ready for his next move. When he made eye contact with the ringmaster, Zein nodded slightly, indicating that he was ready. Throwing his sword to the ground as if frustrated, Zein looked dejected for a moment before Nem threw flaming torches his way. Catching them easily, Zein looked to Delia, who had now rolled a hoop in his direction. He lit it on fire casually, watching as the flames made a perfect circle on the ring.
Come to me, he seemed to be saying. I am your fire. I am your light. It was the perfect challenge. Zein took a step forward before flinging the flaming hoop in her direction. She would jump through, moving ever closer in his direction.
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This performance was as old as time, but something Zein enjoyed immensely. He loved his chemistry with Delia, for all it was manufactured for the stage. In fact, were it real, it likely would have scared him away. Zein was not one for something serious. At least romantically. This performance and commitment was about as serious as he got. His surprised and concerned reaction felt natural when she feigned hurt. Of course, he was always concerned he might actually hurt Delia when throwing flaming swords her way, but she was capable enough to manage on her own.
As they moved around the ring, Zein caught sight of Miri watching from the sidelines and he gave her a wink. He still hadn’t quite figured the girl out, but enjoyed their awkward interactions. He was glad to see she was watching the show, though Amenemhat likely wouldn’t be as pleased. Their ringmaster hated idle hands. At least during a show.
The juggler focused back on their performance, knowing that if he didn’t pay special attention he was about to get whipped in the face. He looked at the right time for the rope came as close to him as it could, startling a gasp from the audience. Zein grinned at the challenge that was suddenly posed. It was as if her anger couldn’t dissuade him. If anything, it encouraged him. It made him want to be close to her, to be her lover.
Sometimes he wished his performances weren’t so clever. As they moved about, Zein’s eyes roamed past many women that were interesting to him. Of course, he couldn’t have an eye for them while on stage--what would that say about their performance? However, when approached later, they often didn’t say no.
It was time to be more enticing. Win her back. Zein looked to where Nem would be standing on the side, out of sight from most. He was ready for his next move. When he made eye contact with the ringmaster, Zein nodded slightly, indicating that he was ready. Throwing his sword to the ground as if frustrated, Zein looked dejected for a moment before Nem threw flaming torches his way. Catching them easily, Zein looked to Delia, who had now rolled a hoop in his direction. He lit it on fire casually, watching as the flames made a perfect circle on the ring.
Come to me, he seemed to be saying. I am your fire. I am your light. It was the perfect challenge. Zein took a step forward before flinging the flaming hoop in her direction. She would jump through, moving ever closer in his direction.
This performance was as old as time, but something Zein enjoyed immensely. He loved his chemistry with Delia, for all it was manufactured for the stage. In fact, were it real, it likely would have scared him away. Zein was not one for something serious. At least romantically. This performance and commitment was about as serious as he got. His surprised and concerned reaction felt natural when she feigned hurt. Of course, he was always concerned he might actually hurt Delia when throwing flaming swords her way, but she was capable enough to manage on her own.
As they moved around the ring, Zein caught sight of Miri watching from the sidelines and he gave her a wink. He still hadn’t quite figured the girl out, but enjoyed their awkward interactions. He was glad to see she was watching the show, though Amenemhat likely wouldn’t be as pleased. Their ringmaster hated idle hands. At least during a show.
The juggler focused back on their performance, knowing that if he didn’t pay special attention he was about to get whipped in the face. He looked at the right time for the rope came as close to him as it could, startling a gasp from the audience. Zein grinned at the challenge that was suddenly posed. It was as if her anger couldn’t dissuade him. If anything, it encouraged him. It made him want to be close to her, to be her lover.
Sometimes he wished his performances weren’t so clever. As they moved about, Zein’s eyes roamed past many women that were interesting to him. Of course, he couldn’t have an eye for them while on stage--what would that say about their performance? However, when approached later, they often didn’t say no.
It was time to be more enticing. Win her back. Zein looked to where Nem would be standing on the side, out of sight from most. He was ready for his next move. When he made eye contact with the ringmaster, Zein nodded slightly, indicating that he was ready. Throwing his sword to the ground as if frustrated, Zein looked dejected for a moment before Nem threw flaming torches his way. Catching them easily, Zein looked to Delia, who had now rolled a hoop in his direction. He lit it on fire casually, watching as the flames made a perfect circle on the ring.
Come to me, he seemed to be saying. I am your fire. I am your light. It was the perfect challenge. Zein took a step forward before flinging the flaming hoop in her direction. She would jump through, moving ever closer in his direction.
Safiya was not sure if her eyes could ever get any bigger than they were right now. This wasn't the first time that she had seen these kinds of entertainments and what the human body could end up being capable of when it was properly trained and the practising was allowed as well as regularly carried out.
"Did you ever think that something like... " she had to pause as something else pulled her attention away from her sister once more. Safiya wasn't intending to become distracted by it still happened, even with the very best of her intentions to the contrary in this particular moment but at the very least she also wanted to see everything. If that was at all possible or an actual achievable goal. She might need to temper her desires as well as her own drive to slip off and chase the next bright piece of fabric or fetching piece of music.
That was why she wanted to be able to hold onto her sister as Sameera was more than capable of making sure that she didn't end up becoming distracted or otherwise end up wandering off with someone that she really shouldn't.
Glancing at her twin and grinning "This was a fantastic idea, right?" she asked, not nededing the answers but speaking just the same.
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Safiya was not sure if her eyes could ever get any bigger than they were right now. This wasn't the first time that she had seen these kinds of entertainments and what the human body could end up being capable of when it was properly trained and the practising was allowed as well as regularly carried out.
"Did you ever think that something like... " she had to pause as something else pulled her attention away from her sister once more. Safiya wasn't intending to become distracted by it still happened, even with the very best of her intentions to the contrary in this particular moment but at the very least she also wanted to see everything. If that was at all possible or an actual achievable goal. She might need to temper her desires as well as her own drive to slip off and chase the next bright piece of fabric or fetching piece of music.
That was why she wanted to be able to hold onto her sister as Sameera was more than capable of making sure that she didn't end up becoming distracted or otherwise end up wandering off with someone that she really shouldn't.
Glancing at her twin and grinning "This was a fantastic idea, right?" she asked, not nededing the answers but speaking just the same.
Safiya was not sure if her eyes could ever get any bigger than they were right now. This wasn't the first time that she had seen these kinds of entertainments and what the human body could end up being capable of when it was properly trained and the practising was allowed as well as regularly carried out.
"Did you ever think that something like... " she had to pause as something else pulled her attention away from her sister once more. Safiya wasn't intending to become distracted by it still happened, even with the very best of her intentions to the contrary in this particular moment but at the very least she also wanted to see everything. If that was at all possible or an actual achievable goal. She might need to temper her desires as well as her own drive to slip off and chase the next bright piece of fabric or fetching piece of music.
That was why she wanted to be able to hold onto her sister as Sameera was more than capable of making sure that she didn't end up becoming distracted or otherwise end up wandering off with someone that she really shouldn't.
Glancing at her twin and grinning "This was a fantastic idea, right?" she asked, not nededing the answers but speaking just the same.
