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Hasani found himself crossing his arms firmly against his chest, nodding casually through Jawahir's assertion that she was okay. He was good with names and faces, thus he did remember her from the border trade a few years before. She had grown more into herself, pretty and a true woman now. It pleased him to see the healthy growth of the other tribes. It meant that the sands had not been too harsh nor the ancestors unkind in their guidance.
"I am pleased to know that I have not harmed your health, Jawahir of the Rwandi," Hasani greeted with a careful ease. She was pretty, and maybe if he had not been so stung from his last wife he might have considered taking another. But for now, he was content with Tanishe. The one woman who had seemed entirely destined and fated to him. A small smile lit his lips at her clear difficulty in recognizing him. He did not mind, most people did not have a mind for remembering people or small meetings.
"Leier Hasani of the Zaire. Hasani," Hasani corrected Jawahir with a polite smile. He did not like the titles that were often thrown his direction. Often, people seemed to find more and more to add on to a leier's name. That alone seemed to accentuate the pressure that Hasani felt. Thus, he preferred to simply be called his name and nothing more if he had his way. "I think the storm shall last a fortnight at most, and then all of us will be on our way," Hasani then admitted, giving her a slow nod.
It was then that Mwenye walked up with a waterskin. Lifting an eyebrow at the other man's clear lack of respect or awareness of who the leier was speaking to, Hasani still gratefully took the skin from him, taking a deep drink. "How did the trip treat you, Mwenye? Did your camel kick you square in the ass?" he asked, though it sounded strange coming out so calm and easy. No hint of the actual irritation that he felt. He was exhausted and it didn't matter that Mwenye was his friend and a prophet.
"I was just gauging the young Jawahir's health," Hasani said calmly, starting to excuse himself from the conversation. "I seem to recall that you two have met each other once before," Hasani suddenly felt in better spirits, the water having quenched much of his thirst and given him a second wind. Before long, he would need to search for his leieren, but for now, he would remain and pray that nothing else crass or otherwise rude would leave Mwenye's mouth in the next few minutes
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Hasani found himself crossing his arms firmly against his chest, nodding casually through Jawahir's assertion that she was okay. He was good with names and faces, thus he did remember her from the border trade a few years before. She had grown more into herself, pretty and a true woman now. It pleased him to see the healthy growth of the other tribes. It meant that the sands had not been too harsh nor the ancestors unkind in their guidance.
"I am pleased to know that I have not harmed your health, Jawahir of the Rwandi," Hasani greeted with a careful ease. She was pretty, and maybe if he had not been so stung from his last wife he might have considered taking another. But for now, he was content with Tanishe. The one woman who had seemed entirely destined and fated to him. A small smile lit his lips at her clear difficulty in recognizing him. He did not mind, most people did not have a mind for remembering people or small meetings.
"Leier Hasani of the Zaire. Hasani," Hasani corrected Jawahir with a polite smile. He did not like the titles that were often thrown his direction. Often, people seemed to find more and more to add on to a leier's name. That alone seemed to accentuate the pressure that Hasani felt. Thus, he preferred to simply be called his name and nothing more if he had his way. "I think the storm shall last a fortnight at most, and then all of us will be on our way," Hasani then admitted, giving her a slow nod.
It was then that Mwenye walked up with a waterskin. Lifting an eyebrow at the other man's clear lack of respect or awareness of who the leier was speaking to, Hasani still gratefully took the skin from him, taking a deep drink. "How did the trip treat you, Mwenye? Did your camel kick you square in the ass?" he asked, though it sounded strange coming out so calm and easy. No hint of the actual irritation that he felt. He was exhausted and it didn't matter that Mwenye was his friend and a prophet.
"I was just gauging the young Jawahir's health," Hasani said calmly, starting to excuse himself from the conversation. "I seem to recall that you two have met each other once before," Hasani suddenly felt in better spirits, the water having quenched much of his thirst and given him a second wind. Before long, he would need to search for his leieren, but for now, he would remain and pray that nothing else crass or otherwise rude would leave Mwenye's mouth in the next few minutes
Hasani found himself crossing his arms firmly against his chest, nodding casually through Jawahir's assertion that she was okay. He was good with names and faces, thus he did remember her from the border trade a few years before. She had grown more into herself, pretty and a true woman now. It pleased him to see the healthy growth of the other tribes. It meant that the sands had not been too harsh nor the ancestors unkind in their guidance.
"I am pleased to know that I have not harmed your health, Jawahir of the Rwandi," Hasani greeted with a careful ease. She was pretty, and maybe if he had not been so stung from his last wife he might have considered taking another. But for now, he was content with Tanishe. The one woman who had seemed entirely destined and fated to him. A small smile lit his lips at her clear difficulty in recognizing him. He did not mind, most people did not have a mind for remembering people or small meetings.
"Leier Hasani of the Zaire. Hasani," Hasani corrected Jawahir with a polite smile. He did not like the titles that were often thrown his direction. Often, people seemed to find more and more to add on to a leier's name. That alone seemed to accentuate the pressure that Hasani felt. Thus, he preferred to simply be called his name and nothing more if he had his way. "I think the storm shall last a fortnight at most, and then all of us will be on our way," Hasani then admitted, giving her a slow nod.
It was then that Mwenye walked up with a waterskin. Lifting an eyebrow at the other man's clear lack of respect or awareness of who the leier was speaking to, Hasani still gratefully took the skin from him, taking a deep drink. "How did the trip treat you, Mwenye? Did your camel kick you square in the ass?" he asked, though it sounded strange coming out so calm and easy. No hint of the actual irritation that he felt. He was exhausted and it didn't matter that Mwenye was his friend and a prophet.
"I was just gauging the young Jawahir's health," Hasani said calmly, starting to excuse himself from the conversation. "I seem to recall that you two have met each other once before," Hasani suddenly felt in better spirits, the water having quenched much of his thirst and given him a second wind. Before long, he would need to search for his leieren, but for now, he would remain and pray that nothing else crass or otherwise rude would leave Mwenye's mouth in the next few minutes
He nodded as she pointed at herself, repeating her name and then doing the same to him. They seemed to at least understand each other with that. If only they understood what they were trying to get at with the rest of the conversation, because as it stood, he had no idea what she was doing or where she was trying to lead him.
Saro laughed a little as the kids seemed to swarm him, he actually loved kids, their uninhibited energy and joy was a refreshing thing when he dealt with worn down pirates most of his time. Before they were shooed away by Tanishe, he slipped a few beaded bracelets from around his wrist, they were of no worth, some cheap decorative thing he had picked up some where many miles from here. He held them out for the children, letting them each take one, he slipped the remaining bracelet on as they hurried off and he continued to follow his companion.
He stopped as she spoke and pointed to the ground, figuring he got the right message when she asked him to stay where he was. He was confused further, wondering what she was doing. She came out and laid out some stuff on the ground. It looked like... an outfit? Was she trying to get him to change what he wore? He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in most places, especially considering there were few places that pants were worn, but he didn’t think it was a big enough issue that he would need to change.
He furrowed his eyebrows and look at her, shaking his head. He motioned to what he currently wore.
“I will stick with what I wear now.” He said, there was no way he was going to put that dress looking piece of clothing on. And the beads? Did she think him a woman? There was no way, he knew his hair was long, but there was nothing else womanly about him. Clearly something had gone very wrong in their communication.
She pointed to her things, and then his tent and back to her things, and it suddenly dawned on him what she thought was happening. She thought he meant to trade his tent, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little, and shake his head at her. He didn’t know how else to get his message across, so he tried a different tactic, wondering if she would get it.
“Does anyone speak.. Uhmm..” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out what words she might know.
“Egypt?” He said, hoping she knew where that was considering they shared a border land.
“Anyone... speak the tongue of Egypt?” He asked, motioning to the camp around them, putting emphasis on the word Egypt, praying to Gods he didn’t believe in that she would get what he was trying to say and take him to someone who spoke a language he could understand.
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He nodded as she pointed at herself, repeating her name and then doing the same to him. They seemed to at least understand each other with that. If only they understood what they were trying to get at with the rest of the conversation, because as it stood, he had no idea what she was doing or where she was trying to lead him.
Saro laughed a little as the kids seemed to swarm him, he actually loved kids, their uninhibited energy and joy was a refreshing thing when he dealt with worn down pirates most of his time. Before they were shooed away by Tanishe, he slipped a few beaded bracelets from around his wrist, they were of no worth, some cheap decorative thing he had picked up some where many miles from here. He held them out for the children, letting them each take one, he slipped the remaining bracelet on as they hurried off and he continued to follow his companion.
He stopped as she spoke and pointed to the ground, figuring he got the right message when she asked him to stay where he was. He was confused further, wondering what she was doing. She came out and laid out some stuff on the ground. It looked like... an outfit? Was she trying to get him to change what he wore? He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in most places, especially considering there were few places that pants were worn, but he didn’t think it was a big enough issue that he would need to change.
He furrowed his eyebrows and look at her, shaking his head. He motioned to what he currently wore.
“I will stick with what I wear now.” He said, there was no way he was going to put that dress looking piece of clothing on. And the beads? Did she think him a woman? There was no way, he knew his hair was long, but there was nothing else womanly about him. Clearly something had gone very wrong in their communication.
She pointed to her things, and then his tent and back to her things, and it suddenly dawned on him what she thought was happening. She thought he meant to trade his tent, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little, and shake his head at her. He didn’t know how else to get his message across, so he tried a different tactic, wondering if she would get it.
“Does anyone speak.. Uhmm..” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out what words she might know.
“Egypt?” He said, hoping she knew where that was considering they shared a border land.
“Anyone... speak the tongue of Egypt?” He asked, motioning to the camp around them, putting emphasis on the word Egypt, praying to Gods he didn’t believe in that she would get what he was trying to say and take him to someone who spoke a language he could understand.
He nodded as she pointed at herself, repeating her name and then doing the same to him. They seemed to at least understand each other with that. If only they understood what they were trying to get at with the rest of the conversation, because as it stood, he had no idea what she was doing or where she was trying to lead him.
Saro laughed a little as the kids seemed to swarm him, he actually loved kids, their uninhibited energy and joy was a refreshing thing when he dealt with worn down pirates most of his time. Before they were shooed away by Tanishe, he slipped a few beaded bracelets from around his wrist, they were of no worth, some cheap decorative thing he had picked up some where many miles from here. He held them out for the children, letting them each take one, he slipped the remaining bracelet on as they hurried off and he continued to follow his companion.
He stopped as she spoke and pointed to the ground, figuring he got the right message when she asked him to stay where he was. He was confused further, wondering what she was doing. She came out and laid out some stuff on the ground. It looked like... an outfit? Was she trying to get him to change what he wore? He knew he stuck out like a sore thumb in most places, especially considering there were few places that pants were worn, but he didn’t think it was a big enough issue that he would need to change.
He furrowed his eyebrows and look at her, shaking his head. He motioned to what he currently wore.
“I will stick with what I wear now.” He said, there was no way he was going to put that dress looking piece of clothing on. And the beads? Did she think him a woman? There was no way, he knew his hair was long, but there was nothing else womanly about him. Clearly something had gone very wrong in their communication.
She pointed to her things, and then his tent and back to her things, and it suddenly dawned on him what she thought was happening. She thought he meant to trade his tent, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little, and shake his head at her. He didn’t know how else to get his message across, so he tried a different tactic, wondering if she would get it.
“Does anyone speak.. Uhmm..” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, trying to figure out what words she might know.
“Egypt?” He said, hoping she knew where that was considering they shared a border land.
“Anyone... speak the tongue of Egypt?” He asked, motioning to the camp around them, putting emphasis on the word Egypt, praying to Gods he didn’t believe in that she would get what he was trying to say and take him to someone who spoke a language he could understand.
"Surprised she didn't, honestly." Mwenye answered absently to the question about his camel kicking him. "That's the problem with the smart ones. They get opinionated." He chuckled, not considering that to actually be a serious problem. He'd take an ornery camel over a stupid one any day.
He was tired, too, and didn't immediately register that he was being scolded - or that his words could very equally apply to certain humans under discussion, too. Oops.
"Ah," he commented uncertainly at the half-introduction. "Please excuse my exhaustion, Jawahir - I don't recall at the moment." The name did sound nigglingly familiar, though. Jawahir...
Jawahir of the Rwandi someone prompted.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Mwenye murmured, then directly to her, "Jawahir of the Rwandi, is that right?" Despite the trivia that had bubbled up from his subconscious, the actual memory was still struggling to surface. It definitely hadn't been on any of the very few occasions he'd spoken to the Rwandi's Leier or warriors, so it must have been a chance encounter on some a trading day. Oh, yes. "Mm, at the Eastern border a while back, was it?" If he was wrong, he'd just made a very big fool of himself. If he was right, he needed to pay attention to this woman.
Actually... if he was right, he'd just made a fool of himself. Daughter of the Leier, and he'd gone and left his manners somewhere near the camel-pen. No wonder Hasani was hoping he'd get himself kicked! Ah well, what was done was done, and could not be undone. Nothing left but to find out the consequences.
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"Surprised she didn't, honestly." Mwenye answered absently to the question about his camel kicking him. "That's the problem with the smart ones. They get opinionated." He chuckled, not considering that to actually be a serious problem. He'd take an ornery camel over a stupid one any day.
He was tired, too, and didn't immediately register that he was being scolded - or that his words could very equally apply to certain humans under discussion, too. Oops.
"Ah," he commented uncertainly at the half-introduction. "Please excuse my exhaustion, Jawahir - I don't recall at the moment." The name did sound nigglingly familiar, though. Jawahir...
Jawahir of the Rwandi someone prompted.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Mwenye murmured, then directly to her, "Jawahir of the Rwandi, is that right?" Despite the trivia that had bubbled up from his subconscious, the actual memory was still struggling to surface. It definitely hadn't been on any of the very few occasions he'd spoken to the Rwandi's Leier or warriors, so it must have been a chance encounter on some a trading day. Oh, yes. "Mm, at the Eastern border a while back, was it?" If he was wrong, he'd just made a very big fool of himself. If he was right, he needed to pay attention to this woman.
Actually... if he was right, he'd just made a fool of himself. Daughter of the Leier, and he'd gone and left his manners somewhere near the camel-pen. No wonder Hasani was hoping he'd get himself kicked! Ah well, what was done was done, and could not be undone. Nothing left but to find out the consequences.
"Surprised she didn't, honestly." Mwenye answered absently to the question about his camel kicking him. "That's the problem with the smart ones. They get opinionated." He chuckled, not considering that to actually be a serious problem. He'd take an ornery camel over a stupid one any day.
He was tired, too, and didn't immediately register that he was being scolded - or that his words could very equally apply to certain humans under discussion, too. Oops.
"Ah," he commented uncertainly at the half-introduction. "Please excuse my exhaustion, Jawahir - I don't recall at the moment." The name did sound nigglingly familiar, though. Jawahir...
Jawahir of the Rwandi someone prompted.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Mwenye murmured, then directly to her, "Jawahir of the Rwandi, is that right?" Despite the trivia that had bubbled up from his subconscious, the actual memory was still struggling to surface. It definitely hadn't been on any of the very few occasions he'd spoken to the Rwandi's Leier or warriors, so it must have been a chance encounter on some a trading day. Oh, yes. "Mm, at the Eastern border a while back, was it?" If he was wrong, he'd just made a very big fool of himself. If he was right, he needed to pay attention to this woman.
Actually... if he was right, he'd just made a fool of himself. Daughter of the Leier, and he'd gone and left his manners somewhere near the camel-pen. No wonder Hasani was hoping he'd get himself kicked! Ah well, what was done was done, and could not be undone. Nothing left but to find out the consequences.
When she knelt down, her things arrayed for him to sift through, she hadn’t thought about how that might look. Men traded for these kinds of things all of the time. In trading, a person didn’t always keep the thing they’d traded for themselves. Sometimes it was a bit like a ladder. Need a goat? Go trade this person for some beads, this person the beads for a hefty quantity of bread, this person the bread for a pot, and so on and so on until you had what the goat person wanted in exchange for their animal in the first place. It was definitely a circular way of doing things but rather than carry useless coin disks that someone else had placed an arbitrary value on, the trading got everyone what they wanted or needed pretty much immediately.
His reaction and the subsequent confusion and, what she perceived, anyway, as embarrassment made her tilt her head and consider him. She watched as he gestured to himself and the clothes that she’d laid out and then she laughed. “No!” she shook her head. “These aren’t for you! You’re not a woman!” They would be ill fitting indeed. But in this sentiment, they seemed to have reached another agreement and she realized that he didn’t want for the tent what she’d laid out.
She was beginning to think that she shouldn’t bother with this trade at all. It was very confusing and she didn’t want to give up her herbs and medicinal roots for a tent she didn’t truly need but merely wanted. Just as she was about to gather up her things and tell him that he should probably find someone else to trade with, he mentioned the word ‘Egypt’. Her intention had been to tell him in the nicest way possible that they’d have to go their separate ways, but the fact that he so badly wanted to keep going with this made her realize that she was giving up a little too easily.
“You want something from Egypt?” she asked. “Do you speak the tongue of Egypt?” she asked and then thought of her husband and of Mwenye. Both of them spoke it. She only knew a few key phrases here and there but she didn’t think that she was the right person to even attempt this with him.
“We will go to my husband,” she said, getting to her feet and dusting off the invisible dirt from her kaftan. “He speaks Egyptian and I think will sort this whole business out.” All of this was said with a smile. She tugged on Saro’s sleeve to get him to come with her, and then began the actual task of finding Hasani in all this confusion. There were so many tribes and people that they had to duck and weave, stop and ask for directions to her husband every few hundred yards or so.
In the end, she spotted her six foot, five inch husband, towering over everyone else. “Hasani,” she breathed to herself and then patted Saro’s elbow, pointing to her handsome husband. “That is Hasani. Leier of the Zaire. My husband. He speaks Egyptian.” Then she smiled at Saro, who was only two inches taller than herself. “This way.”
Though she knew he wouldn’t understand her full sentences, she was tired of just using little words here and there. They drew near to the group and she saw just by looking that Hasani was slightly annoyed by something. He was trying to hide whatever annoyed him behind a tight smile she recognized as anything but his friendliest. Her gaze passed over Jawahir without recognizing her at once. She nodded to her like they’d never met, and then waited for a lull in the conversation to introduce the newcomer to her husband.
“My Leier,” she said. “This is Saro. He came from the water and he wants to trade his tent to me, but he won’t accept what I have presented. I think he is under the impression that I think he is a woman? I am unsure. Please speak to him? He seems fairly desperate to get rid of his tent but I do not know how to help him.”
Here, she offered Saro a reassuring smile. All of this would be fixed. To Jawahir, she said, “I am Tanishe-” and then gave her another look. “Oh! I’ve met you! I do not mean offense but I cannot immediately recall your name.” And to Mwenye, she asked if she could possibly have a drink from the water skin, trying to hold her hand out for it politely.
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When she knelt down, her things arrayed for him to sift through, she hadn’t thought about how that might look. Men traded for these kinds of things all of the time. In trading, a person didn’t always keep the thing they’d traded for themselves. Sometimes it was a bit like a ladder. Need a goat? Go trade this person for some beads, this person the beads for a hefty quantity of bread, this person the bread for a pot, and so on and so on until you had what the goat person wanted in exchange for their animal in the first place. It was definitely a circular way of doing things but rather than carry useless coin disks that someone else had placed an arbitrary value on, the trading got everyone what they wanted or needed pretty much immediately.
His reaction and the subsequent confusion and, what she perceived, anyway, as embarrassment made her tilt her head and consider him. She watched as he gestured to himself and the clothes that she’d laid out and then she laughed. “No!” she shook her head. “These aren’t for you! You’re not a woman!” They would be ill fitting indeed. But in this sentiment, they seemed to have reached another agreement and she realized that he didn’t want for the tent what she’d laid out.
She was beginning to think that she shouldn’t bother with this trade at all. It was very confusing and she didn’t want to give up her herbs and medicinal roots for a tent she didn’t truly need but merely wanted. Just as she was about to gather up her things and tell him that he should probably find someone else to trade with, he mentioned the word ‘Egypt’. Her intention had been to tell him in the nicest way possible that they’d have to go their separate ways, but the fact that he so badly wanted to keep going with this made her realize that she was giving up a little too easily.
“You want something from Egypt?” she asked. “Do you speak the tongue of Egypt?” she asked and then thought of her husband and of Mwenye. Both of them spoke it. She only knew a few key phrases here and there but she didn’t think that she was the right person to even attempt this with him.
“We will go to my husband,” she said, getting to her feet and dusting off the invisible dirt from her kaftan. “He speaks Egyptian and I think will sort this whole business out.” All of this was said with a smile. She tugged on Saro’s sleeve to get him to come with her, and then began the actual task of finding Hasani in all this confusion. There were so many tribes and people that they had to duck and weave, stop and ask for directions to her husband every few hundred yards or so.
In the end, she spotted her six foot, five inch husband, towering over everyone else. “Hasani,” she breathed to herself and then patted Saro’s elbow, pointing to her handsome husband. “That is Hasani. Leier of the Zaire. My husband. He speaks Egyptian.” Then she smiled at Saro, who was only two inches taller than herself. “This way.”
Though she knew he wouldn’t understand her full sentences, she was tired of just using little words here and there. They drew near to the group and she saw just by looking that Hasani was slightly annoyed by something. He was trying to hide whatever annoyed him behind a tight smile she recognized as anything but his friendliest. Her gaze passed over Jawahir without recognizing her at once. She nodded to her like they’d never met, and then waited for a lull in the conversation to introduce the newcomer to her husband.
“My Leier,” she said. “This is Saro. He came from the water and he wants to trade his tent to me, but he won’t accept what I have presented. I think he is under the impression that I think he is a woman? I am unsure. Please speak to him? He seems fairly desperate to get rid of his tent but I do not know how to help him.”
Here, she offered Saro a reassuring smile. All of this would be fixed. To Jawahir, she said, “I am Tanishe-” and then gave her another look. “Oh! I’ve met you! I do not mean offense but I cannot immediately recall your name.” And to Mwenye, she asked if she could possibly have a drink from the water skin, trying to hold her hand out for it politely.
When she knelt down, her things arrayed for him to sift through, she hadn’t thought about how that might look. Men traded for these kinds of things all of the time. In trading, a person didn’t always keep the thing they’d traded for themselves. Sometimes it was a bit like a ladder. Need a goat? Go trade this person for some beads, this person the beads for a hefty quantity of bread, this person the bread for a pot, and so on and so on until you had what the goat person wanted in exchange for their animal in the first place. It was definitely a circular way of doing things but rather than carry useless coin disks that someone else had placed an arbitrary value on, the trading got everyone what they wanted or needed pretty much immediately.
His reaction and the subsequent confusion and, what she perceived, anyway, as embarrassment made her tilt her head and consider him. She watched as he gestured to himself and the clothes that she’d laid out and then she laughed. “No!” she shook her head. “These aren’t for you! You’re not a woman!” They would be ill fitting indeed. But in this sentiment, they seemed to have reached another agreement and she realized that he didn’t want for the tent what she’d laid out.
She was beginning to think that she shouldn’t bother with this trade at all. It was very confusing and she didn’t want to give up her herbs and medicinal roots for a tent she didn’t truly need but merely wanted. Just as she was about to gather up her things and tell him that he should probably find someone else to trade with, he mentioned the word ‘Egypt’. Her intention had been to tell him in the nicest way possible that they’d have to go their separate ways, but the fact that he so badly wanted to keep going with this made her realize that she was giving up a little too easily.
“You want something from Egypt?” she asked. “Do you speak the tongue of Egypt?” she asked and then thought of her husband and of Mwenye. Both of them spoke it. She only knew a few key phrases here and there but she didn’t think that she was the right person to even attempt this with him.
“We will go to my husband,” she said, getting to her feet and dusting off the invisible dirt from her kaftan. “He speaks Egyptian and I think will sort this whole business out.” All of this was said with a smile. She tugged on Saro’s sleeve to get him to come with her, and then began the actual task of finding Hasani in all this confusion. There were so many tribes and people that they had to duck and weave, stop and ask for directions to her husband every few hundred yards or so.
In the end, she spotted her six foot, five inch husband, towering over everyone else. “Hasani,” she breathed to herself and then patted Saro’s elbow, pointing to her handsome husband. “That is Hasani. Leier of the Zaire. My husband. He speaks Egyptian.” Then she smiled at Saro, who was only two inches taller than herself. “This way.”
Though she knew he wouldn’t understand her full sentences, she was tired of just using little words here and there. They drew near to the group and she saw just by looking that Hasani was slightly annoyed by something. He was trying to hide whatever annoyed him behind a tight smile she recognized as anything but his friendliest. Her gaze passed over Jawahir without recognizing her at once. She nodded to her like they’d never met, and then waited for a lull in the conversation to introduce the newcomer to her husband.
“My Leier,” she said. “This is Saro. He came from the water and he wants to trade his tent to me, but he won’t accept what I have presented. I think he is under the impression that I think he is a woman? I am unsure. Please speak to him? He seems fairly desperate to get rid of his tent but I do not know how to help him.”
Here, she offered Saro a reassuring smile. All of this would be fixed. To Jawahir, she said, “I am Tanishe-” and then gave her another look. “Oh! I’ve met you! I do not mean offense but I cannot immediately recall your name.” And to Mwenye, she asked if she could possibly have a drink from the water skin, trying to hold her hand out for it politely.
Jawahir attempted to blink the remaining dregs of tiredness from her eyes. Truly, she did feel as though she had not slept for an age, yet she knew it had been only last night. Or was it the night before? In any case, she found herself getting distracted by such things, when normally her focus would be on the conversation at hand. She nodded apologetically, having slipped her mind to greet the Zaire prophet, the one she remembered her mother watching while they spoke years ago, upon his introduction into their conversation. Ah, well. She hoped the lapse in her conversation skills would be forgiven. She would hate for this to be how those of the other tribe saw her or her tribe, since she was, after all, Leierseunin.
She nodded her head though, "Yes, I believe we spoke a while ago." she remembered it vaguely, but it had most certainly been a while since the occurrence, and she had since done a small amount of maturing, and the way she wore her clothes, too, had changed since Hanuni started wearing them like her. Jawahir still was mostly covered, but now she had the tendency to show off her face a lot more, unless there was a chance of getting that horrible sand in it, in which case she would always cover up what she was always told by her mother was one of her best features. "It is truly a pleasure to speak to the both of you again."
She chuckled a little, recalling how Mwenye has entered the conversation, and while not entirely proper, it had been amusing. She did feel like amusing conversation had to come from a place of true interest, or otherwise someone's actual feelings, though Jawahir was quite bad at telling whether or not someone was actually lying about whatever the topic at hand was, especially if it was a compliment for her.
Jawahir turned questioning eyes upon the newest members of the group, the Leier, no, she meant Hasani's wife, Tanishe, if she recalled correctly, and somebody she hadn't met yet, who was met with her most curious gaze. She wondered where he was from, since he certainly did not look Bedoan, unless one of the Gesins had welcomed him as their own. Then Jawahir realized that this was, most likely who Hasani was supposed to translate for. She smiled gently at Tanishe herself, recognizing that she hadn't remembered Hasani's name, and was thus not much offended by Tanish forgetting her own.
"Indeed!" she said jovially, "I am Jawahir of the Rwandi, daughter of Morathi." she looked for her father to point him out, and promptly realized it did not quite matter at the moment. "If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?" Jawahir gestured to Hasani, making the point clear. She wouldn't want Tanishe to think she meant any of the other two men standing with them. It felt like the young Leierseunin could recall faces and relationships better than she could recall people.
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Jawahir attempted to blink the remaining dregs of tiredness from her eyes. Truly, she did feel as though she had not slept for an age, yet she knew it had been only last night. Or was it the night before? In any case, she found herself getting distracted by such things, when normally her focus would be on the conversation at hand. She nodded apologetically, having slipped her mind to greet the Zaire prophet, the one she remembered her mother watching while they spoke years ago, upon his introduction into their conversation. Ah, well. She hoped the lapse in her conversation skills would be forgiven. She would hate for this to be how those of the other tribe saw her or her tribe, since she was, after all, Leierseunin.
She nodded her head though, "Yes, I believe we spoke a while ago." she remembered it vaguely, but it had most certainly been a while since the occurrence, and she had since done a small amount of maturing, and the way she wore her clothes, too, had changed since Hanuni started wearing them like her. Jawahir still was mostly covered, but now she had the tendency to show off her face a lot more, unless there was a chance of getting that horrible sand in it, in which case she would always cover up what she was always told by her mother was one of her best features. "It is truly a pleasure to speak to the both of you again."
She chuckled a little, recalling how Mwenye has entered the conversation, and while not entirely proper, it had been amusing. She did feel like amusing conversation had to come from a place of true interest, or otherwise someone's actual feelings, though Jawahir was quite bad at telling whether or not someone was actually lying about whatever the topic at hand was, especially if it was a compliment for her.
Jawahir turned questioning eyes upon the newest members of the group, the Leier, no, she meant Hasani's wife, Tanishe, if she recalled correctly, and somebody she hadn't met yet, who was met with her most curious gaze. She wondered where he was from, since he certainly did not look Bedoan, unless one of the Gesins had welcomed him as their own. Then Jawahir realized that this was, most likely who Hasani was supposed to translate for. She smiled gently at Tanishe herself, recognizing that she hadn't remembered Hasani's name, and was thus not much offended by Tanish forgetting her own.
"Indeed!" she said jovially, "I am Jawahir of the Rwandi, daughter of Morathi." she looked for her father to point him out, and promptly realized it did not quite matter at the moment. "If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?" Jawahir gestured to Hasani, making the point clear. She wouldn't want Tanishe to think she meant any of the other two men standing with them. It felt like the young Leierseunin could recall faces and relationships better than she could recall people.
Jawahir attempted to blink the remaining dregs of tiredness from her eyes. Truly, she did feel as though she had not slept for an age, yet she knew it had been only last night. Or was it the night before? In any case, she found herself getting distracted by such things, when normally her focus would be on the conversation at hand. She nodded apologetically, having slipped her mind to greet the Zaire prophet, the one she remembered her mother watching while they spoke years ago, upon his introduction into their conversation. Ah, well. She hoped the lapse in her conversation skills would be forgiven. She would hate for this to be how those of the other tribe saw her or her tribe, since she was, after all, Leierseunin.
She nodded her head though, "Yes, I believe we spoke a while ago." she remembered it vaguely, but it had most certainly been a while since the occurrence, and she had since done a small amount of maturing, and the way she wore her clothes, too, had changed since Hanuni started wearing them like her. Jawahir still was mostly covered, but now she had the tendency to show off her face a lot more, unless there was a chance of getting that horrible sand in it, in which case she would always cover up what she was always told by her mother was one of her best features. "It is truly a pleasure to speak to the both of you again."
She chuckled a little, recalling how Mwenye has entered the conversation, and while not entirely proper, it had been amusing. She did feel like amusing conversation had to come from a place of true interest, or otherwise someone's actual feelings, though Jawahir was quite bad at telling whether or not someone was actually lying about whatever the topic at hand was, especially if it was a compliment for her.
Jawahir turned questioning eyes upon the newest members of the group, the Leier, no, she meant Hasani's wife, Tanishe, if she recalled correctly, and somebody she hadn't met yet, who was met with her most curious gaze. She wondered where he was from, since he certainly did not look Bedoan, unless one of the Gesins had welcomed him as their own. Then Jawahir realized that this was, most likely who Hasani was supposed to translate for. She smiled gently at Tanishe herself, recognizing that she hadn't remembered Hasani's name, and was thus not much offended by Tanish forgetting her own.
"Indeed!" she said jovially, "I am Jawahir of the Rwandi, daughter of Morathi." she looked for her father to point him out, and promptly realized it did not quite matter at the moment. "If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?" Jawahir gestured to Hasani, making the point clear. She wouldn't want Tanishe to think she meant any of the other two men standing with them. It felt like the young Leierseunin could recall faces and relationships better than she could recall people.
Hasani was more than content to remain and let Mwenye and Jawahir speak with one another. The leier, on the other hand, was starting to grow exhausted and restless and honestly just needed a moment to sit down. Of course, there were probably numerous other issues that Hasani would have to sort out with his tribe before the night ended, but for now, despite his renewed spirits that came with the taste of water, he still needed rest. And he was only just about to excuse himself from the conversation when he caught sight of his wife and some unknown man. Together.
The man did not appear to be Bedoan, which only make Hasani even more tense, his hands fisting at his sides for a single moment before he relaxed. No one would see his composure slip. That was not how one kept the confidence of their tribe. Instead, he crossed to his wife and the man, putting a protective hand against Tanishe's lower back and urging her closer against him. He didn't even have the chance to ask who this man was while Tanishe explained the situation.
This made so much more sense. Saro looked harried and maybe even a little frustrated that he was struggling to communicate with Tanishe, and Hasani found himself mildly amused by it. "Greetings, Saro. I am Hasani, the leader of the Zaire tribe of Bedoa. You've met my wife, Tanishe, and she seems concerned that you have wanted to sell your tent to her but won't actually agree on a trade," the leier translated in coptic, giving him a polite smile. He remained guarded, however, very aware of his wife and the young Jawahir nearby.
"I'm not sure you were actually intending to sell your tent, though?" Hasani offered, his expression turning more and more jovial by the moment. "Were the two of you in some sort of misunderstanding, Saro?" he asked, even taking the time to pull the man aside so that they could speak to one another one on one and his wife could join the group with the other young woman and Jawahir. Hasani was also quite sure that he didn't want to overwhelm the man who already looked very much out of his element. However, if Saro was no danger, Hasani was intent on ensuring that the foreigner was protected in the presence of the other tribes.
First things first, however, he needed to know what the miscommunications were between Saro and his wife.
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Hasani was more than content to remain and let Mwenye and Jawahir speak with one another. The leier, on the other hand, was starting to grow exhausted and restless and honestly just needed a moment to sit down. Of course, there were probably numerous other issues that Hasani would have to sort out with his tribe before the night ended, but for now, despite his renewed spirits that came with the taste of water, he still needed rest. And he was only just about to excuse himself from the conversation when he caught sight of his wife and some unknown man. Together.
The man did not appear to be Bedoan, which only make Hasani even more tense, his hands fisting at his sides for a single moment before he relaxed. No one would see his composure slip. That was not how one kept the confidence of their tribe. Instead, he crossed to his wife and the man, putting a protective hand against Tanishe's lower back and urging her closer against him. He didn't even have the chance to ask who this man was while Tanishe explained the situation.
This made so much more sense. Saro looked harried and maybe even a little frustrated that he was struggling to communicate with Tanishe, and Hasani found himself mildly amused by it. "Greetings, Saro. I am Hasani, the leader of the Zaire tribe of Bedoa. You've met my wife, Tanishe, and she seems concerned that you have wanted to sell your tent to her but won't actually agree on a trade," the leier translated in coptic, giving him a polite smile. He remained guarded, however, very aware of his wife and the young Jawahir nearby.
"I'm not sure you were actually intending to sell your tent, though?" Hasani offered, his expression turning more and more jovial by the moment. "Were the two of you in some sort of misunderstanding, Saro?" he asked, even taking the time to pull the man aside so that they could speak to one another one on one and his wife could join the group with the other young woman and Jawahir. Hasani was also quite sure that he didn't want to overwhelm the man who already looked very much out of his element. However, if Saro was no danger, Hasani was intent on ensuring that the foreigner was protected in the presence of the other tribes.
First things first, however, he needed to know what the miscommunications were between Saro and his wife.
Hasani was more than content to remain and let Mwenye and Jawahir speak with one another. The leier, on the other hand, was starting to grow exhausted and restless and honestly just needed a moment to sit down. Of course, there were probably numerous other issues that Hasani would have to sort out with his tribe before the night ended, but for now, despite his renewed spirits that came with the taste of water, he still needed rest. And he was only just about to excuse himself from the conversation when he caught sight of his wife and some unknown man. Together.
The man did not appear to be Bedoan, which only make Hasani even more tense, his hands fisting at his sides for a single moment before he relaxed. No one would see his composure slip. That was not how one kept the confidence of their tribe. Instead, he crossed to his wife and the man, putting a protective hand against Tanishe's lower back and urging her closer against him. He didn't even have the chance to ask who this man was while Tanishe explained the situation.
This made so much more sense. Saro looked harried and maybe even a little frustrated that he was struggling to communicate with Tanishe, and Hasani found himself mildly amused by it. "Greetings, Saro. I am Hasani, the leader of the Zaire tribe of Bedoa. You've met my wife, Tanishe, and she seems concerned that you have wanted to sell your tent to her but won't actually agree on a trade," the leier translated in coptic, giving him a polite smile. He remained guarded, however, very aware of his wife and the young Jawahir nearby.
"I'm not sure you were actually intending to sell your tent, though?" Hasani offered, his expression turning more and more jovial by the moment. "Were the two of you in some sort of misunderstanding, Saro?" he asked, even taking the time to pull the man aside so that they could speak to one another one on one and his wife could join the group with the other young woman and Jawahir. Hasani was also quite sure that he didn't want to overwhelm the man who already looked very much out of his element. However, if Saro was no danger, Hasani was intent on ensuring that the foreigner was protected in the presence of the other tribes.
First things first, however, he needed to know what the miscommunications were between Saro and his wife.
Saro had no idea if she had understood what he was getting at when he had mentioned Egypt, but it seemed like something had clicked in her mind, and he hoped like hell that she had understood what he was asking for this time, and he wasn’t about to get himself in another wacky situation because she thought she understood but definitely didn’t understand.
She tugged on his sleeve, and once more he found himself following this woman to some unknown destination, having no idea where she might be leading him. He supposed as long as he hadn’t offended her or anything that the worst that would happen would be another misunderstanding, at which point he would just move on and try to find someone else who would talk to him.
She suddenly patted his elbow and pointed, saying something in her language, his eyes followed where she pointed. There was a small group of people all standing together, and he hoped at least one of them shared a language with him. He followed her and approached the group a little hesitantly, unsure of how people were going to react to a stranger hanging around. He stood there as his female companion spoke, assuming that she was introducing him as he heard his name among her words, and hopefully she was explaining the situation.
Saro watched as he approached and protectively pulled the woman closer to him. His wife, he assumed. He could understand his actions, after all, no one had any idea who the hell Saro was or what he wanted, and his wife had been wandering around with him when he could have been a criminal. Well… he was a criminal of sorts, just not one that had ill intentions towards Tanishe. Saro felt he could nearly jump for joy as the man spoke a language he knew. His joy and relief was written all over his youthful face as he grinned at the other mans words.
“Hasani. It is a pleasure to meet you. And a relief.” He spoke, his Coptic wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough that he could be understood with no issues.
“Trade my tent? That makes so much more sense. No, I was not looking to trade it. I was looking to set it up. I hail from lands afar, as I am sure you have guessed. I was hoping to meet the people of Bedoa, learn of your culture and traditions. I am here out of curiosity for your way of life.” He explained.
“I arrived on a rowboat, dropped here by the men I sail with. I met your wife on the docks, I believe she was curious about both my boat and my presence. That is when the misunderstanding started, with the tent. She led me somewhere and laid out clothing and beads. I understand now she intended to trade me, at the time, I thought perhaps she had mistaken me for a woman.” He said with a good-hearted laugh.
“I have no ill intentions, I assure you. I simply enjoy travelling, and meeting new people, having new experiences. That is what I hoped for when coming to these lands.” He finished his explanation, hoping that Hasani could see he was genuine in his words.
If he would not be allowed to stay near them, or on their lands, he supposed to he would have a long row in his little boat to get himself some where else.
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Saro had no idea if she had understood what he was getting at when he had mentioned Egypt, but it seemed like something had clicked in her mind, and he hoped like hell that she had understood what he was asking for this time, and he wasn’t about to get himself in another wacky situation because she thought she understood but definitely didn’t understand.
She tugged on his sleeve, and once more he found himself following this woman to some unknown destination, having no idea where she might be leading him. He supposed as long as he hadn’t offended her or anything that the worst that would happen would be another misunderstanding, at which point he would just move on and try to find someone else who would talk to him.
She suddenly patted his elbow and pointed, saying something in her language, his eyes followed where she pointed. There was a small group of people all standing together, and he hoped at least one of them shared a language with him. He followed her and approached the group a little hesitantly, unsure of how people were going to react to a stranger hanging around. He stood there as his female companion spoke, assuming that she was introducing him as he heard his name among her words, and hopefully she was explaining the situation.
Saro watched as he approached and protectively pulled the woman closer to him. His wife, he assumed. He could understand his actions, after all, no one had any idea who the hell Saro was or what he wanted, and his wife had been wandering around with him when he could have been a criminal. Well… he was a criminal of sorts, just not one that had ill intentions towards Tanishe. Saro felt he could nearly jump for joy as the man spoke a language he knew. His joy and relief was written all over his youthful face as he grinned at the other mans words.
“Hasani. It is a pleasure to meet you. And a relief.” He spoke, his Coptic wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough that he could be understood with no issues.
“Trade my tent? That makes so much more sense. No, I was not looking to trade it. I was looking to set it up. I hail from lands afar, as I am sure you have guessed. I was hoping to meet the people of Bedoa, learn of your culture and traditions. I am here out of curiosity for your way of life.” He explained.
“I arrived on a rowboat, dropped here by the men I sail with. I met your wife on the docks, I believe she was curious about both my boat and my presence. That is when the misunderstanding started, with the tent. She led me somewhere and laid out clothing and beads. I understand now she intended to trade me, at the time, I thought perhaps she had mistaken me for a woman.” He said with a good-hearted laugh.
“I have no ill intentions, I assure you. I simply enjoy travelling, and meeting new people, having new experiences. That is what I hoped for when coming to these lands.” He finished his explanation, hoping that Hasani could see he was genuine in his words.
If he would not be allowed to stay near them, or on their lands, he supposed to he would have a long row in his little boat to get himself some where else.
Saro had no idea if she had understood what he was getting at when he had mentioned Egypt, but it seemed like something had clicked in her mind, and he hoped like hell that she had understood what he was asking for this time, and he wasn’t about to get himself in another wacky situation because she thought she understood but definitely didn’t understand.
She tugged on his sleeve, and once more he found himself following this woman to some unknown destination, having no idea where she might be leading him. He supposed as long as he hadn’t offended her or anything that the worst that would happen would be another misunderstanding, at which point he would just move on and try to find someone else who would talk to him.
She suddenly patted his elbow and pointed, saying something in her language, his eyes followed where she pointed. There was a small group of people all standing together, and he hoped at least one of them shared a language with him. He followed her and approached the group a little hesitantly, unsure of how people were going to react to a stranger hanging around. He stood there as his female companion spoke, assuming that she was introducing him as he heard his name among her words, and hopefully she was explaining the situation.
Saro watched as he approached and protectively pulled the woman closer to him. His wife, he assumed. He could understand his actions, after all, no one had any idea who the hell Saro was or what he wanted, and his wife had been wandering around with him when he could have been a criminal. Well… he was a criminal of sorts, just not one that had ill intentions towards Tanishe. Saro felt he could nearly jump for joy as the man spoke a language he knew. His joy and relief was written all over his youthful face as he grinned at the other mans words.
“Hasani. It is a pleasure to meet you. And a relief.” He spoke, his Coptic wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough that he could be understood with no issues.
“Trade my tent? That makes so much more sense. No, I was not looking to trade it. I was looking to set it up. I hail from lands afar, as I am sure you have guessed. I was hoping to meet the people of Bedoa, learn of your culture and traditions. I am here out of curiosity for your way of life.” He explained.
“I arrived on a rowboat, dropped here by the men I sail with. I met your wife on the docks, I believe she was curious about both my boat and my presence. That is when the misunderstanding started, with the tent. She led me somewhere and laid out clothing and beads. I understand now she intended to trade me, at the time, I thought perhaps she had mistaken me for a woman.” He said with a good-hearted laugh.
“I have no ill intentions, I assure you. I simply enjoy travelling, and meeting new people, having new experiences. That is what I hoped for when coming to these lands.” He finished his explanation, hoping that Hasani could see he was genuine in his words.
If he would not be allowed to stay near them, or on their lands, he supposed to he would have a long row in his little boat to get himself some where else.
She saw her husband’s tension but didn’t immediately connect it to herself. After all, Hasani was standing with Mwenye and that sometimes made him tense. When he pulled her against him a little tighter than he might normally have, she realized he had some insane idea about the foreigner. To put that idea to rest, she rested her hand lightly on his chest while she spoke and made quite sure to Hasani that she wasn’t resisting his non-verbal cues that they were together. This seemed to be enough, because his entire demeanor changed in an instant and he switched from their native tongue to Coptic.
Tanishe, unfortunately, understood little to none of what Hasani and Saro were saying to one another. Her Coptic wasn’t in any way good enough for conversation. She thought she heard the word ‘green’ and something about a camel tent, but gave up after that. It was too confusing. Besides, Hasani definitely didn’t need her in order to sort things out and when he let her go, she smiled at both Jawahir and Mwenye.
“Well that was confusing,” she gestured to Saro. Jawahir didn’t seem to mind in the least and carried on their conversation.
"If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?"
Tanishe smiled over at Hasani where he and Saro had stepped just a foot or so away. “Yes. My sky and my earth,” she looked between Mwenye and Jawahir. “I didn’t interrupt something, did I? It’s been a day of complete strangeness! That man came from the water and then the storm.” She shook her head. “I had intentions of having a few restful days but...probably not now.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms and smiled at them again. The bangles on her wrists clinked together in little musical tones. It was partially why she wore so many. She liked the simple sounds that they made. “Well, I’m going back to my tent, probably. I didn’t mean to come this far but…” again, she gestured to Saro. “I couldn’t very well leave him there on the shore. He looked so lost, ancestors help him.”
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She saw her husband’s tension but didn’t immediately connect it to herself. After all, Hasani was standing with Mwenye and that sometimes made him tense. When he pulled her against him a little tighter than he might normally have, she realized he had some insane idea about the foreigner. To put that idea to rest, she rested her hand lightly on his chest while she spoke and made quite sure to Hasani that she wasn’t resisting his non-verbal cues that they were together. This seemed to be enough, because his entire demeanor changed in an instant and he switched from their native tongue to Coptic.
Tanishe, unfortunately, understood little to none of what Hasani and Saro were saying to one another. Her Coptic wasn’t in any way good enough for conversation. She thought she heard the word ‘green’ and something about a camel tent, but gave up after that. It was too confusing. Besides, Hasani definitely didn’t need her in order to sort things out and when he let her go, she smiled at both Jawahir and Mwenye.
“Well that was confusing,” she gestured to Saro. Jawahir didn’t seem to mind in the least and carried on their conversation.
"If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?"
Tanishe smiled over at Hasani where he and Saro had stepped just a foot or so away. “Yes. My sky and my earth,” she looked between Mwenye and Jawahir. “I didn’t interrupt something, did I? It’s been a day of complete strangeness! That man came from the water and then the storm.” She shook her head. “I had intentions of having a few restful days but...probably not now.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms and smiled at them again. The bangles on her wrists clinked together in little musical tones. It was partially why she wore so many. She liked the simple sounds that they made. “Well, I’m going back to my tent, probably. I didn’t mean to come this far but…” again, she gestured to Saro. “I couldn’t very well leave him there on the shore. He looked so lost, ancestors help him.”
She saw her husband’s tension but didn’t immediately connect it to herself. After all, Hasani was standing with Mwenye and that sometimes made him tense. When he pulled her against him a little tighter than he might normally have, she realized he had some insane idea about the foreigner. To put that idea to rest, she rested her hand lightly on his chest while she spoke and made quite sure to Hasani that she wasn’t resisting his non-verbal cues that they were together. This seemed to be enough, because his entire demeanor changed in an instant and he switched from their native tongue to Coptic.
Tanishe, unfortunately, understood little to none of what Hasani and Saro were saying to one another. Her Coptic wasn’t in any way good enough for conversation. She thought she heard the word ‘green’ and something about a camel tent, but gave up after that. It was too confusing. Besides, Hasani definitely didn’t need her in order to sort things out and when he let her go, she smiled at both Jawahir and Mwenye.
“Well that was confusing,” she gestured to Saro. Jawahir didn’t seem to mind in the least and carried on their conversation.
"If I recall correctly--forgive me if I do not--you are Tanishe? This is your husband?"
Tanishe smiled over at Hasani where he and Saro had stepped just a foot or so away. “Yes. My sky and my earth,” she looked between Mwenye and Jawahir. “I didn’t interrupt something, did I? It’s been a day of complete strangeness! That man came from the water and then the storm.” She shook her head. “I had intentions of having a few restful days but...probably not now.”
She rubbed her hands over her arms and smiled at them again. The bangles on her wrists clinked together in little musical tones. It was partially why she wore so many. She liked the simple sounds that they made. “Well, I’m going back to my tent, probably. I didn’t mean to come this far but…” again, she gestured to Saro. “I couldn’t very well leave him there on the shore. He looked so lost, ancestors help him.”
Hasani felt a similar kind of relief when the foreign man stated that he had no ill intentions toward his wife, him, or the tribes that mingled about them. That was all that he truly needed to hear in order to extend the benefit of the doubt to this Saro. He seemed pleasant enough, but Hasani knew that many of the other tribes that were lingering in the Port of the West would not take so kindly to a foreign man invading their spaces. Standing on the border between Egypt and Bedoa was one thing. It was shared ground for the sake of survival and mutual benefits, but Bedoans were a distrustful people. It took a lot for a group to trust outsiders, but Hasani had always kept to the feeling that unless they proved themselves to be a danger, then there was no reason to find fault with them.
Thus far, the entire situation with his wife had simply been a misunderstanding and nothing more. The poor man just wanted to set his tent up among the tribes and rest. Hasani could not find any fault with that logic. Chasing after his tribe in the midst of the sandstorm had brought him to the point of near extreme exhaustion but the day was hardly coming to an end. Hopefully, he would find food before long and go about the rest of his duties until the bathing tents were set up. Now that they were at the port, water was not so scarce, and using saltwater was still better than the minimal washing they did while wandering the desert.
“This sounds entirely like my wife,” Hasani finally mused with a chuckle in his voice, “She does not understand Coptic like me. Very few here do, but you are welcome to set your tent up among the Zaire tribe’s. We are not so distrustful of outsiders as the other tribes, but it might be a good idea to keep any weapons in your own tent to avoid earning unnecessary ire that might result in your death,” Hasani explained with an efficient ease. “Mwenye, one of our tribe’s prophets also speaks Coptic,” Hasani motioned toward the man that was still standing by Jawahir and Tanishe. “Should you need to communicate and I am not around, seek him out,” he continued.
Then he let his curiosity get the best of him. Saro was much like Neena had been. Exotic and traveled and Hasani could never curb his enthusiasm to learn more. “You come from Lands Afar? Have you traveled to other places besides Bedoa, Saro?” he asked casually, his dark eyes remaining set on Saro’s face instead of trailing to his wife as he might have. But then he pulled his attention away and motioned toward Tanishe for her to join him so that they could maybe smooth out some of the confusion tension he was sure his wife was feeling from the entire situation. “You are welcome to stay and observe the tribes under my invitation. Should anyone else stop and question you, especially another leier, please express that Leier Hasani has allowed you to remain.”
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Hasani felt a similar kind of relief when the foreign man stated that he had no ill intentions toward his wife, him, or the tribes that mingled about them. That was all that he truly needed to hear in order to extend the benefit of the doubt to this Saro. He seemed pleasant enough, but Hasani knew that many of the other tribes that were lingering in the Port of the West would not take so kindly to a foreign man invading their spaces. Standing on the border between Egypt and Bedoa was one thing. It was shared ground for the sake of survival and mutual benefits, but Bedoans were a distrustful people. It took a lot for a group to trust outsiders, but Hasani had always kept to the feeling that unless they proved themselves to be a danger, then there was no reason to find fault with them.
Thus far, the entire situation with his wife had simply been a misunderstanding and nothing more. The poor man just wanted to set his tent up among the tribes and rest. Hasani could not find any fault with that logic. Chasing after his tribe in the midst of the sandstorm had brought him to the point of near extreme exhaustion but the day was hardly coming to an end. Hopefully, he would find food before long and go about the rest of his duties until the bathing tents were set up. Now that they were at the port, water was not so scarce, and using saltwater was still better than the minimal washing they did while wandering the desert.
“This sounds entirely like my wife,” Hasani finally mused with a chuckle in his voice, “She does not understand Coptic like me. Very few here do, but you are welcome to set your tent up among the Zaire tribe’s. We are not so distrustful of outsiders as the other tribes, but it might be a good idea to keep any weapons in your own tent to avoid earning unnecessary ire that might result in your death,” Hasani explained with an efficient ease. “Mwenye, one of our tribe’s prophets also speaks Coptic,” Hasani motioned toward the man that was still standing by Jawahir and Tanishe. “Should you need to communicate and I am not around, seek him out,” he continued.
Then he let his curiosity get the best of him. Saro was much like Neena had been. Exotic and traveled and Hasani could never curb his enthusiasm to learn more. “You come from Lands Afar? Have you traveled to other places besides Bedoa, Saro?” he asked casually, his dark eyes remaining set on Saro’s face instead of trailing to his wife as he might have. But then he pulled his attention away and motioned toward Tanishe for her to join him so that they could maybe smooth out some of the confusion tension he was sure his wife was feeling from the entire situation. “You are welcome to stay and observe the tribes under my invitation. Should anyone else stop and question you, especially another leier, please express that Leier Hasani has allowed you to remain.”
Hasani felt a similar kind of relief when the foreign man stated that he had no ill intentions toward his wife, him, or the tribes that mingled about them. That was all that he truly needed to hear in order to extend the benefit of the doubt to this Saro. He seemed pleasant enough, but Hasani knew that many of the other tribes that were lingering in the Port of the West would not take so kindly to a foreign man invading their spaces. Standing on the border between Egypt and Bedoa was one thing. It was shared ground for the sake of survival and mutual benefits, but Bedoans were a distrustful people. It took a lot for a group to trust outsiders, but Hasani had always kept to the feeling that unless they proved themselves to be a danger, then there was no reason to find fault with them.
Thus far, the entire situation with his wife had simply been a misunderstanding and nothing more. The poor man just wanted to set his tent up among the tribes and rest. Hasani could not find any fault with that logic. Chasing after his tribe in the midst of the sandstorm had brought him to the point of near extreme exhaustion but the day was hardly coming to an end. Hopefully, he would find food before long and go about the rest of his duties until the bathing tents were set up. Now that they were at the port, water was not so scarce, and using saltwater was still better than the minimal washing they did while wandering the desert.
“This sounds entirely like my wife,” Hasani finally mused with a chuckle in his voice, “She does not understand Coptic like me. Very few here do, but you are welcome to set your tent up among the Zaire tribe’s. We are not so distrustful of outsiders as the other tribes, but it might be a good idea to keep any weapons in your own tent to avoid earning unnecessary ire that might result in your death,” Hasani explained with an efficient ease. “Mwenye, one of our tribe’s prophets also speaks Coptic,” Hasani motioned toward the man that was still standing by Jawahir and Tanishe. “Should you need to communicate and I am not around, seek him out,” he continued.
Then he let his curiosity get the best of him. Saro was much like Neena had been. Exotic and traveled and Hasani could never curb his enthusiasm to learn more. “You come from Lands Afar? Have you traveled to other places besides Bedoa, Saro?” he asked casually, his dark eyes remaining set on Saro’s face instead of trailing to his wife as he might have. But then he pulled his attention away and motioned toward Tanishe for her to join him so that they could maybe smooth out some of the confusion tension he was sure his wife was feeling from the entire situation. “You are welcome to stay and observe the tribes under my invitation. Should anyone else stop and question you, especially another leier, please express that Leier Hasani has allowed you to remain.”
Saro did not realize how luck it was that he had come upon Hasani’s wife instead of someone else. He hadn’t realized that they would be so hostile to foreign people, especially since there was only one of him. It was the reason he had opted to row to the docks from the ship instead of having them dock the ship there. He thought one man in a row boat was a lot less threatening than a bunch of men in a much larger ship.
“Thank you, I appreciate it very much. And I am very thankful that you and I speak a shared language. As it turns out, I am not great at discussion without words.” He said, laughing a little at his own misfortune. It would be another story to add to his list of tales. Saro didn’t take it overly seriously, the whole situation was rather amusing to him, though he was getting a little frustrated near the end, and he was glad to have found someone who spoke Coptic.
He nodded, looking at the man that Hasani pointed out who also spoke Coptic, he memorized the man’s face in case he needed the assistance.
“Thank you again, I truly appreciate the hospitality, and I can assure you I will carry no weapons on me except one dagger, for my own safety.” He said, he pulled his shirt up enough to show Hasani where the dagger was, a sign of good faith that he would show his hidden weapon.
“It will not be touched unless my own life is in true danger, I assure you.” He finished, hoping that it wouldn’t be an issue. He would rather have a weapon on him for safety than to be completely disarmed.
“I have been many places, I was born on the sea and have spent my life roaming such waters.” He said with a grin. He loved telling people of his adventures.
“I will happily exchange tales of my travels for the hospitality you so graciously have put forth. It is the least I can do.” He said, he would tell Hasani of any lands he could, or at least as much as he knew about any lands the other male might want to know about.
The pirate watched as the taller man waved his wife over, wondering what his plan was. Perhaps he wanted to communicate to her what they had discussed, or perhaps give a proper introduction since she and Saro had struggled so much earlier.
“Leier Hasani.” He repeated, hoping he would remember that. The man’s name was the easy part, he assumed the first bit was a title of some sort, and that might be super important to remember. He didn’t know how common the name Hasani might be among these people, and the last thing he needed was more confusion.
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Saro did not realize how luck it was that he had come upon Hasani’s wife instead of someone else. He hadn’t realized that they would be so hostile to foreign people, especially since there was only one of him. It was the reason he had opted to row to the docks from the ship instead of having them dock the ship there. He thought one man in a row boat was a lot less threatening than a bunch of men in a much larger ship.
“Thank you, I appreciate it very much. And I am very thankful that you and I speak a shared language. As it turns out, I am not great at discussion without words.” He said, laughing a little at his own misfortune. It would be another story to add to his list of tales. Saro didn’t take it overly seriously, the whole situation was rather amusing to him, though he was getting a little frustrated near the end, and he was glad to have found someone who spoke Coptic.
He nodded, looking at the man that Hasani pointed out who also spoke Coptic, he memorized the man’s face in case he needed the assistance.
“Thank you again, I truly appreciate the hospitality, and I can assure you I will carry no weapons on me except one dagger, for my own safety.” He said, he pulled his shirt up enough to show Hasani where the dagger was, a sign of good faith that he would show his hidden weapon.
“It will not be touched unless my own life is in true danger, I assure you.” He finished, hoping that it wouldn’t be an issue. He would rather have a weapon on him for safety than to be completely disarmed.
“I have been many places, I was born on the sea and have spent my life roaming such waters.” He said with a grin. He loved telling people of his adventures.
“I will happily exchange tales of my travels for the hospitality you so graciously have put forth. It is the least I can do.” He said, he would tell Hasani of any lands he could, or at least as much as he knew about any lands the other male might want to know about.
The pirate watched as the taller man waved his wife over, wondering what his plan was. Perhaps he wanted to communicate to her what they had discussed, or perhaps give a proper introduction since she and Saro had struggled so much earlier.
“Leier Hasani.” He repeated, hoping he would remember that. The man’s name was the easy part, he assumed the first bit was a title of some sort, and that might be super important to remember. He didn’t know how common the name Hasani might be among these people, and the last thing he needed was more confusion.
Saro did not realize how luck it was that he had come upon Hasani’s wife instead of someone else. He hadn’t realized that they would be so hostile to foreign people, especially since there was only one of him. It was the reason he had opted to row to the docks from the ship instead of having them dock the ship there. He thought one man in a row boat was a lot less threatening than a bunch of men in a much larger ship.
“Thank you, I appreciate it very much. And I am very thankful that you and I speak a shared language. As it turns out, I am not great at discussion without words.” He said, laughing a little at his own misfortune. It would be another story to add to his list of tales. Saro didn’t take it overly seriously, the whole situation was rather amusing to him, though he was getting a little frustrated near the end, and he was glad to have found someone who spoke Coptic.
He nodded, looking at the man that Hasani pointed out who also spoke Coptic, he memorized the man’s face in case he needed the assistance.
“Thank you again, I truly appreciate the hospitality, and I can assure you I will carry no weapons on me except one dagger, for my own safety.” He said, he pulled his shirt up enough to show Hasani where the dagger was, a sign of good faith that he would show his hidden weapon.
“It will not be touched unless my own life is in true danger, I assure you.” He finished, hoping that it wouldn’t be an issue. He would rather have a weapon on him for safety than to be completely disarmed.
“I have been many places, I was born on the sea and have spent my life roaming such waters.” He said with a grin. He loved telling people of his adventures.
“I will happily exchange tales of my travels for the hospitality you so graciously have put forth. It is the least I can do.” He said, he would tell Hasani of any lands he could, or at least as much as he knew about any lands the other male might want to know about.
The pirate watched as the taller man waved his wife over, wondering what his plan was. Perhaps he wanted to communicate to her what they had discussed, or perhaps give a proper introduction since she and Saro had struggled so much earlier.
“Leier Hasani.” He repeated, hoping he would remember that. The man’s name was the easy part, he assumed the first bit was a title of some sort, and that might be super important to remember. He didn’t know how common the name Hasani might be among these people, and the last thing he needed was more confusion.
"I am glad that got sorted out," Mwenye told Tanishe. "He does seem very strange. There was no-one else with him? I wonder where he came from." It was an idle thought only - if he'd really cared to know more specifics than Saro was providing to Hasani, he could have asked directly. At the moment, though, he wanted to simply listen and observe. The prophet was comfortable letting answers come to him in their own time; simply listening and watching often led to more knowledge and wisdom in the long run, so he usually only chased after answers if he had real reason to believe something about a situation was urgent.
To Jawahir, he explained, "This man is a stranger, but Hasani has just extended to him the hospitality of the Zaire. We do not expect the other tribes to trust him, but if you would let your tribe know that if he comes where he is not wanted, so long as he does not draw a weapon, please simply escort him back to us, and our Leier will deal with it."
He offered the Rwandi woman a rueful smile. "I believe we have all interrupted your conversation with Hasani quite thoroughly. Was it important? Were you looking for any trade?"
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"I am glad that got sorted out," Mwenye told Tanishe. "He does seem very strange. There was no-one else with him? I wonder where he came from." It was an idle thought only - if he'd really cared to know more specifics than Saro was providing to Hasani, he could have asked directly. At the moment, though, he wanted to simply listen and observe. The prophet was comfortable letting answers come to him in their own time; simply listening and watching often led to more knowledge and wisdom in the long run, so he usually only chased after answers if he had real reason to believe something about a situation was urgent.
To Jawahir, he explained, "This man is a stranger, but Hasani has just extended to him the hospitality of the Zaire. We do not expect the other tribes to trust him, but if you would let your tribe know that if he comes where he is not wanted, so long as he does not draw a weapon, please simply escort him back to us, and our Leier will deal with it."
He offered the Rwandi woman a rueful smile. "I believe we have all interrupted your conversation with Hasani quite thoroughly. Was it important? Were you looking for any trade?"
"I am glad that got sorted out," Mwenye told Tanishe. "He does seem very strange. There was no-one else with him? I wonder where he came from." It was an idle thought only - if he'd really cared to know more specifics than Saro was providing to Hasani, he could have asked directly. At the moment, though, he wanted to simply listen and observe. The prophet was comfortable letting answers come to him in their own time; simply listening and watching often led to more knowledge and wisdom in the long run, so he usually only chased after answers if he had real reason to believe something about a situation was urgent.
To Jawahir, he explained, "This man is a stranger, but Hasani has just extended to him the hospitality of the Zaire. We do not expect the other tribes to trust him, but if you would let your tribe know that if he comes where he is not wanted, so long as he does not draw a weapon, please simply escort him back to us, and our Leier will deal with it."
He offered the Rwandi woman a rueful smile. "I believe we have all interrupted your conversation with Hasani quite thoroughly. Was it important? Were you looking for any trade?"
She’d intended to speak more with Jawahir and Mwenye, but her husband motioned her to follow him and Saro. Curious as to why, and more importantly, obedient to a fault, she smiled at the two others and drifted over to where Hasani and Saro were discussing what had actually transpired. Glancing back at Jawahir and Mwenye in a sort of half smile, half grimace one last time, she finally turned her back on both and looked up at her tall husband. He was still speaking to Saro in Coptic and she didn’t understand any of the conversation, but she could imagine it well enough. He would likely be sorting everything out, possibly even inviting this man to stay with them for a time.
Tanishe’s gaze wandered to Saro, gauging his reaction to what her husband said. She watched with extreme interest as Saro pulled up his shirt, revealing the palest swath of unbroken skin she’d ever seen. He was blindingly white to her and she had to cross her arms to resist reaching out to test if his flesh was the same as theirs. The dagger, too, was totally different to the ones that the Bedoans carried.
“He’s so...sickly,” she murmured to Hasani, watching with outward disappointment as Saro dropped his shirt again. Tanishe looked back up at her husband. The two men’s conversation carried on around and over her and she wasn’t completely sure why she’d been summoned over here, but she waited patiently, not interrupting except for that little comment she’d made. Hasani would tell her, in due time she trusted, why he’d wanted her and what she could do for him.
Her mind wandered to what she’d need to do to prepare for supper that night. They wouldn’t have much except dried fruit and cured meat. There wasn’t time enough to prepare bread, nor did she feel like dragging out all the things to make it. That was work for the morning. Not late afternoon. She toyed with her bracelets, waiting to be told what to do. Her gaze dropped to the sand at their feet and she began to toe little artistic circles and swirls in order to entertain herself, softly humming as she did so.
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She’d intended to speak more with Jawahir and Mwenye, but her husband motioned her to follow him and Saro. Curious as to why, and more importantly, obedient to a fault, she smiled at the two others and drifted over to where Hasani and Saro were discussing what had actually transpired. Glancing back at Jawahir and Mwenye in a sort of half smile, half grimace one last time, she finally turned her back on both and looked up at her tall husband. He was still speaking to Saro in Coptic and she didn’t understand any of the conversation, but she could imagine it well enough. He would likely be sorting everything out, possibly even inviting this man to stay with them for a time.
Tanishe’s gaze wandered to Saro, gauging his reaction to what her husband said. She watched with extreme interest as Saro pulled up his shirt, revealing the palest swath of unbroken skin she’d ever seen. He was blindingly white to her and she had to cross her arms to resist reaching out to test if his flesh was the same as theirs. The dagger, too, was totally different to the ones that the Bedoans carried.
“He’s so...sickly,” she murmured to Hasani, watching with outward disappointment as Saro dropped his shirt again. Tanishe looked back up at her husband. The two men’s conversation carried on around and over her and she wasn’t completely sure why she’d been summoned over here, but she waited patiently, not interrupting except for that little comment she’d made. Hasani would tell her, in due time she trusted, why he’d wanted her and what she could do for him.
Her mind wandered to what she’d need to do to prepare for supper that night. They wouldn’t have much except dried fruit and cured meat. There wasn’t time enough to prepare bread, nor did she feel like dragging out all the things to make it. That was work for the morning. Not late afternoon. She toyed with her bracelets, waiting to be told what to do. Her gaze dropped to the sand at their feet and she began to toe little artistic circles and swirls in order to entertain herself, softly humming as she did so.
She’d intended to speak more with Jawahir and Mwenye, but her husband motioned her to follow him and Saro. Curious as to why, and more importantly, obedient to a fault, she smiled at the two others and drifted over to where Hasani and Saro were discussing what had actually transpired. Glancing back at Jawahir and Mwenye in a sort of half smile, half grimace one last time, she finally turned her back on both and looked up at her tall husband. He was still speaking to Saro in Coptic and she didn’t understand any of the conversation, but she could imagine it well enough. He would likely be sorting everything out, possibly even inviting this man to stay with them for a time.
Tanishe’s gaze wandered to Saro, gauging his reaction to what her husband said. She watched with extreme interest as Saro pulled up his shirt, revealing the palest swath of unbroken skin she’d ever seen. He was blindingly white to her and she had to cross her arms to resist reaching out to test if his flesh was the same as theirs. The dagger, too, was totally different to the ones that the Bedoans carried.
“He’s so...sickly,” she murmured to Hasani, watching with outward disappointment as Saro dropped his shirt again. Tanishe looked back up at her husband. The two men’s conversation carried on around and over her and she wasn’t completely sure why she’d been summoned over here, but she waited patiently, not interrupting except for that little comment she’d made. Hasani would tell her, in due time she trusted, why he’d wanted her and what she could do for him.
Her mind wandered to what she’d need to do to prepare for supper that night. They wouldn’t have much except dried fruit and cured meat. There wasn’t time enough to prepare bread, nor did she feel like dragging out all the things to make it. That was work for the morning. Not late afternoon. She toyed with her bracelets, waiting to be told what to do. Her gaze dropped to the sand at their feet and she began to toe little artistic circles and swirls in order to entertain herself, softly humming as she did so.
Hasani seemed pleased with the way that things were going. He could not blame Saro for wishing to keep his blade on his person. Hasani truly had no issue with it provided he did not walk about waving the weapon around in the faces of his tribemates and in front of the other tribes. Doing so would get him killed and he could tell that Saro had more of a sense of self-preservation than that. If he was being honest, which Hasani was sure he was, then he would keep to his word.
If not? Well, Hasani would personally take care of him.
Hasani was not phased by the lifting of the man's shirt, only nodding to show that he understood Saro's meaning. Protection, especially among some tribes who were more prone to war, was important. There was truly nothing wrong with that. Even Hasani carried his own blades on his person in order to be a force for protection and security for his tribe. To walk about without a weapon could be a death sentence if you infuriated the wrong tribe. And the fact that the sandstorm was likely making the tribes antsy.
When Saro repeated his name back to him, the man gave a slow nod. "I believe the Coptic word for leier is... King," Hasani said very slowly, watching Saro closely. "Leieren Tanishe is queen," the leier equated, giving him a slow nod of affirmation. While not exactly a king, it was the closest word he knew to level against his own language. He hoped that it made enough sense.
Tanishe's approach was not missed, but Hasani also did not take his gaze off of their guest. Instead, he reached absently toward his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. "This is Saro, my love," he switched back to Bedoan now, smiling down at her, "He was simply looking for a place in which to set down his tent for the night. I have invited him to stay with us for the night and give him the protection of the tribe. He has agreed to tell us of his travels in exchange for such gifts," he explained to his wife.
There was a pause, "He was not trying to trade you for his belongings. He was trying to ask where he could rest," he gave her an amused smile. "He is kind and curious, nothing more, but he is like Neena. Traveled with stories that will enthrall the children while we are stranded here."
The sandstorm would likely not end for a few days and this was the safest place for all of the tribes. Hasani was simply thankful that no one had been lost to the sands, as may have happened had they not seen the storm coming from so far away. That was the blessing of it. They had seen it coming. They were not always so lucky. "I think that it is time to find proper food and rest, Tanishe," Hasani observed, then looked to Saro, "Are you hungry, friend?" he asked in Coptic.
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Hasani seemed pleased with the way that things were going. He could not blame Saro for wishing to keep his blade on his person. Hasani truly had no issue with it provided he did not walk about waving the weapon around in the faces of his tribemates and in front of the other tribes. Doing so would get him killed and he could tell that Saro had more of a sense of self-preservation than that. If he was being honest, which Hasani was sure he was, then he would keep to his word.
If not? Well, Hasani would personally take care of him.
Hasani was not phased by the lifting of the man's shirt, only nodding to show that he understood Saro's meaning. Protection, especially among some tribes who were more prone to war, was important. There was truly nothing wrong with that. Even Hasani carried his own blades on his person in order to be a force for protection and security for his tribe. To walk about without a weapon could be a death sentence if you infuriated the wrong tribe. And the fact that the sandstorm was likely making the tribes antsy.
When Saro repeated his name back to him, the man gave a slow nod. "I believe the Coptic word for leier is... King," Hasani said very slowly, watching Saro closely. "Leieren Tanishe is queen," the leier equated, giving him a slow nod of affirmation. While not exactly a king, it was the closest word he knew to level against his own language. He hoped that it made enough sense.
Tanishe's approach was not missed, but Hasani also did not take his gaze off of their guest. Instead, he reached absently toward his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. "This is Saro, my love," he switched back to Bedoan now, smiling down at her, "He was simply looking for a place in which to set down his tent for the night. I have invited him to stay with us for the night and give him the protection of the tribe. He has agreed to tell us of his travels in exchange for such gifts," he explained to his wife.
There was a pause, "He was not trying to trade you for his belongings. He was trying to ask where he could rest," he gave her an amused smile. "He is kind and curious, nothing more, but he is like Neena. Traveled with stories that will enthrall the children while we are stranded here."
The sandstorm would likely not end for a few days and this was the safest place for all of the tribes. Hasani was simply thankful that no one had been lost to the sands, as may have happened had they not seen the storm coming from so far away. That was the blessing of it. They had seen it coming. They were not always so lucky. "I think that it is time to find proper food and rest, Tanishe," Hasani observed, then looked to Saro, "Are you hungry, friend?" he asked in Coptic.
Hasani seemed pleased with the way that things were going. He could not blame Saro for wishing to keep his blade on his person. Hasani truly had no issue with it provided he did not walk about waving the weapon around in the faces of his tribemates and in front of the other tribes. Doing so would get him killed and he could tell that Saro had more of a sense of self-preservation than that. If he was being honest, which Hasani was sure he was, then he would keep to his word.
If not? Well, Hasani would personally take care of him.
Hasani was not phased by the lifting of the man's shirt, only nodding to show that he understood Saro's meaning. Protection, especially among some tribes who were more prone to war, was important. There was truly nothing wrong with that. Even Hasani carried his own blades on his person in order to be a force for protection and security for his tribe. To walk about without a weapon could be a death sentence if you infuriated the wrong tribe. And the fact that the sandstorm was likely making the tribes antsy.
When Saro repeated his name back to him, the man gave a slow nod. "I believe the Coptic word for leier is... King," Hasani said very slowly, watching Saro closely. "Leieren Tanishe is queen," the leier equated, giving him a slow nod of affirmation. While not exactly a king, it was the closest word he knew to level against his own language. He hoped that it made enough sense.
Tanishe's approach was not missed, but Hasani also did not take his gaze off of their guest. Instead, he reached absently toward his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. "This is Saro, my love," he switched back to Bedoan now, smiling down at her, "He was simply looking for a place in which to set down his tent for the night. I have invited him to stay with us for the night and give him the protection of the tribe. He has agreed to tell us of his travels in exchange for such gifts," he explained to his wife.
There was a pause, "He was not trying to trade you for his belongings. He was trying to ask where he could rest," he gave her an amused smile. "He is kind and curious, nothing more, but he is like Neena. Traveled with stories that will enthrall the children while we are stranded here."
The sandstorm would likely not end for a few days and this was the safest place for all of the tribes. Hasani was simply thankful that no one had been lost to the sands, as may have happened had they not seen the storm coming from so far away. That was the blessing of it. They had seen it coming. They were not always so lucky. "I think that it is time to find proper food and rest, Tanishe," Hasani observed, then looked to Saro, "Are you hungry, friend?" he asked in Coptic.
When Tanishe approached them again, he gave her a small and friendly smile, though he carried on his conversation with Hasani. He was doing his best to be polite, though without knowledge of their ways, he had no real idea if he was being proper. He wanted to learn that first, the proper way to greet people, and pay respects to those considered above him. The last thing he needed was to offend someone and cause problems for himself while he was there.
Saro stood there as Hasani then switched to speaking with his wife, flawlessly switching between the two languages in a way that impressed even Saro who held command over several languages himself. With any luck, the Bedoan language would be added to his collection soon enough. He may not be entirely fluent in all the languages he knew, but he knew enough to get by almost any where he went. Except here, at least not now. He would change that, and he was confident that as longa as they were willing to teach him, he would be conversing with them in their native language long before his journey with them would come to an end.
Saro was almost caught off guard when Hasani spoke to him again, lost in his own thoughts as the taller man had spoken to his wife. He paused a moment and took stock of himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was in fact hungry, his arms were tired from rowing and his legs were feeling a little sore from being cramped in the row boat on his way here. He nodded a little.
“I would appreciate a meal.” He said, then patted the pack that contained his items. “I can offer some wine in exchange, if you partake in such things. I brought it from Greece and would be happy to share with you.” He said, he didn’t have a whole lot else to offer them, though if there was anything he could do in order to help prepare a meal or anything of the sort, he was also willing to.
Saro knew hospitality didn’t come free, and he felt like gold and coins wouldn’t be worth much here. He had the feeling that however long he was with the group, he was going to be volunteering a lot of labour in exchange for their kindness of letting him stay and learn.
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When Tanishe approached them again, he gave her a small and friendly smile, though he carried on his conversation with Hasani. He was doing his best to be polite, though without knowledge of their ways, he had no real idea if he was being proper. He wanted to learn that first, the proper way to greet people, and pay respects to those considered above him. The last thing he needed was to offend someone and cause problems for himself while he was there.
Saro stood there as Hasani then switched to speaking with his wife, flawlessly switching between the two languages in a way that impressed even Saro who held command over several languages himself. With any luck, the Bedoan language would be added to his collection soon enough. He may not be entirely fluent in all the languages he knew, but he knew enough to get by almost any where he went. Except here, at least not now. He would change that, and he was confident that as longa as they were willing to teach him, he would be conversing with them in their native language long before his journey with them would come to an end.
Saro was almost caught off guard when Hasani spoke to him again, lost in his own thoughts as the taller man had spoken to his wife. He paused a moment and took stock of himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was in fact hungry, his arms were tired from rowing and his legs were feeling a little sore from being cramped in the row boat on his way here. He nodded a little.
“I would appreciate a meal.” He said, then patted the pack that contained his items. “I can offer some wine in exchange, if you partake in such things. I brought it from Greece and would be happy to share with you.” He said, he didn’t have a whole lot else to offer them, though if there was anything he could do in order to help prepare a meal or anything of the sort, he was also willing to.
Saro knew hospitality didn’t come free, and he felt like gold and coins wouldn’t be worth much here. He had the feeling that however long he was with the group, he was going to be volunteering a lot of labour in exchange for their kindness of letting him stay and learn.
When Tanishe approached them again, he gave her a small and friendly smile, though he carried on his conversation with Hasani. He was doing his best to be polite, though without knowledge of their ways, he had no real idea if he was being proper. He wanted to learn that first, the proper way to greet people, and pay respects to those considered above him. The last thing he needed was to offend someone and cause problems for himself while he was there.
Saro stood there as Hasani then switched to speaking with his wife, flawlessly switching between the two languages in a way that impressed even Saro who held command over several languages himself. With any luck, the Bedoan language would be added to his collection soon enough. He may not be entirely fluent in all the languages he knew, but he knew enough to get by almost any where he went. Except here, at least not now. He would change that, and he was confident that as longa as they were willing to teach him, he would be conversing with them in their native language long before his journey with them would come to an end.
Saro was almost caught off guard when Hasani spoke to him again, lost in his own thoughts as the taller man had spoken to his wife. He paused a moment and took stock of himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was in fact hungry, his arms were tired from rowing and his legs were feeling a little sore from being cramped in the row boat on his way here. He nodded a little.
“I would appreciate a meal.” He said, then patted the pack that contained his items. “I can offer some wine in exchange, if you partake in such things. I brought it from Greece and would be happy to share with you.” He said, he didn’t have a whole lot else to offer them, though if there was anything he could do in order to help prepare a meal or anything of the sort, he was also willing to.
Saro knew hospitality didn’t come free, and he felt like gold and coins wouldn’t be worth much here. He had the feeling that however long he was with the group, he was going to be volunteering a lot of labour in exchange for their kindness of letting him stay and learn.
She caught the words Leier and Leierin, and looked up, watching Hasani talk. It was sappy and silly but this was one of the moments that she was truly glad he was her mate. Her gaze followed his strong jawline and the muscles of his strong neck. Sighing to herself, she rubbed her hand across his chest, nestling against him before she realized he was speaking to her now. She had been listening to the rumble of his voice and letting her thoughts drift most pleasantly elsewhere.
Hasani reintroduced Saro to her and she nodded to Saro with a small “Hello, Saro,” in the Bedoan tongue and then listened as her husband outlined the actual issue. Tanishe was unembarrassed. There was no way she could have known but she didn’t laugh like she might have if Saro wasn’t there. Instead, she simply kept smiling and told Hasani, “He is a poor trader, my love. That accounts for it, I think.” Since obviously the trading hadn’t happened at all.
When Hasani mentioned Neena, Tanishe’s heart gave an unexpected extra beat, but it hurt and she looked away. She didn’t want to think of Neena, especially if Saro was so much like her. It would be painful, she assumed, not taking into account that Saro was so wholly different that the only similarities between him and Neena was the wanderlust. Rather than answer him verbally, she just nodded and listened for his next orders, which came fairly quickly. Food and rest. Those she could do.
“Yes, my leier.” Breaking away from her husband, she kissed his bicep, threw a last glance at Saro, and went to do just as Hasani said. She didn’t need to remind her husband that she’d need about an hour and a half to complete his request. He would know just about what the cooking times for various things might be. Already a few steps away, Tanishe turned and gave a small wave with just her fingers to Saro. “See you soon, Saro,” she said and hummed softly to herself as she went back to the tent to clean up the mess of trades she’d attempted and to start on the bread for their supper.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She caught the words Leier and Leierin, and looked up, watching Hasani talk. It was sappy and silly but this was one of the moments that she was truly glad he was her mate. Her gaze followed his strong jawline and the muscles of his strong neck. Sighing to herself, she rubbed her hand across his chest, nestling against him before she realized he was speaking to her now. She had been listening to the rumble of his voice and letting her thoughts drift most pleasantly elsewhere.
Hasani reintroduced Saro to her and she nodded to Saro with a small “Hello, Saro,” in the Bedoan tongue and then listened as her husband outlined the actual issue. Tanishe was unembarrassed. There was no way she could have known but she didn’t laugh like she might have if Saro wasn’t there. Instead, she simply kept smiling and told Hasani, “He is a poor trader, my love. That accounts for it, I think.” Since obviously the trading hadn’t happened at all.
When Hasani mentioned Neena, Tanishe’s heart gave an unexpected extra beat, but it hurt and she looked away. She didn’t want to think of Neena, especially if Saro was so much like her. It would be painful, she assumed, not taking into account that Saro was so wholly different that the only similarities between him and Neena was the wanderlust. Rather than answer him verbally, she just nodded and listened for his next orders, which came fairly quickly. Food and rest. Those she could do.
“Yes, my leier.” Breaking away from her husband, she kissed his bicep, threw a last glance at Saro, and went to do just as Hasani said. She didn’t need to remind her husband that she’d need about an hour and a half to complete his request. He would know just about what the cooking times for various things might be. Already a few steps away, Tanishe turned and gave a small wave with just her fingers to Saro. “See you soon, Saro,” she said and hummed softly to herself as she went back to the tent to clean up the mess of trades she’d attempted and to start on the bread for their supper.
She caught the words Leier and Leierin, and looked up, watching Hasani talk. It was sappy and silly but this was one of the moments that she was truly glad he was her mate. Her gaze followed his strong jawline and the muscles of his strong neck. Sighing to herself, she rubbed her hand across his chest, nestling against him before she realized he was speaking to her now. She had been listening to the rumble of his voice and letting her thoughts drift most pleasantly elsewhere.
Hasani reintroduced Saro to her and she nodded to Saro with a small “Hello, Saro,” in the Bedoan tongue and then listened as her husband outlined the actual issue. Tanishe was unembarrassed. There was no way she could have known but she didn’t laugh like she might have if Saro wasn’t there. Instead, she simply kept smiling and told Hasani, “He is a poor trader, my love. That accounts for it, I think.” Since obviously the trading hadn’t happened at all.
When Hasani mentioned Neena, Tanishe’s heart gave an unexpected extra beat, but it hurt and she looked away. She didn’t want to think of Neena, especially if Saro was so much like her. It would be painful, she assumed, not taking into account that Saro was so wholly different that the only similarities between him and Neena was the wanderlust. Rather than answer him verbally, she just nodded and listened for his next orders, which came fairly quickly. Food and rest. Those she could do.
“Yes, my leier.” Breaking away from her husband, she kissed his bicep, threw a last glance at Saro, and went to do just as Hasani said. She didn’t need to remind her husband that she’d need about an hour and a half to complete his request. He would know just about what the cooking times for various things might be. Already a few steps away, Tanishe turned and gave a small wave with just her fingers to Saro. “See you soon, Saro,” she said and hummed softly to herself as she went back to the tent to clean up the mess of trades she’d attempted and to start on the bread for their supper.