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The tribe had moved once since Hasani had captured the slave girl's attention. She was wild and free despite her current status and Hasani couldn't help but find himself ever more curious with the young woman. Thus far, everything was innocent and borne out of sheer want to know, to learn. Neena was widely traveled and exotic and the Bedoan's rarely met people who were not their own or Egyptian. Sure, they had come face to face with a few of the Judean people when they had traveled that far for a border trade, but otherwise there was a disconnect between the Kingdoms of Bedoa and the rest of the world.
It was why the worldly slave girl, Neena, was so attractive to him, though he would not say such things out loud. He did, of course, have his own wife to think about. But there had not been a single thought about bringing another woman into his life, though it was his right by the ancestors. No, the entire purpose was simply to learn. To know more of the world than what the tribe experienced on their nomadic paths through the desert.
Taking his usual rounds through the camp that had been set up the night before, the leier stopped to speak with a few of the warriors. It was easy to fall back in with some of his closest friends, his jovial attitude not at all causing the men to shy from him. He had fought and bled with these men on a number of occasions. Thankfully, none of them had been while he was leier.
Yet.
Things could always change depending on stability and the ties with the other tribes that they sometimes did and did not encounter. Currently, one of the warriors was telling Hasani and the others about a training exercise that he had been running a few of the younger boys through. The trainer had pranked them and most of the boys had taken to it well. Another good mark on the tribe. The Zaire were not so inclined to war as other tribes, for a warrior to be able to keep his humor and be able to fight was vital. Especially in a community that was so close-knit. The few that hadn't taken well to the joke were the young warriors that they would need to watch for.
Hopefully, they would mellow out as they grew up. With his arms crossed over his large chest, Hasani started to tell them about a time where he had done a similar exercise with some boys he had trained, but his attention flicked to the side.
A gaggle of children was running, screaming and giggling in delightful tones. To see Neena following them, making growling noises, made Hasani straighten, a slight smile lighting his lips. So she was good with children. Maybe she would be lucky enough to have her work assignment changed if she was this good at corralling them. With his train of thought lost, Hasani waved the warriors back to their work or tending of their families and turned to follow the excited crowd of children and the slave who seemed to be having the time of her life.
Neena was a horrible slave. She was never where anyone needed her. But she got a pass. Everyone seemed to like her. The girl brought a new vibrancy and excitement to the tribe than had been there before and Hasani couldn't put his finger on exactly why.
After following them for a while, Hasani let out a soft chuckle. "Where did you learn this game, little leopard?" he chided Neena from behind.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The tribe had moved once since Hasani had captured the slave girl's attention. She was wild and free despite her current status and Hasani couldn't help but find himself ever more curious with the young woman. Thus far, everything was innocent and borne out of sheer want to know, to learn. Neena was widely traveled and exotic and the Bedoan's rarely met people who were not their own or Egyptian. Sure, they had come face to face with a few of the Judean people when they had traveled that far for a border trade, but otherwise there was a disconnect between the Kingdoms of Bedoa and the rest of the world.
It was why the worldly slave girl, Neena, was so attractive to him, though he would not say such things out loud. He did, of course, have his own wife to think about. But there had not been a single thought about bringing another woman into his life, though it was his right by the ancestors. No, the entire purpose was simply to learn. To know more of the world than what the tribe experienced on their nomadic paths through the desert.
Taking his usual rounds through the camp that had been set up the night before, the leier stopped to speak with a few of the warriors. It was easy to fall back in with some of his closest friends, his jovial attitude not at all causing the men to shy from him. He had fought and bled with these men on a number of occasions. Thankfully, none of them had been while he was leier.
Yet.
Things could always change depending on stability and the ties with the other tribes that they sometimes did and did not encounter. Currently, one of the warriors was telling Hasani and the others about a training exercise that he had been running a few of the younger boys through. The trainer had pranked them and most of the boys had taken to it well. Another good mark on the tribe. The Zaire were not so inclined to war as other tribes, for a warrior to be able to keep his humor and be able to fight was vital. Especially in a community that was so close-knit. The few that hadn't taken well to the joke were the young warriors that they would need to watch for.
Hopefully, they would mellow out as they grew up. With his arms crossed over his large chest, Hasani started to tell them about a time where he had done a similar exercise with some boys he had trained, but his attention flicked to the side.
A gaggle of children was running, screaming and giggling in delightful tones. To see Neena following them, making growling noises, made Hasani straighten, a slight smile lighting his lips. So she was good with children. Maybe she would be lucky enough to have her work assignment changed if she was this good at corralling them. With his train of thought lost, Hasani waved the warriors back to their work or tending of their families and turned to follow the excited crowd of children and the slave who seemed to be having the time of her life.
Neena was a horrible slave. She was never where anyone needed her. But she got a pass. Everyone seemed to like her. The girl brought a new vibrancy and excitement to the tribe than had been there before and Hasani couldn't put his finger on exactly why.
After following them for a while, Hasani let out a soft chuckle. "Where did you learn this game, little leopard?" he chided Neena from behind.
The tribe had moved once since Hasani had captured the slave girl's attention. She was wild and free despite her current status and Hasani couldn't help but find himself ever more curious with the young woman. Thus far, everything was innocent and borne out of sheer want to know, to learn. Neena was widely traveled and exotic and the Bedoan's rarely met people who were not their own or Egyptian. Sure, they had come face to face with a few of the Judean people when they had traveled that far for a border trade, but otherwise there was a disconnect between the Kingdoms of Bedoa and the rest of the world.
It was why the worldly slave girl, Neena, was so attractive to him, though he would not say such things out loud. He did, of course, have his own wife to think about. But there had not been a single thought about bringing another woman into his life, though it was his right by the ancestors. No, the entire purpose was simply to learn. To know more of the world than what the tribe experienced on their nomadic paths through the desert.
Taking his usual rounds through the camp that had been set up the night before, the leier stopped to speak with a few of the warriors. It was easy to fall back in with some of his closest friends, his jovial attitude not at all causing the men to shy from him. He had fought and bled with these men on a number of occasions. Thankfully, none of them had been while he was leier.
Yet.
Things could always change depending on stability and the ties with the other tribes that they sometimes did and did not encounter. Currently, one of the warriors was telling Hasani and the others about a training exercise that he had been running a few of the younger boys through. The trainer had pranked them and most of the boys had taken to it well. Another good mark on the tribe. The Zaire were not so inclined to war as other tribes, for a warrior to be able to keep his humor and be able to fight was vital. Especially in a community that was so close-knit. The few that hadn't taken well to the joke were the young warriors that they would need to watch for.
Hopefully, they would mellow out as they grew up. With his arms crossed over his large chest, Hasani started to tell them about a time where he had done a similar exercise with some boys he had trained, but his attention flicked to the side.
A gaggle of children was running, screaming and giggling in delightful tones. To see Neena following them, making growling noises, made Hasani straighten, a slight smile lighting his lips. So she was good with children. Maybe she would be lucky enough to have her work assignment changed if she was this good at corralling them. With his train of thought lost, Hasani waved the warriors back to their work or tending of their families and turned to follow the excited crowd of children and the slave who seemed to be having the time of her life.
Neena was a horrible slave. She was never where anyone needed her. But she got a pass. Everyone seemed to like her. The girl brought a new vibrancy and excitement to the tribe than had been there before and Hasani couldn't put his finger on exactly why.
After following them for a while, Hasani let out a soft chuckle. "Where did you learn this game, little leopard?" he chided Neena from behind.
"Is that better?" Neena's voice was a little strained but not through frustration or emotion. It was purely a physical impact on her tone from standing as straight as she possibly could, on her toes, with her hands high above her head. "I don't think I've quite got it, there's a gap..." Her voice came out puffy as her chest was stretched and unable to draw deeply from the air. She heard a voice from inside the hawe but with several layers of tapestry and blanket between herself and the elderly Thanelaya, it was hard to hear the distinction in her words.
Neena frowned as she looked over her work to try and assess the issue herself. Sand was getting into the hawe from a gap in the layers somewhere and the last sandstorm had seen old Thaneli nearly buried in it, as it had seeped in through the creases. As it was, they hadn't had strong winds in months, so she had been safe for a while but now it was happening again and even small amounts of sand irritated the old woman's skin in her sleep. Given that they had now moved, as the tribes were known to do, it was a good opportunity to try and fix the problem.
Grabbing hold of one of the blankets, she tugged a little and managed to cover up the space she had noted but it only made another on the opposing side. Who had put this together? Tugging again to try and see if she could bring some more of the fabric across, it was then that the sheet came undone entirely and Neena - who had been relying on the tension of the tapestry to remain upright, immediately feel from the camel saddles she had stacked three high in order to reach the roof of the hawe. With a sharp yelp, the windmilling of arms and the firm thump of butt on sand, Neena went from being stretched upright like a bow string to being flat on her back in the sand. She coughed as the air was shoved unceremoniously from her lungs.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Neena's head turned upwards and around where she lay, scooping more sand into her hair no doubt, to spy a woman in a brightly coloured kaftan approaching at a great rate of knots. Fantastic. It was just her luck that her blunder would be witnessed by Faruss. She was one of the more... uptight of the Zaire.
"You've knocked over Thaneli's stitching, girl!"
Glancing over to the wooden structure teeming with threads and stretched sewing sections, Neena's upper lip curled a little in distaste. Oh no...
Coughing a little in a sputter to get her chest working again after the shock of hitting the floor, Neena didn't bother getting up. She was in for a telling off anyway.
"Technically," She told the woman with one finger in the air. "The universal force of gravity, knocked over Thaneli's trellis. I was the innocent bystander to its greater powers." Neena's informative nature was rewarded with a kick in her direction that didn't make contact but sent sand over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and sputtered, blowing her tongue out. Lovely...
"What are you babbling about? Get up and fix Thandi's hawe and then you can shake the sand from the trellis. You're not going to expect her to do it are you?"
"No." Neena offered shaking her head and still on the ground. "But neither should you expect me to do it." This last was muttered under her breath and was thankfully not heard. When Faruss simply stood there with impertinent fists on hips, Neena sighed. As there were no incoming offers of aid, it looked like she was getting back to her feet under her own sweet steam. With a loud exhale of great effort, Neena was up to sitting position in no time. Hard though the thump was, at least sand was mostly soft.
By this time, Thaneli herself had hobbled her way to the door of her hawe and pushed the fabric aside. Her eyes widened when she saw Neena on the floor and her elderly wrinkles drew together across her brow and puckered at her lips with concern.
"Are you alright, child?" She asked Neena, her kindness reaching beyond the divide of free woman and slave girl.
Neena smiled brightly. Most of the Zaire had come to welcome her in her time with them. But there were still a few hold outs - like Faruss - whose specific dislike seemed to grow with every friend that Neena secured. She could understand it. The woman didn't think a slave girl like herself should be so 'cosy' with free members of the tribe. The tribe - familial though it was - didn't work without hierarchy. So, she understood the desire to see it continued and the divisions of class preserved. It just irked that she was on the freedom-less side of that argument.
"Never better, Thaneli! She assured the woman, without an ounce of issue on her face. "I just need to get back up there and fix that hole. After which I'll dust off your trellis. I'm ever so sorry but I knocked it over." Neena pouted her bottom lip in the hopes of appeasement. "I promise I didn't mean to - it was an accident."
Her response was a gnarly old hand patting her softly on the cheek and a kind smile.
As if it were the only energiser she needed, Neena hopped back to her feet and set to work once more, offering a pointed look towards Faruss.
"Are you helping, mistress?" She asked the woman with an innocence that could not be denied. And soon, the two of them were working together to set old Thaneli's house back to rights.
By the time the hawe was back in working order, the old woman had thanked the both of them, and Faruss had stormed off clearly upset that her moment to crow over Neena's misfortunate had resulted in an hour’s work she had not counted on for herself.
After ensuring the hawe definitely no longer leaked little pourings of white sand and that the trellis of sewing had been shaken out and repositioned in the best light for the little old lady, Neena was instructed to go further towards the centre of the encampment and see if she could help anyone else ensure the final set ups of their hawes and possessions.
Following the instructions as given, Neena headed out towards where the hawes were situated together in a tighter formation. Along the way, she spotted a young woman that she had begun to befriend since joining the Zaire - woman called Linah.
Linah was a woman of intelligent mind that Neena liked greatly. But her husband was a little too interested in her in return for her to visit Linah often. Instead, she waited until her husband was out hunting and supporting his wife and two young children and then would sit with Linah and learn from her. The relationship was a new one and had only been going on since Neena had been purchased for the Zaire gesin, which meant that there was always something new about the woman.
"What are you doing?" Neena asked the woman, as she walked over and gracefully dropped into a cross-legged position. The interest in Linah's work was genuine, fuelled by Neena's natural curiosity.
Shaking out the sand that was still caught in the curls of her hair, Neena watched as the other woman mixed a paste the colour of wet mud or roasted pig around in the little wooden bowl.
"This is vlek." Linah said with a smile. "It's Illah's birthday today so we're celebrating."
"What do you do with it?" Neena asked, keeping a close eye on the meeting to her left where the men were reaching to touch hands and grasp wrists in greeting.
"You paint with it. On skin." Linah smiled. "Depending on the occasion, it might be symbols of fertility, for a wedding, or of wisdom for a birthday."
As the woman spoke her youngest Illah came toddling out. Aged four, the child sucked on their fingers as she peered into the bowl.
"Can I try some?" Neena asked with an enthusiastic grin that was reciprocated by the woman. She held out the bowl.
Dipping her fingers into the ceramic container, Neena caught the little Illah's eye and had an idea. She dabbed her index and middle finger into the paste, which was surprisingly warm from all the stirring it had been given and then began splodging and smearing it all over her face, neck, the top of her chest and down her arms.
"What in the spirits, are you doing child?" Linah asked, agasp at the lack of precision and decor in her painting. There were no symbols, no artistry in what she was doing but she was still pleased with the end result nonetheless.
"Look!" She determined to Illah and her elder brother Huni who had come out to watch too, spreading her arms wide. "I'm a leopard!"
And with a roar, the creation of claws with her hands and the gnashing of her teeth, Neena elicited a laugh from Huni and a yelp from his little sister.
"Run, run, run children! Leopards like to eat little ones!"
And that was it, the game was in action. Within minutes, three or four other children from the surrounding hawes were in on the game and Neena was running, jumping, and leaping about in the sand. No ladylike grace to be seen and all vibrant energy in each shift of her being and every play swipe at the children. Her features shifted between laughter and smiles and mock savagery.
The game took them all into the path of several people - those trying to sew or work on tapestries, some cooking and preparing flat bread, others who were fixing issues with their recently moves hawes. All, however, more or less watched with an amused smile as Neena's dramatics took their children off their hands and out from under their feet for a little while. A small moment of chaos for a period of quiet was only a slight price to pay.
It was as she was on all fours and swiping at some of the children harmlessly, creating peals of giggling laughter from the youngest ones that a voice interrupted her gameplay.
Until then, Neena hadn't even noticed the Leier's approach and she turned with a gnash of teeth before she realised who it was. Her features morphing into a bright smile, Neena say back upon her heels, knees in the sand and laughed.
"Your question suggests this game has rules." She said with a tone of exaggerated perplexity. She shook her head, rising back to her feet with a shrug. "We are but following the spirit of creativity, great Leier."
It was at that point, before she could say more, that one of the older boys in the group grabbed his bow and, arrowlessly drew back the string to 'fire' an arrow at the carnivorous beast, his lips pursing in the 'pew' sound of a projectile that Neena clutched at her side, stumbled dramatically and catapulted herself to the ground, deliberately landing on at least two of the children. Wrestling became the new game, until Neena was panting from laughing so hard, crying out that they had killed her, that the children had felled the wild beast...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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"Is that better?" Neena's voice was a little strained but not through frustration or emotion. It was purely a physical impact on her tone from standing as straight as she possibly could, on her toes, with her hands high above her head. "I don't think I've quite got it, there's a gap..." Her voice came out puffy as her chest was stretched and unable to draw deeply from the air. She heard a voice from inside the hawe but with several layers of tapestry and blanket between herself and the elderly Thanelaya, it was hard to hear the distinction in her words.
Neena frowned as she looked over her work to try and assess the issue herself. Sand was getting into the hawe from a gap in the layers somewhere and the last sandstorm had seen old Thaneli nearly buried in it, as it had seeped in through the creases. As it was, they hadn't had strong winds in months, so she had been safe for a while but now it was happening again and even small amounts of sand irritated the old woman's skin in her sleep. Given that they had now moved, as the tribes were known to do, it was a good opportunity to try and fix the problem.
Grabbing hold of one of the blankets, she tugged a little and managed to cover up the space she had noted but it only made another on the opposing side. Who had put this together? Tugging again to try and see if she could bring some more of the fabric across, it was then that the sheet came undone entirely and Neena - who had been relying on the tension of the tapestry to remain upright, immediately feel from the camel saddles she had stacked three high in order to reach the roof of the hawe. With a sharp yelp, the windmilling of arms and the firm thump of butt on sand, Neena went from being stretched upright like a bow string to being flat on her back in the sand. She coughed as the air was shoved unceremoniously from her lungs.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Neena's head turned upwards and around where she lay, scooping more sand into her hair no doubt, to spy a woman in a brightly coloured kaftan approaching at a great rate of knots. Fantastic. It was just her luck that her blunder would be witnessed by Faruss. She was one of the more... uptight of the Zaire.
"You've knocked over Thaneli's stitching, girl!"
Glancing over to the wooden structure teeming with threads and stretched sewing sections, Neena's upper lip curled a little in distaste. Oh no...
Coughing a little in a sputter to get her chest working again after the shock of hitting the floor, Neena didn't bother getting up. She was in for a telling off anyway.
"Technically," She told the woman with one finger in the air. "The universal force of gravity, knocked over Thaneli's trellis. I was the innocent bystander to its greater powers." Neena's informative nature was rewarded with a kick in her direction that didn't make contact but sent sand over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and sputtered, blowing her tongue out. Lovely...
"What are you babbling about? Get up and fix Thandi's hawe and then you can shake the sand from the trellis. You're not going to expect her to do it are you?"
"No." Neena offered shaking her head and still on the ground. "But neither should you expect me to do it." This last was muttered under her breath and was thankfully not heard. When Faruss simply stood there with impertinent fists on hips, Neena sighed. As there were no incoming offers of aid, it looked like she was getting back to her feet under her own sweet steam. With a loud exhale of great effort, Neena was up to sitting position in no time. Hard though the thump was, at least sand was mostly soft.
By this time, Thaneli herself had hobbled her way to the door of her hawe and pushed the fabric aside. Her eyes widened when she saw Neena on the floor and her elderly wrinkles drew together across her brow and puckered at her lips with concern.
"Are you alright, child?" She asked Neena, her kindness reaching beyond the divide of free woman and slave girl.
Neena smiled brightly. Most of the Zaire had come to welcome her in her time with them. But there were still a few hold outs - like Faruss - whose specific dislike seemed to grow with every friend that Neena secured. She could understand it. The woman didn't think a slave girl like herself should be so 'cosy' with free members of the tribe. The tribe - familial though it was - didn't work without hierarchy. So, she understood the desire to see it continued and the divisions of class preserved. It just irked that she was on the freedom-less side of that argument.
"Never better, Thaneli! She assured the woman, without an ounce of issue on her face. "I just need to get back up there and fix that hole. After which I'll dust off your trellis. I'm ever so sorry but I knocked it over." Neena pouted her bottom lip in the hopes of appeasement. "I promise I didn't mean to - it was an accident."
Her response was a gnarly old hand patting her softly on the cheek and a kind smile.
As if it were the only energiser she needed, Neena hopped back to her feet and set to work once more, offering a pointed look towards Faruss.
"Are you helping, mistress?" She asked the woman with an innocence that could not be denied. And soon, the two of them were working together to set old Thaneli's house back to rights.
By the time the hawe was back in working order, the old woman had thanked the both of them, and Faruss had stormed off clearly upset that her moment to crow over Neena's misfortunate had resulted in an hour’s work she had not counted on for herself.
After ensuring the hawe definitely no longer leaked little pourings of white sand and that the trellis of sewing had been shaken out and repositioned in the best light for the little old lady, Neena was instructed to go further towards the centre of the encampment and see if she could help anyone else ensure the final set ups of their hawes and possessions.
Following the instructions as given, Neena headed out towards where the hawes were situated together in a tighter formation. Along the way, she spotted a young woman that she had begun to befriend since joining the Zaire - woman called Linah.
Linah was a woman of intelligent mind that Neena liked greatly. But her husband was a little too interested in her in return for her to visit Linah often. Instead, she waited until her husband was out hunting and supporting his wife and two young children and then would sit with Linah and learn from her. The relationship was a new one and had only been going on since Neena had been purchased for the Zaire gesin, which meant that there was always something new about the woman.
"What are you doing?" Neena asked the woman, as she walked over and gracefully dropped into a cross-legged position. The interest in Linah's work was genuine, fuelled by Neena's natural curiosity.
Shaking out the sand that was still caught in the curls of her hair, Neena watched as the other woman mixed a paste the colour of wet mud or roasted pig around in the little wooden bowl.
"This is vlek." Linah said with a smile. "It's Illah's birthday today so we're celebrating."
"What do you do with it?" Neena asked, keeping a close eye on the meeting to her left where the men were reaching to touch hands and grasp wrists in greeting.
"You paint with it. On skin." Linah smiled. "Depending on the occasion, it might be symbols of fertility, for a wedding, or of wisdom for a birthday."
As the woman spoke her youngest Illah came toddling out. Aged four, the child sucked on their fingers as she peered into the bowl.
"Can I try some?" Neena asked with an enthusiastic grin that was reciprocated by the woman. She held out the bowl.
Dipping her fingers into the ceramic container, Neena caught the little Illah's eye and had an idea. She dabbed her index and middle finger into the paste, which was surprisingly warm from all the stirring it had been given and then began splodging and smearing it all over her face, neck, the top of her chest and down her arms.
"What in the spirits, are you doing child?" Linah asked, agasp at the lack of precision and decor in her painting. There were no symbols, no artistry in what she was doing but she was still pleased with the end result nonetheless.
"Look!" She determined to Illah and her elder brother Huni who had come out to watch too, spreading her arms wide. "I'm a leopard!"
And with a roar, the creation of claws with her hands and the gnashing of her teeth, Neena elicited a laugh from Huni and a yelp from his little sister.
"Run, run, run children! Leopards like to eat little ones!"
And that was it, the game was in action. Within minutes, three or four other children from the surrounding hawes were in on the game and Neena was running, jumping, and leaping about in the sand. No ladylike grace to be seen and all vibrant energy in each shift of her being and every play swipe at the children. Her features shifted between laughter and smiles and mock savagery.
The game took them all into the path of several people - those trying to sew or work on tapestries, some cooking and preparing flat bread, others who were fixing issues with their recently moves hawes. All, however, more or less watched with an amused smile as Neena's dramatics took their children off their hands and out from under their feet for a little while. A small moment of chaos for a period of quiet was only a slight price to pay.
It was as she was on all fours and swiping at some of the children harmlessly, creating peals of giggling laughter from the youngest ones that a voice interrupted her gameplay.
Until then, Neena hadn't even noticed the Leier's approach and she turned with a gnash of teeth before she realised who it was. Her features morphing into a bright smile, Neena say back upon her heels, knees in the sand and laughed.
"Your question suggests this game has rules." She said with a tone of exaggerated perplexity. She shook her head, rising back to her feet with a shrug. "We are but following the spirit of creativity, great Leier."
It was at that point, before she could say more, that one of the older boys in the group grabbed his bow and, arrowlessly drew back the string to 'fire' an arrow at the carnivorous beast, his lips pursing in the 'pew' sound of a projectile that Neena clutched at her side, stumbled dramatically and catapulted herself to the ground, deliberately landing on at least two of the children. Wrestling became the new game, until Neena was panting from laughing so hard, crying out that they had killed her, that the children had felled the wild beast...
"Is that better?" Neena's voice was a little strained but not through frustration or emotion. It was purely a physical impact on her tone from standing as straight as she possibly could, on her toes, with her hands high above her head. "I don't think I've quite got it, there's a gap..." Her voice came out puffy as her chest was stretched and unable to draw deeply from the air. She heard a voice from inside the hawe but with several layers of tapestry and blanket between herself and the elderly Thanelaya, it was hard to hear the distinction in her words.
Neena frowned as she looked over her work to try and assess the issue herself. Sand was getting into the hawe from a gap in the layers somewhere and the last sandstorm had seen old Thaneli nearly buried in it, as it had seeped in through the creases. As it was, they hadn't had strong winds in months, so she had been safe for a while but now it was happening again and even small amounts of sand irritated the old woman's skin in her sleep. Given that they had now moved, as the tribes were known to do, it was a good opportunity to try and fix the problem.
Grabbing hold of one of the blankets, she tugged a little and managed to cover up the space she had noted but it only made another on the opposing side. Who had put this together? Tugging again to try and see if she could bring some more of the fabric across, it was then that the sheet came undone entirely and Neena - who had been relying on the tension of the tapestry to remain upright, immediately feel from the camel saddles she had stacked three high in order to reach the roof of the hawe. With a sharp yelp, the windmilling of arms and the firm thump of butt on sand, Neena went from being stretched upright like a bow string to being flat on her back in the sand. She coughed as the air was shoved unceremoniously from her lungs.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Neena's head turned upwards and around where she lay, scooping more sand into her hair no doubt, to spy a woman in a brightly coloured kaftan approaching at a great rate of knots. Fantastic. It was just her luck that her blunder would be witnessed by Faruss. She was one of the more... uptight of the Zaire.
"You've knocked over Thaneli's stitching, girl!"
Glancing over to the wooden structure teeming with threads and stretched sewing sections, Neena's upper lip curled a little in distaste. Oh no...
Coughing a little in a sputter to get her chest working again after the shock of hitting the floor, Neena didn't bother getting up. She was in for a telling off anyway.
"Technically," She told the woman with one finger in the air. "The universal force of gravity, knocked over Thaneli's trellis. I was the innocent bystander to its greater powers." Neena's informative nature was rewarded with a kick in her direction that didn't make contact but sent sand over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and sputtered, blowing her tongue out. Lovely...
"What are you babbling about? Get up and fix Thandi's hawe and then you can shake the sand from the trellis. You're not going to expect her to do it are you?"
"No." Neena offered shaking her head and still on the ground. "But neither should you expect me to do it." This last was muttered under her breath and was thankfully not heard. When Faruss simply stood there with impertinent fists on hips, Neena sighed. As there were no incoming offers of aid, it looked like she was getting back to her feet under her own sweet steam. With a loud exhale of great effort, Neena was up to sitting position in no time. Hard though the thump was, at least sand was mostly soft.
By this time, Thaneli herself had hobbled her way to the door of her hawe and pushed the fabric aside. Her eyes widened when she saw Neena on the floor and her elderly wrinkles drew together across her brow and puckered at her lips with concern.
"Are you alright, child?" She asked Neena, her kindness reaching beyond the divide of free woman and slave girl.
Neena smiled brightly. Most of the Zaire had come to welcome her in her time with them. But there were still a few hold outs - like Faruss - whose specific dislike seemed to grow with every friend that Neena secured. She could understand it. The woman didn't think a slave girl like herself should be so 'cosy' with free members of the tribe. The tribe - familial though it was - didn't work without hierarchy. So, she understood the desire to see it continued and the divisions of class preserved. It just irked that she was on the freedom-less side of that argument.
"Never better, Thaneli! She assured the woman, without an ounce of issue on her face. "I just need to get back up there and fix that hole. After which I'll dust off your trellis. I'm ever so sorry but I knocked it over." Neena pouted her bottom lip in the hopes of appeasement. "I promise I didn't mean to - it was an accident."
Her response was a gnarly old hand patting her softly on the cheek and a kind smile.
As if it were the only energiser she needed, Neena hopped back to her feet and set to work once more, offering a pointed look towards Faruss.
"Are you helping, mistress?" She asked the woman with an innocence that could not be denied. And soon, the two of them were working together to set old Thaneli's house back to rights.
By the time the hawe was back in working order, the old woman had thanked the both of them, and Faruss had stormed off clearly upset that her moment to crow over Neena's misfortunate had resulted in an hour’s work she had not counted on for herself.
After ensuring the hawe definitely no longer leaked little pourings of white sand and that the trellis of sewing had been shaken out and repositioned in the best light for the little old lady, Neena was instructed to go further towards the centre of the encampment and see if she could help anyone else ensure the final set ups of their hawes and possessions.
Following the instructions as given, Neena headed out towards where the hawes were situated together in a tighter formation. Along the way, she spotted a young woman that she had begun to befriend since joining the Zaire - woman called Linah.
Linah was a woman of intelligent mind that Neena liked greatly. But her husband was a little too interested in her in return for her to visit Linah often. Instead, she waited until her husband was out hunting and supporting his wife and two young children and then would sit with Linah and learn from her. The relationship was a new one and had only been going on since Neena had been purchased for the Zaire gesin, which meant that there was always something new about the woman.
"What are you doing?" Neena asked the woman, as she walked over and gracefully dropped into a cross-legged position. The interest in Linah's work was genuine, fuelled by Neena's natural curiosity.
Shaking out the sand that was still caught in the curls of her hair, Neena watched as the other woman mixed a paste the colour of wet mud or roasted pig around in the little wooden bowl.
"This is vlek." Linah said with a smile. "It's Illah's birthday today so we're celebrating."
"What do you do with it?" Neena asked, keeping a close eye on the meeting to her left where the men were reaching to touch hands and grasp wrists in greeting.
"You paint with it. On skin." Linah smiled. "Depending on the occasion, it might be symbols of fertility, for a wedding, or of wisdom for a birthday."
As the woman spoke her youngest Illah came toddling out. Aged four, the child sucked on their fingers as she peered into the bowl.
"Can I try some?" Neena asked with an enthusiastic grin that was reciprocated by the woman. She held out the bowl.
Dipping her fingers into the ceramic container, Neena caught the little Illah's eye and had an idea. She dabbed her index and middle finger into the paste, which was surprisingly warm from all the stirring it had been given and then began splodging and smearing it all over her face, neck, the top of her chest and down her arms.
"What in the spirits, are you doing child?" Linah asked, agasp at the lack of precision and decor in her painting. There were no symbols, no artistry in what she was doing but she was still pleased with the end result nonetheless.
"Look!" She determined to Illah and her elder brother Huni who had come out to watch too, spreading her arms wide. "I'm a leopard!"
And with a roar, the creation of claws with her hands and the gnashing of her teeth, Neena elicited a laugh from Huni and a yelp from his little sister.
"Run, run, run children! Leopards like to eat little ones!"
And that was it, the game was in action. Within minutes, three or four other children from the surrounding hawes were in on the game and Neena was running, jumping, and leaping about in the sand. No ladylike grace to be seen and all vibrant energy in each shift of her being and every play swipe at the children. Her features shifted between laughter and smiles and mock savagery.
The game took them all into the path of several people - those trying to sew or work on tapestries, some cooking and preparing flat bread, others who were fixing issues with their recently moves hawes. All, however, more or less watched with an amused smile as Neena's dramatics took their children off their hands and out from under their feet for a little while. A small moment of chaos for a period of quiet was only a slight price to pay.
It was as she was on all fours and swiping at some of the children harmlessly, creating peals of giggling laughter from the youngest ones that a voice interrupted her gameplay.
Until then, Neena hadn't even noticed the Leier's approach and she turned with a gnash of teeth before she realised who it was. Her features morphing into a bright smile, Neena say back upon her heels, knees in the sand and laughed.
"Your question suggests this game has rules." She said with a tone of exaggerated perplexity. She shook her head, rising back to her feet with a shrug. "We are but following the spirit of creativity, great Leier."
It was at that point, before she could say more, that one of the older boys in the group grabbed his bow and, arrowlessly drew back the string to 'fire' an arrow at the carnivorous beast, his lips pursing in the 'pew' sound of a projectile that Neena clutched at her side, stumbled dramatically and catapulted herself to the ground, deliberately landing on at least two of the children. Wrestling became the new game, until Neena was panting from laughing so hard, crying out that they had killed her, that the children had felled the wild beast...
This young slave woman was most certainly the freest girl he had ever met. Her tendencies were childlike, but she still had an air of maturity about her that drew the leier in. It was a miracle, mostly, that she had found such a balance. And a way to keep the tribe's children entertained when many of their parents were hard at work making sure tents and animals were cared for in the early afternoon.
Initially, Hasani had wondered if maybe Neena would be a little too much to handle, but he was quickly finding that, despite her quirks and her tendency to wander from her chores, she was still very much an asset to the tribe. Anyone who could hold the attention of the children for as long as she could, who could tell stories that made little eyes widen with fascination, and draw wild giggles of excitement was an important and invaluable member of the tribe. It had been so little time since Neena had joined them, but already Hasani was considering relieving her of her slave duties and offering her full rights in the Gesin.
But he was still unsure of how such a thing would be taken by the rest of the Gesin and not wanting to step on any toes, he had taken a step back from the idea until she had been with them a little longer. Now, with her standing before him pained like a leopard with the vlek they usually used celebrations, Hasani couldn't help but consider the idea a second time. She was amazing with children and many of the parents seemed relieved not to have the little ones underfoot.
Slipping his hands behind his back, Hasani smirked down at the woman. "You're giving little Illah a wonderful birthday celebration, Hasani commented, watching the little one scramble and giggle along with the rest of them. "I am convinced that maybe I should put you and keep you on child distraction duty. You seem to like them," Hasani added as an afterthought. "And they like you," he was smiling at one of the little boys that were clearly waiting for Neena to come back to play with them.
"Don't all games have rules?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at Neena. Most games did, didn't they? Or else were they really considered games at all? Could her playing at being a leopard be a new form of dance that the Bedoans had never discovered before now? Had Hasani not been suer that he would look a total fool before the ancestors, he may have joined in with the wildness.
The man breathed out slowly through his nose then. "Do you have much experience with children, Neena?" Of course, he remembered her name from before, and not just because she was often the talk of many of the women in the tribe. "Or shall I call you 'little leopard' from now on? It seems like a name that would suit you." His smile reached his eyes. There was no malice or irritation there.
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This young slave woman was most certainly the freest girl he had ever met. Her tendencies were childlike, but she still had an air of maturity about her that drew the leier in. It was a miracle, mostly, that she had found such a balance. And a way to keep the tribe's children entertained when many of their parents were hard at work making sure tents and animals were cared for in the early afternoon.
Initially, Hasani had wondered if maybe Neena would be a little too much to handle, but he was quickly finding that, despite her quirks and her tendency to wander from her chores, she was still very much an asset to the tribe. Anyone who could hold the attention of the children for as long as she could, who could tell stories that made little eyes widen with fascination, and draw wild giggles of excitement was an important and invaluable member of the tribe. It had been so little time since Neena had joined them, but already Hasani was considering relieving her of her slave duties and offering her full rights in the Gesin.
But he was still unsure of how such a thing would be taken by the rest of the Gesin and not wanting to step on any toes, he had taken a step back from the idea until she had been with them a little longer. Now, with her standing before him pained like a leopard with the vlek they usually used celebrations, Hasani couldn't help but consider the idea a second time. She was amazing with children and many of the parents seemed relieved not to have the little ones underfoot.
Slipping his hands behind his back, Hasani smirked down at the woman. "You're giving little Illah a wonderful birthday celebration, Hasani commented, watching the little one scramble and giggle along with the rest of them. "I am convinced that maybe I should put you and keep you on child distraction duty. You seem to like them," Hasani added as an afterthought. "And they like you," he was smiling at one of the little boys that were clearly waiting for Neena to come back to play with them.
"Don't all games have rules?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at Neena. Most games did, didn't they? Or else were they really considered games at all? Could her playing at being a leopard be a new form of dance that the Bedoans had never discovered before now? Had Hasani not been suer that he would look a total fool before the ancestors, he may have joined in with the wildness.
The man breathed out slowly through his nose then. "Do you have much experience with children, Neena?" Of course, he remembered her name from before, and not just because she was often the talk of many of the women in the tribe. "Or shall I call you 'little leopard' from now on? It seems like a name that would suit you." His smile reached his eyes. There was no malice or irritation there.
This young slave woman was most certainly the freest girl he had ever met. Her tendencies were childlike, but she still had an air of maturity about her that drew the leier in. It was a miracle, mostly, that she had found such a balance. And a way to keep the tribe's children entertained when many of their parents were hard at work making sure tents and animals were cared for in the early afternoon.
Initially, Hasani had wondered if maybe Neena would be a little too much to handle, but he was quickly finding that, despite her quirks and her tendency to wander from her chores, she was still very much an asset to the tribe. Anyone who could hold the attention of the children for as long as she could, who could tell stories that made little eyes widen with fascination, and draw wild giggles of excitement was an important and invaluable member of the tribe. It had been so little time since Neena had joined them, but already Hasani was considering relieving her of her slave duties and offering her full rights in the Gesin.
But he was still unsure of how such a thing would be taken by the rest of the Gesin and not wanting to step on any toes, he had taken a step back from the idea until she had been with them a little longer. Now, with her standing before him pained like a leopard with the vlek they usually used celebrations, Hasani couldn't help but consider the idea a second time. She was amazing with children and many of the parents seemed relieved not to have the little ones underfoot.
Slipping his hands behind his back, Hasani smirked down at the woman. "You're giving little Illah a wonderful birthday celebration, Hasani commented, watching the little one scramble and giggle along with the rest of them. "I am convinced that maybe I should put you and keep you on child distraction duty. You seem to like them," Hasani added as an afterthought. "And they like you," he was smiling at one of the little boys that were clearly waiting for Neena to come back to play with them.
"Don't all games have rules?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at Neena. Most games did, didn't they? Or else were they really considered games at all? Could her playing at being a leopard be a new form of dance that the Bedoans had never discovered before now? Had Hasani not been suer that he would look a total fool before the ancestors, he may have joined in with the wildness.
The man breathed out slowly through his nose then. "Do you have much experience with children, Neena?" Of course, he remembered her name from before, and not just because she was often the talk of many of the women in the tribe. "Or shall I call you 'little leopard' from now on? It seems like a name that would suit you." His smile reached his eyes. There was no malice or irritation there.
Gasping as she managed to come to her feet in order to continue the conversation with the Leier, Neena was covered in sand and grit. Her hair was half in and out of the fastening she had tightened at the back of her head that morning and the vlek was smeared across her limbs, golden sand already stuck to it. Her sandals - basic strips of leather tied in place with string that rubbed her feet raw - were wonky and pulled out of shape and her tunic was askew. In short, she was a complete and utter mess. And she had no concerns about it whatsoever. Her eyes were bright, her smile brighter, as she simply pushed back the half of her hair that had sprung free, only to have it spring back into tight curls sticking out from the right side of her head.
"I like everyone." Was her simple answer to Hasani's suggestion at children duty. It was true that she liked kids. They were fun and wild and exuberant. Whilst she would never, at this stage in her life, want any of her own (so much so that the thought had never even entered her head), she loved to play with the young. Perhaps it was because she had maintained a youthful optimism of her own despite her age and she related to them better. Perhaps it was the way that they kept her adventurous spirit entertained. Adults were predictable and often followed the rules of their society or upbringing. In short: boring. Children were spontaneous and engaging and liked to throw new ideas and confusing notions at her every second. Like the young boy with his fake arrow, escalating the game to a new level. Or the way the children instantly accepted and reacted to any changes she employed. Like the changing of the game to wrestling.
Children held no judgement, open minds and happy acceptance. They fit Neena to a T.
When Hasani offered the idea that all games had rules, Neena shook her head with a laugh.
"Only the boring ones." She told him with a mischievous grin. "The best games are the ones that come from creativity. From the heart." She laughed and shook her head again. "And there are no rules that govern the heart."
As the children looked imploringly towards Neena, clearly uncertain what to do now that she had stopped playing with them but unable to interrupt when she was speaking with the leader of the tribe, Neena threw out an arm towards an open patch of sand that had been vacated by hawes.
"You know the best way to keep leopards away?" She asked them, with the same tone of exuberant fun as she had spoken to them before. "Build a fortress!" She glanced up at the sky and towards the sun, clearly measuring the time before she turned back. "You've got half an hour and then the leopard attacks!" She made a roaring noise, set her hands into claws once more over her head and the youngest of the kids squealed and ran for the open sand. The older ones followed and soon there were arguments and debates on how best to build a hide out from the monstrous cat.
Turning back to Hasani and now able to have a conversation with him without the audience, she was in time to meet his gaze as he asked if she had experience with children.
"I was one, wasn't I?" She said, giving the honest truth that she had never looked after children or handled them long-term in any way. She just instinctively played with them how she might have wished to be played with when she was young.
She laughed when he offered her the nickname.
"You're the Leier, aren't you?" She said with a shrug as if this meant very little to her but was still a fact nonetheless. "You're allowed to call me whatever you like, I think. Isn’t that your privilege, great one?" Her tone was light and teasing – far too inappropriate for how to address a Leier, but then she had spoken to ease enough to Tanishe the previous day and she was the Leierin. Neena just wasn’t one for following protocol and took the consequences it created as they came.
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Gasping as she managed to come to her feet in order to continue the conversation with the Leier, Neena was covered in sand and grit. Her hair was half in and out of the fastening she had tightened at the back of her head that morning and the vlek was smeared across her limbs, golden sand already stuck to it. Her sandals - basic strips of leather tied in place with string that rubbed her feet raw - were wonky and pulled out of shape and her tunic was askew. In short, she was a complete and utter mess. And she had no concerns about it whatsoever. Her eyes were bright, her smile brighter, as she simply pushed back the half of her hair that had sprung free, only to have it spring back into tight curls sticking out from the right side of her head.
"I like everyone." Was her simple answer to Hasani's suggestion at children duty. It was true that she liked kids. They were fun and wild and exuberant. Whilst she would never, at this stage in her life, want any of her own (so much so that the thought had never even entered her head), she loved to play with the young. Perhaps it was because she had maintained a youthful optimism of her own despite her age and she related to them better. Perhaps it was the way that they kept her adventurous spirit entertained. Adults were predictable and often followed the rules of their society or upbringing. In short: boring. Children were spontaneous and engaging and liked to throw new ideas and confusing notions at her every second. Like the young boy with his fake arrow, escalating the game to a new level. Or the way the children instantly accepted and reacted to any changes she employed. Like the changing of the game to wrestling.
Children held no judgement, open minds and happy acceptance. They fit Neena to a T.
When Hasani offered the idea that all games had rules, Neena shook her head with a laugh.
"Only the boring ones." She told him with a mischievous grin. "The best games are the ones that come from creativity. From the heart." She laughed and shook her head again. "And there are no rules that govern the heart."
As the children looked imploringly towards Neena, clearly uncertain what to do now that she had stopped playing with them but unable to interrupt when she was speaking with the leader of the tribe, Neena threw out an arm towards an open patch of sand that had been vacated by hawes.
"You know the best way to keep leopards away?" She asked them, with the same tone of exuberant fun as she had spoken to them before. "Build a fortress!" She glanced up at the sky and towards the sun, clearly measuring the time before she turned back. "You've got half an hour and then the leopard attacks!" She made a roaring noise, set her hands into claws once more over her head and the youngest of the kids squealed and ran for the open sand. The older ones followed and soon there were arguments and debates on how best to build a hide out from the monstrous cat.
Turning back to Hasani and now able to have a conversation with him without the audience, she was in time to meet his gaze as he asked if she had experience with children.
"I was one, wasn't I?" She said, giving the honest truth that she had never looked after children or handled them long-term in any way. She just instinctively played with them how she might have wished to be played with when she was young.
She laughed when he offered her the nickname.
"You're the Leier, aren't you?" She said with a shrug as if this meant very little to her but was still a fact nonetheless. "You're allowed to call me whatever you like, I think. Isn’t that your privilege, great one?" Her tone was light and teasing – far too inappropriate for how to address a Leier, but then she had spoken to ease enough to Tanishe the previous day and she was the Leierin. Neena just wasn’t one for following protocol and took the consequences it created as they came.
Gasping as she managed to come to her feet in order to continue the conversation with the Leier, Neena was covered in sand and grit. Her hair was half in and out of the fastening she had tightened at the back of her head that morning and the vlek was smeared across her limbs, golden sand already stuck to it. Her sandals - basic strips of leather tied in place with string that rubbed her feet raw - were wonky and pulled out of shape and her tunic was askew. In short, she was a complete and utter mess. And she had no concerns about it whatsoever. Her eyes were bright, her smile brighter, as she simply pushed back the half of her hair that had sprung free, only to have it spring back into tight curls sticking out from the right side of her head.
"I like everyone." Was her simple answer to Hasani's suggestion at children duty. It was true that she liked kids. They were fun and wild and exuberant. Whilst she would never, at this stage in her life, want any of her own (so much so that the thought had never even entered her head), she loved to play with the young. Perhaps it was because she had maintained a youthful optimism of her own despite her age and she related to them better. Perhaps it was the way that they kept her adventurous spirit entertained. Adults were predictable and often followed the rules of their society or upbringing. In short: boring. Children were spontaneous and engaging and liked to throw new ideas and confusing notions at her every second. Like the young boy with his fake arrow, escalating the game to a new level. Or the way the children instantly accepted and reacted to any changes she employed. Like the changing of the game to wrestling.
Children held no judgement, open minds and happy acceptance. They fit Neena to a T.
When Hasani offered the idea that all games had rules, Neena shook her head with a laugh.
"Only the boring ones." She told him with a mischievous grin. "The best games are the ones that come from creativity. From the heart." She laughed and shook her head again. "And there are no rules that govern the heart."
As the children looked imploringly towards Neena, clearly uncertain what to do now that she had stopped playing with them but unable to interrupt when she was speaking with the leader of the tribe, Neena threw out an arm towards an open patch of sand that had been vacated by hawes.
"You know the best way to keep leopards away?" She asked them, with the same tone of exuberant fun as she had spoken to them before. "Build a fortress!" She glanced up at the sky and towards the sun, clearly measuring the time before she turned back. "You've got half an hour and then the leopard attacks!" She made a roaring noise, set her hands into claws once more over her head and the youngest of the kids squealed and ran for the open sand. The older ones followed and soon there were arguments and debates on how best to build a hide out from the monstrous cat.
Turning back to Hasani and now able to have a conversation with him without the audience, she was in time to meet his gaze as he asked if she had experience with children.
"I was one, wasn't I?" She said, giving the honest truth that she had never looked after children or handled them long-term in any way. She just instinctively played with them how she might have wished to be played with when she was young.
She laughed when he offered her the nickname.
"You're the Leier, aren't you?" She said with a shrug as if this meant very little to her but was still a fact nonetheless. "You're allowed to call me whatever you like, I think. Isn’t that your privilege, great one?" Her tone was light and teasing – far too inappropriate for how to address a Leier, but then she had spoken to ease enough to Tanishe the previous day and she was the Leierin. Neena just wasn’t one for following protocol and took the consequences it created as they came.
Hasani didn't know why, but he wasn't bothered by the ruffled nature of the slave girl. She was a total mess, but that had all been in an effort to play with and entertain the numerous children of the tribe. Neena was a grace from the ancestors, and he wasn't sure that the young woman realized that. Sometimes keeping children entertained when the tribe was wholly nomadic was difficult. Hasani remembered when he himself was a child, and trying to understand why the tribe moves across the sand, never staying in one place, was a difficult concept in those early, formative years.
When his parents died, he struggled even further with the idea of purpose and need. Keeping a child's mind active and their bodies sharp was a perfect way to keep them distracted and happy. Playing with the imagination in the way that Neena did would also help them later on in life when the threat of leopards and beasts was real. Such a thing was not something anyone truly thought of until they were in the moment.
"I've gathered that you get along well with nearly everyone you meet," Hasani said with a light smile, watching the woman try to shift her hair back into position. She might need one of the women to help her pull in back so it didn't stay so wild and unkempt. "Has that always been true?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at her then. It was true, it had to be. Neena seemed to have a charisma about her that most people were drawn to. She was wild, yes, but she was wild in a way that was drawing and interesting. Hasani couldn't imagine Neena having ever run into much trouble until she had been caught stealing and forced into slavery.
A laugh echoed off the warm sands and Hasani crossed his arms casually against his chest, staring down at Neena with a growing smile. "Boring games? No games are truly boring when you live your life on the sands. Anything at all is better than the periodic monotony. It is why we tell stories or play games that we can focus on while traversing the sands," Hasani hummed, "But even those have rules. Can games that are seen as creative not have rules? Is that a guideline I have not been following most of my life?" the leier teased her, shaking his head, but then pausing at her final assertion. That no rules governed the heart. Hasani found himself searching for his wife among the members of the tribe that were milling about their days.
Hasani had never intended to marry the leier's daughter for the sake of power. That hadn't even been a consideration. Before the previous leier had passed away, it had been Shange that was supposed to become the leier of the tribe. Hasani's marriage to Tanishe had been entirely based on love and absolute devotion to her oldest friend and the most prominent person in his life. The leier had been important to Hasani. The man had raised him, giving him a position within the tribe that he had been more than proud of.
But it had been Tanishe that had pulled at his heartstrings and had him wanting more. Wanting her. The light of his life, a gift from the ancestors, and the one person he was sure he would lose himself without, Hasani understood what Neena was saying. There were no rules to govern the heart. Hasani often let his heart carry himself and the tribe places that were all based on gut feeling. Knowing how to navigate the Sahara was only a small part of everything.
Going where felt right? That was important. Knowing that the extent of their supplies would only last them through one stretch of the desert before they would have to stop and forage or head in the direction of one of the many oases upon the desert sands for relief and fresh water was a skill that Hasani had assumed simply on observation and feeling.
He could tell that the children truly wanted Neena to play with them, but Hasani was still curious. Given that they now had a task to focus on, Hasani kept his eyes on them while they all scrambled to make a fortress together. "I think I would like you to continue to work with the children, Neena," Hasani admitted, "They do not take to many of the nannies within the tribe because none are so young and willing to enthrall them the way that you have," he murmured, almost absently. He silently wished he could see the face of one of his own children in the little group. A sore spot already, Hasani tore his gaze from them.
"I have many privileges, but flaunting them is not in my nature," Hasani admitted calmly, rolling his shoulders and shifting himself from one foot to the other as he thought about what the implications of using such power for little whims might incite within the tribe. "It is all about a balance," he murmured with a shrug. "Did you play games such as these when you were a child?" he found himself circling back to their initial topic of conversation, unable to stop the curiosity that burned in his chest. Perhaps knowing the thought process behind such acts might make him a better father when he and Tanishe were finally able to conceive. He did not want to be one of those boring fathers who did not know how to play with his own child.
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Hasani didn't know why, but he wasn't bothered by the ruffled nature of the slave girl. She was a total mess, but that had all been in an effort to play with and entertain the numerous children of the tribe. Neena was a grace from the ancestors, and he wasn't sure that the young woman realized that. Sometimes keeping children entertained when the tribe was wholly nomadic was difficult. Hasani remembered when he himself was a child, and trying to understand why the tribe moves across the sand, never staying in one place, was a difficult concept in those early, formative years.
When his parents died, he struggled even further with the idea of purpose and need. Keeping a child's mind active and their bodies sharp was a perfect way to keep them distracted and happy. Playing with the imagination in the way that Neena did would also help them later on in life when the threat of leopards and beasts was real. Such a thing was not something anyone truly thought of until they were in the moment.
"I've gathered that you get along well with nearly everyone you meet," Hasani said with a light smile, watching the woman try to shift her hair back into position. She might need one of the women to help her pull in back so it didn't stay so wild and unkempt. "Has that always been true?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at her then. It was true, it had to be. Neena seemed to have a charisma about her that most people were drawn to. She was wild, yes, but she was wild in a way that was drawing and interesting. Hasani couldn't imagine Neena having ever run into much trouble until she had been caught stealing and forced into slavery.
A laugh echoed off the warm sands and Hasani crossed his arms casually against his chest, staring down at Neena with a growing smile. "Boring games? No games are truly boring when you live your life on the sands. Anything at all is better than the periodic monotony. It is why we tell stories or play games that we can focus on while traversing the sands," Hasani hummed, "But even those have rules. Can games that are seen as creative not have rules? Is that a guideline I have not been following most of my life?" the leier teased her, shaking his head, but then pausing at her final assertion. That no rules governed the heart. Hasani found himself searching for his wife among the members of the tribe that were milling about their days.
Hasani had never intended to marry the leier's daughter for the sake of power. That hadn't even been a consideration. Before the previous leier had passed away, it had been Shange that was supposed to become the leier of the tribe. Hasani's marriage to Tanishe had been entirely based on love and absolute devotion to her oldest friend and the most prominent person in his life. The leier had been important to Hasani. The man had raised him, giving him a position within the tribe that he had been more than proud of.
But it had been Tanishe that had pulled at his heartstrings and had him wanting more. Wanting her. The light of his life, a gift from the ancestors, and the one person he was sure he would lose himself without, Hasani understood what Neena was saying. There were no rules to govern the heart. Hasani often let his heart carry himself and the tribe places that were all based on gut feeling. Knowing how to navigate the Sahara was only a small part of everything.
Going where felt right? That was important. Knowing that the extent of their supplies would only last them through one stretch of the desert before they would have to stop and forage or head in the direction of one of the many oases upon the desert sands for relief and fresh water was a skill that Hasani had assumed simply on observation and feeling.
He could tell that the children truly wanted Neena to play with them, but Hasani was still curious. Given that they now had a task to focus on, Hasani kept his eyes on them while they all scrambled to make a fortress together. "I think I would like you to continue to work with the children, Neena," Hasani admitted, "They do not take to many of the nannies within the tribe because none are so young and willing to enthrall them the way that you have," he murmured, almost absently. He silently wished he could see the face of one of his own children in the little group. A sore spot already, Hasani tore his gaze from them.
"I have many privileges, but flaunting them is not in my nature," Hasani admitted calmly, rolling his shoulders and shifting himself from one foot to the other as he thought about what the implications of using such power for little whims might incite within the tribe. "It is all about a balance," he murmured with a shrug. "Did you play games such as these when you were a child?" he found himself circling back to their initial topic of conversation, unable to stop the curiosity that burned in his chest. Perhaps knowing the thought process behind such acts might make him a better father when he and Tanishe were finally able to conceive. He did not want to be one of those boring fathers who did not know how to play with his own child.
Hasani didn't know why, but he wasn't bothered by the ruffled nature of the slave girl. She was a total mess, but that had all been in an effort to play with and entertain the numerous children of the tribe. Neena was a grace from the ancestors, and he wasn't sure that the young woman realized that. Sometimes keeping children entertained when the tribe was wholly nomadic was difficult. Hasani remembered when he himself was a child, and trying to understand why the tribe moves across the sand, never staying in one place, was a difficult concept in those early, formative years.
When his parents died, he struggled even further with the idea of purpose and need. Keeping a child's mind active and their bodies sharp was a perfect way to keep them distracted and happy. Playing with the imagination in the way that Neena did would also help them later on in life when the threat of leopards and beasts was real. Such a thing was not something anyone truly thought of until they were in the moment.
"I've gathered that you get along well with nearly everyone you meet," Hasani said with a light smile, watching the woman try to shift her hair back into position. She might need one of the women to help her pull in back so it didn't stay so wild and unkempt. "Has that always been true?" Hasani questioned, lifting an eyebrow at her then. It was true, it had to be. Neena seemed to have a charisma about her that most people were drawn to. She was wild, yes, but she was wild in a way that was drawing and interesting. Hasani couldn't imagine Neena having ever run into much trouble until she had been caught stealing and forced into slavery.
A laugh echoed off the warm sands and Hasani crossed his arms casually against his chest, staring down at Neena with a growing smile. "Boring games? No games are truly boring when you live your life on the sands. Anything at all is better than the periodic monotony. It is why we tell stories or play games that we can focus on while traversing the sands," Hasani hummed, "But even those have rules. Can games that are seen as creative not have rules? Is that a guideline I have not been following most of my life?" the leier teased her, shaking his head, but then pausing at her final assertion. That no rules governed the heart. Hasani found himself searching for his wife among the members of the tribe that were milling about their days.
Hasani had never intended to marry the leier's daughter for the sake of power. That hadn't even been a consideration. Before the previous leier had passed away, it had been Shange that was supposed to become the leier of the tribe. Hasani's marriage to Tanishe had been entirely based on love and absolute devotion to her oldest friend and the most prominent person in his life. The leier had been important to Hasani. The man had raised him, giving him a position within the tribe that he had been more than proud of.
But it had been Tanishe that had pulled at his heartstrings and had him wanting more. Wanting her. The light of his life, a gift from the ancestors, and the one person he was sure he would lose himself without, Hasani understood what Neena was saying. There were no rules to govern the heart. Hasani often let his heart carry himself and the tribe places that were all based on gut feeling. Knowing how to navigate the Sahara was only a small part of everything.
Going where felt right? That was important. Knowing that the extent of their supplies would only last them through one stretch of the desert before they would have to stop and forage or head in the direction of one of the many oases upon the desert sands for relief and fresh water was a skill that Hasani had assumed simply on observation and feeling.
He could tell that the children truly wanted Neena to play with them, but Hasani was still curious. Given that they now had a task to focus on, Hasani kept his eyes on them while they all scrambled to make a fortress together. "I think I would like you to continue to work with the children, Neena," Hasani admitted, "They do not take to many of the nannies within the tribe because none are so young and willing to enthrall them the way that you have," he murmured, almost absently. He silently wished he could see the face of one of his own children in the little group. A sore spot already, Hasani tore his gaze from them.
"I have many privileges, but flaunting them is not in my nature," Hasani admitted calmly, rolling his shoulders and shifting himself from one foot to the other as he thought about what the implications of using such power for little whims might incite within the tribe. "It is all about a balance," he murmured with a shrug. "Did you play games such as these when you were a child?" he found himself circling back to their initial topic of conversation, unable to stop the curiosity that burned in his chest. Perhaps knowing the thought process behind such acts might make him a better father when he and Tanishe were finally able to conceive. He did not want to be one of those boring fathers who did not know how to play with his own child.
Whilst she cared little for her messy appearance, Neena was also not one to stand still and do little with her hands or muscles - even when she was talking to another. A fidgetter by nature and an efficient worker after being raised on a ship where duty was significant, Neena did not like responsibility or commitment but also had an instinctive knack for turning her inability to be still into an asset for productivity.
As such, whilst she was talking with the Leier of the tribe, her hands sought out a task in righting her appearance. She tugged at the shoulders and hem of her tunic, she shifted her feet about in her sand-filled thongs to get them back into place beneath the soles of her feet. She dusted a little at her arms where the sand stuck to the vlek was a little irritating, but she kept most of the marks in place. Couldn't be a leopard without spots after all...
Her hair was a lost cause and she simply hooked it behind her ear, knowing it would only spring forward once more if she didn't secure it behind the curve of her ear and lobe. Beyond that, she wore little of value on her person. She had a sealed gold ring around her left wrist - unable to be removed with its destruction - and a thick jade bangle that she wore around her upper arm on the same side. There were no other decorations or pieces of jewellery about her person that she could have lost in the sand.
For a woman who disliked commitment, her jewellery was fairly permanently attached. But on the other hand, she had never entered into the tattoos or scarification so popular with the Bedoan people.
It was as if she liked to dedicate herself to something, but only ever with a potential escape...
When Hasani suggested that Neena look after the children - or rather ordered her to, Neena's nose wrinkled a little in distaste - surprising given how openly she had been playing with them just before.
"Yes, sir." She offered him, with a slight dimming to her usual enthusiasm.
She understood that he was probably just trying to be nice - even complimentary - of her skills with the young but what he didn't seem to be getting with their whole 'no-rules is fun' conversation was that if looking after the children was actually her duty and her job it became far more of a chore to carry out. It was basic human natural - you usually wanted to do something, until you were told that you had to. Human beings were contrary. And while she did not immediately experience a distaste for the task, she was worried enough that it would eventually develop to not be pleased by the concept of making something she enjoyed her formal task.
Not that she could refuse the Leier's orders, if she wanted to get fed whilst she was a slave in the employ of the Zaire people...
When the conversation moved on to ask about her childhood, Neena smiled again, bright and nonchalant, but her words were far more telling. Her mask of positivity was partially to cover up some old wounds she was entirely unconscious to, but it was also genuine. In her conscious mind she didn't believe that she harboured any issues when it came to her childhood.
"Nope." She simply said in answer to Hasani's query about her past. "My childhood wasn't a happy one." She stated, in an almost joyful and relaxed tone that didn't seem to fit. She didn't break eye contact or hide from the challenge of a sensitive topic, however. Her gaze was fixed on Hasani's as they spoke and she shook out the last of the sand from her skirts. "This isn't my first go around the whole slavery thing." She said, by way of an explanation, her words confirming fact rather than seeking sympathy for the little girl born to be another person's possession.
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Whilst she cared little for her messy appearance, Neena was also not one to stand still and do little with her hands or muscles - even when she was talking to another. A fidgetter by nature and an efficient worker after being raised on a ship where duty was significant, Neena did not like responsibility or commitment but also had an instinctive knack for turning her inability to be still into an asset for productivity.
As such, whilst she was talking with the Leier of the tribe, her hands sought out a task in righting her appearance. She tugged at the shoulders and hem of her tunic, she shifted her feet about in her sand-filled thongs to get them back into place beneath the soles of her feet. She dusted a little at her arms where the sand stuck to the vlek was a little irritating, but she kept most of the marks in place. Couldn't be a leopard without spots after all...
Her hair was a lost cause and she simply hooked it behind her ear, knowing it would only spring forward once more if she didn't secure it behind the curve of her ear and lobe. Beyond that, she wore little of value on her person. She had a sealed gold ring around her left wrist - unable to be removed with its destruction - and a thick jade bangle that she wore around her upper arm on the same side. There were no other decorations or pieces of jewellery about her person that she could have lost in the sand.
For a woman who disliked commitment, her jewellery was fairly permanently attached. But on the other hand, she had never entered into the tattoos or scarification so popular with the Bedoan people.
It was as if she liked to dedicate herself to something, but only ever with a potential escape...
When Hasani suggested that Neena look after the children - or rather ordered her to, Neena's nose wrinkled a little in distaste - surprising given how openly she had been playing with them just before.
"Yes, sir." She offered him, with a slight dimming to her usual enthusiasm.
She understood that he was probably just trying to be nice - even complimentary - of her skills with the young but what he didn't seem to be getting with their whole 'no-rules is fun' conversation was that if looking after the children was actually her duty and her job it became far more of a chore to carry out. It was basic human natural - you usually wanted to do something, until you were told that you had to. Human beings were contrary. And while she did not immediately experience a distaste for the task, she was worried enough that it would eventually develop to not be pleased by the concept of making something she enjoyed her formal task.
Not that she could refuse the Leier's orders, if she wanted to get fed whilst she was a slave in the employ of the Zaire people...
When the conversation moved on to ask about her childhood, Neena smiled again, bright and nonchalant, but her words were far more telling. Her mask of positivity was partially to cover up some old wounds she was entirely unconscious to, but it was also genuine. In her conscious mind she didn't believe that she harboured any issues when it came to her childhood.
"Nope." She simply said in answer to Hasani's query about her past. "My childhood wasn't a happy one." She stated, in an almost joyful and relaxed tone that didn't seem to fit. She didn't break eye contact or hide from the challenge of a sensitive topic, however. Her gaze was fixed on Hasani's as they spoke and she shook out the last of the sand from her skirts. "This isn't my first go around the whole slavery thing." She said, by way of an explanation, her words confirming fact rather than seeking sympathy for the little girl born to be another person's possession.
Whilst she cared little for her messy appearance, Neena was also not one to stand still and do little with her hands or muscles - even when she was talking to another. A fidgetter by nature and an efficient worker after being raised on a ship where duty was significant, Neena did not like responsibility or commitment but also had an instinctive knack for turning her inability to be still into an asset for productivity.
As such, whilst she was talking with the Leier of the tribe, her hands sought out a task in righting her appearance. She tugged at the shoulders and hem of her tunic, she shifted her feet about in her sand-filled thongs to get them back into place beneath the soles of her feet. She dusted a little at her arms where the sand stuck to the vlek was a little irritating, but she kept most of the marks in place. Couldn't be a leopard without spots after all...
Her hair was a lost cause and she simply hooked it behind her ear, knowing it would only spring forward once more if she didn't secure it behind the curve of her ear and lobe. Beyond that, she wore little of value on her person. She had a sealed gold ring around her left wrist - unable to be removed with its destruction - and a thick jade bangle that she wore around her upper arm on the same side. There were no other decorations or pieces of jewellery about her person that she could have lost in the sand.
For a woman who disliked commitment, her jewellery was fairly permanently attached. But on the other hand, she had never entered into the tattoos or scarification so popular with the Bedoan people.
It was as if she liked to dedicate herself to something, but only ever with a potential escape...
When Hasani suggested that Neena look after the children - or rather ordered her to, Neena's nose wrinkled a little in distaste - surprising given how openly she had been playing with them just before.
"Yes, sir." She offered him, with a slight dimming to her usual enthusiasm.
She understood that he was probably just trying to be nice - even complimentary - of her skills with the young but what he didn't seem to be getting with their whole 'no-rules is fun' conversation was that if looking after the children was actually her duty and her job it became far more of a chore to carry out. It was basic human natural - you usually wanted to do something, until you were told that you had to. Human beings were contrary. And while she did not immediately experience a distaste for the task, she was worried enough that it would eventually develop to not be pleased by the concept of making something she enjoyed her formal task.
Not that she could refuse the Leier's orders, if she wanted to get fed whilst she was a slave in the employ of the Zaire people...
When the conversation moved on to ask about her childhood, Neena smiled again, bright and nonchalant, but her words were far more telling. Her mask of positivity was partially to cover up some old wounds she was entirely unconscious to, but it was also genuine. In her conscious mind she didn't believe that she harboured any issues when it came to her childhood.
"Nope." She simply said in answer to Hasani's query about her past. "My childhood wasn't a happy one." She stated, in an almost joyful and relaxed tone that didn't seem to fit. She didn't break eye contact or hide from the challenge of a sensitive topic, however. Her gaze was fixed on Hasani's as they spoke and she shook out the last of the sand from her skirts. "This isn't my first go around the whole slavery thing." She said, by way of an explanation, her words confirming fact rather than seeking sympathy for the little girl born to be another person's possession.
Hasani glanced off toward the sands only while the slave girl fixed her hair. It was only polite, he found. The Zaire were not a vain people, but it was never helpful when someone was staring at you while you cleaned yourself up. Hasani did not always liked to be watched while he cleaned up messes of his own making, unless it was his wife. He didn't mind that. He quickly turned his thoughts away from Tanishe, that familiar rumble of want for her already stirring in his shoulders.
When Neena was finished with her preening, Hasani glanced back, smiling a little when he noticed that she had happily kept her spots. No doubt to continue her game with the children later on. When he wasn't being distracting and curious, he supposed. Hasani rubbed at his own arms, trying to imagine what the vlek felt like on his skin. It was not a feeling he knew to like. The times he had worn the paint, it was always a discomfort. For a man that was only able to bathe when an appropriate amount of water was secured, he surely didn't enjoy being dirty, much less having anything sticking to his skin.
Cleanliness was still important, even if they could only perform little acts to keep themselves fresh while wandering the desert. Still, Hasani could not imagine living in Greece or Egypt, wear cleanliness was a near obsession for many. Having to bathe every single day seemed like a waste of time and water. Water was precious, and he had heard stories from Egyptian traders of entire bathing rooms. Tubs filled with water. To the Bedoan tribes, it was a wasteful practice, but Hasani wasn't going to judge them for having such wildly different cultures. He was already aware how different they were from their neighbors.
The flash of gold around Neena's wrist caught Hasani's attention, and his dark eyes seemed to follow the trail of her hands. Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded his head toward her wrist, "Where did you get that? Gold is expensive in the other Kingdoms, is it not?" he questioned calmly. It seemed odd for a slave to carry such jewelry with her, permanently connected to her person.
But then he noted the way she wrinkled her nose and seemed less than enthusiastic about working with the children. Lifting an eyebrow, he was confused for a moment. Didn't people often find joy in performing work they were good at? Wasn't that fulfilling? Why did Neena look as if she had eaten a handful of bees? "Does that displease you, Neena?" he questioned more out of curiosity than yielding. "The children are as wild and unpredictable as you have proven to be. It shall be a good match for your temperaments," the leier teased her lightly, hoping to bring that light back to her smile. Something about seeing her frown like that truly bothered him.
She was too pretty to look sour.
That thought alone struck him as odd, but he didn't question it. It was a fact, afterall.
His eyebrows seemed to lift when she noted that her childhood wasn't happy and that this wasn't the first time she had been a slave. Not entirely enthralled with whatever it was that the girl had to say, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed her with a contemplative look. "Are you saying that you were a slave before you were caught here?" Hasani asked, mostly to double check. It seemed... strange to think of. "When were you a slave?" he added then, honestly wanting to know more about this situation. He did not feel guilt for keeping her as a slave at that moment, knowing that she had stolen from one of the tribes, but he could level with her that it did suck that she had been pulled back into slavery.
Through no fault but her own. Would he do something about her situation? Perhaps not. Perhaps he might free her to be a proper member of the tribe. If he did that, however, he would likely just marry her off to one of the young men who had yet to settle down and make a proper attempt at a family. She would make any of the men here a proper wife and stunning children. She was already comfortable with the tribe, it seemed, and he was entirely sure that the Zaire had been better to her thus far than the Somalu. She at least had that going for her.
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Hasani glanced off toward the sands only while the slave girl fixed her hair. It was only polite, he found. The Zaire were not a vain people, but it was never helpful when someone was staring at you while you cleaned yourself up. Hasani did not always liked to be watched while he cleaned up messes of his own making, unless it was his wife. He didn't mind that. He quickly turned his thoughts away from Tanishe, that familiar rumble of want for her already stirring in his shoulders.
When Neena was finished with her preening, Hasani glanced back, smiling a little when he noticed that she had happily kept her spots. No doubt to continue her game with the children later on. When he wasn't being distracting and curious, he supposed. Hasani rubbed at his own arms, trying to imagine what the vlek felt like on his skin. It was not a feeling he knew to like. The times he had worn the paint, it was always a discomfort. For a man that was only able to bathe when an appropriate amount of water was secured, he surely didn't enjoy being dirty, much less having anything sticking to his skin.
Cleanliness was still important, even if they could only perform little acts to keep themselves fresh while wandering the desert. Still, Hasani could not imagine living in Greece or Egypt, wear cleanliness was a near obsession for many. Having to bathe every single day seemed like a waste of time and water. Water was precious, and he had heard stories from Egyptian traders of entire bathing rooms. Tubs filled with water. To the Bedoan tribes, it was a wasteful practice, but Hasani wasn't going to judge them for having such wildly different cultures. He was already aware how different they were from their neighbors.
The flash of gold around Neena's wrist caught Hasani's attention, and his dark eyes seemed to follow the trail of her hands. Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded his head toward her wrist, "Where did you get that? Gold is expensive in the other Kingdoms, is it not?" he questioned calmly. It seemed odd for a slave to carry such jewelry with her, permanently connected to her person.
But then he noted the way she wrinkled her nose and seemed less than enthusiastic about working with the children. Lifting an eyebrow, he was confused for a moment. Didn't people often find joy in performing work they were good at? Wasn't that fulfilling? Why did Neena look as if she had eaten a handful of bees? "Does that displease you, Neena?" he questioned more out of curiosity than yielding. "The children are as wild and unpredictable as you have proven to be. It shall be a good match for your temperaments," the leier teased her lightly, hoping to bring that light back to her smile. Something about seeing her frown like that truly bothered him.
She was too pretty to look sour.
That thought alone struck him as odd, but he didn't question it. It was a fact, afterall.
His eyebrows seemed to lift when she noted that her childhood wasn't happy and that this wasn't the first time she had been a slave. Not entirely enthralled with whatever it was that the girl had to say, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed her with a contemplative look. "Are you saying that you were a slave before you were caught here?" Hasani asked, mostly to double check. It seemed... strange to think of. "When were you a slave?" he added then, honestly wanting to know more about this situation. He did not feel guilt for keeping her as a slave at that moment, knowing that she had stolen from one of the tribes, but he could level with her that it did suck that she had been pulled back into slavery.
Through no fault but her own. Would he do something about her situation? Perhaps not. Perhaps he might free her to be a proper member of the tribe. If he did that, however, he would likely just marry her off to one of the young men who had yet to settle down and make a proper attempt at a family. She would make any of the men here a proper wife and stunning children. She was already comfortable with the tribe, it seemed, and he was entirely sure that the Zaire had been better to her thus far than the Somalu. She at least had that going for her.
Hasani glanced off toward the sands only while the slave girl fixed her hair. It was only polite, he found. The Zaire were not a vain people, but it was never helpful when someone was staring at you while you cleaned yourself up. Hasani did not always liked to be watched while he cleaned up messes of his own making, unless it was his wife. He didn't mind that. He quickly turned his thoughts away from Tanishe, that familiar rumble of want for her already stirring in his shoulders.
When Neena was finished with her preening, Hasani glanced back, smiling a little when he noticed that she had happily kept her spots. No doubt to continue her game with the children later on. When he wasn't being distracting and curious, he supposed. Hasani rubbed at his own arms, trying to imagine what the vlek felt like on his skin. It was not a feeling he knew to like. The times he had worn the paint, it was always a discomfort. For a man that was only able to bathe when an appropriate amount of water was secured, he surely didn't enjoy being dirty, much less having anything sticking to his skin.
Cleanliness was still important, even if they could only perform little acts to keep themselves fresh while wandering the desert. Still, Hasani could not imagine living in Greece or Egypt, wear cleanliness was a near obsession for many. Having to bathe every single day seemed like a waste of time and water. Water was precious, and he had heard stories from Egyptian traders of entire bathing rooms. Tubs filled with water. To the Bedoan tribes, it was a wasteful practice, but Hasani wasn't going to judge them for having such wildly different cultures. He was already aware how different they were from their neighbors.
The flash of gold around Neena's wrist caught Hasani's attention, and his dark eyes seemed to follow the trail of her hands. Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded his head toward her wrist, "Where did you get that? Gold is expensive in the other Kingdoms, is it not?" he questioned calmly. It seemed odd for a slave to carry such jewelry with her, permanently connected to her person.
But then he noted the way she wrinkled her nose and seemed less than enthusiastic about working with the children. Lifting an eyebrow, he was confused for a moment. Didn't people often find joy in performing work they were good at? Wasn't that fulfilling? Why did Neena look as if she had eaten a handful of bees? "Does that displease you, Neena?" he questioned more out of curiosity than yielding. "The children are as wild and unpredictable as you have proven to be. It shall be a good match for your temperaments," the leier teased her lightly, hoping to bring that light back to her smile. Something about seeing her frown like that truly bothered him.
She was too pretty to look sour.
That thought alone struck him as odd, but he didn't question it. It was a fact, afterall.
His eyebrows seemed to lift when she noted that her childhood wasn't happy and that this wasn't the first time she had been a slave. Not entirely enthralled with whatever it was that the girl had to say, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed her with a contemplative look. "Are you saying that you were a slave before you were caught here?" Hasani asked, mostly to double check. It seemed... strange to think of. "When were you a slave?" he added then, honestly wanting to know more about this situation. He did not feel guilt for keeping her as a slave at that moment, knowing that she had stolen from one of the tribes, but he could level with her that it did suck that she had been pulled back into slavery.
Through no fault but her own. Would he do something about her situation? Perhaps not. Perhaps he might free her to be a proper member of the tribe. If he did that, however, he would likely just marry her off to one of the young men who had yet to settle down and make a proper attempt at a family. She would make any of the men here a proper wife and stunning children. She was already comfortable with the tribe, it seemed, and he was entirely sure that the Zaire had been better to her thus far than the Somalu. She at least had that going for her.
Neena didn't notice when Hasani gave her the distance and privacy of checking her appearance. Not because she was ignorant of others, but because she simply felt no need for him to look away. Neena felt no shame or embarrassment in adjusting her appearance, because she didn't care much for her appearance. She wasn't entirely sure why so many - men and women - spent such an inordinate amount of time on what they looked like. As far as she was concerned, the skin and body were simply what allowed her to walk around and do things... a physical expression of... well... Neena. It didn't matter to her if that expression was tidy, messy, pretty or ugly. It was Neena. And she liked being herself.
When the man asked her of the bangle that was sealed around her wrist, she was just as free of shame regarding that and happy to answer him.
"This? I grew up with this." She told him, raising her hand, fingers curled to show the bangle clearer in the sunlight. "Apparently, I had it when I was born - back when it could be slipped on and off - and now I've just... grown to a point where I can't remove it anymore." She shrugged and her arms dropped to her sides with a little springing, gesture of flapping wings. Her smile was bright. "Guess I should be glad I wasn't much of a grower." She stated with cheeky jest, given that she was so small. Her hand had never been in any danger of having its circulation cut off because she had never grown big enough for the bangle to become skin tight.
When the man moved on to query if his request to look after the children displeased her, Neena became curious, her brow lowering and her eyes sharpening on his features for perhaps the first time. She tilted her head in inquisition...
"You care if an instruction displeases a slave?" She asked. For she had never had a master before who cared about whether she wanted to complete the tasks she was given or not... How bizarre.
"I was born a slave." The words left her mouth with simple sincerity and a tone of nonchalance that was unsure for the topic of conversation. She shrugged one of her shoulders as if to say it was no big deal. She offered no further details however, because Neena wasn't really one to talk about herself. Everything and everyone else? Sure. She even loved to tell tales and stories of fiction. But herself and her past (unless she was embroidering it for entertainment purposes) were not subjects that she enjoyed discussing. Which, she didn't realise, only led to her being more mysterious to others...
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Neena didn't notice when Hasani gave her the distance and privacy of checking her appearance. Not because she was ignorant of others, but because she simply felt no need for him to look away. Neena felt no shame or embarrassment in adjusting her appearance, because she didn't care much for her appearance. She wasn't entirely sure why so many - men and women - spent such an inordinate amount of time on what they looked like. As far as she was concerned, the skin and body were simply what allowed her to walk around and do things... a physical expression of... well... Neena. It didn't matter to her if that expression was tidy, messy, pretty or ugly. It was Neena. And she liked being herself.
When the man asked her of the bangle that was sealed around her wrist, she was just as free of shame regarding that and happy to answer him.
"This? I grew up with this." She told him, raising her hand, fingers curled to show the bangle clearer in the sunlight. "Apparently, I had it when I was born - back when it could be slipped on and off - and now I've just... grown to a point where I can't remove it anymore." She shrugged and her arms dropped to her sides with a little springing, gesture of flapping wings. Her smile was bright. "Guess I should be glad I wasn't much of a grower." She stated with cheeky jest, given that she was so small. Her hand had never been in any danger of having its circulation cut off because she had never grown big enough for the bangle to become skin tight.
When the man moved on to query if his request to look after the children displeased her, Neena became curious, her brow lowering and her eyes sharpening on his features for perhaps the first time. She tilted her head in inquisition...
"You care if an instruction displeases a slave?" She asked. For she had never had a master before who cared about whether she wanted to complete the tasks she was given or not... How bizarre.
"I was born a slave." The words left her mouth with simple sincerity and a tone of nonchalance that was unsure for the topic of conversation. She shrugged one of her shoulders as if to say it was no big deal. She offered no further details however, because Neena wasn't really one to talk about herself. Everything and everyone else? Sure. She even loved to tell tales and stories of fiction. But herself and her past (unless she was embroidering it for entertainment purposes) were not subjects that she enjoyed discussing. Which, she didn't realise, only led to her being more mysterious to others...
Neena didn't notice when Hasani gave her the distance and privacy of checking her appearance. Not because she was ignorant of others, but because she simply felt no need for him to look away. Neena felt no shame or embarrassment in adjusting her appearance, because she didn't care much for her appearance. She wasn't entirely sure why so many - men and women - spent such an inordinate amount of time on what they looked like. As far as she was concerned, the skin and body were simply what allowed her to walk around and do things... a physical expression of... well... Neena. It didn't matter to her if that expression was tidy, messy, pretty or ugly. It was Neena. And she liked being herself.
When the man asked her of the bangle that was sealed around her wrist, she was just as free of shame regarding that and happy to answer him.
"This? I grew up with this." She told him, raising her hand, fingers curled to show the bangle clearer in the sunlight. "Apparently, I had it when I was born - back when it could be slipped on and off - and now I've just... grown to a point where I can't remove it anymore." She shrugged and her arms dropped to her sides with a little springing, gesture of flapping wings. Her smile was bright. "Guess I should be glad I wasn't much of a grower." She stated with cheeky jest, given that she was so small. Her hand had never been in any danger of having its circulation cut off because she had never grown big enough for the bangle to become skin tight.
When the man moved on to query if his request to look after the children displeased her, Neena became curious, her brow lowering and her eyes sharpening on his features for perhaps the first time. She tilted her head in inquisition...
"You care if an instruction displeases a slave?" She asked. For she had never had a master before who cared about whether she wanted to complete the tasks she was given or not... How bizarre.
"I was born a slave." The words left her mouth with simple sincerity and a tone of nonchalance that was unsure for the topic of conversation. She shrugged one of her shoulders as if to say it was no big deal. She offered no further details however, because Neena wasn't really one to talk about herself. Everything and everyone else? Sure. She even loved to tell tales and stories of fiction. But herself and her past (unless she was embroidering it for entertainment purposes) were not subjects that she enjoyed discussing. Which, she didn't realise, only led to her being more mysterious to others...
Hasani couldn't hide his immediate interest in whatever it was that Neena had to tell him. Everything about her was enough to draw him in and keep him asking questions. He wondered if this was really a good idea, seeing as she was a slave and he was the leier, but then he didn't particularly care about what others thought about his doings and goings-on. It was his job to move about and learn about the people that inhabited his tribe. He needed to know everyone and everything, partially for his own paranoia, partially to sate his extreme curiosity about the world.
Thus, everything that Neena told him was of interest, even if it wasn't particularly important. Hasani enjoyed picking people apart, learning what made them tick. It was the part of being leier that made him that much more confident. To know what his people were like, what they needed to feel fulfilled in their lives, and to know what would and would not anger them was part of his job. Neena, though she was a slave, was part of his tribe. That meant he liked to test the waters. Get to know her, understand what pleased and displeased her, and then take those things into consideration.
If slaves were unhappy, it meant they didn't do their jobs and punishments were in order. Hasani did not like to use punishment. His mind was fully on the concept of mercy, so the smoother things ran within the tribe, the easier things would be for him and everyone around him. "It is a pretty bauble, Neena," he commented carefully, lifting an eyebrow, "But I cannot fathom how you were born with such a thing if you were a slave?"
His intention was not to insult her but to answer a host of burning questions that had now flooded his mind. How did she start out as a slave if she had something so nice on her person? Weren't belongings taken from slaves, much as the tribes often did when they traded for them? Who was important enough in Neena's life that she had been a slave born with gold on her wrist and no title or wealth to her name? It was strange and she was quietly becoming even more of an enigma than he had expected.
"I care simply because you are a member of my tribe, Neena. Poor things happen when the slaves who keep our tribe moving and taken care of are unhappy. You may be serving the tribe, but that does not mean that I wish you to be miserable," Hasani said calmly, "Besides the fact that I cannot release you at this time." He said everything with a calm consideration, his tone still friendly and exploring despite the assertion of his words. He could not free her, nor would he. She had not proven herself to the tribe, and he was not inclined to lose a set of hands when there would be no one to replace her to do the work that had been assigned to her. "Is that so odd?"
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Hasani couldn't hide his immediate interest in whatever it was that Neena had to tell him. Everything about her was enough to draw him in and keep him asking questions. He wondered if this was really a good idea, seeing as she was a slave and he was the leier, but then he didn't particularly care about what others thought about his doings and goings-on. It was his job to move about and learn about the people that inhabited his tribe. He needed to know everyone and everything, partially for his own paranoia, partially to sate his extreme curiosity about the world.
Thus, everything that Neena told him was of interest, even if it wasn't particularly important. Hasani enjoyed picking people apart, learning what made them tick. It was the part of being leier that made him that much more confident. To know what his people were like, what they needed to feel fulfilled in their lives, and to know what would and would not anger them was part of his job. Neena, though she was a slave, was part of his tribe. That meant he liked to test the waters. Get to know her, understand what pleased and displeased her, and then take those things into consideration.
If slaves were unhappy, it meant they didn't do their jobs and punishments were in order. Hasani did not like to use punishment. His mind was fully on the concept of mercy, so the smoother things ran within the tribe, the easier things would be for him and everyone around him. "It is a pretty bauble, Neena," he commented carefully, lifting an eyebrow, "But I cannot fathom how you were born with such a thing if you were a slave?"
His intention was not to insult her but to answer a host of burning questions that had now flooded his mind. How did she start out as a slave if she had something so nice on her person? Weren't belongings taken from slaves, much as the tribes often did when they traded for them? Who was important enough in Neena's life that she had been a slave born with gold on her wrist and no title or wealth to her name? It was strange and she was quietly becoming even more of an enigma than he had expected.
"I care simply because you are a member of my tribe, Neena. Poor things happen when the slaves who keep our tribe moving and taken care of are unhappy. You may be serving the tribe, but that does not mean that I wish you to be miserable," Hasani said calmly, "Besides the fact that I cannot release you at this time." He said everything with a calm consideration, his tone still friendly and exploring despite the assertion of his words. He could not free her, nor would he. She had not proven herself to the tribe, and he was not inclined to lose a set of hands when there would be no one to replace her to do the work that had been assigned to her. "Is that so odd?"
Hasani couldn't hide his immediate interest in whatever it was that Neena had to tell him. Everything about her was enough to draw him in and keep him asking questions. He wondered if this was really a good idea, seeing as she was a slave and he was the leier, but then he didn't particularly care about what others thought about his doings and goings-on. It was his job to move about and learn about the people that inhabited his tribe. He needed to know everyone and everything, partially for his own paranoia, partially to sate his extreme curiosity about the world.
Thus, everything that Neena told him was of interest, even if it wasn't particularly important. Hasani enjoyed picking people apart, learning what made them tick. It was the part of being leier that made him that much more confident. To know what his people were like, what they needed to feel fulfilled in their lives, and to know what would and would not anger them was part of his job. Neena, though she was a slave, was part of his tribe. That meant he liked to test the waters. Get to know her, understand what pleased and displeased her, and then take those things into consideration.
If slaves were unhappy, it meant they didn't do their jobs and punishments were in order. Hasani did not like to use punishment. His mind was fully on the concept of mercy, so the smoother things ran within the tribe, the easier things would be for him and everyone around him. "It is a pretty bauble, Neena," he commented carefully, lifting an eyebrow, "But I cannot fathom how you were born with such a thing if you were a slave?"
His intention was not to insult her but to answer a host of burning questions that had now flooded his mind. How did she start out as a slave if she had something so nice on her person? Weren't belongings taken from slaves, much as the tribes often did when they traded for them? Who was important enough in Neena's life that she had been a slave born with gold on her wrist and no title or wealth to her name? It was strange and she was quietly becoming even more of an enigma than he had expected.
"I care simply because you are a member of my tribe, Neena. Poor things happen when the slaves who keep our tribe moving and taken care of are unhappy. You may be serving the tribe, but that does not mean that I wish you to be miserable," Hasani said calmly, "Besides the fact that I cannot release you at this time." He said everything with a calm consideration, his tone still friendly and exploring despite the assertion of his words. He could not free her, nor would he. She had not proven herself to the tribe, and he was not inclined to lose a set of hands when there would be no one to replace her to do the work that had been assigned to her. "Is that so odd?"
When Hasani commented on the idea of a young babe taken into slavery despite the gold that had encircled its wrist, Neena could only shrug. The old woman who had found her and eventually sold her to the Bedoan trader when she was just about large enough to walk and talk had never taken it from her and she supposed after that she had to have just scrappily held onto it. Not that she remembered too strongly. Or, perhaps the tale that she had had it at birth was untrue - just a mystery that the old woman had told her or that the tradesman had conjured to try and make her feel better about being abandoned with nothing but her skin.
The only thing she knew for certain regarding the whole venture was that the bangle was indeed real gold. She had had it appraised once when she was in dire needs and yet decided not to sell it, despite its value. By the time she came back into slavery, the band was too small to be taken from her hand so would require smelting equipment to remove - or a very hot pike. Neena had always just claimed the gold to be fake - painted metal and no more, to avoid someone trying to steal it.
"On that..." She said, answering Hasani's considerations regarding how a babe came by such a trinket. "...you would have to ask someone who knew..." She smiled with a look of challenge, for the only people who would know the answer to such a thing was the old woman she had never known the name of and her own parents, whose faces she had never seen.
As the conversation moved on to Hasani's determination to ensure that she - as a part of his tribe - was content with her lot in life, Neena's head tilted and remained in an inquisitive look.
"In my experience?" She asked, confirming the parameters of his question upon whether or not his interest was odd. "Yes." She shrugged again. "Healthy and placated slaves are certainly a good thing. And many would agree. But happy slaves is a step further than I've known anyone else to go. So... yes. You are odd." Her eyes flashed with mirth as she smiled. "But that's okay. All the best people are odd."
It was then that their conversation was interrupted by one of the children calling out from a sandy, mountainous sort of castle that they had built in from the dunes. The first voice was joined by several others, all shouting for the great beast to stay away, yet challenging it that it would never break their defences.
Raising a finger at Hasani and never, in fact, explaining why she had seemed less than enthusiastic when he had verbalised the idea for her to watch the children as her primary duty, Neena gave a bright and dismissive smile.
"If you'll excuse me. A large feline is needed." At which, she then immediately dropped to all fours and, with a flexibility and tenacity that most adults would be unable to achieve, with her knees up at her sides and her weight balanced on all four limbs, her toes and fingers buried in the sand, Neena started to stalk the sand castle, her fearsome growls causing shrieks from the children. They brought out invisible bows and arrows to attack the deadly leopard, but Neena was quick on her feet and darted to the side with every sound effect that had her fictional creation at risk.
It was as if the conversation with the Leier had never happened, as if her world had remained in the realm of make-believe with the children, as she put aside Hasani's personal questions and committed her afternoon to the children and to their game...
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When Hasani commented on the idea of a young babe taken into slavery despite the gold that had encircled its wrist, Neena could only shrug. The old woman who had found her and eventually sold her to the Bedoan trader when she was just about large enough to walk and talk had never taken it from her and she supposed after that she had to have just scrappily held onto it. Not that she remembered too strongly. Or, perhaps the tale that she had had it at birth was untrue - just a mystery that the old woman had told her or that the tradesman had conjured to try and make her feel better about being abandoned with nothing but her skin.
The only thing she knew for certain regarding the whole venture was that the bangle was indeed real gold. She had had it appraised once when she was in dire needs and yet decided not to sell it, despite its value. By the time she came back into slavery, the band was too small to be taken from her hand so would require smelting equipment to remove - or a very hot pike. Neena had always just claimed the gold to be fake - painted metal and no more, to avoid someone trying to steal it.
"On that..." She said, answering Hasani's considerations regarding how a babe came by such a trinket. "...you would have to ask someone who knew..." She smiled with a look of challenge, for the only people who would know the answer to such a thing was the old woman she had never known the name of and her own parents, whose faces she had never seen.
As the conversation moved on to Hasani's determination to ensure that she - as a part of his tribe - was content with her lot in life, Neena's head tilted and remained in an inquisitive look.
"In my experience?" She asked, confirming the parameters of his question upon whether or not his interest was odd. "Yes." She shrugged again. "Healthy and placated slaves are certainly a good thing. And many would agree. But happy slaves is a step further than I've known anyone else to go. So... yes. You are odd." Her eyes flashed with mirth as she smiled. "But that's okay. All the best people are odd."
It was then that their conversation was interrupted by one of the children calling out from a sandy, mountainous sort of castle that they had built in from the dunes. The first voice was joined by several others, all shouting for the great beast to stay away, yet challenging it that it would never break their defences.
Raising a finger at Hasani and never, in fact, explaining why she had seemed less than enthusiastic when he had verbalised the idea for her to watch the children as her primary duty, Neena gave a bright and dismissive smile.
"If you'll excuse me. A large feline is needed." At which, she then immediately dropped to all fours and, with a flexibility and tenacity that most adults would be unable to achieve, with her knees up at her sides and her weight balanced on all four limbs, her toes and fingers buried in the sand, Neena started to stalk the sand castle, her fearsome growls causing shrieks from the children. They brought out invisible bows and arrows to attack the deadly leopard, but Neena was quick on her feet and darted to the side with every sound effect that had her fictional creation at risk.
It was as if the conversation with the Leier had never happened, as if her world had remained in the realm of make-believe with the children, as she put aside Hasani's personal questions and committed her afternoon to the children and to their game...
When Hasani commented on the idea of a young babe taken into slavery despite the gold that had encircled its wrist, Neena could only shrug. The old woman who had found her and eventually sold her to the Bedoan trader when she was just about large enough to walk and talk had never taken it from her and she supposed after that she had to have just scrappily held onto it. Not that she remembered too strongly. Or, perhaps the tale that she had had it at birth was untrue - just a mystery that the old woman had told her or that the tradesman had conjured to try and make her feel better about being abandoned with nothing but her skin.
The only thing she knew for certain regarding the whole venture was that the bangle was indeed real gold. She had had it appraised once when she was in dire needs and yet decided not to sell it, despite its value. By the time she came back into slavery, the band was too small to be taken from her hand so would require smelting equipment to remove - or a very hot pike. Neena had always just claimed the gold to be fake - painted metal and no more, to avoid someone trying to steal it.
"On that..." She said, answering Hasani's considerations regarding how a babe came by such a trinket. "...you would have to ask someone who knew..." She smiled with a look of challenge, for the only people who would know the answer to such a thing was the old woman she had never known the name of and her own parents, whose faces she had never seen.
As the conversation moved on to Hasani's determination to ensure that she - as a part of his tribe - was content with her lot in life, Neena's head tilted and remained in an inquisitive look.
"In my experience?" She asked, confirming the parameters of his question upon whether or not his interest was odd. "Yes." She shrugged again. "Healthy and placated slaves are certainly a good thing. And many would agree. But happy slaves is a step further than I've known anyone else to go. So... yes. You are odd." Her eyes flashed with mirth as she smiled. "But that's okay. All the best people are odd."
It was then that their conversation was interrupted by one of the children calling out from a sandy, mountainous sort of castle that they had built in from the dunes. The first voice was joined by several others, all shouting for the great beast to stay away, yet challenging it that it would never break their defences.
Raising a finger at Hasani and never, in fact, explaining why she had seemed less than enthusiastic when he had verbalised the idea for her to watch the children as her primary duty, Neena gave a bright and dismissive smile.
"If you'll excuse me. A large feline is needed." At which, she then immediately dropped to all fours and, with a flexibility and tenacity that most adults would be unable to achieve, with her knees up at her sides and her weight balanced on all four limbs, her toes and fingers buried in the sand, Neena started to stalk the sand castle, her fearsome growls causing shrieks from the children. They brought out invisible bows and arrows to attack the deadly leopard, but Neena was quick on her feet and darted to the side with every sound effect that had her fictional creation at risk.
It was as if the conversation with the Leier had never happened, as if her world had remained in the realm of make-believe with the children, as she put aside Hasani's personal questions and committed her afternoon to the children and to their game...
Why this enigma of a woman was so drawing to him, Hasani could not figure out. There were so many unanswered questions that he was faced with, and he was unsure if he could truly both ask them and understand the answers even if he tried. They were cut off from other civilizations. They did not stay in one place. Many of the people they lived, ate, and worked with would be the only people they did those things with unless other tribes married in or out. They did not have full civilizations to speak of. They did not live in stone and wood houses, they did not walk within marble palaces or run the docks of a port city. They had one port in all of Bedoa, but no Bedoan tribe truly knew or understood how to conquer the water.
Those feats were meant for the other Kingdoms. But that didn't mean that Hasani's people were unable to compare to the people of other Kingdoms. He was entirely sure that if any inexperienced desert traveler were to attempt to wrangle the desert sands without a guiding hand, they would not survive. The tribes may be thought to be savage and easily-antagonized, but that was not an assumption that should have ever been made in good faith. They lived different kinds of lives, but all people still bled red. Besides culture and location, there was little difference between peoples.
But this was why Neena was so exciting. The Zaire were known for picking people up. For folding them into their ranks as if they had always been welcomed into the tribe. Other tribes were not the same. The Zaire were certainly the most friendly and curious of the Bedoan peoples. There was no doubt about that fact to be had.
When Neena mentioned that it was entirely weird for him to wish for the slaves to be happy, he chuckled a little bit. "Admittedly, I am a newer leier. I favor kindness and mercy and I struggle to see anyone, even slaves, unhappy. I cannot release you without the permission of the rest of the tribe, but I can make you... content in your duties," Hasani admitted, nodding a little to himself. "I like being odd. Too many of my peers from other tribes are quick to grow violent and cruel. I do not wish to hold the Zaire to such a low standard of living and consideration for human life."
But then their talk was cut off by the children and Hasani couldn't find it in himself to be discontented by such a thing. To see the children so joyful, to see one of the slaves so jovial despite her lot in life... it was refreshing, to say the very least. Hasani understood that he would return to his tent and his wife later in the day and he would have much to tell her. His curiosity about Neena had never been hidden and he liked to bring his thoughts to Tanishe whenever he couldn't wrap his mind around things. While they likely would not figure it out, even together, it was still nice to have someone to talk to about those wandering thoughts and questions that he might never have answers to.
Nodding silently and saying nothing more, Hasani only grinned at the gaggle of children playing with the little leopard in the sand. She was a natural and Hasani had to force himself away from thoughts that had him thinking of wives and marriages and children. It was his right as leier to take another, but he was not sure what it would be seen as to take a slave girl as a wife, especially when he already had one beautiful wife. Would he not be greedy for taking another? No. He was leier...
A fact that Hasani would forever have to remind himself of.
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Why this enigma of a woman was so drawing to him, Hasani could not figure out. There were so many unanswered questions that he was faced with, and he was unsure if he could truly both ask them and understand the answers even if he tried. They were cut off from other civilizations. They did not stay in one place. Many of the people they lived, ate, and worked with would be the only people they did those things with unless other tribes married in or out. They did not have full civilizations to speak of. They did not live in stone and wood houses, they did not walk within marble palaces or run the docks of a port city. They had one port in all of Bedoa, but no Bedoan tribe truly knew or understood how to conquer the water.
Those feats were meant for the other Kingdoms. But that didn't mean that Hasani's people were unable to compare to the people of other Kingdoms. He was entirely sure that if any inexperienced desert traveler were to attempt to wrangle the desert sands without a guiding hand, they would not survive. The tribes may be thought to be savage and easily-antagonized, but that was not an assumption that should have ever been made in good faith. They lived different kinds of lives, but all people still bled red. Besides culture and location, there was little difference between peoples.
But this was why Neena was so exciting. The Zaire were known for picking people up. For folding them into their ranks as if they had always been welcomed into the tribe. Other tribes were not the same. The Zaire were certainly the most friendly and curious of the Bedoan peoples. There was no doubt about that fact to be had.
When Neena mentioned that it was entirely weird for him to wish for the slaves to be happy, he chuckled a little bit. "Admittedly, I am a newer leier. I favor kindness and mercy and I struggle to see anyone, even slaves, unhappy. I cannot release you without the permission of the rest of the tribe, but I can make you... content in your duties," Hasani admitted, nodding a little to himself. "I like being odd. Too many of my peers from other tribes are quick to grow violent and cruel. I do not wish to hold the Zaire to such a low standard of living and consideration for human life."
But then their talk was cut off by the children and Hasani couldn't find it in himself to be discontented by such a thing. To see the children so joyful, to see one of the slaves so jovial despite her lot in life... it was refreshing, to say the very least. Hasani understood that he would return to his tent and his wife later in the day and he would have much to tell her. His curiosity about Neena had never been hidden and he liked to bring his thoughts to Tanishe whenever he couldn't wrap his mind around things. While they likely would not figure it out, even together, it was still nice to have someone to talk to about those wandering thoughts and questions that he might never have answers to.
Nodding silently and saying nothing more, Hasani only grinned at the gaggle of children playing with the little leopard in the sand. She was a natural and Hasani had to force himself away from thoughts that had him thinking of wives and marriages and children. It was his right as leier to take another, but he was not sure what it would be seen as to take a slave girl as a wife, especially when he already had one beautiful wife. Would he not be greedy for taking another? No. He was leier...
A fact that Hasani would forever have to remind himself of.
Why this enigma of a woman was so drawing to him, Hasani could not figure out. There were so many unanswered questions that he was faced with, and he was unsure if he could truly both ask them and understand the answers even if he tried. They were cut off from other civilizations. They did not stay in one place. Many of the people they lived, ate, and worked with would be the only people they did those things with unless other tribes married in or out. They did not have full civilizations to speak of. They did not live in stone and wood houses, they did not walk within marble palaces or run the docks of a port city. They had one port in all of Bedoa, but no Bedoan tribe truly knew or understood how to conquer the water.
Those feats were meant for the other Kingdoms. But that didn't mean that Hasani's people were unable to compare to the people of other Kingdoms. He was entirely sure that if any inexperienced desert traveler were to attempt to wrangle the desert sands without a guiding hand, they would not survive. The tribes may be thought to be savage and easily-antagonized, but that was not an assumption that should have ever been made in good faith. They lived different kinds of lives, but all people still bled red. Besides culture and location, there was little difference between peoples.
But this was why Neena was so exciting. The Zaire were known for picking people up. For folding them into their ranks as if they had always been welcomed into the tribe. Other tribes were not the same. The Zaire were certainly the most friendly and curious of the Bedoan peoples. There was no doubt about that fact to be had.
When Neena mentioned that it was entirely weird for him to wish for the slaves to be happy, he chuckled a little bit. "Admittedly, I am a newer leier. I favor kindness and mercy and I struggle to see anyone, even slaves, unhappy. I cannot release you without the permission of the rest of the tribe, but I can make you... content in your duties," Hasani admitted, nodding a little to himself. "I like being odd. Too many of my peers from other tribes are quick to grow violent and cruel. I do not wish to hold the Zaire to such a low standard of living and consideration for human life."
But then their talk was cut off by the children and Hasani couldn't find it in himself to be discontented by such a thing. To see the children so joyful, to see one of the slaves so jovial despite her lot in life... it was refreshing, to say the very least. Hasani understood that he would return to his tent and his wife later in the day and he would have much to tell her. His curiosity about Neena had never been hidden and he liked to bring his thoughts to Tanishe whenever he couldn't wrap his mind around things. While they likely would not figure it out, even together, it was still nice to have someone to talk to about those wandering thoughts and questions that he might never have answers to.
Nodding silently and saying nothing more, Hasani only grinned at the gaggle of children playing with the little leopard in the sand. She was a natural and Hasani had to force himself away from thoughts that had him thinking of wives and marriages and children. It was his right as leier to take another, but he was not sure what it would be seen as to take a slave girl as a wife, especially when he already had one beautiful wife. Would he not be greedy for taking another? No. He was leier...
A fact that Hasani would forever have to remind himself of.