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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 21, 2019 17:36:28 GMT
“Yes, now,” Sohran nodded, even though he was still clearly uncertain of his decision. Baharah seemed excited to be let out during the day at last, usually getting only some attention in the morning and just before evening while Sohran was working.
The saddle loaded up, their dress fixed and their roles confirmed, they went out into the street, hesitating at the edge of the alleyway when a troupe of Roman guards walked past. Sohran kept to the plan, however, leading the group down the street. He had given Baharah’s reins to the young woman, to give a reason for her to be with them.
They managed to get within sight of the city borders without incident, no one recognizing the slave as belonging to someone else, or that he hadn’t arrived with one. Few words had been passed between them as they walked, unless needed to keep up the illusion of master and slave, but Sohran’s shoulders relaxed a little at seeing the open space beyond the city, unaware he had been so tense walking past the Romans.
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Post by Kelathi on May 15, 2019 23:14:33 GMT
Arsinoe appeared calm and collected as they walked, her eyes downcast as she fully absorbed the role of obedient slave. But inside, her stomach was in knots, her fingertips tingling with excitement, and it took all of her willpower to make sure that her grip on the reigns remained loose, rather than tightening as they wanted to. So far, all had passed without a hitch, no guards looked at them twice, as they appeared simply to be master and slave. It also suggested that Sohran was safe from suspicion, despite the incident that had passed by before. Now they were about to walk under the archway and out through the main doors that led into the sprawling city, and Arsinoe found herself holding her breath. So close to freedom, she was ready for it to be snatched away at any moment. If it was to be, she wasn’t about to let it be taken away without a fight.
Just as she had suspected, and just as they were stepping through the threshold and joining with a throng of people doing the same, she heard the shout. Her mind tried to tell her that it wasn’t directed at her, but in her heart, she knew. It was a simple call, one simple word issued with anger and urgency.
“Slave!”
Arsinoe dipped her head forwards further, pretending not to hear. Her step picked up a little, pulling Baharah into a faster walk, trying not to break character and fighting every urge to just bolt. If she ran now, and it turned out not to be her master calling for her, the guards would instinctively rush to stop her. She had to know for sure that it was she that the person was calling for before taking action, lest she blow the whole thing. The tension was now clear in the way she walked, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the reigns tightly, as if it were a lifeline.
“Slave! Stop that girl!”
This time, she did lift her head, certain now that the call was for her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her master, his face a picture of fury, his finger pointing to her accusingly as he tried to push his way through the crowd. For a strange moment, her heart pounding in her chest, she found herself uncharacteristically freezing. Now was the time to flee, if he caught her he would beat her, and if he beat her, he would find the ink marking on her back, the one that signified who she was. If she was discovered, a beating would be the least of her worries.
For some reason, instead of spurring her into motion, the thought caused her legs to become leaden and her entire body motionless, just as Sohran’s had become when faced with the bloodied Roman soldier.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 4, 2019 4:58:15 GMT
Sohran managed to keep his composure as they passed the various soldiers near the gate, keeping his own gaze off of them. Baharah knew well enough what the two humans’ tension meant, and although the sight of the Roman armor made her jittery, she behaved. For once. It felt odd to have someone else holding the mare’s reins, but it was necessary for their ploy.
Baharah’s ears flicked back at the sharp call, needing little encouragement to go faster, clearly ready to bolt. Sohran stiffened but kept going, hoping his translation wasn’t accurate. But then the same voice called out, and the girl turned to look, freezing… just as he had only a few days before.
Fortunately, Sohran didn’t freeze this time.
At hearing the call to stop the girl, the Romans began to swarm them, more out of interest of remaining in control of any situation rather than looking for reward or a chance to fight. They got more than they had bargained for, as a quick look about proved that there were no cavalry there, no lances, only a few old nags attached to carts.
Sohran barked an order, making a few of the Romans pause at hearing the Persian words, but Baharah obeyed instantly, spinning about and striking out with her front legs, nearly clipping one Roman on the chin. As the mare provided the distraction, Sohran rushed the slave and grabbing her by the waist, lifted her up off the ground. Another order, and Baharah spun around again, with a back kick for good measure before Sohran swung up onto her back, half tossing the girl into his lap. As soon as his weight settled Baharah took off, and with a nimble step proved why she was worth stealing compared to a war horse.
The Romans tried to block them from the outside, but she effortlessly lept over them, scattering the group as they tried to avoid being bowled over. Without any cavalry, there wasn’t an issue of being immediately followed, but the Romans were quick to bring out their bows. With Baharah’s speed, however, nearly flying over the earth, it wouldn’t be long before they were out of range.
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Post by Kelathi on Jul 14, 2019 21:01:02 GMT
She would have been caught. She would have been taken. She would have been dragged back, stripped to be whipped… and then her identity would have been revealed. Guards would have then been called. She’d have ben taken back to Caesar, and this time, there would be no mercy.
If Sohran had not chosen that moment to act.
Arsinoe only looked about blankly as chaos ensued, uncharacteristically rooted to the ground, feeling the urge to run but seeing nowhere to run to, when the man had grabbed her, lifting her up easily. Shocked, only a gasp of surprise left her lips, and suddenly she was seated side-saddle on a bucking horse. Her arms rose immediately to wrap around Sohran’s middle as the force of the creature’s sudden bolt forwards threatened to send her flying from the saddle, her body flush against his as the mare lurched forwards. Immediately launching into a gallop, they cleared the soldiers easily, but it wasn’t until they passed through the archway that Arsinoe felt a flare of hope in her chest.
They were out!
An arrow whizzed dangerously close by, a harsh reminder that they were not quite out of the woods yet, and it didn’t do to celebrate prematurely, not even just in her mind. It frustrated her that there was nothing she could physically do to help, so she closed her eyes and prayed, silently beseeching Taweret, divine protector of women, as well as Resheph to lend his assistance and put more speed in Baharah’s step.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 7, 2019 4:11:31 GMT
Sohran was muttering curses against the Romans under his breath as they raced, although it wasn’t clear if he was speaking softly because of his companion or the fact that he was too terrified to grasp enough air for anything louder. One hand on the reins, the other still holding his staff even as he wrapped a supportive arm around the slave girl, he was tense, flashes of battle ringing in his ears even as his eyes tried to focus on the expanse of desert that lay before them.
Whether or not her speed was aided by the gods, Baharah proved a reliable escape. Without horses, the Romans were forced to let them go, and it was more the mare’s own exhaustion that slowed her pace at last, the city a mere dot in the distance as they danced along rocky outcroppings that better supported their combined weight rather than the shifting sands. By then, Sohran’s own body had loosened, but it was more of one who had successfully avoided a panic attack rather than of mere relief at escape, his heart still hammering even as the thundering hoofbeats slowed into a steady rhythm.
After a while, Sohran seemed to remember that he had a passenger with him, and looked to the woman, glancing over her quickly even as he spoke, managing to avoid looking too greedy as he did so. “You are well?” he asked, his own voice shaky enough to warrant a similar question back.
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Post by Kelathi on Aug 14, 2019 22:19:05 GMT
Well?
Was she well?!
Arsinoe was ecstatic. Even so, her demeanour did not let on the true extent of her emotion, and she seemed instead a picture of calmness, her shoulders having relaxed long before her companion’s, a direct contrast to the man’s tense form. Her heart had also been quicker to settle back to it's natural beat, and as the distance continued to stretch behind them, she only felt the heaviness of her soul, lighten.
Of course, she hadn’t thought ahead this far. She hadn’t planned the possibility of a successful escape, nor had she properly considered what the stranger might do once he realised he’d been duped, - that there was in fact no-one out here to meet her, no further plan. He seemed a good enough man, so she supposed that, in his anger, the worst he’d do would be to leave her to try her luck with the desert rather than help her further. But she didn’t think on those things in any real detail just yet- for now she was content to bask in the success of this new-found freedom for a little longer.
With Baharah slowing to a walk, Arsinoe no longer needed to grasp onto Sohran to ensure that she stayed in the saddle, and so was now sitting upright, no longer pressed againt him, but swaying with an easy rhythm to the steady, repetitive motion of the horse. At his question, she looked up and fixed her honey-coloured eyes to his. After a short pause, her gaze unreadable but her eyes wide, she countered his question with one of her own. “Are you well?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Aug 21, 2019 2:24:50 GMT
Sohran considered her question for a moment, then with a short, sharp sigh replied, “Ask later.”
As they kept on, it became clear that it was Baharah who was directing the path, rather than the slave girl who was supposed to be meeting someone. Sohran hadn’t thought this far either, even though he had suspected all along she had been lying to him.
But there was nothing he could do about that now. He wasn’t even supposed to be out there! Now he was as stuck in the wilderness as the slave, with no place to go.
At least, that was how it seemed for a while. But Baharah’s sense of smell was better than the humans’ and her wandering path had brought them to a small spring, hidden amongst the sand and rocky outcroppings. As Baharah settled in to start drinking, Sohran dismounted, offering the slave his hands to help her off the saddle.
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 16, 2019 21:41:32 GMT
Arsinoe once again found herself struck with surprise at how the stranger responded to her, dressed as she was- He offered her help as if she were an equal, rather than a slave. She took his hands thankfully, dismounting lightly, the sand crunching softly beneath her sandalled feet. Baharah had chosen a good place to stop, a handful of date palms towering above them and offering shade for their own little oasis. As Baharah began to lap at the pool, it became clear that they had struck lucky with fresh water. Arsinoe saw all this as a good sign, the Gods had clearly blessed their actions. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace, feeling the imaginary shackles about her wrists not just loosen but crumble completely, it's remnants swept away with the gentle wind that tousled her hair and softly stirred the sand. The feeling of freedom was so sweet and overwhelming that she decided in that moment that she would kill herself before she became a slave again.
With this newfound feeling of peace, she walked over to join Baharah, kneeling at the edge of the pool. Cupping her hands in the crystal-clear water, she splashed her face, wet the back of her neck, and began to wash her arms, feeling as if she were not just washing away the grime but also the very essence of slavery from her form.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Sept 19, 2019 4:12:09 GMT
Sohran watched the slave girl with a slightly curious gaze, particularly after his assistance off of the mare. She always seemed so surprised that he was being polite to her… even though in truth he figured he might as well respect everyone, free or slave. But as she moved to the water, washing off even as Baharah drank eagerly beside her, he didn’t seem to relax, looking back at the way they had come.
Then, the flood came.
With an entirely unexpected strangled noise, Sohran’s hands went up to his head, grabbing handfuls of hair from beneath the sliding turban and began pacing, finally able to burn off the nervous energy that had obviously been building up the entire ride. He was ranting in his native Persian, but it was fairly obvious what he was talking about. The names of gods were mentioned several times, along with several hand gestures to the city, the slave and the horse, never seeming to repeat the same pattern even though all were mentioned quite frequently in rapid succession. His erratic movements, sudden spins and frustrated gestures to the sky managed to dislodge the turban completely, his black hair falling about his face in as much of a mess as his mind seemed to be in.
Baharah’s reaction had initially been a start, darting away from the slave girl’s side before realizing it was simply her master losing his mind. At least, this seemed to be her impression the way she watched him pacing and ranting, ears flicked towards him half out of curiosity, half out of concern.
Finally, Sohran exhausted himself, hands clasping behind his head even as he tucked his chin into his chest, as if he could block out the world. With a heavy sigh followed by a deep breath in, his hands fell to his sides and he faced the sky again, eyes still closed with a look of frustration and reluctant acceptance.
Things had been going so well…! Then, out of the blue, everything went to pot and he was once more on the run, no food, little water and barely any shelter, particularly from any vengeful Roman. Was he blaming the slave girl for her part in everything changing? No… but he was questioning why things had to go the way they had.
With another sigh of defeat, Sohran finally walked over to one of the trees and half slid down it, clearly favoring one leg as he did, rubbing at his face as if that could wipe away the exhaustion.
Oh. What a day…
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 26, 2019 23:34:46 GMT
She had jumped as Sohran had begun to swear in tongues, her honeyed eyes wide as she watched him pace to and fro, cursing at the heavens. She remained very still as the tirade continued, half expecting him to come and shake her or strike her, with the way he gesticulated towards her and Baharah alike. He did nothing of the sort, instead, seeming to run out of either energy or words, his shoulders sagging as he trailed to a stop, walking away a few paces before collapsing against the trunk of a palm tree. After a few moments, she stood up, her footsteps soundless in the shifting sand, standing before him and looking down at his now dishevelled form. Her gaze was strangely cold as she regarded him, that aloofness to her countenance that had slipped out every now and again fully embodied now that her shackles had been removed, looking strangely powerful despite her small form and rags for clothes. “Are you going to leave me?” It was not a timid question, nor was it pleading- far from it. It wasn’t even accusatory. It was more of a statement than anything, as if it meant nothing to her either way, and she were merely ordering things in head, so as to know how she would proceed from here.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 27, 2019 0:12:49 GMT
Sohran had no idea that the slave girl had moved closer, his own mind still swirling as much as he had been. It was a sense of being watched that finally slid his hands down enough to peer between his fingers, discovering her standing before him.
For a moment, he was taken aback. In spite of the rags she wore, or the way she had pleaded for his help before, he felt a very… noble presence to her stance, a pride born from power. It had been well hidden until now. The surprise at her suddenly commanding, imposing presence was visible in his eyes, only outweighed by surprise at her question.
The Persian took the question quite seriously, his gaze even dropping for a few moments as he considered. Would he simply abandon her in the desert? No, of course not. That wasn’t what made him hesitate. She’d begged for help when she stole a horse… but he was able to tell there was far more to the story than that by her question alone.
“No…” he finally answered, dark eyes lifting again, a little calmer for having some decision in this now. “I will not leave you… but, why did you run?”
Even the way he asked, it was clear he wasn’t looking for much. Not even the truth, if it made it easier to accept that he didn’t want to just abandon her now that they were free of the town and the Romans. Just some reason to keep going…
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Post by Kelathi on Dec 27, 2019 21:13:18 GMT
She seemed satisfied by his response, and at his question, she did not hesitate with her answer. “I was a slave. Would you have not have done the same?” A simple and reasonable enough answer, even if it was not the full truth. Then, she held out her hand, offering to help him up. “What shall I call you?” Again, it sounded more like an order than a question, her countenance of one who was in control, as opposed to the attitude of a timid little slave-girl. Could freedom change one so much? Or had she just been very good at playing the role of the downtrodden?
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Dec 28, 2019 4:12:44 GMT
Sohran considered her words, again with more care than might have been expected. Well… she spoke true, he’d have wanted freedom himself were he made a slave. But he’d also met slaves who were quite happy with their lot, not needing to worry about a roof over their head or food in their bellies as they had someone who took care of those things.
He sighed, leaning his head back against the tree again, looking momentarily defeated. She’d given him a reasonable answer, as he had asked for. “Ok…” he mumbled, half to himself as if he was the one he was trying to convince.
Her question got him to look at her again, noting the offered hand now that he saw it. Sohran took it, his other hand using the tree as a brace as he stood, his stiff leg proving he needed the help. “Ah, thank… Call me Sohran. Sohran Ksathra-Daren,” he introduced himself after a quick note of gratitude for her help, seeming self conscious regarding the injury. Instead, he tried to redirect the focus. “And you?”
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Post by Kelathi on Sept 21, 2020 22:29:30 GMT
There was only a momentary pause in her response to his question.
“You may call me Sharifa.”
Once he was up, she turned her attention elsewhere, looking out across the empty expanse of the desert, eyes squinted against the glare. “Have you travelled this way before?” She asked, still scanning the dunes. Clearly, she was asking if he knew where he was going.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Feb 6, 2021 21:27:21 GMT
Sharifa… odd how the name didn’t seem to quite fit her, but Sohran accepted it, nodding even as he realized his turban had fallen into the sand. He picked it up, with a little effort given his stiff leg, and was dusting it off as Sharifa spoke again.
Still brushing off the turban even as he turned around, trying to map the world where they were to where they had been, he finally shook his head, making a bit of a face. “No… I come from other way,” he clarified, pointing a little ways north of where Ephesus was. “But we start moving, before Romans come,” he argued, none too interested in running into the soldiers again, and well aware that they might be willing to track the trio down.
He began to walk over to the spring himself, pausing by the horse’s saddlebags before kneeling. He splashed his face before drinking cupfuls of water from his hands. Then, he began filling the skins he had pulled from Baharah’s bag, taking advantage of the fresh water while they had it. Whatever reservations he might have about the situation, he was quick to adapt to it, accepting it just as another step in his journey rather than some interference with his destination.
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