[Flashback] The Concubine-in-Training (ha'na & ifran)

[Ifran]

"The Artist Rabat wraps his gifts in the prettiest packaging," he observed, his gaze trailing down the curve of her arm. In daylight his eyes were blue as a dream, but in the darkness they were black as a nightmare. "If he does any justice to his models, it will surely be displayed in the Noble House." Certain Eypharians might take exception with holy Eypha being portrayed by a Benshiran, but they would take exception silently if that portrayal hung in the home of Sadiki of the North Winds. They said that Benshiran women had eyes like oases, pure water in the desert reflecting the glory of the sky. To Ifran, their beauty was to be appreciated as was all beauty; respected insofar as it was worth. This one, he thought, had honest eyes. Their purity was her purity. Intrigued, his jaded soul wondered whether it would be more amusing to give succor to that virtue or to shatter it, each piece tarnished with vice.

[Hana]

The blush that slipped over her cheeks had to be a deep one to show under the color of her skin, but there it was. His gaze on her seemed to make her come alive; it was a timid sort of grace that caused her to look away from him. The tragedy wasn’t that Eypharians thought themselves to be better than her. Instead the tragedy was that it seemed this girl believed it, too. “I think, Lord Ifran, that he has done great justice to you… But I am simply a place-holder for someone more desirous in the mind of the viewer.”

[Ifran]

"Moderation in all things," he said, gently chiding her. "Including modesty. Didn't your Prophet say that?" There lacked even a hint of mockery in his voice with regard to the holy man of the Benshiran faith, though his true feelings on the matter were likely in line with those of his people. "Your humility is charming, Ha'na, but if you continue to deny your beauty, especially as you learn to refine it, to manipulate it like a costume, people will begin to suspect it is false and that you are too proud." Again he quoted her prophet, "And pride goeth before the fall." Here too he wondered whether he were truly wielding his objectivity in favor of her innocence or in order to bring about such a fall. It would be no effort at all to seduce her, but would the challenge be a moral one? He had deflowered virgins and made adulteresses of noble wives, even tempted priestesses, drawing worship rightly due the gods. Was Ha'na somehow different?

[Hana]

There seemed to be a strange sort of removal of vanity from the girl despite the obviousness of her beauty. She looked down at her legs like some chided little thing as he spoke to her. It was not hard to imagine maybe seeing tears in her eyes. What she gave him was the faintest of nods to show she understood what he was saying, but it seemed there was some wall there that wasn’t collapsing. After a moment of silence, she nearly whispered, “I think you will enjoy the painting.”

[Ifran]

So there was a strength in her, a determination, despite her natural urge to yield to the strength of others; perhaps, also, to their weaknesses. He smiled in the gloom. She was a rare jewel, clean and unpretentious. The silence drew out as the slaves brought them up past the guards and onto the grounds of the House of the North Winds. "I'm sure I will," he said, his voice pregnant with many nuances that Common could not express. He stepped out of the sedan chair first, then offered her a hand as if she were a lady.

[Hana]

He offered her his hand. A moment passed where it seemed the girl had no idea what it meant, or there was that dull shock to her saying that she didn’t understand why he was treating her in such a generous manner. Before he could pull it away, she pressed her hot little palm into his, shifting then to get out of the sedan. With his touch came that feeling, coursing electricity shooting through her, starting at her fingers and quickly reaching to the rest of her body. Desire. She looked up at him suddenly, lips parting with a bit of shock. There was a part of her that begged to have this all explained to her. She hadn’t the faintest clue as to why it was happening. Why any of it was happening. She paled, swooned, crumpled. Not even the greatest of actresses or courtesans could have managed to faint in such an impressive manner.

[Ifran]

Her reaction startled a bark of laughter out of him, from the feverish hand in his to the dramatic faint. Thanks to his reflexes and copious appendages, he caught her and the painting without damaging either. The slaves, confused, moved to help, but he waved them off. Dutifully, they moved the sedan chair while Ifran gathered her up and carried her into the place, his gilt sandals quiet on the marble steps. Thus she missed the impressive sights of the House of the North Winds upon her first arrival, but he took her to his suite of rooms, set her gingerly upon his bed, and then took the painting from her to spread out for his perusal. "Not bad," he murmured to himself, stealing a green grape and a piece of cheese from the tray of refreshments that had been awaiting him, stealing also a glance back at the unconscious Eypha of the painting.

[Hana]

The bed underneath her was soft. Too soft. It told her that she was not in the precarious hammock that was afforded to her at the home of the artist she worked for. A bare arm luxuriated against cool cotton and what were possibly silk threads. Perhaps a little cloth of gold… Perhaps… … She had no idea where she was for a few breaths as she came to from what would be possibly one of the most humiliating moments of her life. Before she could stop herself, she mumbled in Shiber, “Hik, I’m an idiot…” The statement had come riding in on a wave of realization as to where she was – Where she had to be. Despite the fact that she wanted to keep her eyes closed, she found them fluttering open blearily all the same.

[Ifran]

The sheer silk curtains around the bed dimmed the light little, their purpose more to keep the mosquitoes at bay during the wet season. Delicate thread-of-gold and thread-of-silver glittered in the hangings thanks to the blaze of lights Ifran had lit to feat upon the glory of their painting. It was already fitted in a blank frame to hold it spread out, and soon it would be properly framed and hung where the light could illumine it without fading the pigments. Of course he heard her stirring before she woke, and went a little thin-lipped at the Shiber. He did not like words he could not decipher. "Come look," he said, his voice generous because he knew she would obey. "There are refreshments if you like."

[Hana]

“Mm,” she made the noise in the back of her throat before she could stop herself. She lifted her spine from the bed to stretch as if she was simply waking up from a night’s slumber. She slipped off of the covers, fingers grazing over the rich curtains as she went with child-like wonder over anything so fine. “My apologies, Lord Ifran, for my little bout of…” She trailed off. She had no idea what had happened, but whatever it was caused her to flush quite red as she slipped over to see the painting.