Timestamp: 55th of Autumn, 513AV
The air in Herald's Arm was always filled with the smell of perfume but in Khepei's opinion it was cheap and smelled sickly. She remembered her first day working and the offending smell had almost made her gag. Her refined nose was use to the sweet smells of perfume from her homeland, where only the rich could afford such luxury scents. One luxury Khepri hoped to have one day herself, amongst other things.
She had already bought her freedom, one victory within itself since the Houses of the Four Winds rarely if ever let their slaves go. Despite it being out of her reach now, Khepri had the determination and drive of any Eypharian to rise above her status. She would do almost anything to obtain it.
At the moment, she wasn't keeping any of the patrons company. Khepri never did right before she had to dance. The four arm woman had a ritual of sorts before she danced. Khepri have done it for as long as she could remember. First she would meditate to clear her mind. Her teacher in Ahnatep always insisted that she did. He used to tell her preparing beforehand required not only to ready the body but the mind as well. If she wasn't focus on the task she would be sloppy and wouldn't put her all into it.
So Khepri selected a quiet, well as much as she was going to get on the noisy first level, and sat in the corner with her back to it. It would have been easier to focus if she faced towards the corner but due to her practice in martial arts, Khepri couldn't bring herself to show her back to strangers. Closing her eyes, the Eypharian began to block out the noise, the customers, the current girl droning on and on, on the stage in what she called singing and replaced it with quiet and stillness. It took a few chimes to finally get it right. Her mind kept wandering or distracted by the girl when she attempted to hit high notes but once she did Khepri mentally went over her routine. The way she would glide across the stage, the subtle movements of her ankles to move her hips just so, moving to the rhythm of the drum. It was as if she was truly on the stage.
The next part of her ritual was to stretch. It was a simple matter. Just making sure her muscles were warmed up and limber. Simple stretches of the arms, legs and back. Then she offered quick prayers to Rhaus and Nikali. To Rhaus to help her remember the love of the music and the dance, and to be with her in every step. Despite not being a slave anymore Khepri prayed to Nikali still, she hoped the Goddess would watch over her and to bring seduction and pleasure to her dances.
The girl on the stage finally stopped her incessant wailing and it was Khepri's turn on the stage. She took center stage and with wooden clappers in her two top arms up in the air and her two bottom posed out to her sides. She stood there on one foot while the other was slightly out in front of her and bent. The Eypharian waited for the tantalizing drum beat to start.
The drum beat started off slow, Khepri matching the beat. Slowly bringing her arms in to her center and switching feet. As the beat picked up pace so did Khepri. It seemed like a game of sorts, a game of echo. The beat of the drum would go and Khepri had split seconds to move her hips to the beat. When it stopped so would she, when it pounded she would follow.
Khepri always would lose herself into her dancing. It was like no one else was there even though she could feel the gazes of the customers and other employees alike. Some with hatred, some with hungry looks while others curious. When she was on the stage, she didn't care what they thought only feeling the beat of the drum in her step and body. The feeling of her feet stamping at the floor or the roll of her hips. Khepri was no longer the 21 year old ex-slave but 16 year old girl again, before things became twisted, dark and black. Before when things were bright, definite and carefree. When the teen remembered how to love, trust and smile.
It was the finality and the drums were pounding out a slow but hard beat now. Khepri always loved doing her signature move during this time. It showed off her flexibility and the men always loved the slight show of breast. Turning away from the audience, the drum continued its slow but steady beat. Khepri following the beat as ever starts to bend backwards. With every combo beat, she would go a bit lower until she was practically parallel with the stage floor. Hovering there as the drum does a drum roll and when it stops, Khepri drops to the floor, in one fell swoop. The beat of the drum begins anew, with shimmies and belly rolls the Eypharian makes her way back up and finishes off her routine. The crowd usually is enthralled by the dance and in Khepri's mind, rightfully so.
Only the sound of clapping manages to jerk Khepri out of her dream world, and each time she feels like piece of her seem to chip away. Giving a slight bow, she exited the stage. She will be back on in a bell or two. Snapping back to herself, Khepri flicks her hair back over her shoulders. Just another day at the Herald's Arm.
She had already bought her freedom, one victory within itself since the Houses of the Four Winds rarely if ever let their slaves go. Despite it being out of her reach now, Khepri had the determination and drive of any Eypharian to rise above her status. She would do almost anything to obtain it.
At the moment, she wasn't keeping any of the patrons company. Khepri never did right before she had to dance. The four arm woman had a ritual of sorts before she danced. Khepri have done it for as long as she could remember. First she would meditate to clear her mind. Her teacher in Ahnatep always insisted that she did. He used to tell her preparing beforehand required not only to ready the body but the mind as well. If she wasn't focus on the task she would be sloppy and wouldn't put her all into it.
So Khepri selected a quiet, well as much as she was going to get on the noisy first level, and sat in the corner with her back to it. It would have been easier to focus if she faced towards the corner but due to her practice in martial arts, Khepri couldn't bring herself to show her back to strangers. Closing her eyes, the Eypharian began to block out the noise, the customers, the current girl droning on and on, on the stage in what she called singing and replaced it with quiet and stillness. It took a few chimes to finally get it right. Her mind kept wandering or distracted by the girl when she attempted to hit high notes but once she did Khepri mentally went over her routine. The way she would glide across the stage, the subtle movements of her ankles to move her hips just so, moving to the rhythm of the drum. It was as if she was truly on the stage.
The next part of her ritual was to stretch. It was a simple matter. Just making sure her muscles were warmed up and limber. Simple stretches of the arms, legs and back. Then she offered quick prayers to Rhaus and Nikali. To Rhaus to help her remember the love of the music and the dance, and to be with her in every step. Despite not being a slave anymore Khepri prayed to Nikali still, she hoped the Goddess would watch over her and to bring seduction and pleasure to her dances.
The girl on the stage finally stopped her incessant wailing and it was Khepri's turn on the stage. She took center stage and with wooden clappers in her two top arms up in the air and her two bottom posed out to her sides. She stood there on one foot while the other was slightly out in front of her and bent. The Eypharian waited for the tantalizing drum beat to start.
The drum beat started off slow, Khepri matching the beat. Slowly bringing her arms in to her center and switching feet. As the beat picked up pace so did Khepri. It seemed like a game of sorts, a game of echo. The beat of the drum would go and Khepri had split seconds to move her hips to the beat. When it stopped so would she, when it pounded she would follow.
Khepri always would lose herself into her dancing. It was like no one else was there even though she could feel the gazes of the customers and other employees alike. Some with hatred, some with hungry looks while others curious. When she was on the stage, she didn't care what they thought only feeling the beat of the drum in her step and body. The feeling of her feet stamping at the floor or the roll of her hips. Khepri was no longer the 21 year old ex-slave but 16 year old girl again, before things became twisted, dark and black. Before when things were bright, definite and carefree. When the teen remembered how to love, trust and smile.
It was the finality and the drums were pounding out a slow but hard beat now. Khepri always loved doing her signature move during this time. It showed off her flexibility and the men always loved the slight show of breast. Turning away from the audience, the drum continued its slow but steady beat. Khepri following the beat as ever starts to bend backwards. With every combo beat, she would go a bit lower until she was practically parallel with the stage floor. Hovering there as the drum does a drum roll and when it stops, Khepri drops to the floor, in one fell swoop. The beat of the drum begins anew, with shimmies and belly rolls the Eypharian makes her way back up and finishes off her routine. The crowd usually is enthralled by the dance and in Khepri's mind, rightfully so.
Only the sound of clapping manages to jerk Khepri out of her dream world, and each time she feels like piece of her seem to chip away. Giving a slight bow, she exited the stage. She will be back on in a bell or two. Snapping back to herself, Khepri flicks her hair back over her shoulders. Just another day at the Herald's Arm.
(OOC)The Turkish drop :
