Closed Disguised Herbs (Akasja)

[Sayana]

Spring 79, 515AV

Sayana looked at her notebook then looked at the small thistly shrub again. It had the right leaf pattern and the distinctive long prickly leaves. There were even some berries but they were small and a pale green colour. It was as close as she was going to get and she had to see if this really was rhinedale.

The Eypharian pulled a small dagger from the many sheathed at her hip and cut several thin branches from the shrub. There wasn’t really much there and she didn’t want to deplete the herb in case she came back some day. With the few small sticks in one hand she headed back to her camp.

Despite being out in the woods, Sayana had developed a habit of adopting different disguises. Even now, she wore her long black robe to conceal her mid and low arms and there was a black band of khol over her eyes to give her a chaktawe look. As she followed the winding game trails through the woods, she couldn’t help but take a glance in her small pocket mirror to see how the makeup was holding up. She sighed. Not very well. Even though the khol could be very prominent and bold, it faded fast.

As she walked she started touching up the black band here and there with the khol, careful not to smudge it across her face. The clear sharp lines took a bit more time but soon the solid black band was once again crisp and vivid. With her free hands she worked in a couple of thin braids to her hair, then tied the rest of it back. Lastly she flipped up her hood to partially conceal her face and offer some crude protection against the bugs in the forest.

When she reached the camp, she first went to check on her large white horse. After providing it with a quick drink she poked at the fire pit to see if there were any coals left. There was only a faint glow of red but it was still hot and would surely be enough. She gathered some dried grasses and thin pieces of bark before blowing softly upon the coals. After about half a chime it whooshed into flame and she quickly added some small sticks to keep it lit.

She added several more sticks, steadily getting thicker in size, until she was confident it would keep burning without her attention. Then she turned to the rhinedale wood. She couldn’t just add it to the fire or its ashes would be mixed with all the other ashes. If only she had a bowl… But then she realized that a pot would do just as well. Quickly she got out her cooking pot and began cutting the rhinedale sticks into small slivers. It was sloppy work and more often than not she snapped the sticks in half, but by the end she had formed a small wooden ‘tent’ inside the pot, all ready to set ablaze.

Feeling a small prickle on the back of her neck, she glanced sharply about the clearing where she had set up camp. Nothing. She must be imagining things. Her fingers drummed anxiously against her thigh for just a moment before she reached for one of the longer sticks in the fire to light the rhinedale.

[Akasja]

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It had not yet been a full month that Akasja had arrived in Syliras, and she was still getting used to everything. She had only been inside the city walls for short periods of time and still made her home on the outskirts, near the well-tended farms and the wide expanses of forest. Syliras was large, full of people and giant buildings, and Akasja was a little more comfortable with the wilderness. She had a plan to restock her supplies of herbs, skins, and food enough before she entered the city officially and had to spend any of her hard-earned Miza. She would rather trade than spend, at any rate. And at some point, she thought, she might seek out employment again. That thought alone brought her enough anxiety.

Pushing away any worrysome thoughts, Akasja left her own camp on the outskirts of the Syliran farms, spear in hand, a small satchel on her back, and dagger at her hip. She had made sure to dab insect repellent along her body -the strong oil of a leaf she had acquired in Endrykas had served her well so far. Still, the insects nagged her as she moved further into the forest, and she found herself grumbling, thinking about the much less buggy Eyktolian deserts. Akasja meant to find a good amount of meat or wild fruit on this spring day, hopefully enough to last her a while or provide her with a valuable skin to sell or wear. She refocused on her mission and began to track the various footprints in the soft earth.

After some time of tracking, the small hoof prints she had originally found joined with others at the bank of an empty stream. It seemed that, although there had been rain recently, it had not been enough to fill the stream bed here. Because of this, it was easy to see that the lone deer Akasja had been tracking had met up with its small herd before they headed off together. Akasja scanned the forest around her, using both her eyes and her sensitive fingers to seek out any dangers, and then moved on again, keeping her footsteps as light and precise as she could.

In less than a half-bell, Akasja was met with the scent of wood smoke. She halted, brow furrowing, and watched the sky to see if she could see any sign of the smoke to tell what direction it was coming from. Frustratingly, she could not. Waiting for the next light breeze, Akasja began to walk in the direction of the wind, her approach careful and cautious. For the most part, all those she had already encountered on the outskirts of Syliras had been travelers and hunters like her, but Akasja nevertheless remained on alert. She did not know who or what she would meet.

As she walked slowly, following where the wind had blown from, Akasja scanned the forest floor, searching for any other footprints. For now she abandoned her deer hunt, more interested in who could be camping out here and if they already had fresh meat, supplies, or could otherwise aid her. Regardless, it seemed appropriate to let any other people know she was hunting out here. She did not want to be hit by any stray arrows or the like.

Within a few chimes, Akasja noticed the large hoof prints of a horse. She extended her sensitive fingers slowly in the direction that the horse had traveled, but she could not pick up any movement as of yet. Keeping the prints in her line of sight, Akasja followed them steadily, at a slight angle, balancing her body weight by having her left arm outstretched and her right arm at her hip, clutching her short spear.

As the scent of the smoke intensified, the small camp came into view. Akasja remained partially hidden among the trees, not yet wanting to reveal herself as she surveyed the scene. She immediately noticed the white horse who had left the prints behind. It looked healthy and quite attractive, which led Akasja to believe that its owner had enough time and skill, or Miza, to care for it properly. Swiftly, Akasja sought out the one major source of movement that she had picked up; she spotted what looked to be a woman working by the fire. It was hard to determine the stranger's body shape underneath her black robe. Akasja waited for a moment where the woman might turn one way or the other to reveal her face, though she considered the fact that this solitary woman might catch Akasja watching her and be frightened, or made aggressive.

Lowering her spear to her side and keeping a non-threatening posture, Akasja stepped fully into view, if the woman should look, entering the path that led into the camp. As she did this, Akasja watched the large, white horse reacting to her presence. The woman would most likely notice Akasja at any moment, if she hadn't already. Hopefully this encounter would be pleasant and brief enough, and Akasja could continue on with her day's plans.
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[Sayana]

The small collection of rhinedale sticks caught quickly, as they were rather thin and cut thinner. Sayana smiled at her work and carefully removed the stick she had used to light the secondary fire. She backed away from the pot to give it air and room to breathe, and that’s when she looked up and realized she was not alone.

There was some subtle movement from within her robe as her two mid hands immediately unsheathed daggers. The Eypharian stood up quickly and moved into a defensive stance, daggers still out of view. Sayana’s brown eyes suddenly caught the woman’s black black eyes.

“You’re chaktawe,” she stated, breaking the ice or perhaps adding further tension. Despite the black band of khol on her own face, she knew that her meager disguise could not possibly trick a true native of the race. So might as well get those things into the open before proceeding.

The woman’s spear was held in a lowered non-aggressive pose, and Sayana relaxed her hands on her daggers yet still didn’t sheath them. Her high hands, which utilized the sleeves of the robe, were visible and held no weapon of the sort.

“I see that you’ve stumbled upon my small camp,” Sayana said in a way of introduction as she gestured to her tent and fire. She had a few belongings scattered around the clearing and within the tent but for the most part it was relatively organized.

“I collect herbs and bring them back to the city. It’s not often that I get company.” She explained. If the chaktawe suspected that Sayana’s makeup and disguise was for ill, she wanted to immediately extinguish a poor first impression by presenting herself as an herbalist. That at least was an honorable and reputable profession. Additionally, it bought her time to consider what she might tell the woman if she asked about the chaktawe makeup.

[Akasja]

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As the mysterious woman stood and turned around, realizing Akasja's presence, it became clear that she was more unique than Akasja could have anticipated. Her skin, even a few shades darker than Akasja's, seemed to glow beautifully in the light of the forest, though what stood out against it was a band of black painted across the woman's face. Akasja's stomach momentarily tensed, and her mouth gaped slightly. Was this woman...Chaktawe? But how could she be?

Peering closer, Akasja realized the woman's eyes were not those of a Chaktawe, so she could certainly not be a native of the race. But she was attempting to look like someone from the Kalanue tribe - one of Akasja's own. Akasja had never seen this woman before, but there was no telling why she was dressed the way she was.
"You're Chaktawe," the strange woman suddenly spoke in perfect Common.
Akasja closed her mouth and furrowed her brow. The woman did not speak Tawna immediately, adding to Akasja's suspicion and confusion. Akasja then thought to test the woman, to see if she was simply mimicking Chaktawe style.
"And you are not," Akasja responded with a hint of resentment, the Tawna mother-tongue flowing effortlessly. "Who are you?"
She waited for a response in Tawna, but the strange woman didn't seem to want to pretend in front of Akasja. She instead continued to speak in Common, gesturing to her camp, her posture looking a little more relaxed than before. Akasja could see no weapons anywhere, but she was still uncertain of what the woman might have concealed beneath her thick robe.

As the woman began to explain her presence, Akasja took a few cautious steps forward. She wanted to be friendly towards the stranger, despite the unusual makeup catching her off-guard. Akasja remained suspicious, despite her growing amusement at the novelty of the situation. Never before had she seen someone who was not a Chaktawe trying to look like one; perhaps to the untrained eye, the woman's ensemble might have been enough to convince someone. Even so, Akasja was not sure how the woman was supposed to fool them when her eyes were not entirely black. It was all so curious.

Tilting her head to one side, Akasja watched the woman's movements carefully. She was explaining that she took herbs to the city. A worthwhile endeavor, Akasja decided, and nodded slowly in understanding. A hum of consideration rumbled in her throat.
Switching to Common, Akasja motioned to the woman's fire with a nod of her head and a pointed finger. "What you have there? What plant?"
The forest herbs around here would be different than what Akasja was used to, and she anticipated not being familiar with the plant name that the robed woman would speak. But if the woman was a competent enough herbalist, and one for sharing knowledge, Akasja found herself wanting to discuss local plants with her. There would definitely be something new that the both of them could learn from one another.

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[Sayana]

When the woman began speaking another language, soft and wispy like the desert sands, Sayana forced herself to maintain a calm expression. Of course it shouldn’t be surprising that the chaktawe spoke her own language, and it sealed any chance that Sayana could accurately maintain her disguise. She was rather grateful that she hadn’t tried.

Sayana did not respond verbally to the chaktawe and as such, it seemed that the woman understood that Common was her preferred language. Sayana nodded with a smile at her question. “This, this is Rhinedale.” She answered pointing to the smaller fire within the pot. “I’m keeping it separate from the rest because the important part is the ashes that come from it. It helps with burns when you make a paste out of it.”

The small fire did not last long in the pot since it was mostly made of small sticks. However, it also didn’t make a lot of ashes. Sayana beckoned the chaktawe forwards as she sat back down with the pot. By now she had returned her daggers to their sheaths. She pulled out a simple eating spoon and a waterskin. Taking some of the ashes that had cooled, she mixed them in the palm of her hand with some water to demonstrate.

Brushing her hair out of the way, she smudged a good portion of her black makeup. As she looked at the black mark that had appeared on her hand, she gasped in feigned surprise. “Oh! Is that why you were--? Oh pardon me. I completely forgot! You see, I’m an aspiring actress. And makeup is part of the deal when it comes to acting. Sometimes I try out different faces to see how they look and try practicing my voice too. But I had forgotten I was still wearing this one. My apologies, no wonder you looked so confused.”

She got up graciously and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “My name is Ishtar. Or at least that is my stage name that I am trying to use whenever I can. And just so there’s no confusion…” She removed her black robe to reveal her multiple arms and a bright red top underneath. “I am Eypharian.” She had several daggers at one hip but she made no attempt to reach for them.

[Akasja]

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Akasja appreciated that the cloaked woman responded thoroughly to her question. So far, she seemed to be an amicable enough stranger, all oddities aside. It was hard to fully understand what the woman was saying, though Akasja tried hard to follow all the details. Without the added sign language of the prairie that she had used for the past year, Akasja did not have much to go on as far as unfamiliar words were concerned. Thankfully, the cloaked woman was quick to motion for Akasja to come closer so that she could physically show the way the ashes could be mixed into a paste.

Akasja did come closer, fully entering the woman's camp with close attention paid, but she left a couple arms' length between them as she came to a halt. The cloaked woman seemed quite friendly, but Akasja did not yet feel fully at ease. As the woman worked with the paste she had made, she inadvertently smudged off some of the makeup she was wearing. Almost instantly, something seemed to click in the woman's mind, and she began to apologize to Akasja. Akasja's pitch-black eyes opened a little wider as she listened to the woman's explanation; something along the lines of practicing different makeups, faces, and voices because she was an actress. She seemed to finally understand why Akasja had looked confused this entire time. A wave of relief came over Akasja for a moment. It was good to have her confusion acknowledged...but then Akasja wondered, why was she wearing her costume out here in the woods, and alone, at that? It seemed a little strange, still, but perhaps the woman had various personal reasons for remaining in costume. Certainly, if she wanted help learning how to act and speak like a real Chaktawe...

Before Akasja could finish her thought, the woman stood to her full height, which, up close, was several obvious inches shorter than Akasja's own. Nevertheless, she moved with an undeniable air of sophistication and confidence as she addressed the Chaktawe.
"My name is Ishtar," she said, and Akasja did not quite understand the rest, for her ears practically ceased to function as the Chaktawe suddenly became witness to the cloaked woman's unveiled six arms.

For a moment, Akasja was utterly dumbstruck. She struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. Despite being flooded with emotions, once Akasja's eyes flitted to the daggers at the woman's hip, instinct took over, and Akasja took a large step backwards, unsheathing her own dagger and holding it out before her in a fighting stance.

All those arms. Unmistakable was this woman's race. So many childhood memories, the names, and the native desert languages flooded Akasja's racing mind. A break of lucidity came over her, and she wielded the Arumenic tongue like another weapon.
"Desert snake," Akasja almost hissed, her eyes narrowing under furrowed brow. "You're damn clever."

For a few anxious moments Akasja stood defensively, ready for a sudden move from the small Eypharian woman. All of Akasja's life, a large portion of her experiences with Eypharians had been intensely negative. They took people as slaves, they considered themselves superior to other races, they attemped to trade unfairly with Akasja's clans because of the idea that Chaktawe were ignorant about the true value of certain types of goods. All those years spent in and around Ahnatep had let Akasja experience enough of Eypharians to immediately distrust them. And now here, in the most unexpected of places, far, far from the deserts of home, Akasja was face to face with one of the most notorious groups that her people had ever known.

Yet Ishtar did not move for her weapons -and she had many chances to move and many weapons to grab. Akasja's gaze remained intense and focused, but she slowly began to lower her dagger.
"Are you alone?" Akasja asked finally, ending the tense silence. Once again, she used Ishtar's native tongue to speak.
Truthfully, speaking Arumenic thrilled Akasja, although it was also jarring and triggered memories of her distant past. It had been some time since Akasja had been able to use this language, and to use it in this kind of circumstance, and in this environment, was incredibly surreal. If the woman truly was alone -and Akasja would attempt to feel for surrounding movements to find out- and if the woman was truly not violent, Akasja decided she would sheath her weapon. She had no reason to risk a fight with a strange Eypharian who had done her no direct harm. But there was still much to be explained.

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[Sayana]

“Desert snake,” Sayana repeated with a chuckle as she began to recall the language of her homeland. “Desert snake is my friend dhani. I do not take insults to my friends.” Her speech was somewhat jarring and she was clearly rusty and unpracticed, but she managed to make out most of the words albeit slower than when she spoke Common.

The chaktawe was standing, dagger drawn, and there were three important conclusions Sayana had come to. Firstly, the woman was scared or at least agitated. Second, the dagger had been the first weapon the chaktawe had drawn and therefore it probably corresponded to her strongest fighting skill. And lastly, the way she held herself and the dagger was all wrong on multiple levels. Her stance was too close, her posture too upright, her grip on the weapon too strong and inflexible, and her dagger raised too high so that Sayana would have all the warning in the world if the woman attempted to strike.

It was for all these reasons that Sayana had not bothered to draw her own weapons. She was clearly facing a novice with little practice.

When the black-eyed woman asked whether Sayana was alone, a small smile crept over her face. “No,” she answered in Arumenic. She allowed for a pregnant pause, and like a cat she watched the chaktawe before breaking the silence. “I have horse. Stardust.” The horse’s name she spoke in Common, since she couldn’t find the right word in Arumenic, and she gestured to the white mare with one of her mid hands.

“Go on. Think you strike me down?” Sayana goaded. By now she had discarded the rhinedale paste and wiped it from her high hand. “I tell you I do not draw my daggers. But… that not mean I don’t use your dagger.” Her broken words hindered her communication but she eluded that she was confident in a fight even if she started off unarmed. Her body language and her stance filled in the missing gaps.

Sayana spread her arms wide in a challenge. She carried nothing in them although hands, fists, and elbows could be dangerous in their own right. She wondered what her race had done to set the chaktawe on edge. There were many things she could think of and she was curious how far the black-eyed woman would go.

She decided to give the woman an extra nudge. The Eypharian began focusing on feelings of anger and vengeance. She consolidated them into a sharp edge-like point ready to lash out in a split tick. With the emotions coated in djed, and ready to break free at a single word, she spoke. “You want fight? Give me fight.” Each time she spoke the word ‘fight’ she released her hypnotism to pierce into the chaktawe’s soul and bring forth feelings of anger and vengeance.

Credit: Shimoje

[Akasja]

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The Eypharian woman responded slowly, but with obvious distaste for Akasja's words. Still she did not move for her weapons. Akasja did not want to make any further moves, herself, and so remained vigilant. The woman's stillness was unnerving. Akasja stood with her dominant arm in front of her body, knife blade facing the woman, and her defensive hand closer to her body, ready to protect her organs and arteries. Her fingers remained slightly loose so as to feel for any surrounding movements. While her form was acceptable, Akasja was not very practiced at what to do after striking this stance; she knew a few important maneuvers and striking tactics, but not too much else. In a knife fight, one expected to be cut, even if one succeeded in disarming or destroying their opponent. Akasja had never been cut before. The thought came to her that today might be that day if this Ishtar wanted to take their precarious scenario any further. Akasja hoped for a way out, and tried to come up with a crafty way to end their predicament before blood could be shed.

"Are you alone?"
"No," Ishtar replied to Akasja's question, letting the word linger tauntingly in the air. Akasja felt a prickle of nervousness at this, but did not show fear in her expression. A slight wrinkle of her mouth, almost a snarl, was all she allowed.
Finally: "I have horse. Stardust." The Eypharian liked jokes, it seemed. What an apt time to make one. Akasja felt a smirk lightly curl the corner of her mouth. She saw the white form of the horse standing attentively, though fairly unperturbed, out of the corner of her eye. The horse had a name, a word Akasja did not really understand, as it was spoken in Common, but she heard the sound of the words clearly. A horse with a name was not just a beast to the Eypharian.

At Ishtar's challenging display, Akasja felt the heat rise within her. All of the woman's hands were empty, but she suggested that she could take Akasja's weapon from her. By Eywaat, it certainly wouldn't be much of a challenge to subdue another with all of those arms. Akasja realized she had walked into an entirely unequal fighting situation. Although the woman was threatening, and all that could have been a bluff, Akasja had no real idea how skilled her opponent was. Still, she was staring Akasja down, arms wide. There was no indication that the Eypharian wanted to be peaceful. Akasja's heartbeat increased.
"You want fight?" the Eypharian goaded. Emotions began to flood Akasja without warning, replacing her sense of fear. "Give me fight."
Akasja felt the ire within her begin to rise. How dare this woman speak to her in such a way, after all she and her kind had done. After she had lied, stolen... As if she had a right to what Akasja owned... With Akasja's fear muffled, attacking the tiny Eypharian seemed a far simpler task. Enjoyable, even. She could injure the woman's small limbs easily. She did not even need a weapon beyond her own body weight and physical strength. She could even use her teeth and nails to rip the woman's flesh.

Akasja let out a ragged breath. Her anger was disorienting. Her thoughts felt labored, clouded. She blinked and lightly shook her head, trying to clear both her vision and her mind, then took two more quick, diagonal steps backwards to put more distance between her and Ishtar. With this movement she found herself closer to the white horse.
"I can give you a fight," Akasja spoke through clenched teeth, holding her fighting stance and staring unflinchingly at the Eypharian. She was overcome with a deep desire for vengeance, to regain what she had lost many years ago, to prove to the freakish Eypharians that the Chaktawe could beat them at their own game. Her people were better than what the Eypharians thought of them. Her people could...

Her people. At the thought of them -the desert, her home, her family, her purpose- Akasja's thoughts cleared slightly, the clouds parting to let light through. Her anger was too much, too confusing. Even facing an Eypharian, she had to keep her wits about her. She had been taught that there was only a small difference between boldness and stupidity. Her life was on the line, a life she lived for the continuation of her people. Dying today, like this, would not serve them.

But she felt such hatred for Ishtar's people. The feeling was hard to shake.
"If you want me, come get me," Akasja taunted, hoping to keep the woman engaged and perhaps even a little curious.

Keeping her body facing the multi-armed woman, Akasja continued to move backwards at a slight angle, but her pace was steady, her motions smooth. She headed straight for the white horse. When she was about five feet from it, she stopped and slowly turned to face the animal, so as not to spook it. Akasja reached for the animal's nose, letting it scent her, and with hardly a pause afterward, she fluidly and confidently grabbed a hold of the horse's lead. Soothingly, she began to speak to it, watching its ears flick as it listened to her voice. Akasja was used to horses, and although was not a master rider, she knew enough of how to approach and control a domesticated animal. She hoped her actions would at least give the Eypharian pause -and at most instill some fear.
"I can take your horse," Akasja spoke evenly, knowing the animal certainly meant something to Ishtar, "or kill it if necessary. But I will not fight you unless this animal's blood is on the ground first."

Akasja kept her eyes on the multi-armed woman, her heart racing, but her body still. With her dagger in one hand and the horse's lead in the other, she waited.

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[Sayana]

Sayana watched the chaktawe as her hackles seemed to rise on command. Not only was the woman agitated but also angry. Sayana’s lips curled as she enjoyed the effects. However, as the black-eyed woman steadily moved closer to the white mare, the Eypharian felt a surge of anger begin to grow inside her. How dare she attempt to threaten Stardust. She could see the ruse even before the chaktawe spoke the threat aloud.

For the first couple of ticks, the horse would appear timid but generally friendly towards the woman. However, Sayana was about to change that. Even as the black-eyed woman took a firm hold of the horse’s lead, Sayana took a couple steps forwards and began gathering her djed. She was itching for revenge, for retribution, but first she needed to ensure the safety of her horse. Breathing heavily, the Eypharian narrowed her focus on a single thought, a single concept. The black-eyed woman is a predator. She channeled the magic in a piercing gaze towards the horse. Again and again she repeated the subliminal thought, even for a few ticks after the chaktawe had made her verbal threat.

The message would be subtle at first, but soon the horse would be stomping its hooves and tossing its head in agitation. Riding it would become a whole other story. It was certainly not the first time Sayana had hypnotized her horse, though in the past it had usually involved feelings of loyalty instilled in the animal. Sayana found her fingers fidgeting and the chaktawe started looking more and more like a lone wolf ready to pounce… Side effects. These were just side effects. She tried to shake off the feeling and compose herself.

“You kill horse, I show no… kindness. No-- no-- mercy.” Sayana spoke struggling to find the appropriate words in Arumenic. “I tell you. I tell you, you will die. You like life?”

Sayana still did not draw her weapons. She could have scared the woman either with her magic or with a show of her prowess. But someone who is scared tends to do the irrational, and her horse was still in jeopardy. She could have also tried to diffuse the situation, but her pride kept her from becoming a rug that would be walked all over.

“You give back horse. You have six ticks.” Sayana stated as she moved her low hands to rest on the sheaths of her daggers. Her mids and highs were held in a defensive position, with her highs forming fists. “One… two… three…”

If this was going to be a stand-off, it wasn’t going to last long. Unless, of course, her threats were idle and the chaktawe wanted to make the gamble to call her out on a bluff.

[Akasja]

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Akasja watched as the Eypharian became increasingly uneasy. Her idea with the woman's horse had worked so far. For Akasja, it was enough that Ishtar was reacting emotionally to her horse being threatened. The Eypharian seemed to pause and focus on something, her breaths growing heavier. Akasja used what little time she had available to take stock of the situation; she was fully aware of the state of her body, her heartbeat, her breaths, the tenseness of her muscles. The Eypharian woman was growing more enraged with each passing chime.

Akasja watched the Eypharian for sudden movements, but there were none. Instead, Ishar seemed to be contemplating something amid her intense emotions, and soon Akasja felt the horse in her grip begin to move in slight agitation. The animal seemed tuned in to its owner's feelings. A chill of realization passed through Akasja. This was a bad path to be on. Akasja no longer felt so vindictive, so violent as she had before. She had to stop this from going any further.

Once the Eypharian spoke, slightly stumbling over her words, threatening Akasja's life, Akasja knew she had gotten the emotional response she had sought from the Eypharian. That was enough of a victory. But how to proceed and keep her own life?
"You give back horse," Ishtar demanded, then began to count.
In response, Akasja looked over at the horse whose lead she still gripped. The animal was becoming more and more upset. Its attitude had changed totally from when Akasja first approached it. There must have been some sort of special bond or connection between Stardust and its owner. Akasja was not totally surprised by this, but she knew this reaction meant that her chance to climb onto the horse's back was now gone. On the other hand, if she had truly wanted to kill it, she could have -and would have- stabbed it by now. Perhaps the Eypharian would realize that.

Akasja stared hard at the multi-armed woman. A small smile shaped the Chaktawe's lips, formed by a mix of satisfaction at the Eypharian's reaction and respect for the woman's connection to her animal. Decisively -as the horse in her grip began to paw at the ground and shake its head- Akasja sheathed her dagger. She turned her attention back to the animal, letting go of its lead and taking quick steps away from it. Although she noticed how the Eypharian's many hands had changed their positions, Akasja would not be attacking.

"I do not want blood," Akasja spoke firmly, looking again at Ishtar. "I do not want a fight. I do not want to take this animal from you. Enough has happened here."
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