Open Resisting Ahnatep

[Alech Shariiv]

18th of Fall, 512 AV The wind rustled the wild hair of the exhausted male, offering him only a second of comfort and he continued to lead his horse across the unforgiving land. His breathing was slow, tired, and his lids heavy upon cerulean orbs. He had rode though the night, refusing rest, knowing how close he was to the great city of Ahnatep, and now dropped to the ground as the structures of the Ephyrian city came into view. A light, triumphant smile tugged at the lips of Alech, and he bowed his head to pray. His words flowed in flawless Shiber, praising the faithful god, Yahal, and faded into the air around him, "Yahal, you have provided. I give thanks to your mercy, and ask for strength and resilience as I enter Ahnatep. Throughout time, this place and it's people have been the stumbling block for many of my people. I pray that you will give me the will and ability to resist temptation and continue on my pilgrimage to do whatever your will may be. Forgive me of my transgressions and purify my heart so I may focus on you alone. Lead me, my god for I am your loyal servant." As he sat upon the cool sands, the sun rise began to golden the horizon, bringing with it the colors of a new day, and illuminating the buildings of Ahnaptep. Never before had the Benshiran laid eyes on such a city. Alech rose to his feet, his blue eyes never leaving the lady of Ahnatep. He beheld her form, and her arms, the symbolism bold and brilliant regarding each item she held. The eyes of the skull beneath her pierced his form, and Alech reached out to grab the reigns of his faithful filly, Oriah. He straightened his posture, mentally preparing himself, and taking confident strides towards his destination. He had left his home, his family, his comfort for this... It was for Yahal. This was to be nothing but a quick stop, only provide him with a temporary resting place before he moved on and left Eyktol all together. As he drew closer to the gates, his eyes drifted to the marble patterns erupting beneath the sands, and he could not deny it's beauty. Alech looked up, the silhouettes of the guards waving him inside. He nodded, taking a deep breath, and crossed the threshold separating desert and civilization. Keeping his possessions and animal close, Alech took in the streets with silent vigor. His attention seemed short spanned, hopping from one structure to the next, moving though the streets and nodding towards shop vendors as they began to set up their stands for the day. They returned his greetings with smug acknowledgement, their many hands meticulously placing their goods in elaborate display. Although tired, his need for rest seemed secondary in his new interest. "I can see why we may have stumbled, Oriah." Alech muttered, looking away as an Ephyrian woman wandered from a building, scantily clad in thin silks and bending over to adjust a strap to one of her sandals. Working diligently not to stare, Alech did risk a glance after a few moments to see if she had vanished or not. She was still fiddling with her footwear, and looked up slightly, catching his eye. She winked, smiled, and began sauntering in whichever direction she had embarked in the first place. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but her hips swayed a bit more than he remembered... He inwardly groaned. This was going to be harder than he thought. Much harder.

[Ifran]

The scion of the House of the North Winds did not walk unattended. Though the market square he went, servants of his House holding parasols to keep the sun from his gilded skin, servants walking ahead to make sure his path was clear of offal and people. Thought not royal, he was regal, back straight, six arms elegantly held, and he moved like a dancer or a weapon. Indeed, a pair of bronze khopeshes crossed over his back, and his clothes were of lapis silk and thread-of-gold brocade. A glittering skyglass scarab hung against his chest, a gift from the goddess of stars Herself. Perhaps some believed he had found a rich patron in Alvadas and spoke lies, but he did not care. He wore it proudly. She had come to him and enjoyed his voice. What other performer of the semhu in the modern era could claim such an audience? But his promenade stopped suddenly when a star-struck Benshira stopped watching where he was going in order to follow the sway of an Eypharian woman's hips. People stared at the newcomer, and the woman herself bowed to Ifran and scurried away. But Ifran himself merely watched, calm as anything, and waited.

[Alech Shariiv]

18th of Fall, 512 AV Alech's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the female suddenly bowed, his gaze traveling upwards to a man surrounded by servants, the stranger's back straight and his expression at ease. The Eypharian had an air around him that demanded respect, a regal sense of dignity. When taking in his attire, Alech inwardly winced at his own appearance. He was not dirty, by any means, but he was travel worn. His short hair stood up here and there, and his clothing was not made up of silks or sewn by golden thread. Instead, he wore a simple, cotton ankle length tunic, the most colorful piece of his outfit being a cloak that was currently stuffed inside his saddle bags. If one were to place both men next to one another, Alech would most surely be mistaken as a slave for the other. Confused as to why the man watched him, as well as the people, Alech blinked, realizing he was in the way. In order to diffuse the situation, Alech looked at the man, not taking in the potential status of who he may be, and spoke in Shiber, "Good morning." Realizing that he had to pay attention to which language he used, the tall Benshiran shook his head, smiling apologetically, searching for the words in common, "Ah, sorry. Good morning." He took a step to the side, tugging his horse out of the way, and nodded towards the man's glittering scarab. It was a beautiful piece, something that he had never seen before. There were so many things he was unfamiliar with in Ahnatep. Beauty of such proportions was one. Alech's thoughts briefly traveled to his sisters and mother, imagining their reactions if he was to ever bring a gift so lovely to them. To buy something of such quality would most likely cost him more than he was worth, in this life or the next, but he could not refrain from asking, "Where did you get that?"

[Ifran]

The Benshira did not move, but he at least he made polite words. Ifran had very few in the Shiber tongue. Though he had studied their music as part of his apprenticeship, he did not know their language. It was, after all, the language of slaves. He understood the greeting, and the greeting repeated in the Common tongue. He replied in the language of Ahnatep, "Good morning." Onlookers seemed curious as to whether the foreigner would be punished for his ignorance, but compared to many of his Eypharian brethren, Ifran had the patience of a saint. Deciding he ought speak in Common for ease of communication between the two of them, he answered in kind. "Oh, this?" he asked, not looking down. It was the only jewelry he wore; nothing else could compare. "It was a gift from the Lady Zintila." Perhaps in Lhavit, the worshipers of the star goddess might have skyglass in profusion, but not here. In Ahnatep, it was an unmatched thing.

[Alech Shariiv]

18th of Fall, 512 AV Alech's attention brightened, hearing that this man was given something from a goddess. "Really?" He muttered, only slightly disappointed that it was not possible to get one for his family. "How did you get her attention?" Personally, he wasn't nearly as interested in the lady of the stars, but more so in finding favor among the gods, particularly Yahal himself. It was a long shot, by all means, but a long term goal Alech hoped to eventually obtain. To simply chat with Yahal would be... everything. Most men would not be so willing to engage a man of higher status into a conversation, but Alech was a touch naive, often times forgetting his place of a mere farmer. Now that he was a traveler, he was unsure of where he even stood, and because of his infant arrival in Ahnatep, his only true exposure to Eypharians was short lived during his childhood, or what he read about or heard of Benshiran history. He had no idea whether things were still this way, or the slave expectation this multi-armed race held of his people. He was foolish.

[Ifran]

"I have not the slightest idea," he admitted. "I do not know the mind of the gods." He had ideas, of course, but most were far too vain and most likely incorrect. It was not often he stopped in the street to speak to a Benshira who had clearly spent no time in Ahnatep at all. Now he had conversed with the goddess of stars and the deity of illusions, for no one living knew whether that one was male or female, or so it was commonly held. "What brings you to Ahnatep, abi?" He did not truly speak Shiber, but he knew a few words, and it would not kill him to be hospitable.