Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Nov 22, 2008 21:17:27 GMT -5
- Time: 4:00 PM
- Setting: Inside the Palace. Training and weaponry room.
- Weather Conditions: Outside is clear, and the sun is preparing to set.
It was that time again. Nearing the night hours, and yet another day gone by. Such a nice day that it was, and one could feel at peace for the most part. Peace. That was all that dear Osir needed at that very moment, as he wanted to be alone for a quick sword-training session. Osir did love his swords, and it was one of the things that he fancied in life--not to mention his constant need to feel ready for combat. The man entered the room and stopped to look at what was left for his training purposes, soon noticing a leather-strong dummy out of the corner of his eye. "Excellent. That will do." He said, soon drawing both of his blades and heading towards where it stood. Anyone that would have saw the human-like dummy would have noticed that it was nearly sliced up, and that it must of been taking a great deal of damage, even though it still held on to its non-living form. Oh, what fun! Osir then stopped a few feet away from it, smirking with amusement, but still at the ready. That was truth. Osir was always aware of his surroundings and of course he knew that he would have to be ready for anything. It was his duty to protect the reigning Pharoah after all, was it not? And being the proud soul that he was, he would not let anything get in the way of his duties. The man was sure that no harm would ever come to the Pharoah, or the royal family, and that was what he would make certain of. No harm would be dealt to the ones that he vowed so heavily to protect. No one. Osir with out warning got into his battle stance, and then let loose on the difficult dummy. Rapid slashes and motions were coming from both swords, but even so the structure in which he had swung on would not fall. What did that mean? It meant that he would have more so an opportunity to practice! Indeed.
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Moira Andriu
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Post by Moira Andriu on Nov 23, 2008 13:03:42 GMT -5
Leave the swords alone Moira, you’re a lady not a bloody warrior. How many times had the Irish woman heard that in her lifetime? The fair haired woman was finally settled into the palace, the trade discussions were a little rocky, but they would get there, and she would be able to leave. She was dressed in a blue shift with a brown refugee type jumped over it, in her hand was her sword.
She had been informed that she could use the training room; it wasn’t quite frowned upon in Egypt. Though that had never truly stopped her back home. She paused in the middle of the glittering hallway. Where was she? She looked around trying to get her bearings. She thought she could head straight, and that would get her there somehow. Or did you take a right? She sighed, rolled her gray eyes and trusted her gut instinct.
You’re a fighter; you’ve got the fire, the spirit of the warrior, the champion’s heart. She told herself. You make the most of this because you’ll never quit. She cocked her head, listening to the thumps, and grunts. Her stride lengthened, and she loosened her sword from the sheath, to draw it in any case. Moira Andriu may have been new to Egypt but that wouldn’t stop her from protecting someone.
She tracked the noise down, and it occurred to her as she watched a man attack a dummy, that this was the training room, and she really needed to relax. She watched him, head tilted, studying his movements. She had seen fights, she had been in fights, but no Irishmen had moved that fast. Moira moved further into the room, leaning against a pillar, sword leaning against the stone object, arms crossed. “I think he’s dead,” her accent laden voice pointed out. “I could be wrong,” she lifted a shoulder in a shrug, gray eyes smiling.
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Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Nov 23, 2008 13:38:33 GMT -5
Osir stopped himself in mid-swing, soon looking over towards the one who was speaking. Seeing her smile, he let out a small smile of his own, and then began to talk with a certain tone of calm to his voice. "Hello. I wasn't expecting anyone to be here." He said, soon noticing that she was wielding a sword.
Osir then responded to her last comment about the dummy, and let out a small grin. "Yeah, this thing's been through it all. I am surprised that it is still holding up." But of course it was a sturdy form, and most of the time it was useful for training purposes. The man greatly loved the idea of combat, but he still viewed it as something to be done when nessecary. He was a proud soul, and of course his pride could show through into his appearance. Interesting.
But the unfarmiliar face seemed like one trustable and collected. Osir didn't really expect to see anyone at this moment, but it wasn't like he minded it much anyways. "But what brings you to Egypt? You don't look as if you are from around here." Osir asked, soon beginning to wonder who exactly this person was. He hadn't seen her before, and certainly she wasn't from the Egyptian lands. Maybe an introduction would have been a better way to start in response to this person?
Osir then placed his swords back into his two sheathes attached to his belt, and soon spoke up yet again. "Oh, I am sorry. I must have forgotten my manners! Introductions always come first before the questions!" The man smiled soon introducing himself. "I am, Osir Shadii. I serve in the great Pharoah's military. And who might you be?" He asked hoping to get a response back.
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Moira Andriu
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Post by Moira Andriu on Nov 23, 2008 13:58:00 GMT -5
Moira smiled slightly at the skill the man in front of her had. Stopping so swiftly to practice, took amazing instincts, as well as balance. She was relieved when he offered a smile in return. At least he wasn’t lashing out, threatening to chop her head off. That had been a little bit of a misunderstanding in the market place. “Aye, neither was I.” She responded to his question with a wider smile.
She let out a small laugh as he spoke fondly of the dummy. “Seems like it,” she answered. Should she have mentioned that she was going to be going at the poor thing as well. It looked as if it had been through hell, back again, and was on a return trip. She noticed the man’s prideful look, and smiled slightly. She knew of pride, dammit to all did she know.
She had expected questions to come forth. She did look out of place among all the dark hair, and tanned skin. “Trade on my father’s behalf,” she answered easily. “Very acute of you to realize that I’m not from here,” she used a hand to motion to her fair hair and skin. In no way did she mean disrespect or sarcasm in her words. Though if this man took it as such she would flow with it.
Moira watched him sheathe his swords. “Ye don’t have to stop if I’m—“ She broke off as he apologized. Her pink lips curved in a smile. “Aye, they usually do.” If Moira was right she had finally found a friendly face aside from the pharaoh, and the mans daughter. “I am Moira Andriu of Ireland, here on business as I stated before.” The Irish woman was teeming with questions of the army. Were they like the Irish, as fiery, as hot tempered, or did they, like Osir calm and easy going.
Did they move in formations or was it a free for all? Were women allowed? No probably not. She had said that she was there on business which was a great part of it, she had taken out her fathers illness, and the apparent need for a suitor, which was more of her fathers wishes than her own. “Osir is a, uh, interesting name,” Moira ventured. “Does it mean anything?”
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Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Nov 23, 2008 15:14:40 GMT -5
Osir returned the small smile in response. "Yes, it has a meaning to it. I was named after the great god, Osiris." He responded, soon thinking on a sudden thought. Maybe I should not discuss the gods in front of her. She probably has her own beliefs, and I better not cross them. Thought the strong and proud man, soon speaking up again.
"So you are here to see the Pharaoh for business, eh? And you say you came all the way from Ireland? What a great distance you must have traveled!" Osir told her, trying to sound at least somewhat friendly. Usually he wasn't one that had a kind appearance to him, but when he spoke without words of combat he seemed like a great guy.
"I have only traveled so far in this world. I prefer to stay here, close to my duties." He responded to his own words, with a small sense of pride in his tone. Truly he was a proud man, and one that was loyal to the Pharoah with out end. It was his sworn duty to protect the royal family, and to defend Egypt with the powers granted to him. Osir was not shamed at all. Good soul. Great courage. And a certain strength. The great defender, Osir.
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Moira Andriu
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Post by Moira Andriu on Nov 23, 2008 20:32:46 GMT -5
“I’ve read some of your mythology,” Moira ventured, thinking. “Is he the God of the afterlife?” She inquired. She couldn’t remember that well. She had skimmed the book, interested in minor things that were familiar to her. “Aye, I’m here to see the Pharaoh on business. I assume you’ll be a guard at the meetings or some such,” She had already been in one of them, and had seen many guards.
“Very long distance,” the Irishwoman said slightly bitter. “A long voyage.” She smiled as he said he had traveled little. “Trust me Osir, once this is over I don’t think I’ll be leaving Ireland ever again.” She missed her home terribly. “There’s so much sand, and heat here,” she blinked a few times to rid the homesickness as he spoke of his duties. “A true warrior then,” Moira replied with a slight amount of wisdom. “A true warrior, a true fighter stays near his men as well as the one he serves.”
She combed her fingers back through her fair hair, and let her gray eyes wander around the room. “This place is so different from Ireland’s palaces,” Hell that room was nearly pure gold, in Ireland they had stone, just plain old good strong Irish stone. And they had no fires here in Egypt, back home there would have been turf fires at that time of the season. Farmers would be harvesting what they could, pages would go into training, and women would seek suitors. “I really have ta learn more of yer country.”
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Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Nov 24, 2008 19:11:10 GMT -5
Osir nodded slightly. "He very much is." The man responded with a tiny smile. "Yes, I have heard of there being a meeting of the Pharaoh, so most likely I will be assigned to my guard duties there as well."Osir stated, soon turning to look at the battered dummy. It wasn't a complete mess, but one could tell that it had been through certain heck, and as such it looked as if it should be retired. But Osir had grown quiet fond of this little training subject, as he had used it long before when he was first training in the Pharaoh's forces. It brought back memories!
"I have yet to visit a place such as Ireland, but I have heard good things about it. It's far different from Egypt, but almost similar in some ways." The great defender said, soon turning around to face Moira. "It has an interesting story to tell, yes?" Osir questioned with curiosity. He wanted to know more about it--Ireland, and what was current with the land of the green. "I mean, about the history. Great place, eh? I probably won't get much of a chance to visit, but if the time ever came that I could, then I want to be a bit more knowledgeable about it."
Osir looked to her and let out a grin. He was hoping that he wasn't causing boredom with his questions, and not lagging on about in his curiousity. "But if you are interested in my country, then it probably would be best if you checked out our book room. We have various articles and scrolls for you to look at. Usually it isn't open to many guests, but I am sure that we could make an acception if you are interested, Madame?" Osir told her with a question. I am sure that there wouldn't be any trouble, if she was to visit. The Pharoah wouldn't mind--he's a good soul. He thought as he waited for a response.
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Layla Amisi
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Poor Slave Hebrew[M:0]
A slave at the whim of the Gods
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Post by Layla Amisi on Nov 26, 2008 0:13:16 GMT -5
The little Hebrew girl was about doing her chores in the Palace as usual, carrying some pot or another filled with water from the well. Of course, it was too large for her, but yet again Layla was stuck with the small jobs that hardly meant anything, though she was meticulous in making sure she completed those tasks in fear of anything happening. And so her small frame heaved against the ceramic basin that sloshed noisily as her feet padded silently against the stone flooring of the grandeur Palace. To the kitchen she had been instructed to deliver the water so it could be boiled for further use. After that was completed, Layla was to scrub floors in a few of the personal chambers, and then food was to be served in the kitchen. Nothing uncommon, just busy work that a child could do. Perhaps when she was done they would allow her to watch the stars for a little while...
Layla's train of thought was interrupted by swords slashing resounding through the hallway and then a few voices. Curious, she stopped her movements and listened to the unfamiliar sounds, trying to pick out the source. Quietly, she edged down the hallway, following the voices. Almost immediately the little girl could make out, it was a male and a female speaking to one another. Except the girl spoke funny. Really funny. There was even a word she didn't know. I-er-land? She mouthed the word quietly to herself, quite enjoying how it formed in her mouth. When Layla slyly reached the heavy door that was slightly ajar, she placed her hand around the door as though she were going to pull it back further. And what she saw next shocked her. There was a very very pale woman with yellow hair, something she had never seen before. Her small hand pulled up to her mouth as her ebony eyes widened in shock and curiosity. There was even a weapon on her hip!
When Layla spotted the glint the sword made, she involuntarily gasped slightly, more or so out of amazement then anything else. The man beside her also carried the weapon, or maybe a few more, but he looked muscular, as though his job was important. Her ebony eyes lingered on him for a moment as though analyzing, then returned back to the woman, earnestly hoping they had not heard or spotted her in her investigation of the voices. But she had not seen this room either, cloth people everywhere, all the shine of the many weapons. It reminded her...no! Layla closed her eyes and shook her head as if to shake the thoughts of what she had seen that evening out of her mind. She bit her lip apprehensively before her fingers involuntarily tightened against the door in which they gripped. This caused the door to pull back slightly with a creak. Her stomach rose into her throat instantly, her heart pounding with her chest as she backed against the wall behind her and looked both ways, as though she was going to run. But there was no where to run. And she would be punished if she did not bring the water...
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Moira Andriu
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Post by Moira Andriu on Jan 1, 2009 16:03:49 GMT -5
Moira glowed a bit with hidden pleasure at remembering some of the Egyptian's mythology. Reading was a passion of hers, and something that wasn't frowned upon as much as fighting or riding. For some reason, unknown to even Moira herself she relaxed slightly at the idea of having Osir in a meeting with herself and the Pharaoh. Moira was still new to the foreign land, still young and unsure of things, even herself.
"Ireland is a place you have to see at least once in your lifetime," Moira replied with a warm smile as she stared at the dummy. Her dove gray eyes lit up, like clouds with the sun shining through. "Her land lush with green grass, her rivers as wide and as wonderful as the Nile you have, and the cliffs," she breathed a sigh. "The cliffs are what I miss."
The Irishwoman rubbed the nape of her neck with one hand, eyes trained on the ground. It was still difficult to think, to remember that she was not going home for sometime. She grinned suddenly as he inquired about Ireland. "Oh she has a wonderful story," she cried out with a musical laugh. "And it grows everyday." She nodded as he referred to the history. "Oh aye. She's a land of war, of rebellion," the woman's face brightened up. "She's the heart and soul for the fighting Irish."
Pride, honor, integrity. Ireland's people had it all. "Sometime later I could tell ya somethin' about her," Moira offered with a kind smile. "Trade information that sorta thing," Her accent was starting to slip more into the thickness of "lower class". She took a moment to collect her words, and to back off on the accent, in that time Osir spoke.
"I'm very interested in your country," Moira replied, gazing at his face. "She's so different from my homeland, and I'm bursting with questions." She beamed at him as he offered to show her books, and scrolls. The scholar buried beneath the warrior perked up. "You would do that?" She asked excitedly. "I'd--T'would be an honor."
Moira opened her mouth to say something else, but froze. Her head cocked to one side like a bird or dog catching a noise on the briefest of breezes. The hair on her neck bristled up as she realized someone was at the door. "Did ye hear that?" she whispered. She lifted her sword some, and moved toward the door. Not in confrontation of the person, but she needed to be sure she was safe. She nudged the door open with her foot, sword out to her side.
A young girl stood before her, backed against the wall. Moira's gray eyes roved over the face of the young lass, and she furrowed her brow. The girl was dressed it what she would've considered rags. Did they have child slaves in this golden land. So different from Innisfree, the only slaves there were of age, adults, not wee children. "Hello," she said softly sheathing her sword. "Come here, I won't hurt you." She offered a warm smile that so few times was shown. She was going to speak to Osir about this later.
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Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Jan 1, 2009 16:19:46 GMT -5
Osir let out a serious sort of smile, but then softened it as he heard Moira respond. He was glad that she had agreed to see the library, and even more so he was happy to assist her with gaining more knowledge. She seemed to him like a proud soul, and one with clear intentions. Osir sort of liked her attitude as well.
"That is good to hear--and I will be more than happy to escort you there." The strongly built man told her, only soon to break into silence. He had heard something echoing from out of the training room. What was it? Watching as Moira attempted to see who it was, Osir waited patiently. She wouldn't be in danger here, and so he wasn't worried. He thought he would let her see for herself what was out there.
Osir then looked to see that it was one of the Pharaoh's slaves. A young girl, whom seemed shy. But the man could hardly speak at the sight of that, and so kept quiet for the most part. But even as he worked for the Pharaoh, he did not admire the fact that there were children whom worked as slaves, especially one so small as she was. "Are you all right, my dear?" He asked her, soon putting his own swords away.
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Layla Amisi
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Post by Layla Amisi on Jan 1, 2009 19:42:32 GMT -5
The suspense caused Layla's heart to skip beats in sheer fear. If the elder slaves saw this, or the overseers for that matter, she would be punished. And the water was still not in the kitchen. But what choice did she have in the situation right now? It was fight or flight, but Layla had no intention of even trying to defend herself or harm them. There was a conflict, a deep one at that. If she tried to flee, there was no possible way she could run and carry the basin. If she was discovered...Neither of these possible outcomes led to a swift escape. Yet again, Layla found herself in a dilemma caused by herself. Her deep brown eyes darted around nervously. What was there to do? There seemed no rescue from her own wrong-doing. But she couldn't help it, the voices were just so fascinating though!
Suddenly daring to even attempt to escape, her foot was in mid-step just moments before the door before her was pushed open. Layla's eyes grew wide and her heart nearly burst out of its ribcage. Her small frame froze, as though a culprit caught red handed in the midst of a heist. When the heavy door opened enough so the woman came into view, Layla began to back up again, but she flinched when she realized that she was as close to the wall as she could possibly get. The little girl's hands shook nervously when the strong woman's brows furrowed. She looked brave, courageous, especially with the sword at her side. The sword...Layla remembered that she wielded a weapon and flinched away instinctively. One of her eyes closed, expecting a hit. But that was not so when the one before her sheathed the weapon back to her hip. An expression of confusion crossed Layla's face.
The abrupt soft voice lured Layla into a trance. It was kind, and it held no trace of faux compassion. The little girl relaxed and turned her attention upon the woman at her soft smile. An order was an order, however. Layla just didn't want to be harmed, was all. A promise that the woman made. Shyly she edged forward, though with caution. Eventually, she did reach her destination. When the man appeared, however, her brown eyes shifted to meet him, her head raised in curiosity. He too soon sheathed his sword, causing her to relax again slightly. Layla only nodded quietly in response to his question, hardly able to speak. What was there to say? Thank you for not tattling on me? She looked down at the stone floor in respect, as they were in a higher status and elder than she. Layla was at a loss of words, though extremely thankful they hadn't harmed her. She merely folded her hands in front of her, earnestly hoping that no one was to discover this run-in.
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Moira Andriu
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Post by Moira Andriu on Jan 1, 2009 21:12:17 GMT -5
It was horrible to think about but the little slave girl in front of Moira reminded her of a horse she had watched her father train after she had been abused. Frightful, shy, timid. Anger began to brew inside the woman as a storm would over the wide expanse of the ocean, and every small flinch, every wince the child made was another cloud added to the storm.
Osir came up beside her, and she slid a glance his way. She had words to say to him, oh yes. The child however would probably not like to hear raised voices, or at least her voice. She had seen the child cringe when she had lifted her sword to sheath it. She had once more seen the fear and anxiety creep onto the younglings face.
Her new found friend put his swords away, and spoke to the girl soon after Moira did. Neither got a response. Though the girl had come forward at Moira’s bidding. Oh aye, they have you trained well don’t they little babby, the woman thought bitterly. Trained to the tooth aren’t ya? Where’s your family?
Now, Moira had never known herself to bear any sort of maternal instinct, on occasion she could calm a babe, make a toddler’s scrape feel better with a kiss, but for her to become so protective so quickly over a child was uncharacteristic of her. “Do ye speak?” Moira asked softly. She had never thought about the child not being able to talk. “You have permission.” She added as an afterthought.
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Osir Shadii
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Post by Osir Shadii on Jan 1, 2009 21:55:07 GMT -5
The girl looked so shook up. She seemed to be in an unfit condition as Osir looked at her for a moment, still with some form of seriousness in his eyes. But was that too much? Would she cower away because of this simple proud look? The look of a warrior? Knowing that, it was something he could sense happening--but would it really?
"Yes, you may speak." Osir said in his usual tone. But should he have just kept his mouth shut? Probably so. But Osir also gained a feeling that Moira would not be pleased at the sight of the little slave girl. Osir did not even know her name. But was it too late to care? He did not know.
I should not start a conversation with the slaves. If the Pharaoh finds out, it might be my head struck off! She just seems so sad. But I don't know, could I do something about it? I could get in big trouble for even associating myself with the Hebrew girl. Damn it. Osir thought to himself as he looked to the girl once more.
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Layla Amisi
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Post by Layla Amisi on Jan 1, 2009 22:33:23 GMT -5
This was uncomfortable, especially drawing attention to herself with even the Pharaoh's general! She knew her place, and that was not to speak to her superiors without their wanting her to. Layla was to not ever look a superior in the eye, or touch them. To merely be around them was an honor, though she didn't belong near them. Everything that she could possibly do wrong was being done. This Hebrew was frightened, frightened that another would see and report this. It was foreign and unfamiliar for the higher-ups to even acknowledge her. Her curiosity was becoming a problem, and Layla knew. Oh did she know. It was difficult to refrain from these intruiging events and people, though.
When the woman asked her if she could speak, Layla nodded and quietly replied, "Yes, Ma'am." Her brown eyes shifted involuntarily to attempt to meet hers, but she once more remembered her place and let them fall to the floor once again. It was something unexpected as she was allowed permission to speak. But because the woman was not from here, Layla was hesitant to talk. When the Pharaoh's general allowed permission, however, the slave nodded, but did not know what to say. Should she be caught speaking to them...
"This is wrong," Layla said softly. "I should not be speaking to you." Her voice was nearly a whisper. "Master says we are not allowed to talk to the Superiors." She did not make eye-contact with them and spoke lowly so no other would hear, other then them. She was smarter than many other of the slaves, and spoke so from listening to the Royals speak. However, this was forbidden, and so she hoped that none would discover this. By speaking she was presenting this secret. Her heart fluttered faintly in fear that one may overhear or witness this scene. It was am extremely dangerous situation, one in which Layla feared for her safety.
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Moira Andriu
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Nothin's Gonna Harm You, Not While I'm Around
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Post by Moira Andriu on Jan 1, 2009 22:55:53 GMT -5
The ache in Moira's heart grew as the girl spoke in no more than a whisper. A soft obedient answer. For the briefest of moments the girl met her eyes. Rage once more began to stir within her. The moment Osir gave permission for the girl to talk she did. Though it was as hesitant as a baby foal making his first awkward steps toward his mother.
Moira opened her mouth to argue the fact that it wasn't wrong, that slaves were not meant to be silent. They had servants back home that they talked with casually, as friends, as family, kin to one another. Suddenly the magic of Egypt was dying out for her. "I hardly think I'm your superior child, elder maybe," the woman finally said. "Ya won't get in trouble, I'm here, and my lord over here has give ye permission." The musical lilt of the Irish voice was light, airy even, a mask.
Still the child hesitated. With a silent oath, and quick glare at Osir she moved forward slowly. "Listen babby," Moira crouched down, and a pale hand cupped the girls chin, the contrast between their skin tones was amazing in her eyes. "Is minic a rinne bromach gioblach capall cumasach." Her thumb brushed the dirty cheek gently. "One of these days little one I'll tell ya what that means. I won't hurt ya."
The Irishwoman moved back a step, and rose. She turned to Osir. "We'll speak of this later." She whispered softly. Hopefully the child hadn't heard. Moira glanced around them, and directed her gaze back at the girl. "Look at me." She said softly. "Just a moment."
((First one: baby. Second one: Many a ragged colt made a noble horse.))
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