Post by Tiesa Nataani on Jan 25, 2006 17:29:33 GMT -5
The sun flashed off of the pure sand, casting heat waves across the land; desolate, empty, pure. The rolling dunes, the uncommon lizard and even more uncommon jack-rabbit moving through the sand and leaving foot prints that would soon be erased by each little gust of hot wind. The call of a coyote, making his way to a den where it would be cooler, shattering the silence.
No one strayed here, not without a reason. The sand stretched on forever, and the silence was, in the very least, a warning to travelers. If they had a reason to be here, then they would be welcomed by the land, shown the way. Those lost were doomed, lest the land feel that they should be brought in and sheltered, in which case, the lost soul would be beckoned by an unknown source, straight into the heart of the land; if they listened. And they did.
Now... why would some one wish to come further into this awful land? Why to the very heart of a land that should wish them dead? Because this is where the civilization was; this is where the land truly was alive. People stirred here, work was done, life was lived, children played, and pets roamed around and were taken care of. The entire land was surrounded by a large wall, keeping out predators and the unwelcome.
This wall was protected and governed by soldiers clad in sandals and light armor. Their weapons consisted of swords with curved blades, scythes, arrows and bows. At every set point, a building, built with vented slits that filtered in cool air, was set for those who were not on duty, those on duty walking back and forth, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the hot sun that they were used to.
Further in, the village began. It started with farms and plantations, where servants to the Palace were well-paid to harvest food and raise animals for the subjects as well as the Rulers. Their calasiris were girted up so that they could go about their work without the hems getting in the way. Their feet, also sandaled, moved easily through the crops that they knew and worked with so well.
The bald heads of the men signalled their status, the women, hair pulled back in plaited braids out of the way as they moved about in their plain, linen gowns. The older men gathered what was harvested as the younger men reaped the food with their own scythes. Their children and young women, moved with the animals, herding, feeding, watering and watching as their elders worked on those things.
While young women worked with the animals, they were also called upon to plant, care for, and pick the fruit from the special attended to orchards and vinyards. They planted them, watered them, and took care of them with their own two hands, keeping them safe by throwing up tarps when sand storms came up. The land itself helped, however, by keeping these storms limited, and usually far off.
Then, further in, came the homes of the merchants and their families. These subjects lived in homes that were formed as apartments, stacked homes that housed plenty of families. These men and women tended to the buying and selling of products brought in by the farmers. They were also men and women who made things. Fabrics, perfumes, pottery, jewelry, and other trinkets to adorn homes.
Next, the market place. In here, stalls were set up everywhere. These opened just hours before twilight, lit by torches in sconces. Products were sold here by merchants while the farmers went home to finish up their chores and sleep, or stay to browse and buy before returning home. Dancers and other such performers set up brightly colored camps and performed for any coin that people would be willing to give.
This led to the palace. Cool stone with vents to make it even cooler. Inside, servants dressed in light clothing ran about to do chores at this or that master's bidding. In one large room, littered with maps, books, scrolls, notes piled on top of chairs and a large table, and a platter with a glass of wine, heaped with food that had been ignored; this is where you would find the Pharaoh's son.
Prince and care-taker of the land. He wore a white sarong about his waist that fell to just past mid-thigh, a sword with a curved blade at his hip, just as all warriors. His sandals laced up and about his calf-muscles to his knees. Stunning green eyes, so unlike all his ancestors, even unlike his mother and father's, were lined in black kohl, his shaven head wearing a small circlet of a crown to mark him as heir to the throne.
He stood, fists braced on the table as he leaned over it, looking over a map, studying, learning, memorizing. Nineteen years of age, the tanned young man had fought in three major wars and an uncounted amount of small battles. He was covered with scars, white against the tan of his flesh. He wore a signet ring on his left ring-finger, and his right ear was pierced with a small hoop.
A silver arm bracelet wrapped around his upper arms, a symbol of the god Ra hanging from a chain about his neck to fall on his muscled chest. He straightened himself and stretched, looking at the sun dial beside the window of his room. Sighing, he moved from the room shaking his head as servants and maids rushed to him. Making his way through the humbled mass, he moved to his stables.
Mounting up into the saddle of the gray Arabian stallion that a servant boy had prepared for him, he turned it toward the market place, deciding he'd had enough of the enclosed rooms of study for the day. The swift-footed horse moved quickly into the market place, then slowed as its master began to look at the items that many held up for him to examine in passing.
((Sorry, I didn't have enough time and I had to rush the ending. I typed it up in class and had to click the button because the last bell had rung. >.< Anywho... I don't mind if this is MxM or MxF, and it also doesn't matter what any of the other characters are: Servant, Merchant, Dancer, Farm hand, whatever. I tend to do One on One's, but lurkers should feel free to read along.))
No one strayed here, not without a reason. The sand stretched on forever, and the silence was, in the very least, a warning to travelers. If they had a reason to be here, then they would be welcomed by the land, shown the way. Those lost were doomed, lest the land feel that they should be brought in and sheltered, in which case, the lost soul would be beckoned by an unknown source, straight into the heart of the land; if they listened. And they did.
Now... why would some one wish to come further into this awful land? Why to the very heart of a land that should wish them dead? Because this is where the civilization was; this is where the land truly was alive. People stirred here, work was done, life was lived, children played, and pets roamed around and were taken care of. The entire land was surrounded by a large wall, keeping out predators and the unwelcome.
This wall was protected and governed by soldiers clad in sandals and light armor. Their weapons consisted of swords with curved blades, scythes, arrows and bows. At every set point, a building, built with vented slits that filtered in cool air, was set for those who were not on duty, those on duty walking back and forth, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the hot sun that they were used to.
Further in, the village began. It started with farms and plantations, where servants to the Palace were well-paid to harvest food and raise animals for the subjects as well as the Rulers. Their calasiris were girted up so that they could go about their work without the hems getting in the way. Their feet, also sandaled, moved easily through the crops that they knew and worked with so well.
The bald heads of the men signalled their status, the women, hair pulled back in plaited braids out of the way as they moved about in their plain, linen gowns. The older men gathered what was harvested as the younger men reaped the food with their own scythes. Their children and young women, moved with the animals, herding, feeding, watering and watching as their elders worked on those things.
While young women worked with the animals, they were also called upon to plant, care for, and pick the fruit from the special attended to orchards and vinyards. They planted them, watered them, and took care of them with their own two hands, keeping them safe by throwing up tarps when sand storms came up. The land itself helped, however, by keeping these storms limited, and usually far off.
Then, further in, came the homes of the merchants and their families. These subjects lived in homes that were formed as apartments, stacked homes that housed plenty of families. These men and women tended to the buying and selling of products brought in by the farmers. They were also men and women who made things. Fabrics, perfumes, pottery, jewelry, and other trinkets to adorn homes.
Next, the market place. In here, stalls were set up everywhere. These opened just hours before twilight, lit by torches in sconces. Products were sold here by merchants while the farmers went home to finish up their chores and sleep, or stay to browse and buy before returning home. Dancers and other such performers set up brightly colored camps and performed for any coin that people would be willing to give.
This led to the palace. Cool stone with vents to make it even cooler. Inside, servants dressed in light clothing ran about to do chores at this or that master's bidding. In one large room, littered with maps, books, scrolls, notes piled on top of chairs and a large table, and a platter with a glass of wine, heaped with food that had been ignored; this is where you would find the Pharaoh's son.
Prince and care-taker of the land. He wore a white sarong about his waist that fell to just past mid-thigh, a sword with a curved blade at his hip, just as all warriors. His sandals laced up and about his calf-muscles to his knees. Stunning green eyes, so unlike all his ancestors, even unlike his mother and father's, were lined in black kohl, his shaven head wearing a small circlet of a crown to mark him as heir to the throne.
He stood, fists braced on the table as he leaned over it, looking over a map, studying, learning, memorizing. Nineteen years of age, the tanned young man had fought in three major wars and an uncounted amount of small battles. He was covered with scars, white against the tan of his flesh. He wore a signet ring on his left ring-finger, and his right ear was pierced with a small hoop.
A silver arm bracelet wrapped around his upper arms, a symbol of the god Ra hanging from a chain about his neck to fall on his muscled chest. He straightened himself and stretched, looking at the sun dial beside the window of his room. Sighing, he moved from the room shaking his head as servants and maids rushed to him. Making his way through the humbled mass, he moved to his stables.
Mounting up into the saddle of the gray Arabian stallion that a servant boy had prepared for him, he turned it toward the market place, deciding he'd had enough of the enclosed rooms of study for the day. The swift-footed horse moved quickly into the market place, then slowed as its master began to look at the items that many held up for him to examine in passing.
((Sorry, I didn't have enough time and I had to rush the ending. I typed it up in class and had to click the button because the last bell had rung. >.< Anywho... I don't mind if this is MxM or MxF, and it also doesn't matter what any of the other characters are: Servant, Merchant, Dancer, Farm hand, whatever. I tend to do One on One's, but lurkers should feel free to read along.))