|| 20th Winter, 512. || Zeltiva staff offices || Thirteenth Bell. ||
Darium had loved an Eypharian woman once. Her name was Hashae re Naphu, and her family was an old and regal one. Her mother was famed for her cosmetology, and it was an old joke throughout Ahnatep that her father’s knowledge of jewellery and gems was second only to Xannos herself. As such, their family was wealthy, arrogant and gloriously ruthless. And the children were no different to their parents - modesty was not a family trait.
But Gods, she was beautiful
His mother had been a long-term servant to the family, and when her employers found out that Darium’s mother was with child, they nearly kicked her out of their home and onto the street. A servant with a child was less than desirable, but out of some grace of kindness, they decided to let the woman birth her child and remain working for the family. When her son was born, however, Darium’s mother realised that the act had not been so selfless as it had originally appeared to be.
As soon as her son could walk, he too became a servant - and a child did not need to be paid (at least, not a child whose mother would be forever in her employers’ debt for allowing her to stay). He would carry things and run errands from four years old. And when Hashae and her brother were born, Darium was to watch over the younger children and alert the other servants when either boy or girl desired something. It was a hard life for a child, but Darium’s earliest memories were of Hashae, and so he looked back on them fondly.
He was five years older than she, but seeing as Darium received next to no education, it did not take long for Hashae to become his equal (then his superior) in terms of language and intellect. The two were close, and Darium likened to think it was because they were meant for each other, but such is the stupidity of a young man in love. In reality, Hashae saw him as nothing more than yet another person to do her bidding, and she was fully aware that he utterly doted upon her. She was deceitful, manipulative, and ambitious - a true Eypharian woman. In years to come, Darium would realise that the softness of her voice, the way her six hands would brush his chest as she spoke, how she would push her breasts against him - and how eventually she would share every inch of her body with him - was nothing more than a ploy to keep him close and under her control.
In short, Hashae was not a kind woman, and did not deserve the affection and favours her devoted servant (and friend, or so he thought) dedicated unto her.
But that smell…
Aah, yes. That Eypharian fragrance. The entire race smelt… gorgeous, and not just because of the scented make-up the women would powder their noses and cheeks with. But Hashae had smelt even better. Darium would be able to smell her before she even entered the room, and would find himself stiff with desire and lust almost instantly. In the years that followed his heart-broken departure from Ahnatep, Darium would cherish that smell, albeit a now long and distant memory.
It had been thirty years since he had left the desert and turned to the sea-facing city of Zeltiva. Since then, he had married a delightful woman and had two delightful children. He had delightedly furthered his education and had become a professor of Anthropology, specialising in the Ekytol region, at the university.
Life was… delightful.
But late at night, when his children slept and after his wife had done her duties and serviced him sexually, Darium would find himself staring upwards, into the darkness, and imagining Hashae’s cinnamon skin and full breasts. Her laughter, her voice, that smell….
Darium had loved an Eypharian woman once, and cherished every memory of her with absolutely child-like stupidity. He would love her until the day he died, and even after that.
”Tell me, why do you want to learn about the Eypharian race?” He asked, looking out of the window of his office, his back to the student that sat on the other side of his desk. The young woman in the seat was not what he had expected at all - a Myrian. Having spent the first quarter of his life living amongst the mutli-armed race, Darium had inherited their ideals and perceptions of the other races (despite himself being so low on their hierarchy as a servant). As such, he believed that Myrians were primitive, beastlike and stupid.
Ayatah’s obsidian eyes narrowed, picking up on the harsh tone of voice and the sneer that accompanied them. She had been told that Professor Darium Wordling had grown up amongst the Eypharian people, and thus knew huge amounts of their culture and beliefs. He was the ideal tutor, but until now, she had not realised that his childhood probably meant that he completely accepted the xenophobic beliefs of her paternal race. ”I am half Eypharian.” she said coolly, leaning forwards as she shrugged on the light cardigan she had bought with her. Do you have to have that petching window wide open?
She could not help but smirk when Darium spun around and stared at her, face wide with disbelief. He had not socialised with an Eypharian for nearly twenty years -- let alone a half-Eypharian!
”My father was Eypharian, my mother Myrian. Obviously.” She shifted a little under his gaze, now use to the incredulous looks that she received on a daily basis.
”You… are… Half-Eypharian?”
Ayatah nodded impatiently. Why are academics so slow sometimes? She kept her expression blank and distant; she had not yet decided whether or not she liked this new tutor of hers. Judging by his gaping mouth and confused face, Professor Worlding's initial perception of his Myrian student had been completely destroyed by Ayatah's declaration of her parentage. Now he looked at her as if he was not sure whether she was man, woman or beast.
I preferred the snobbish dislike, she thought grimly.
But Gods, she was beautiful
His mother had been a long-term servant to the family, and when her employers found out that Darium’s mother was with child, they nearly kicked her out of their home and onto the street. A servant with a child was less than desirable, but out of some grace of kindness, they decided to let the woman birth her child and remain working for the family. When her son was born, however, Darium’s mother realised that the act had not been so selfless as it had originally appeared to be.
As soon as her son could walk, he too became a servant - and a child did not need to be paid (at least, not a child whose mother would be forever in her employers’ debt for allowing her to stay). He would carry things and run errands from four years old. And when Hashae and her brother were born, Darium was to watch over the younger children and alert the other servants when either boy or girl desired something. It was a hard life for a child, but Darium’s earliest memories were of Hashae, and so he looked back on them fondly.
He was five years older than she, but seeing as Darium received next to no education, it did not take long for Hashae to become his equal (then his superior) in terms of language and intellect. The two were close, and Darium likened to think it was because they were meant for each other, but such is the stupidity of a young man in love. In reality, Hashae saw him as nothing more than yet another person to do her bidding, and she was fully aware that he utterly doted upon her. She was deceitful, manipulative, and ambitious - a true Eypharian woman. In years to come, Darium would realise that the softness of her voice, the way her six hands would brush his chest as she spoke, how she would push her breasts against him - and how eventually she would share every inch of her body with him - was nothing more than a ploy to keep him close and under her control.
In short, Hashae was not a kind woman, and did not deserve the affection and favours her devoted servant (and friend, or so he thought) dedicated unto her.
But that smell…
Aah, yes. That Eypharian fragrance. The entire race smelt… gorgeous, and not just because of the scented make-up the women would powder their noses and cheeks with. But Hashae had smelt even better. Darium would be able to smell her before she even entered the room, and would find himself stiff with desire and lust almost instantly. In the years that followed his heart-broken departure from Ahnatep, Darium would cherish that smell, albeit a now long and distant memory.
It had been thirty years since he had left the desert and turned to the sea-facing city of Zeltiva. Since then, he had married a delightful woman and had two delightful children. He had delightedly furthered his education and had become a professor of Anthropology, specialising in the Ekytol region, at the university.
Life was… delightful.
But late at night, when his children slept and after his wife had done her duties and serviced him sexually, Darium would find himself staring upwards, into the darkness, and imagining Hashae’s cinnamon skin and full breasts. Her laughter, her voice, that smell….
Darium had loved an Eypharian woman once, and cherished every memory of her with absolutely child-like stupidity. He would love her until the day he died, and even after that.
”Tell me, why do you want to learn about the Eypharian race?” He asked, looking out of the window of his office, his back to the student that sat on the other side of his desk. The young woman in the seat was not what he had expected at all - a Myrian. Having spent the first quarter of his life living amongst the mutli-armed race, Darium had inherited their ideals and perceptions of the other races (despite himself being so low on their hierarchy as a servant). As such, he believed that Myrians were primitive, beastlike and stupid.
Ayatah’s obsidian eyes narrowed, picking up on the harsh tone of voice and the sneer that accompanied them. She had been told that Professor Darium Wordling had grown up amongst the Eypharian people, and thus knew huge amounts of their culture and beliefs. He was the ideal tutor, but until now, she had not realised that his childhood probably meant that he completely accepted the xenophobic beliefs of her paternal race. ”I am half Eypharian.” she said coolly, leaning forwards as she shrugged on the light cardigan she had bought with her. Do you have to have that petching window wide open?
She could not help but smirk when Darium spun around and stared at her, face wide with disbelief. He had not socialised with an Eypharian for nearly twenty years -- let alone a half-Eypharian!
”My father was Eypharian, my mother Myrian. Obviously.” She shifted a little under his gaze, now use to the incredulous looks that she received on a daily basis.
”You… are… Half-Eypharian?”
Ayatah nodded impatiently. Why are academics so slow sometimes? She kept her expression blank and distant; she had not yet decided whether or not she liked this new tutor of hers. Judging by his gaping mouth and confused face, Professor Worlding's initial perception of his Myrian student had been completely destroyed by Ayatah's declaration of her parentage. Now he looked at her as if he was not sure whether she was man, woman or beast.
I preferred the snobbish dislike, she thought grimly.
|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||
