Sep 13, 2016 6:48 am
Adom watches Tefri's eyes carefully. The man certainly has no reason to the priest. None of them do. And maybe this was all just a moment of weakness. The effects of the blood yet coursing through his veins. But he does not think so.
After so long maneuvering and spying and kissing the ass of anyone who could raise his station, he is tired. He will not stop. He will never allow himself to rest for long. He will reach the heights of his caste, and hopefully get a chance to drive a dagger into the heart of the bitch who had spurned him. But that would take time, and here, now, he needed... wanted... associates. He could not picture calling this motley bunch friends, even baring his soul as much as he just had. But... associates. That could be acceptable.
His thoughts returning to the man in front of him. The sl... Tefri's mask remains. As well it should. He would not trust a slave who could not hide his feelings. But it frustrates him. A petulant part of him feels like he deserves more. He is careful not to show it, though. He would stand by his words. Let the man see that he rewards those he respects. Tefri is still a slave, but he is more than that now. And how can Adom expect him to accept such a thing as granted? Finally, he nods at Tefri again. His eyes fall on the glass of wine from earlier, and the pitcher. A tiny part of him wonders what it would be like to be the one pouring the wine for another, to stand mutely by while others discussed whatever they pleased, whether Tefri has a family somewhere.
When Ipwet speaks, it breaks Adom's concentration and he snorts as she scoffs at the idea of sharing her inner thoughts and feelings. As though the woman thought she could ever be mistaken for some weepy-eyed teenage girl bemoaning the latest tribulation in some day-old romance. At least, that's how he feels when she says it. Is that what she thinks of him? Is that what he thinks of himself at the moment? He pushes the thought away and tries to accept the compliment from her. She really is so coarse. But it becomes her well.
Sabra's explanation of the song would likely be a point for another discussion later, but that does not matter if the elf does not trust him. Of course he doesn't. He would be stupid to do so. And-
"What? It was not an elf? Strange. That symbol... it has something to do with your ki... your people, Sabra, I think. But if it was not an elf, who could it have been? Some fearsome warrior from beyond the grave somehow? Who could possibly have been so disturbed... unless. Sobek's temple lies dry. And certainly, Sobek is a surly god who does would not take such a disturbance of his routine lightly. I do not remember the last time the rivers failed to flood. Sabra, in your lifetime, has the river ever failed to flood? If such a thing has occurred in the past, we might be able to find records of it somewhere. And who knows, if that thing out there was some chosen hand of the crocodile god, where better to find out more than the temple of the god himself?"
After so long maneuvering and spying and kissing the ass of anyone who could raise his station, he is tired. He will not stop. He will never allow himself to rest for long. He will reach the heights of his caste, and hopefully get a chance to drive a dagger into the heart of the bitch who had spurned him. But that would take time, and here, now, he needed... wanted... associates. He could not picture calling this motley bunch friends, even baring his soul as much as he just had. But... associates. That could be acceptable.
His thoughts returning to the man in front of him. The sl... Tefri's mask remains. As well it should. He would not trust a slave who could not hide his feelings. But it frustrates him. A petulant part of him feels like he deserves more. He is careful not to show it, though. He would stand by his words. Let the man see that he rewards those he respects. Tefri is still a slave, but he is more than that now. And how can Adom expect him to accept such a thing as granted? Finally, he nods at Tefri again. His eyes fall on the glass of wine from earlier, and the pitcher. A tiny part of him wonders what it would be like to be the one pouring the wine for another, to stand mutely by while others discussed whatever they pleased, whether Tefri has a family somewhere.
When Ipwet speaks, it breaks Adom's concentration and he snorts as she scoffs at the idea of sharing her inner thoughts and feelings. As though the woman thought she could ever be mistaken for some weepy-eyed teenage girl bemoaning the latest tribulation in some day-old romance. At least, that's how he feels when she says it. Is that what she thinks of him? Is that what he thinks of himself at the moment? He pushes the thought away and tries to accept the compliment from her. She really is so coarse. But it becomes her well.
Sabra's explanation of the song would likely be a point for another discussion later, but that does not matter if the elf does not trust him. Of course he doesn't. He would be stupid to do so. And-
"What? It was not an elf? Strange. That symbol... it has something to do with your ki... your people, Sabra, I think. But if it was not an elf, who could it have been? Some fearsome warrior from beyond the grave somehow? Who could possibly have been so disturbed... unless. Sobek's temple lies dry. And certainly, Sobek is a surly god who does would not take such a disturbance of his routine lightly. I do not remember the last time the rivers failed to flood. Sabra, in your lifetime, has the river ever failed to flood? If such a thing has occurred in the past, we might be able to find records of it somewhere. And who knows, if that thing out there was some chosen hand of the crocodile god, where better to find out more than the temple of the god himself?"
OOC:
Crocodiles are generally nocturnal hunters according to Google, in case anybody wants to use that. I figure he's said enough that somebody else can jump in with that if they want.Last edited September 13, 2016 6:50 am
