Larsene108

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla's eyes broke out of her distant thoughts at the sound of an artist slamming into the floor. Her face lit up to it's normal self, a look of concern across her face. With a gasp, she hurries over to Soot, sheathing her dagger as she approached and offered the fallen woman a hand.

"Are you alright, Miss-? Say, you're the artist the Lady Ruz brought to dinner last night, aren't you? My apologies for my most uncouth behavior!"

Soot braced herself as she heard Nahla approaching. When she heard the dagger being sheathed she exhaled and rolled over with a wince. Her previously injured leg exacerbated by her scrap with Rosethal.

She rolled over with a customer service smile, staring up at the Dancer. She stared blankly for a moment too long, trying to recall the events of dinner (it had fallen to the bottom of her memory, with all the excitement of the evening) "Yes! Right!" Soot replied finally, taking the offered hand "I think I have some of your performance in my sketchbook actually."

As Nahla assisted Soot to her feet, mentally trying to recall if she had ever been told the artist's name, her face flushed red. She knew there was bound to be some mementos from that night, but the uncertainty of what aspects of the night before Soot had sketched away...

"Oh my! I'm honored you found my performance worthy of your artistry, Miss. If you should desire a followup performance, one without such mistakes, or to serve in any way you would like for your arts, I would be ever grateful for a chance to apologize for what you bore witness to last night."

Close to the artist, the lingering scent of Ruz's perfume lingered on Nahla, a scent that Soot was likely familiar with after spending a portion of the night before so close to the vizier.

Soot, blushed and shuffled back, the Vizier scent lingering on her nose.

"W-well yes of course. I'm sure you are quite busy with your... attending to the Sultana. But I'm certain, should the Grand Vizier find it necessary..." Soot trailed off. There was a particular potential in the dancers figure, with the right lightning.. an intricate web... the Vizier did like painting Forigners.. the welcoming arms of the church and whatnot- the painter shook her head "Yes, yes, theres a backlog of course, but I always love being able to.. uh.. capture, my fellow staff... Artistically" Soot nodded

A nearly imperceptible tensing of her muscles as Soot's words leave her mouth. "Should the Grand Vizier find it necessary." The thought of the vizier having her bound and at her hand...

"Yes, well, if you're busy I won't hold you up any further!" The words stumbled out in a hurried, raised voice. A panicked voice that leapt out of the throat before the mind could fully ponder them. A voice like one might hear from a dramatic, concerned person across a roof. With a bow, the Courtesan began to turn away from the artist, making her way back to the Sultana a few steps before halting. Frozen in thought for a moment, wondering if she should say it, and finally-

"Oh! Madame, I'm afraid I didn't get your name!"

Soot cocked her head, momentarily confused at the question. 'Oh right pleasantries' she thought

"Yes, apologies, I forgot we hadn't been introduced. With our... previous meeting." Soot gripped her sketchbook softly in her bad "I go by Soot. I guess: Soot the painter..?" she chuckled to herself

The courtesan nods, once again bowing deeply to the tall woman before her. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Soot. I am Nahla. I look forward to helping you in your artistic endeavors!"
This time, when Nahla turns away, she continues off in a hurried fashion. She had a lot to do tonight, and she had let herself get distracted by everything that had happened. She wondered what she should bring back to Grace-of-Heaven tonight...

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla had to use every bit of her prowess to not chuckle as the words left the vizier’s lips. Her, being cared for by the Sultan? As if she hadn’t spent this time letting Grace-of-Heaven practically wrap her consort around her like a blanket in the middle of winter. As if she needed to be cared for, as if she ever had been cared for and not vice versa. As if she would ever picture being comforted at Grace’s hand, her palm gently rubbing against the underside of her consort’s chin, forgiving her for her misdeeds and assuring her that it was all for the best…

As her mind raced with impossibilities, her hands gently glided over a few of the items so kindly offered for her to pick from. The sapphire’s deep blue gleam reminded her of her Sultan, the chains of her interwoven links of lies and tricks. The lavender rope was so gentle against her fingertips compared to the normal hemp rope and carried the faint pleasant aroma that practically cleared the way to your lungs with a whiff.

“I thank you for this generous reward, Lady Ruz. Your kindness shall not be forgotten.”

Ultimately, when her thanks and bows were said and done, Nahla stood outside the Grand Vizier’s chambers, heavy, pondering eyes examining every inch of the unsheathed dagger in her hand. The silver polished metal and gemstones embedded into the hilt was a thing of beauty, the shimmering sun reflected against the walls by the blade, some stones even leaving an almost rainbow-like refraction scattered about the corridor. She thought the dagger could make an excellent addition to the spectacle of her mirror sword, once she was forgiven for her indiscretions and her blade returned to her. Perhaps it could also make for a useful concealed means of protection when she went about her little nighttime errands, though she would certainly have to find something less flashy in time than the similarly encrusted scabbard. Perhaps a simple dark leather, dark as that urchin girl’s eyes, as tough yet smooth as her hands…

When the artist would eventually abscond from her card game shenanigans, the hallway would be occupied by a concubine, eyes and expression dulled in deep contemplation as her gaze locked onto an unsheathed, extravagant dagger in her hand, standing just outside of the chambers of the Vizier.

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla's eyes narrow, a gentle wrinkling of the nose as she grins. She had to give a giggle, as if what she had said was the silliest thing she'd heard. As if she wasn't aware of why anyone would want to leave the cruel, watchful eye of the Vizier and her ilk.

"And why would I want to leave? After all, it's comfortable here. I have a soft bed, warm meals. I have my river, I can keep myself busy with the Sultan-"

Her eyes dared to steal a glance into Ruz's as Nahla made an effort of slowly unfolding and refolding her legs. If Ruz would think her some barbarian toy, she would Be Her Dream. A pretty thing who would volunteer to give Ruz what she wanted with little more than the vague promise of stability. If Nahla was not meant to see herself in this plan, let her be guided by her desire, a thought that made the girl once again all too aware of the vial in her pocket.

"And you are more luxurious than any ruby a miner could be promised. Now then, if I may be excused, I believe the Sultan would swoon if I apologized for my candor with a flower taken whilst I 'snuck out' for her."

My Hider

Roll to Entice: 6+3 +2 heart = 11. Gain a string on them and they choose 1: Get flustered and awkward, promise something they think you want, or give in to desire

TSL: Sjakal

We cut to black...

Some time later...

Nahla is sitting in a chair opposite from Ruz's couch. Her clothes are wrinkled and disheveled, and she tries to hide the shame that lingers behind her eyes. She tries not to make eye contact with the chained fanning man. She can’t bear his judgement, nor the possibility of seeing herself in his expression.

"So, about our Sultan," Nahla inquires, cutting through the awkward silence, "I think Grace-of-Heaven could use a more fitting distraction. She's a... nice girl and all, but she isn't cut out to lead in her current state. Of course, that's not going to stop her from trying, but perhaps it's best we keep her occupied elsewhere."

More control, she told herself. Nahla leans back in her seat, one leg kicked over the other, arms spread. She was clumsy and careless, but she demanded the space and attention. If her little plan were to go off right, she needed to prove her worth.

"See, in my home kingdom, we have a saying. 'A miner shall stay in the mines for but a river and a ruby.' My Sultan thinks she wants to lead because she is malcontent with being kept here. If you should so permit it, Lady Ruz, I might be the answer she seeks. Give me the chance to sneak out, to bring her small gifts of the beauty of Sjakal. Let me become her hope, and we can get rid of those thoughts of changing things when her eyes are dazzled with twinkling lights and the deep, refreshing waters of the sea."

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla’s eyes stray towards the enchained man. He wasn’t half bad as far as appearances go. She could very well see herself grabbing a fistful of his hair, guiding him down and… was this really what she wanted? Did she think it’s what he wanted? No, no, it must be what Ruz would want her to want. Her knuckles turn white as she tells herself that it was purely an act, that she wouldn’t dare consider doing such a thing to someone in a situation not far off from her own, right? This was just her trying to play the role of a cheeky, lustful serving girl, Nahla wouldn’t ever be like…

“Of course. As you command, Grand Vizier,” Her eyes linger on the man for a few moments, a slight bite at her lower lip remaining as she redirects her attention towards Ruz. She understood what she was asking for, but if she was to get in her favor, Nahla wouldn’t just play the perfectly innocent servant. Slowly lowering herself down to her knees, the concubine did not rest her weight back, instead keeping her thighs perpendicular to the floor as her hands clasped together behind her back. Chin tilted up, her eyes gazing back and forth at the two other people in the room, daring a gaze upon the chest left on full display, a clear view to her exposed flesh as it rises and falls with each breath. A small grin peaking at the corner of her mouth, Nahla’s eyes narrow as she whispers, “Well? Inspect away~”

My Hider

Roll to entice Ruz: 4 + 2 + Heart (2)= 8.

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla's eyes flickered about the room just as the flames of candles did upon the opening of the chamber doors. She found herself of two minds in this moment, something she could not afford to remain in once she set foot within this gaudy lair of greed.

If she played the role of a woman truly changed after thorough discipline by Grace-of-Heaven, of an obedient and wide-eyed subordinate, it would perhaps serve to impact Ruz's view of the Sultan as a woman capable of commanding respect amongst those who may otherwise not show it to her. However, to challenge the vizier's perception would make her more likely to be hostile towards Nahla, an outspoken and "ridiculous" girl who would be so brazen as to caress the Sultan's figure only to be whipped (or rather, tickled) into shape in a single night. Nahla could be branded pathetic and easy to bend, and this meeting would earn the vizier's ire.

On the other hand, if she remained brash and brazen, still offering the minimal necessary respect to the royal court but making it clear she would not be molded into shape by Grace-of-Heaven, it could lead Ruz to seeing her as a potential ally. It would do nothing to improve her opinion of Grace, but it would show the vizier the woman closest to the sultan wouldn't be broken so quickly. Of course, Ruz might want someone who would easily break into subservience, especially if it meant possibly submitting to herself, but if Nahla could play this role properly, maybe, just maybe, she could convince Ruz that what she was doing was for the benefit of the Vizier's selfish machinations.

Mentally hoping that her Majesty would not find out the finer details of this meeting, or could forgive her for her methods, Nahla leaned into the latter as she stepped into Ruz's chambers, closing the door behind her and focusing her gaze forward towards where the vizier's voice emanated from, to not be distracted by her collection.

"You've called for me, Grand Vizier. Want to see just how the Sultan sanded down my rough edges?" Her words were said with a hint of bemused annoyance, to show the lady before her that her tongue still carried a fine edge. A lopsided grin, some grit molars, a few fingers clenching into a semi-held fist. Ruz brought the fire wheels to Sjackal, and she brought Nahla to Grace's bedchambers. If she wanted a brute, she would have one.

TSL: Sjakal

Upon the sultan’s departure, Nahla took a good few minutes to consider her next actions. It wasn’t often that she wasn’t at Grace’s side, and she couldn’t think straight as her mind swirled with what was to come next, what she would have to deal with regarding Ruz, and whatever her feelings to that urchin are…

By the time she shakes the thought out of her head, she finds herself in a familiar room- the sultan’s bath. Her fingers wrap around a smooth glass vial, and she doesn’t need to even look down to realize what she had grabbed in her fugue state.

“And what are you doing here?” Came an accusatory voice behind her.

Nahla spun around, quickly dropping the vial into her pocket as she finds Yasmine leaning in the doorway, her narrowed eyes piercing daggers through the northerner.

“Ah, I-I was just, uh-“

“Just rifling through her Imperial Majesty’s belongings? Perhaps to simply wait here, undressed for her, to tempt her with your form to distract from your poor behavior? To utter upon her arrival ‘would you rather have dinner, a bath… or me?’ “

“I don’t know where you got that ide-“

“No? You don’t think word travels? You don’t think that Lady Ruz is already aware of your history?”

Those words chilled Nahla into silence. She could barely move as Yasmine sauntered forward, crouching down until she was face to face with her fellow concubine before continuing.

“I would think long and hard about your past mistakes, before you go messing around with another girl’s mind.”

“I understand. I promise, I was just here to clean the room for Grace-of-Heaven, on her command. Then, I shall attend to a meeting with the Vizier to discuss my… outburst yesterday.”

“Good. Just remember, we’re here to please and serve her Majesty, not to satisfy ourselves. You’d best remember that before your next outburst earns you washwoman duties, before you next have any thought of blaspheming or of using her majesty for your own desires.”

Yasmine exits the bath, leaving Nahla to her free time. With her heart practically in her throat, Nahla begins to scrub away at the room, ensuring that the floor and bath itself are utterly spotless. Then, she draws herself a pail of water, scrubbing away at the sweat that leaked from every pore, adorning herself in a fresh set of clothing and once again cleaning the bath before making her way to Ruz’s private chambers. She was still early to this conversation, but she decided she’d rather do this now or wait here than to risk any more confrontations with Yasmine or Lila while Taima was busy trying to court the sultan’s affection. Gathering her wits about her, considering how Ruz fancied herself, and how this meeting was under the guise of demonstrating her learned lesson, Nahla courteously raps her knuckle against the door thrice before stepping back and bowing her head.

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla huffs beneath the shade of this tree, her face red from exertion, her clothing soaked through, sweat glistening her undefined muscles. Her eyes shift down as Lila spares a glance in their direction- she was being punished, after all, and she would not meet the gaze of her peers while she was being reprimanded for her behavior the evening before. She was far too exhausted, between the exercises, the blazing sun, and the considerable amount of sleep deprivation. Nahla sought to catch her breath as she assumed a humbled kowtow before her sultana to display the lengths of her rehabilitation to any that would spare a passing glance at the two of them.
“The fire wheels were troublesome, but we could enjoy some of the city before they interrupted, no? Living up to the sultana title means the wisdom of knowing which fights are better avoided and which must be faced.”
Of course, Nahla had no ground to stand on in this case, seeing how her own efforts butting into other people’s problems brought far too much unnecessary attention to her the previous night. Still, if Grace-of-Heaven started getting the idea that she could only seek happiness once all the fire wheels had left the capital, she would be dooming them both to undertaking a Sisyphean task. Of course, Nahla couldn’t just tell Grace-of-Heaven to accept that the fire wheels would be there for as long as Ruz wished. After giving her a taste of freedom, it occurred to Nahla that such a harsh reality would ruin any sense of newfound joy.

Which is why Nahla placed her empty polished scabbard, black as pitch accented with markings as blue as lapis, before her in front of the sultana. She couldn’t have her sword on her, of course. Not at the moment, not while running and while being punished for her insolence. But when they escaped again, and when she had learned her lesson in the palace, her sword would be returned to her from beside the sultana’s vanity. (She could only hope that none of the other members of Grace’s harem would try playing around with her sword in the meantime).

“A sultana must know which fights are to be avoided and which are to be fought- which is why I entrust my body and my blade to your command. So long as you will it, my sword shall protect you from any and all that should wish you ill, my Grace.”

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla studies the look on Gimi’s face. She had to get down there, and fast! Wrapping her limbs back around the pillar, she took a glance back at the trio of women on the roof- wait, weren’t there three of them? Now there’s only tw- whatever, not her problem, she already caused unnecessary trouble by sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Nahla grapples her way down the pillar, thinking about the tricks Gimi showed her going up, now simply applied in reverse, all while NOT thinking about falling, don’t think about falling off the pillar, don’t look down, don’t worry, remain calm-

My Hider

Defy Disaster with courage: 6+4-1= 9

Nahla is so wrapped up in her worry, it takes her a moment to realize when her foot was fully standing on solid ground.
“Oh, Jasmine! I’m sorry to leave you on your own. You’re a lifesaver, Gími, dearest! Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how late it had become, and we have an early day tomorrow! We can’t stay around here, sadly!” She didn’t even need to look at Grace-of-Heaven’s face to know she was disappointed, but it was clear that a storm was brewing around here, and the sultan could not get caught up in whatever was coming in.

“I’m SO sorry that I couldn’t fulfill my thanks to you, Gími, but I promise you, tomorrow night, on my fair name, that I shall return here and give you my thanks. And I shall give it to you with interest to pay for your patience!”

Her hands clasp around Gími’s, both to further enamor her and to give reason for the sultan to be able to free her own grasp. Nahla thought to herself to yet again place a chaste kiss upon the back of the urchin’s clammy hands, seeing how effective that was last time, but misjudged how the panic and adrenaline running through her would affect the force in her lean forward. She leans forward and aims downward, her eyes closed as her lips press against Gími’s neck! Immediately upon realizing her mistake, Nahla fumbles to correct her action, to apologize, but any physical coordination she had this night was spent on climbing down the pillar. Tripping in her panic, her veil once again flutters out of the way as her lips brush against Gími’s own! Her face is completely red as she breaks the union their lips, grabbing Grace-of-Heaven’s wrist and hurrying away from this den of temptation and back towards the palace, cutting their excursion unfortunately short.

TSL: Sjakal

Nahla blinked as she took in what she had done. She wasn't some dashing hero, it seemed that that lanky girl whose bag was dripping with paint had, for the moment, prevented the conflict herself. Wait, paint? Eh, she could think more about that later. For now, the reckless courtesan simply shuffles back by the pillar. Maybe... maybe Gimi would be back soon and Nahla would escape before these girls remembered she was there. Or maybe they'd lose interest! Whatever the case, Nahla was simply relieved that the situation hadn't turned drastic and that she hadn't had to show off her total lack of prowess with her blade as an actual weapon, even if her performance was a bit clunky and unnecessary in execution.

"s-sorry..." Nahla mumbled as she noted the apparent artist's anger at her attempt to intervene. Sweat beaded across her forehead as she noted the imposing figure of Silsila Om glancing back in her direction. She redirected her gaze back to the woman Nahla was unaware was the thief queen, but Nahla needed to get down. She thought this nerve-wracking but exciting, but now, there was no importance to this. She was at a dizzying height with no means of getting down, brandishing a sword she didn't know how to wield at another person, and Grace-of-Heaven-

Oh Almighty.

Nahla had been so wrapped in being up here, in this moment, with Gimi, with this fight, she leaked the true identity of her companion! Laying on this rooftop, Nahla tried to steady the ungodly degrees of vertigo looking down as she searched the streets below for Gimi or for Grace-of-Heaven's presence. If the former were nowhere to be found, Nahla would be in trouble, but if the latter were in trouble, this trip would be the undoing for the both of them! Foolish Nahla, why did she go first?! Why did she abandon her lady, she should never have left her side, just to be on a rooftop with some unwashed teasing street urchin! If she wanted to do something that mattered, she would've stay at Grace's side!