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Halt!
Mar 17, 2007 17:03:03 GMT -5
Post by Xerxes I on Mar 17, 2007 17:03:03 GMT -5
Xerxes didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The Persian king raised one bronze hand, and the slaves stopped. The dozen of slaves whose bodies and backs supported his throne and carried him four and a half miles out of the city - without stopping. A proclaimer strode out in front, in order to demand in a loud cry who it was who passed by. Two men with long, thick branches which served as fans strode along as well.
Xerxes propped his left leg on his right, gold laced fingertips crossed over his bare chest. He was a large man, a god man, and now upon celebrating his triumph in Corith, he was scanning the rest of his empire. Awaiting news from his emissaries before the troops moved out. In the gleam of the sunset, he saw something ahead, and raising one brown arm to his forehead, peered out onto the paved road ahead.
"Who are you, who dares tread the road of the God King?" Xerxes demanded in a loud, booming voice.
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Halt!
Mar 18, 2007 0:20:30 GMT -5
Post by Iolanthe on Mar 18, 2007 0:20:30 GMT -5
Io cursed her misfortunes, and her spinelessness. Xerxes had probably taken women with him on his triumphant return to his palace. She was not one of them. While the other sluts lazed around, languishing in silk with swollen grapes and gold bullion, Iolanthe skirted around the guards, and she escaped. Picking her way through the Persian landscape - a landscape she knew by heart, she was dressed in billowing Arabic style pants with gold ankle cuffs. Gold sandals, a belly revealing satin top, and a cloak which covered her head, which she wrapped around her body in hopes of looking less conspicuous.
But a night and a half on her journey, and Iolanthe was losing her nerve. She had stopped, and was considering walking back, back to Persia. Why should she go to Greece? Everything she ever knew was in the other direction. As soon as she heard the thundering footsteps, she leapt off the road itself, hoping to hide from possible troops. Despite her instinct to hide, she thought it might be a caravan of traders or merchants.
By the time Iolanthe saw the gleaming gold, brighter than the sun, of Xerxes' throne, it was too late. Who are you, who dares tread the road of the God King?
She did what she had to do. For now. Iolanthe dropped her knees, head nearly touching the road in deference. "It is I, Yasmin, my King," she murmured, clearing but gently. Hoping that her tone might still the rage. Maybe he would be perplexed, not angry.
Maybe then she could think of an escape. Her mind was racing, but her body was absolutely still.
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Halt!
Mar 18, 2007 1:47:09 GMT -5
Post by Xerxes I on Mar 18, 2007 1:47:09 GMT -5
Xerxes did not expect to see Yasmin. Nose in the air, his gaze disdainfully cast towards the ground and the girl. The king clenched his fists, muscled arms practically trembling in fury. Her decorative cloak - his gift to her, touched the ground as she cowed. It was not near enough. He stood, suddenly, and stepped down from his throne.
Without even looking down, Xerxes confidently stepped forward. Slaves leapt in the way, on their hands and knees, to form a staircase for him. He never acknowledged it, though his lip curled in disgust as his sandaled feet hit hard ground. He towered over her, blotting out the sun in the process.
"I am a merciful god, Yasmin," Xerxes said calmly, dark eyes staring down at her. "Why are you here? Should I cut those luscious legs out from beneath you, or do you have a reason to show such disrespect? Am I not a gracious master?" His voice was very calm - at its most dangerous.
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Halt!
Mar 18, 2007 9:25:38 GMT -5
Post by Iolanthe on Mar 18, 2007 9:25:38 GMT -5
Iolanthe raised her eyes, ever so slowly, and she glimpsed his feet near her head. She, for a fleeting moment, hoped he wouldn't kick her in the face. She didn't say anything as he spoke; could she outrun him? Would the slaves catch her if she did - and if she was caught, she was rest assured to have a worse time of it. A distraction. A distraction, and she needed to run. Damn.
He sounded calm, almost pleasant, but Io wasn't fooled. She raised her head ever so slightly to look up - up at him. She tried to keep her face as blank as possible.
"You are merciful, my King. You are gracious," she complied quietly - it was a miracle her voice didn't shake. "I would never dream of abandoning you, my King," Iolanthe lied steadily, "I was lonely - and thought you might have left on your next campaign, forgetting me. I came to find you." She gave a small smile, hesitant. Please please please believe me. Please... If there were any gods who pitied her plight, they would move his heart.
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Halt!
Mar 18, 2007 18:12:41 GMT -5
Post by Xerxes I on Mar 18, 2007 18:12:41 GMT -5
Xerxes smiled down at her, tightlipped, like a mentor looking down on a disbehaving child. His expression did not change with her simpering response - it was exactly what he expected from her. This slave belonged to him. Period.
"And?" He raised an eyebrow, rocking momentarily on the balls of his feet. Awaiting her explanation - her justification.
"I was lonely - and thought you might have left on your next campaign, forgetting me. I came to find you."
If she hadn't smiled, he might have let her get away with it. Naturally she would miss him; he was her god. But her assumption that grovelling like that would free her from the consequences of disobediance?
He stepped forward, until his toes nearly touched her face, leaning down. He put one hand on the top of her head, and just as quickly, yanked her up by a fistful of that dark hair. Wrenching her close enough to be face to face, he spat,
"It is not your place to question my law! YOU SHOULD BE GROVELLING BEFORE YOUR GOD, not making halfwitted excuses." He shook her, violently, by the hair, "Your insolence will NOT go unpunished."
Xerxes grabbed her chin, squeezing it hard, and stared into those eyes. "I will teach you obediance. My sword!" Not a moment passed before a slave appeared with the blade. Xerxes, in a moment of weakness before a pretty girl, kissed her roughly, then dropped her to the ground.
"Your right hand. On the ground." He nodded towards the earth. He would have her hand taken away. That would teach her to disobey him.
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Halt!
Mar 18, 2007 20:12:03 GMT -5
Post by Iolanthe on Mar 18, 2007 20:12:03 GMT -5
Iolanthe shrieked as Xerxes tore her from the ground, ripping strands of her hair in the process. Her cloak tumbled to the ground helplessly, and she dangled in his grip, eyes squeezed shut, hissing under her breath. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
She'd never hated anyone so much in her short life. Iolanthe tried to twist her head away at the bruising force of Xerxes' kiss, and as one lip ring rubbed against her mouth - she vaguely considered tearing it out. But before she could gather her nerve - he shoved her aside.
She winced, knees smashing into the ground - thrown offbalance by the force of his push. Iolanthe clinched her fists unwillingly, fingernails digging deep gouges in the hard packed earth. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, as she kneeled there like an animal on all fours. This was Persian generosity?
"With all due respect," Iolanthe said through gritted teeth, the sarcasm so thick her voice almost trembled, "my King...go to Hell!"
In that instant, the girl lunged into a half crouched stance, flinging the dirt and pebbles for the Godking's eyes. She twisted with the momentum of her arm, and the dancer spun around and sprang forward, opposite the direction of the king. Iolanthe sprang for Xerxes' arm, throwing her bare hands around the iron blade. She didn't care if she cut her palms; she just wanted to get the knife from him.
That was anger. Not smarts. She forgot about the slaves.
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Halt!
Mar 21, 2007 12:34:24 GMT -5
Post by Xerxes I on Mar 21, 2007 12:34:24 GMT -5
"Excuse me?!" Xerxes snarled at her hissed sarcasm. He didn't get a chance to retort properly - as Io scrambled to her feet and attacked him! "DAMN YOU, WOMAN!" he shouted, just as the dirt hit his face and momentarily blinded him. Xerxes jerked his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, coughing sharply as bits of rock polluted his mouth.
He'd moved his sword arm, slightly, to cover his mouth as he nearly staggered - then he felt the pull of someone grabbing on the end of the sword, and hissed like a wounded animal, twisting his tearing eyes towards her face. She was in range.
Xerxes slammed his fist as hard as he could at her face, in the hopes of knocking her loose from the sword. In his surprise, his fingers slipped from the grasp of the handle, and the Persian king roared,
"GET HER!" He would not further demean himself by grabbing for the little whore himself.
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