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maleunzahra · 6 years ago

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@noctepatri

Targoviste, Wallachia. c. 1464 Beltane.

The beat of drums, the caress of the strings of instruments, the lively melodies of flutes woven together to form a symphony of beauty. A day of celebration in the country of Wallachia, the many villages surrounding Targoviste came together in unison to celebrate. And there was much to celebrate for, not only was it a holiday for the pagans and a holiday of peace. There had been a victory for the Wallachian prince in one of his campaigns. Of course the people did not expect for their prince to make an appearance to their festival. Why would he? He had so much more important things to be focusing on. Such as liberating the country from the Ottoman Empire’s vile hold.

By the fountain side within the center of the town’s square was a purple fabric tent pitched up, there were trinkets from afar along with unusual fabrics and unique foods foreign to the country. Flowers, spices, and incense the unique aromas alone would draw in a crowd. The owners of the tent were no other than travelers with no home and no families aside from one another. A man approaches the tent combing through his locks as his hazel gaze sweeps about for a moment. “Auset, are you almost ready? Moran has got quite the crowd stirring by the other fountain. The one near the prince’s statue.” the man calls to another within the tent as he rummaged through some of the belongings to get some last minute things.

“ I am ready Sahan. Are you certain these are the dances you want me to perform? You don’t people will call me a bewitching beauty or declare me a witch. ” a soft chuckle parts from the glossed lips of a woman as she steps out of her dressing tent adorned in ivory and gold, her sun kissed skin delicately painted in various spots like her hands and feet. Almond brown orbs shift to look upon the man who stared at her; a smile creased to his lips with awe radiating in his eyes. “ You look stunning as always. Your beauty truly does capture the hearts of men wherever you go. ” He says with a chuckle of his own. Reaching his hand out, he takes hers gently before guiding her through the crowd. “Alright, shall we begin?” He inquires, she nods simply before allowing him to depart from her side so he can draw in a few more stragglers.

Another woman was already on the marble siding of the fountain with a smile creased to her lips as she and Sahan began to speak of a beauty like no other, whose dancing ability was breathtaking and once you saw her dance you would be enthralled for the ages. Sahan had began to play a melody that ‘Auset ’ could dance to. With a flick of his hand purple and gold smoke erupted in front of the crowd that had gathered, once the smoke faded away in swift motion the people would take in the dancing beauty who the others had proclaimed would enthrall them.

Amunet’s gaze took in the crowd as she contorts her belly and danced in ways that were not native to Wallachia. Her vast knowledge of the art over the centuries would always be a key card that aided in her favor, but even after the centuries past. Amunet always found herself particularly fond of the Hindu culture and the ways of bollywood. The gasps and cheers of some always brought joy to Amunet; but she would pick up the remarks that she showed too much flesh. That the dance she performed was sinful; and that some should avert their gaze. Ah, the misguided and culturally blind.

Amunet continued her dancing without a care; her body flowing to the beat as her hips swayed the sun’s rays shining down and kissing her olive tan skin. She could feel the smiles of her traveling companions behind her; them once again enamored with her performance. It was nice to travel in a group; she had been so use to traveling alone for so many years. She had become too accustomed to the feeling. Amunet, however continued to keep her distance with these companions. How could she let herself get too close? When you’re a cursed immortal, it was best to keep your distance.

The world would forever continue to move and time would flow around you, the feeling of being trapped in this immortal body while those connections grow older and you are forced to break away from them so you do not watch them eventually pass. And to ensure that they do not come to the realization that you do not age, that you are forever trapped in the body of a young woman when your soul is as old as the ancient kingdoms of Egypt. To the old suns, to the first flow of civilizations’ peak. The first wave of enlightenment. It was simply the way life had to be for someone like herself.

Her almond hues took note of a small group of men on horses coming through streets, leading the group there was a man riding a stallion with dark black fur and a long mane of a dark sheen. The man was adorn in high quality fabric, with a cloak with a chain latch on his person. Pale skin, dark curls and an emerald sheen that could strike into the hearts of men with fear and charm women into submission. Amunet almost found herself intrigued, but she simply assumed him to be a possible general and nothing more.

Men like him, handsome and with charming eyes, and smile. She had seen her share of men like him; she has had her share of men in her lifetime. She was certain he was one of those arrogant types who assumed he could have whatever and whoever he wished. But, today she would choose to pay him no mind. She already assumed the worst of him; and with those thoughts in her mind she returned her focus to the dances she was performing. The music would eventually come to an end, with the small crowd applauding with a few tossing some coins into the open pouch by Sahan.

Amunet bowed and thanked the people for their generosity; before gliding off the fountain’s rim. She began to weave her form through the crowd, slipping away from sight now that her performance was done. She could return to her tent, change and partake in the festivities herself. Some time to relax after doing her part in earning some money for her companions. Money that could go a long way for them in the next town, inn, country wherever the wind took them.

She nearly jumped out of her flesh when she felt a hand ensnare her wrist; she contorts her form as she spins around to take in whoever had the audacity to grab hold of her. To stop her from reaching her destination, to try and hold a conversation with her? Or to charm her. Or simply compliment her on her dancing when she simply wanted to get change and find a nice stand with some delicious food. Preferably sweets.

Smoke quartzes drank in the finest emeralds in all of Europe...

#Maleunzahra #Noctepatri #☥ ‖ "lost inside a shadow erase the sins i’ve made” (exe)#Closed RP

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