It had been four months since Neena had left her home with the people of the Zaire. Four long months that she had used to run across the Bedoan-Egyptian border, into the northern lands of the great Pharaoh's domain and hide herself away in the city of Alexandria. Rarely was Neena found to be in a single place for so long. She might hover in a location for a few days - even as much as a few weeks - but months was almost unheard of for her. But she had just spent the last six years in the company of the same people. People she loved and adored with all her heart but whom she had had to run from. As she ran from every form of commitment of permanence in her life. Six years normalcy to living an entirely transient life was a hard change to make. Even if it was a return to how she used to be. So, it was to be done in stages. A few months here, a few months there... and she would then return to her normal pace and momentum of journeying around locales she never intended to stop in long enough to call home.
Alexandria was just such a place, but that hadn't stopped her returning to it on a regular basis. She loved the port city. Its ranging markets, diverse people and the constant spray and smell of the sea. The entire place was bustling with life, vibrant with colour and a cacophony of noise to behold. It was all an exotic madness that fit in with her need for stimulus and excitement just fine. And with its continued trade via the waters, there was never a dull moment or any way that the settlement could become quiet. Every day brought new arrivals.
It was at the dockside that Neena found herself wondering one night, stepping into taverns along the way, sipping from untended drinks and eyeing up the bartenders to see if they might allow her to dance or peddle her gambling games at their tables. Taverns were perfect places for a nomadic soul to find the minor sustenance they needed to keep going - be it drink, a bed or coin. Where there were people, there was life. And where there was life, there was the opportunity to live for a moment in symbiotic harmony and accept the energy (or coin) of those around you so that you could keep travelling.
Dressed in her usual pixie dress of multi-colour gossamer scraps, her hair pulled up into a fluffy topknot of curly hair, Neena looked almost childlike as she skipped her sandals along the ground. She wore only her jade band around one upper arm, and the gold band around her left wrist. Anything else she owned that was precious was sealed inside a small leather bag tied to her inner thigh beneath her floaty tunic. The bag itself wasn't very full and Neena could do with a few coins when she left the port city to travel further south tomorrow down the Nile.
Finding a particularly boisterous tavern and suspecting that that might provide her with just such patrons willing to part with a few pieces of bronze, Neena stepped inside the tavern, narrowly avoiding some over eager drunkards and slid and slipped her way to the bar where she was then able to see around a crowd of men to the other end of the room, a smile breaking across her whole face as she noticed a particular table, where a familiar bard was entertaining a group of men with tales of his conquests...
Hesiodos brought the cup of wine to his lips; not only because he was thirsty, but because he created a tense pause in the middle of his story. The drunkards on the table looked at him with urgency, gripping the drinks so hard their knuckles turned pale. He got them, he knew. He go them good.
He put his cup down and wiped his mouth with his hand, and flashed a smile as white as bone, “…So Hector was on the ground, bleeding from the fall and from cuts so big that appeared by razor sharp longswords, and we all knew he wouldn’t make it. Daphne was scared shitless, so her bow was shaking, and Stelios just disappeared out of thin air. I gripped both my swords in my hands, ready for everything, but I’ll have to admit that I could have used a drink or six that time”, cue to laughter, he smiled, and proceeded, “Then a shadow appeared over us, like Icarus flying, and then we saw it… it was brown, with a wingspan the length of a Colchis sarisa, and with talons as sharp they could cut you just by looking at them.”
There were murmurs, and he let them talk, taking a polite pause to drink some more, but before he could continue, someone interrupted him, “What the fuck kind of bird is that?”
“I’m glad you asked!”, he said with a cheerful tone, “When I saw it, I realized immediately it was a Stymphalian falcon! You know the ones, don’t you? The ones Heracles himself had to kill for his sixth labor” there were murmurs of agreement. After all, no one would question the tales of Heracles, “We knew we were screwed, mostly because we knew they hunted in flocks. Why we found a solitary one is beyond me, but if we found more, we were done for. So, Daphne, as brave and stupid as any Colchis archer, shoot an arrow towards the bird… and it just pissed it off even more.”
Hediosos had a grim face, but on the inside, he was laughing. He knew this story would increase his legend, but that was not the point of it. The point was to be creative, to create, to see the wonder in the eyes of people as he told the stories. He wasn’t even telling this for money – though the tips and free drinks they were giving him were quite welcome. After all, his travels brought him to Alexandria, and wherever he went, he made sure people were entertained.
“So, the falcon let out a horrible screech, and flapped its massive wings. Out flew feathers, sharp as a politician’s tongue, straight at us! For a moment, I thought I was going to go to Elysium, but then…”
He stopped, when he noticed someone in particular watching him. He smiled widely, stood up from the table, and practically ran towards the woman, avoiding the people in the middle, and once he arrived, gave her an enormous hug that lasted perhaps a bit too long.
“Neena”, he said; the sole name tingled on his tongue, “How long has it been?”
Neena listened to the tale with an eager ear and an amused smile painted on her face. She had always admired Hesiodos' way of holding an audience. Like her, the man had never been to a university or studied the written word or the skill and format of language. Neither of them had any concept of what it meant to be a powerful storyteller through academic learning. Instead, the both of them had lived life. The two of them had heard different languages, noticed different cultures, experienced different worlds and were able to then construct something that was exotic, foreign and eye-drawing by the crowds they managed. For Hesiodos, he held them with his tongue. With his words and stories. For Neena, it was movement and dance, when she found an open space on a street juncture or in the back corner of a tavern. The both of them were patchwork artists, stealing pieces from all over their travels and putting it together to form something that drew the eye and ear of the layman.
For a time, roughly eight years ago, the two had done so together for a few months, hanging about, drinking, laughing and making a little extra coin here and there because they offered a double act in song and dance. But they had always been individuals; entirely respectful of the others' liberty and wild freedom.
When the man broke off at the climax of his story - whether for dramatic effect and frustration for his spectators or truly being his friendship with her had distracted him Neena neither knew nor cared - all she did was return the man's hug with a tight and affectionate one of her own, smiling brightly.
"Hesi..." She welcomed him in name as he drew her close for perhaps a little too long - the man always had been a flirt. She didn't answer his question until she had pulled away, her words in Greek. "Too long, my friend, too long." She then glanced at the patrons who were still watching Hesiodos, expressions of agitation and expectation on their faces. Not to mention a great deal of suspicion as they glanced over the woman with darker skin than was natural in Egypt. Recognising their own colouring in return, Neena then switched to Coptic.
"I can't believe you!" She told Hesiodos with a soft punch to the lower gut that was hardly likely to do any damage with Neena's tiny frame. She pointedly looked between him and the crowd. "You're going to tell the story of how we met without me being here?" She waggled a finger at him. "That's just plain rude my friend.”
Taking his hand, she dragged the bard back to the table he had been at and then found a stool on which she could perch herself cross-legged, her knees akimbo and her dignity only held in tact by the soft gossamer of her tunic's short skirt falling over her pelvis, as she waved a hand to encourage him to keep telling the story.
"Did you get to Daphne shooting the thing yet?" She asked, having been eavesdropping on the conversation and naturally picking up the bogus story without fault or hesitation. "That girl-" She told Hesiodos' audience with the raising of knowing eyebrows and the shake of her head. "Was not the brightest maiden to ever cross my path, I will tell you that for free."
There was a ripple of awkward laughter from the patrons as Neena's natural charm and nonchalant charisma had them trustingly following her words, her own take on the story immediately lending credence to Hesiodos', even for the most sceptical at the table.
"Come on Hesi!" She encouraged with her hands. "I want to hear you tell my bit - you always tell it so well!" As she said the words, delivering an opportunity to Hesiodos to adapt on the spot, her grin was wide, her teeth rested on her plump lower lip and her eyes bright with challenge.
During the embrace, Hesiodos could feel the gossamer covering her skin, and smell countless different places and people on her hair and skin. It was the scent of a traveler, one he came to know and love… and alongside her, it was just perfect.
The bard noted her feigned indignation right away, and theatrically pretended for the punch to hurt him when she did just that. Internally, he was laughing, and he was sure Neena was as well. He stood up after rubbing his abdomen and offered an apologetic bow, “My apologies, my dear. I was going towards that part, but now that you’re here, this story will become more colorful!”
He let himself be led to the table, where everyone was waiting eagerly. He noticed than more eyes were upon her – and on his friend as well. He let out a short chuckle,“Oh, yes I did. And yes, she was… but can you blame her? She was from fucking Colchis. She was as deadly as an arrow, and half as smart!”, there was a short laughter from people that knew about them. Since no one protested, he was quite sure no Colchis was actually present.
Hesiodos looked at her with his fiery green-grey eyes. He always recalled those plump lips, and how he kissed them once… he missed how they felt. Sadly, it never went beyond that, but he sometimes wondered…
She thought she was putting him in a rough spot, but she wasn’t. In fact, she made it possible for a better story. He decided to not to waste any more time, “Where was I? Oh, correct. Half dozen razor sharp feathers flew our way, and we knew we would be cut to ribbons. But then, six more blades came out of nowhere, flashing in the light, and knocked down the feathers out of our way.”
He dramatically looked at Neena, “There we turned, and saw her. Dark skin, darker hair, a determined look on her face, a throwing knife in each hand and in a full belt. That moment, I knew Athena has sent someone to save us, but I also knew that the battle was far from over. If we wanted to survive, we had to act!”
Hesiodos went on to tell the details of the battle, in full, gory detail, just as the Greek bards liked to tell. No one spoke, except for the occasional gasp when a twist happened, like when they found Stelios half devoured, but also when Hector miraculously survived his wounds. He also put emphasis on the fact that Neena was the one to deliver the final, winning blow – in that particular story, Hesiodos was the one that did it with his twin swords, but right now, he considered that change a welcome gift to her old friend.
In the end, there was a round of cheer and applause, and people asked for him to tell another story. While picking the tips on the table and drinking the last of his wine, Hesiodos said, “Perhaps later. My emotions are running high and my throat is running dry… let me have a drink first, alright?”, there was no shortage of patrons offering drinks to both of the heroes of the story, which they took gladly…
He waited until they were left alone with their drinks to talk to her, “So, how did you like it?”
Neena grinned her way through Hesiodos' story, jumping in to add details as she thought of them and watching as he fed off of the creative tidbits with his own imagery. With the two of them working together to tell a singular story that they appeared to both know first-hand, the believability of the whole event was escalated in the eyes of Hesiodos’s audience. By the time they reached the conclusion of the tale, the drunken patrons of the bar were hanging on their every word and ready to insist upon more stories, paid for with ale and with wine. Whilst Neena would have been glad to chatter the night away, creating far out tales of far off places, she was also glad when her friend insisted that the stories had to wait until later, that it was time for the two of them to catch up on the years since they had seen one another last.
There was no regret or sorrow in Neena that the two of them had not kept in touch over the years. For each of them were as free a spirit as the other. They neither needed nor wanted the shackles of responsibility that promises or vows of letter writing would force upon them. Instead, Neena simply took joy in the re-meeting of her friend; not sadness that it had not happened sooner.
When Hesiodos, with his clear control of his audience, insisted on their privacy and encouraged the men away, Neena uncurled herself from the stool and moved around the side of the table that had previously held the enraptured eyes of a vivid viewership. Hiking up her tunic’s skirts, she flashed a long dark leg as she stepped over the bench and settled herself down at the table across from her old friend. She took her mug of ale in hand, as he captured the wine in his, and allowed her posture to slope and her frame to become more intimate as they spoke together, rather than to a crowd.
In humour, she grinned at her friend and wrinkled her nose as if in puzzled assessment.
"Personally, I think you over-worked it." She told him with a clearly sarcastic, sad shake of the head, before she giggled and shoved at his arm rested on the table. "It was wonderous, Hesi. As usual." She assured him. "But, come now. Save your fanciful tales and tell me something true. Where has life led you these past seven years?" Her interest was genuine as she took up her cup, swallowed deeply from its rim and watched him with a spark of fire in her gaze over its edge.
Hesiodos thought often of Neena, and how, instead of the overly dramatic vows of fidelity and the undying promises of seeing each other again, they merely said to each other ‘See you around!’, hugged for perhaps too long, and parted their ways. Nomads like them were like that, and they were happy… but the truth was that he always wondered how she was doing, and dreamed of the day he could meet her again. And by the grace of the gods, here they were.
He still enjoying seeing her dark body, but his attraction was more than physical. The fact that she complemented his stories with her own details and parts was part of it… she was someone that truly understood him. There was a lot of camaraderie between them, and he could appreciate that.
He drank his wine gladly and smirked, “There is no kill like overkill, my dear”, he said, “Besides, I know what people like”, he knew she one of those that liked it, as well. He remembered that they would spend hours in a campfire at night, telling each other stories like this one instead of sleeping. The stories would grow to be more fantastical and ridiculous, and they would see who could stay with a straight face the longer.
“Oh, not much… I slapped Zeus for abandoning my mother and had a few drinks with Apollo…”, he said and laughed, “Well, I’ve been here and there, traveling along two continents as always. I dueled someone blessed by Ares and he got pissed when I kissed him in the middle of the duel, and so I lost… then went to a bacchanalia with nobility from Taengea, though I don’t quite remember that much. I was incredibly drunk. Oh, also…”, and he continued telling her about his life for the past nine years, in full detail, and with zero bullshit. It was all the truth; something he reserved for people he trusted and loved. While he was not the legend he made everyone to believe, he didn’t led a boring life, either.
He finished with a drink of wine, only to realize his cup was empty, “And that’s more or less that… what about you, my dear?”, he said with interest. His gaze went to her full lips, and he imagined himself kissing them again, “How have you been?”
Neena listened to Hesiodos with an obvious rapture and attention. For a woman who lived her life without commitments, promises or vows of consistency, she was far from flaky or rude in her attentions. She was a woman that loved life and experience but, to be witness to such things, you had to pay attention. Which meant that Neena had an engaging and sometimes awkward level of rapt focus when people were speaking. It tended to be one of the many external elements of her character that had people liking her upon almost instant acquaintance. Everyone liked to be listened to and feel like they were worthy of special attention after all.
Due to the nature of his stories and the way he spoke with pauses for thought rather than spieling off long and complicated tales like his tongue couldn’t stop dancing, Neena knew the stories Hesi was telling her to be true. And for that she was silently appreciative and encouraged him with little nods or smiles of interest as he spoke of his life over the last few years. She snorted a little into her drink when he had commented on kissing a Grecian nobleman and causing a stir, she rolled her eyes when he mentioned being too drunk to recall certain events he had attended. Neena had never been a huge drinker though she liked ale when it was cheaper than water, but she knew that Hesi liked a little too much liquid courage sometimes for his duelling and would get himself into trouble.
When the man asked her about her own life and dropped his gaze, Neena grinned and did nothing to encourage the glance. Hesi and she was friends as far as she was concerned. There had been a single instance where he had stepped over the line they had drawn together, testing the waters of something more with a kiss, but it had not led where he had intended it to go and never had done since. That being said, Hesi was a natural flirt and she wasn’t able to stop his enjoyment of life and appreciation of what he saw if it brought him joy. Especially when it did her no harm.
In addressing his request for information on her life, Neena took a steep inhale and blew out a little harshly, the softness of her cheeks blowing outwards into rounded orbs, as she tapped a finger to the rim of her cup and looked around a little.
“Hmm… what to do tell, what to tell.” She considered to herself out loud before tilting her head in acceptance of the most obvious thing to impart. “Well, first of all, I got married.” She said with a slight laugh as she lifted her cup to sip again, one shoulder rising in a half shrug. “So, there’s that.”
Indeed, one of the things he liked about Neena was that she was a delightful listener. She genuinely liked stories and songs, and was an appreciative audience. That was one of the main reasons why he stuck around her at first, and then that became a long friendship. While he did try to see how far he could go, when she put her limits, he respected them. After all, he was happy with being friends with her.
As he drank of his wine, he observed something odd… her body language spoke more than the words she was about to speak. It made her know that she was not particularly happy with how things went. But not in a hundred years would he have suspected the news were those…
He offered her a kind smile, of understanding, “Oh… congratulations!”, he said and shrugged too, “…It didn’t go that well, did it?”, he suspected the answer. After all, she came alone, but there was more than that. Neena was a free spirit. Like himself, he could never see her married, unless it was in a open relationship.
He drank more of the wine, not really sure how to approach the subject, “Did he treat you well, at least?”, he asked. It was the first thing that came to mind. Knowing her, she would have bashed the head in of someone that would hit her or worse… or perhaps she wouldn’t. Marriage was complicated like that. It was one of the reasons why him, at his 36 years, wasn’t married. There were many reasons, but that was one.
Neena raised an amused eyebrow at Hesiodos' natural shock at her statement. She wasn't surprised that he, in turn, was thrown for a loop by her announcement. Like her, Hesi was a wild and free individual. They had often talked of past relationships when they had first met - or rather, his past relationships, as her own history had been rather thin on the ground - and he had always given the very strong impression that while he lived and loved in the moment, he had no intentions of any woman (or man) tempting him enough to make them a permanent addition to his life. And Neena had always been exactly the same way. By determining that every match, encounter, moment, word and thought was temporary and could be the last, it ensured that it was more meaningful. More permanent in memory if not in present time. Security and familiarity bred disinterest and a lack of trying, as far as Neena was concerned. And Hesiodos had always communicated that he felt the same. So, it wasn't at all surprising that Hesi was shocked at her admittance of having taken a husband as a part of her life's journey. Especially when, as the woman in that scenario, marriage would restrict her far more than it would ever restrict a man in her position.
When her friend asked if her husband had treated her right, Neena only lowered her chin, looked up at him from beneath her lashes and gave him an expression that asked - "are you serious?". They both knew that Neena would never put up with disrespect. From anyone. Least of all the man who pledged to love and protect her.
"If he hadn't, I wouldn't have been with him six years." She told her friend, her lips quirking up to one side. "Or his other wife." She added with a softness to her gaze that belied her feelings for the both of them. But then she blinked and the tenderness was gone as if it were never there, her heart being hidden away behind high walls. For while she was a woman who lived in the moment, who was never ashamed and who wore her emotions and her open attitude like a badge of honour... the entire situation that saw her separate from Hasani and Tanishe was one that still hurt in her heart. One day she would be able to look back with joy over every piece of it. But for now, she still grieved for the two she had loved and lost. She swallowed and shrugged as she took another sip from her cup.
"The call of the open road was, apparently, not to be denied." She shifted her shoulder blades as if she had an itch. "I couldn't stay longer than I did. I would have lost a part of myself. So-" Neena gave a dramatic sigh, falling back on comedic storytelling to mask her hurt. "I as forced to be all noble and admit that whilst I loved them dearly-" Her voice went shrill with dramatic excess and ostentatious acting. "- I knew I had to leave in the end." By the end of the last sentence, her dramatic flair had gone and her eyes had turned a little sad.
Hesiodos read the expression in her face as clear as his native Greek. He had to admit, it was perhaps insulting for him to assume someone she would choose – because she would have chosen it, there was no other way – would treat her less than ideally. She knew Neena wouldn’t abide of less. So he nodded as if to saying, ‘my apologies’ and let her speak.
He opened his mouth to speak, but when he heard about the second wife, he shut his mouth. His lips curved into a smile, then his teeth showed, and in the end he laughed. He was trying to keep his laughter to an acceptable level, and it showed. Of fucking course she was in a relationship with more than one person, “I see”, he finally said, taking a sip of his wine to calm himself down, “Knowing you, it wouldn’t have been any other way…”
But then, he realized something. There was something in her face briefly, like a shooting star in the night sky: it was joy, it was the fondness of memories. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone, and replaced by… hurt. Sadness. Hesiodos knew her well enough to see it, and to understand how she felt… after all, it had happened to him. When they travelled together, he often told her about past loves – not just flings, but people he did really love and cared for. Considering he was here right now, they were all gone… it still hurt him to this day. And he knew she was still hurting, as well.
“Ahh, the siren’s call of the road… that delightful wanderlust that makes us reach far and wide…”, he agreed, making some flair with his hand, although less than her. Right now, the stage was for her, so she let her act, being just a supporting character. By the end of it, he played his part, and placed a calloused hand softly on her shoulder, with a face that told her that she would receive no judgment from him.
“Ahh… love is such a wonderful thing. It is wonderful to love, isn’t it?”, he asked her with a knowing smile, “It was wonderful while it lasted. I know it. And now you have memories that will never fade… wherever you may roam, they will be there”, he raised his cup as if to a toast, “For love! For past loves, and futures, and present”, he drank heartily, “For example, you know I love you, no matter where I am. And that will never change.”