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Jan 20th, 2018, 1:27pm



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 veryhotthread  Author  Topic: Oryantal Nights  (Read 1738 times)
Cydonia921
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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #30 on: Jan 23rd, 2017, 6:04pm »

The bombardment of questions made Meltem hesitate, holding her breath in anticipation. What had she to worry about with whatever answer she gave? Her intentions had been to leave with Tariyya, so there was nothing to fear. Yet a heaviness crept upon her heart, grasping it with the fingers of dread, knowing that she would be abandoning her family at this decision. Yet it was the best decision that she could do, for to stay was torture. To stay was a death sentence.

Turning her head back to them, her hands pressed against the dishes in the water, she couldn’t help but give them a hollow smile. The kind of which that hid her intentions, the smile that she had given every day during her performances. She hurt. Every day it was nothing but pain. The memories of her mother lingered on Meltem’s mind, on how she had taught her everything that Meltem knew on dancing. Oh how she longed to have that feeling once more. Home. Home. Home. It was home that she wanted, and even in this humble abode it didn’t feel as such.

“She’s expecting some sort of jewelry. Tariyya worked hard to conjure up the money to send an order almost a year ago, and she’s hoping that it wasn’t in vain and that it was coming in sometime soon.” Meltem raised an eyebrow, before chuckling as well. “Tariyya’s weird, I know, but it means a lot to her.”

At the mention of Cylosian ships having not been in port for a while, Meltem could only hope that one would come in soon. “Anyways, all I want is for everyone to be happy and live a good life. Isn’t that all that matters in these dark times?”
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yumthegreat
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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #31 on: Feb 12th, 2017, 9:24pm »

Khalil shrugged, seemingly assuaged by Meltem’s reply. He had never really gotten to know Tariyya all that well, and, while it seemed ridiculous to him that anyone in her predicament would spend time buying jewelry from some far flung Cylosian city, it was, he realized, hardly his place to criticize her. Meltem was right, he supposed. These were dark times, and in times as dark as these, why not do something ridiculous, just for the sake of some illogical enjoyment? He sighed, lost in his thoughts, staring with glazed eyes across the table as Meltem returned to the dining table.

It was not for him, he realized, to be happy, not since his mother and father had died, one of the many casualties of the vicious wars of the past. His responsibility now was to make sure his siblings lived good lives. He had failed, he thought to himself sadly. He’d failed Mulak, at the very least. The child, once, it seemed like an eternity ago, as cheerful as his older sister had become sullen, stiff, and had taken to a group of children Khalil knew were far from positive influences on him. He had spent too much time away, he thought to himself, working, trying to keep what was left of his family intact that he was losing his family to outside influences that, thanks to his schedule, now had better relationships with his little brother than he. And then there was Meltem. She, at the very least, seemed to be hanging out with a better crowd that her little brother. Tariyya, strange as she might have been, certainly wasn’t dangerous. That was not to say that Khalil did not suspect the girl was up to something, indeed, he could tell something was up, though he had no idea what, exactly, and certainly would never have guessed that when Meltem was planning was as drastic as it was. .

With an exhausted sigh and a long yawn, Khalil rose and stretched, before turning towards the only other room in the small house, bending slightly in the doorway to avoid scraping his head in the doorway. The Kushriks all slept in the same, one bedroom, sharing the half dozen ragged blankets that scattered the dusty floor amongst each other. Khalil, Mulak, and Meltem all had themselves a few blankets or fractions of blanket to share amongst themselves. With a tired wave to his two siblings, he walked over to the small pile of blankets they had on the floor, slid over to one corner, and felt himself falling asleep.
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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #32 on: Feb 13th, 2017, 11:19am »

Meltem’s sleep was riddled with constant waking up that night. The thought of what was to come both enticed her but kept her dreading the moment. What was she to do when she boarded the ship? She knew that the ship would leave the harbor, but then what? Would she go to Cylos, where the empire’s vast wealth had been pouring out of the people’s coffers? Or would her eyes lay sight on a new land, where she could make a name for herself. Either way, the excitement had bubbled out as she laid there in her blanket. Then, the crying began. She made sure that no one had been awake in that late hour, where the sound of the Canissaraes walking past, their boots making sharp taps on the cobblestone street, as she silently wept to herself. She was going to miss her brothers for sure. Perhaps she may even miss Unbekz to a lesser extent. But this was a necessary evil that she had to take. To survive, to stay alive, this is what she had to go through.

The next morning found Meltem in a better mood than the night before. Dressing in the flashier attire that she could muster, the Oryantal heard the little clicks of coins tapping against one another as she practiced a few moves before they left. The gleaming copper pieces, completely worthless for currency, bounced along her sash, not a single one out of place. She made sure that her sandals were pliable, and that her top had been snug against her petite chest. Although she didn’t have too much of the flashier attire as she would have hoped, this would have to do.

Once sunrise came, as Meltem tended to wake up earlier, she awoke Mulak and together they exited the home. She took the small, woven basket that sat beside her bed, using it as a sort of coin collection for her performances. The streets near their home had been littered with several newspapers, which the few adults in this town read. She knew that it had been littered with revolutionary statements, and how Khalil would pick one up from time to time to keep an eye on the state of things. It was a sign of the times, the drastic changes that awaited the nation in the coming years. Shouts for freedom, for the Sultan to do his work instead of cowering in the palace was commonplace. Even amongst most of the orphans this was incredibly common for some of them to shout at the Canissaraes, the royal soldiers of the Sultan.

Their walk was silent, as Meltem didn’t want to be targeted for her fancy getup. Their eyes gazed up and down the alleyways, making sure that there weren’t any lecherous individuals that may take advantage of them. Soon, they arrived at the bakery, the same one that had been a somewhat saving grace for the orphans. Despite the financial situation of the economy, the baker, who the kids referred to as ‘Yum’ because his bread was delicious, would often hand out free food for those in need. They also had no idea what his real name was, for he never told anyone. Meltem and Mulak, though, wasn’t usually on his list of kids that he would help. They proved to be a nuisance, with Meltem being conniving enough to try to steal some bread out from underneath his nose, and with Mulak’s gang that bully him into handing out bread whenever they felt like it. It had been an interesting dynamic to say the least.

Meltem made a small sigh, placing the basket beside the wall. “Well Mulak, are you ready to make some money at least?” she asked her brother endearingly, feeling exhilirated that she could perform, but also ashamed that she had to use such means in order to get what little money was possible.
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yumthegreat
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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #33 on: Mar 13th, 2017, 8:59pm »

Mulak awoke wordlessly, giving his older sister only his customary scowl before sitting up, and rubbing his eyes. He rose, dressed in his usual attire, nothing nearly as gaudy as the coin-covered mess his sister was currently dressed in, and followed her out of the house. The streets were quiet, it seemed it was still to early for much of Unbekz, though the sun had already risen. He trod over the papers fluttering on the dirt, paying them no heed. He was familiar with the revolutionaries, as they liked to call themselves, with their flowery language and talk of freedom and independence. It was silly. He, and the rest of his gang, didn’t care what the style of government was, or whatever it was the revolutionaries called for. All they wanted was food.

Soon they had arrived the Bakery itself. Mulak sighed, looking the street over. The closest bakery to their house existed on an intersection between two roads, one of them the straight, paved royal road, part of a system connecting the Palace at the center of town to each of Unbekz’s gates, the other simply a dusty alleyway linking to their own neighborhood. Mulak scowled at the building, far larger and far nicer than the family home, if it could even be called that. It was a luxurious, two story house, made of a sand colored stone. The first story was open, a wide doorway for the wealthier residents of the poor neighborhood to clamor for their daily bread. It was still early, so only a few people wandered into the stall, yawning as they tossed the few gold coins their meal cost. He could not see the Baker himself just yet, but he knew where he was, concealed behind a counter, shrouded in shadow from where they stood. The second story was the opposite of the first, short and secretive, with tiny, circular windows carved into the sides at odd intervals. It was a strange house, Mulak supposed, certainly nowhere near as lavish as the homes of the wealthy traders by the docks, and nowhere near what the Sultan’s Palace was like, but he still despised it. The bakery had become something of a symbol, to him and his friends, of everything that was wrong with Oryan, that, while bread might have been available, that it wasn’t for them, and for much of the city of Unbekz.

Mulak was, he had to admit, quite unsure of Meltem’s plan. The Baker himself might have had money to spare, but most of the people who visited this Baker in particular were not particularly wealthy. Then again, he realized, the bakeries in more wealthy neighborhoods wouldn’t allow some poor girl to start begging on the side of the road. Outside the Baker’s was probably a kind of middle ground, where people wealthy enough to be able to give and poor enough to bother kicking her out.

Mulak turned to Meltem, and found he couldn’t help but smile, if faintly, at his sister’s cheerful face. He stepped away from her, leaning against the wall of a nearby building, slouching slightly, ready to intervene if anything went wrong, but hoping to simply enjoy the show his sister was about to put on.
« Last Edit: Mar 13th, 2017, 9:55pm by yumthegreat » User IP Logged

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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #34 on: Jun 1st, 2017, 10:38am »

The baker himself had made an appearance at one of the windows. His dark complexion always made the kids wonder if he had been either a Keverian or a nomad from the north, but he never talked to anyone if it wasn’t business-related. He was short, clad in an apron and constantly having flour stuck to his face and clumps of it seen in his bushy hairstyle from time to time. When he rarely spoke to himself, no one could seem to understand him. The children of Unbekz said that he was either someone from very far away, or that he was just an idiot.

Meltem didn’t pay him any heed though, seeing him glance out the window towards them, but not bothering to shoo them away. It made her more at ease to know that they could safely perform here, in this corner of Unbekz where the wealthy and the poor congregated. She knew that, later on in the day, it’d get more packed with desperate people clamoring for food, but she only needed to be here for a little while.

Again her hands made sure that the outfit was correctly positioned so. The sash with the copper coins jingled when she moved it, and the modest top hugged her, along with the pants she wore being enough to show her ankles. She admittedly enjoyed doing performances like these, finding them to be entertaining for her and an effective way to whittle away the time.

Her feet treaded on the cobbled streets, finding their footing as she began a gentle pose. Meltem shut her eyes, taking this moment to remember her mother as well. Her raven hair flowed in the gentle breeze of the ocean, the coolness of the wind caressing her, easing her into this performance. Arms lifted upwards, she did a few practice poses. A shimmy, a few leg movements, trying to get a feel for how she wanted to dance today.

It wasn’t long before Meltem had struck a groove. A rhythm that she felt comfortable with today. It wasn’t an extremely flamboyant dance like some would do, but it hadn’t been the most modest either. She moved from one side of the street to the other, attracting the attention of other people when they would come by. Some of them gave generous amounts, others gave very little, but one thing had been certain: Meltem was making quite a bit of money from this performance.

By noon, when Meltem could barely move anymore from the energy she expended, the basket that they brought with them had nearly two pounds of coin, the most that she had ever seen in one place. Her heart rose, and a giddy squeal escaped her. Quickly, she ran over to Mulak, shoving the basket into his hand.

“Look at how much money I made today!” Meltem exclaimed, a wide, innocent grin appearing on her face. She did seem quite happy, as some onlookers noticed, including a few of the Çanissaraes that were on patrol at that moment. “What should we get today? Oh, bread and veggies sounds wonderful! Or, oh! How about some fruits? Gosh, we can eat really well tonight, huh?”
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2. I will do vore.
3. I'm fine with M/F; F/F; M/M.
4. Always up for interesting and unique ideas!
yumthegreat
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xx Re: Oryantal Nights
« Reply #35 on: Jun 29th, 2017, 10:11pm »

While his sister had stood by the street corner and danced to her heart’s contents, Mulak had set himself up on the opposite side of the street, just far enough away to not obstruct her dancing, but close enough to be able step in should anyone try to hurt his sister. He shot a glance upwards, where the mysterious silhouette of the baker appeared only momentarily, as if alerted to their presence on the street. He sensed his eyes on him, and stared back, though he couldn’t tell for sure if the man was truly looking at him or even if they were making eye contact. The moment passed, the curtains shut, and Mulak paid the man no heed. As long as he didn’t give Meltem any trouble, Mulak wouldn’t give him any trouble.

Although Meltem spent some four or so hours on the street corner, dancing in whatever way suited her fancy, Mulak found that time went by quite quickly. He scrutinized the people walking up and down the narrow, dusty streets of Unbekz. The rabble of the city were hardly in much position to help others, but, much to his pleasure, they were willing to give whatever they could spare. Mothers would clutch at their children’s shoulders, slipping small copper coins into their palms for them to pass on to Meltem. who nodded courteously with each clink of copper in the basket. However, the vast majority of passesrsby paid Meltem no heed, their gaze locking onto the doors of the bakery, determinedly avoiding looking at her as they made their way past her. Once that morning one of the wide carriages of an Oryantal minister passed by, and the whole street was forced to clear in the face of the huge horses and the wide wheels. Mulak glared at the ornate box transporting some fat vizier to the palace, and thought momentarily of going after it. If he could tear off just one of the ornate golden flowers patterned across the back of the carriage, he could feed their family for much longer than Meltem’s dancing ever could. But then the two thick built Çannisarae guards on their armored steeds rode past, and he knew it would be foolish to even try.

Not long after the carriage passed, Meltem stopped dancing, smiling widely. Pleased with herself, she bent over and scooped up the basket, before hurrying over to Mulak, with a smile so infectious even the usually dour Mulak couldn’t help but grin with her. He reached out, ruffling Meltem’s hair affectionately.
“You did great Meltem, now, let’s hurry home.” Mulak had noticed a few people watching her now that that she’d stopped dancing. There were a few poor Oryantals who had drifted over from some other street, and a pair of Çannisaraes ambling through what they laughably called ‘patrol’. Glancing up, he noticed that even the baker had opened his curtains wide enough to stare through at him. He glared at all of them, trying to be as menacing as a child his age could be, before taking Meltem by the shoulder and gently, but firmly, leading her up the way, promising “Yes, we’ll eat very well, I’ll take you to the market this afternoon to get whatever you like.”
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