Post by Sabriyah bint Qasim al-Khalid on Nov 3, 2015 0:54:59 GMT -5
The day that started with a life-altering shock was finally winding down. The building that served as temporary home for the al-Khalid and their guests was relatively quiet, most of the household retired to their chambers for the night or seeking their entertainment elsewhere in the city itself. For the Caliph's eldest daughter, lamps burned brightly in her chamber to stave off the darkness. Sleep was not likely to come for her tonight, her mind refusing to be quiet in the wake of her father's casually delivered bombshells and the subsequent talks with her sisters.
Bashir, she suspected, needed time alone to process and reach his conclusions but he would likely seek her out with the morning to talk. For now, she had peace and solitude, taking advantage of both to begin her preparations to return to Zahran. Nabir had reluctantly agreed to travel with her, insisting that she required an appropriate escort if she was set on departing the city. They'd exchanged some heated words, yet her brother conceded when he saw the look in her eyes.
Sabriyah hated this wetlander city, this Bordelaix. It had brought her nothing but pain, anger and trouble. She hated everything about it - its scents, its oddly winding streets, the cold and inhospitable buildings and the uncomfortable furnishings. Even the food, teas and wine were different; she had not been able to secure many of the familiar spices and ingredients that her family craved, making their food bland and tasteless to their palates. It was rare for her to have an appetite these days, much to Bashir's concealed concern.
No matter. Within a week's time, she would be back in Zahran where she belonged. To that end, the trunk that conveyed her belongings to this cursed western city stood open. Sabriyah stood before it, neatly folding the bright silks denied her by the Caliph's decree and the white silks she had adopted for a time. Only the black remained for her use, laid on the window seat for her to don. Her jewels were packed already, along with the few personal items she'd thought to bring to Bordelaix. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed if one looked closely. Never had Sabriyah been so downcast or humiliated in her life.
It was time to leave this place and never return to it. She would not be moved on that point.
Inayla bint Siraj al-Faris