Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2016 16:59:44 GMT -5
Slowly, exceedingly slow in fact, Turif regained some of his forfeited liberties. These were given up grudgingly, silently, with a limited patience. He would not live confined as a true hostage, akin to a slave, in the hands of the Caliph. Ruler of their lands or not, a man and family that his tribe had sought to be loyal to in their own way, Turif was still a Rohari man. He would not be humiliated and made little, more useless than a woman even, simply for the sake of a show of strength. He kept as good a behaviour as he could manage it, though time was long and his mind wandered. Letters were one of the only things keeping him sane, as well as the curious mixture of hostages and household among the wetland holding.
Having now permission to move around the city, guarded and weaponless, Turif found it important to exercise this freedom often. He thought it unwise to remain without weapon, even if the guards would act as both his protection and his captors at once. This land was still one full of unfriendly names and ideals, and he did not wish to find himself in a dangerous situation where he - a decorated warrior - couldn’t defend himself. He kept to less populate areas for the most part, leaving the home in the earlier hours of the day before liquor was likely to lower inhibitions and where violence would be more prevalent.
For the present day, the man wanted a swim. He had half a mind of out-performing the permanent tail he kept, taking his chances at swimming further and faster, but then what? His money, his horse, his weapons, all were left behind in the villa. He had taken with him a towel, a hair brush, and a book. He might not have seemed the literate type but in his boredom he found himself reading more often than not. The library in the home was limited, but the royal library he understood to have a wealthy collection; he had not gone to check for himself but instead had a servant go.
His whereabouts were given, he was sure, to Qasim, and off he went. The weather was getting cooler, but that did not bother him yet, especially as the current day was rather humid. The walk to the river had warmed him plenty. He was silent, not seeking to chat with the men who surrounded him, loyal to their Caliph. He did not see them as his peers or as friends, despite their similar skills and mindset. He found the river side rather deserted, although there seemed to be a group enjoying a picnic further down the shore, just in sight. Deciding this was as good a place as any, he laid sat, putting his baggage beside him. He removed his shoes and socks, and rolled up the ends of his pants to expose his ankles. He would eventually go dip them in the stream.
The place he chose to settle seemed intended for the very reason he was there. There was a few benches along a path that led to a bridge just wide enough for a carriage a few paces away. This must be a well used location for those wishing to be just out of the population of the city.
Having now permission to move around the city, guarded and weaponless, Turif found it important to exercise this freedom often. He thought it unwise to remain without weapon, even if the guards would act as both his protection and his captors at once. This land was still one full of unfriendly names and ideals, and he did not wish to find himself in a dangerous situation where he - a decorated warrior - couldn’t defend himself. He kept to less populate areas for the most part, leaving the home in the earlier hours of the day before liquor was likely to lower inhibitions and where violence would be more prevalent.
For the present day, the man wanted a swim. He had half a mind of out-performing the permanent tail he kept, taking his chances at swimming further and faster, but then what? His money, his horse, his weapons, all were left behind in the villa. He had taken with him a towel, a hair brush, and a book. He might not have seemed the literate type but in his boredom he found himself reading more often than not. The library in the home was limited, but the royal library he understood to have a wealthy collection; he had not gone to check for himself but instead had a servant go.
His whereabouts were given, he was sure, to Qasim, and off he went. The weather was getting cooler, but that did not bother him yet, especially as the current day was rather humid. The walk to the river had warmed him plenty. He was silent, not seeking to chat with the men who surrounded him, loyal to their Caliph. He did not see them as his peers or as friends, despite their similar skills and mindset. He found the river side rather deserted, although there seemed to be a group enjoying a picnic further down the shore, just in sight. Deciding this was as good a place as any, he laid sat, putting his baggage beside him. He removed his shoes and socks, and rolled up the ends of his pants to expose his ankles. He would eventually go dip them in the stream.
The place he chose to settle seemed intended for the very reason he was there. There was a few benches along a path that led to a bridge just wide enough for a carriage a few paces away. This must be a well used location for those wishing to be just out of the population of the city.