Alwird w abn awa
Sept 13, 2018 2:51:17 GMT -5
Post by Kadarshi al Mahir on Sept 13, 2018 2:51:17 GMT -5
Kadarshi inhaled deeply the smoke that swirled from the incense of the temple. Heavy was the frankincense smell. The coiling smoke made his mouth dry, choking down thick saliva and palms pressed together in prayer, sitting on his knees. Bending low, forward from his knees. Kadarshi’s face touched the mosaic stone floor of the temple. Bright green, white and yellow mosaic tiles on the floor formed the shape of desert birds with white plumage, beaks and legs of yellow in the scrub brush of green trees. Golden rays of light began to sweep through slitted window and Kadar was bowed low before the serpent statue of Hajar.
Hajar the serpent god, the personification of creation. In essence, Hajar is perceived as the ultimate creator. He who not only fashioned the universe but also ‘breathed life’ into the entities populating the world. He alongside his female counterpart Zihara. Known as the father and mother god and goddess respectfully.
“hajar eazun wajal , salam albarakat li'akhbar eariin ean 'amiratin.” Hajar almighty, grant blessings for the news I bare for Amira.
The prayer request, Kadar had repeated over and over since the night before. Having fasted for the past twelve hours as he was praying. Today was the day that Amira, the most honored daughter of her father was to enter into her concubinage. Kadarshi had prayed for the young lady, offering blessings to the spirits on high.
Wrapped in silk and leather, Kadarshi picked up the sword that lay next to him on the temple floor before rising. His fingers touched his forehead in reverence to the gods. Before stepping out of the temple into the garish light of morning that had broken over the dunes of the eastern sands. Burning on golden sands the wind licked at his dark hair and the warrior and emissary made his way from the winding paths of the walled city which lead from temples through wide cobbled streets made on the backs of slave labor, branching off from the streets were smaller side streets and narrow back alleys. Many of these streets shadowed by the adobed buildings.
Kardarshi made his way to the palace of Chieftain Maalik, to the stables was Kadar headed.
“Is my horse ready?” came Kadar’s throaty voice much like the wind that blew through the back alleys of the city. Secretive and hollow sounding, laced at the edges with a primal growl that bespoke of the fury that could be unleashed. The weight of his citrine gaze was cool as it was leveled on a young eight year old boy with shoulder length chocolate brown hair and light golden amber hue eyes that was brushing one of the silvery white horses but the question was directed to the master of the stable.
“Qanungoh Shaikh Kadarshi, your horse is ready and supplied. I do caution that he is quite stubborn today” the horse master said, a clap of hands and another stable boy brought out the rabicano pattern horse. Red with a large splash of white along his sides.
“He is as is master” Kardarshi replied in kind, fluid and without hesitation he took the bridle from the young boy. His horse pawed the ground in annoyance and nipped at Kardarshi’s sleeve. Which only amused the tall warrior, a curl to his mouth as he brought his forehead to rest against the nose of the beast. Stroking the beasts’ elegant neck.
“Anxious hmm, let us take a ride. We have some business in the southern village of Qaukallih” Mounting the horse, he urged it to a slow walk through the palace courtyard, across the iron and wood inner and outside gates towards. Through the city and into the desert.
It was a two hour walk for the horse and Kadarshi was eager to travel by the early light of day before the sands grew too hot for the cloven hooves that bore him. He was acting in Maalik’ stead of meeting the young woman and her family. Carrying with him in his saddle bag, not just skein of water and dried fruit, nut and meat mixture but silver and gold for her family. A payment in exchange for their daughter.
Arriving by early mid-day to Quakallih. He inquired to which home resided the family in question. Seated inside the family home, of Saif Ikraam, citrine eyes rested on the father with at least three daughters that Kadarshi noted, his eyes would drift from face to face of the daughters as they were unveiled in their own home at their father’s request. Each one was pretty in her own right, Kadashi slightly shocked that Maalik had not paid for the trio and was only taking one of them. The oldest girl. Amira.
“Many greetings of the morning and blessings upon your family” Kadarshi’s head bowed in respect.
“Rais Maalik has sent me in his stead, I am Kadarshi al Mahir. Our Rais is busy attending affairs of rulings and requested I handle today’s transaction to my satisfaction” Kadarshi’s gaze met Jawahir Ikraam’s eyes. Pretty he noted to himself, though her lips were pressed to a tight line as if she did not agree with this.
“Will you take coffee with sugar?” Jawahir suggested, the tradition of the bridegroom to be served coffee by the bride under the direction of her mother. Was a common one in their culture and the practice had to be observed, as he was the poxy acting on Maalik’s behalf.”
“With three spoonfuls” Kadar took his coffee sweet, like his women. He did not favor the bitter dark tart liquid without cream to improve the flavor and sugar to sweeten the flavor. Coffee was robust and fragrant. While he appreciated the brown bean for what it was. Kadar did not favor it the way he did the teas which came from further south in the humid jungle climate.
Hajar the serpent god, the personification of creation. In essence, Hajar is perceived as the ultimate creator. He who not only fashioned the universe but also ‘breathed life’ into the entities populating the world. He alongside his female counterpart Zihara. Known as the father and mother god and goddess respectfully.
“hajar eazun wajal , salam albarakat li'akhbar eariin ean 'amiratin.” Hajar almighty, grant blessings for the news I bare for Amira.
The prayer request, Kadar had repeated over and over since the night before. Having fasted for the past twelve hours as he was praying. Today was the day that Amira, the most honored daughter of her father was to enter into her concubinage. Kadarshi had prayed for the young lady, offering blessings to the spirits on high.
Wrapped in silk and leather, Kadarshi picked up the sword that lay next to him on the temple floor before rising. His fingers touched his forehead in reverence to the gods. Before stepping out of the temple into the garish light of morning that had broken over the dunes of the eastern sands. Burning on golden sands the wind licked at his dark hair and the warrior and emissary made his way from the winding paths of the walled city which lead from temples through wide cobbled streets made on the backs of slave labor, branching off from the streets were smaller side streets and narrow back alleys. Many of these streets shadowed by the adobed buildings.
Kardarshi made his way to the palace of Chieftain Maalik, to the stables was Kadar headed.
“Is my horse ready?” came Kadar’s throaty voice much like the wind that blew through the back alleys of the city. Secretive and hollow sounding, laced at the edges with a primal growl that bespoke of the fury that could be unleashed. The weight of his citrine gaze was cool as it was leveled on a young eight year old boy with shoulder length chocolate brown hair and light golden amber hue eyes that was brushing one of the silvery white horses but the question was directed to the master of the stable.
“Qanungoh Shaikh Kadarshi, your horse is ready and supplied. I do caution that he is quite stubborn today” the horse master said, a clap of hands and another stable boy brought out the rabicano pattern horse. Red with a large splash of white along his sides.
“He is as is master” Kardarshi replied in kind, fluid and without hesitation he took the bridle from the young boy. His horse pawed the ground in annoyance and nipped at Kardarshi’s sleeve. Which only amused the tall warrior, a curl to his mouth as he brought his forehead to rest against the nose of the beast. Stroking the beasts’ elegant neck.
“Anxious hmm, let us take a ride. We have some business in the southern village of Qaukallih” Mounting the horse, he urged it to a slow walk through the palace courtyard, across the iron and wood inner and outside gates towards. Through the city and into the desert.
It was a two hour walk for the horse and Kadarshi was eager to travel by the early light of day before the sands grew too hot for the cloven hooves that bore him. He was acting in Maalik’ stead of meeting the young woman and her family. Carrying with him in his saddle bag, not just skein of water and dried fruit, nut and meat mixture but silver and gold for her family. A payment in exchange for their daughter.
Arriving by early mid-day to Quakallih. He inquired to which home resided the family in question. Seated inside the family home, of Saif Ikraam, citrine eyes rested on the father with at least three daughters that Kadarshi noted, his eyes would drift from face to face of the daughters as they were unveiled in their own home at their father’s request. Each one was pretty in her own right, Kadashi slightly shocked that Maalik had not paid for the trio and was only taking one of them. The oldest girl. Amira.
“Many greetings of the morning and blessings upon your family” Kadarshi’s head bowed in respect.
“Rais Maalik has sent me in his stead, I am Kadarshi al Mahir. Our Rais is busy attending affairs of rulings and requested I handle today’s transaction to my satisfaction” Kadarshi’s gaze met Jawahir Ikraam’s eyes. Pretty he noted to himself, though her lips were pressed to a tight line as if she did not agree with this.
“Will you take coffee with sugar?” Jawahir suggested, the tradition of the bridegroom to be served coffee by the bride under the direction of her mother. Was a common one in their culture and the practice had to be observed, as he was the poxy acting on Maalik’s behalf.”
“With three spoonfuls” Kadar took his coffee sweet, like his women. He did not favor the bitter dark tart liquid without cream to improve the flavor and sugar to sweeten the flavor. Coffee was robust and fragrant. While he appreciated the brown bean for what it was. Kadar did not favor it the way he did the teas which came from further south in the humid jungle climate.