Dueljewl: Gomen nasi mina-san! I can't believe it took so long to update!
Before you throw rocks, let me say that my Internet was seriously screwed
up so I had to retype this entire fic on a different computer and I only
get to use the Internet occasionally. I really will try not to have such a
lag between up dates, but I can't promise anything at the moment.
Reviews! I feel so loved! People actually like this fic. Thank you to all of my spiffy reviewers, you guys are the best!
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Bakura ground his teeth together as he gazed ahead firmly, a useless attempt to force himself into some semblance of calm. The girl sat on a rock in the middle of the deserted, sandy area; arms folded across her chest stubbornly and head turned up with her nose in the air. She refused to acknowledge his presence or the fact that she had been kidnapped from the temple for that matter. The whole ordeal was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth, in his eyes. Thinking fleetingly of the opportunity he had had to slit her throat, he stalked over to her, growing impatient with her childish behavior.
"Whether you like it or not, girl, I'm in charge now." He snapped, breaking the three-minute silence. "I'll ask you one more time, and then I stop being pleasant
She turned her head slightly, regarding him from narrowed, violet eyes. "This is pleasant?"
"On a good day, yes."
"Well then, I'd hate to see you on a bad day
"Keep it up and you'll know soon enough." He growled, advancing still further until he was less than two feet of her
"I'm so scared." She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You should be, girl. I've frightened men twice your size who've committed crimes far worse than any of mine."
She sniffed dubiously and turned her head away from him once more, her eyes fixed on the clear, dark blue sky of early morning. Having had enough with meaningless attempts at pleasantness, Bakura seized her slim shoulders in his hands, dragging her upwards till she stood to her full height. Her mouth fell open as she gaped at him, struggling within his grasp in a futile attempt to break free. He waited till she was done, holding on with more than al little effort. She slowed after a few minutes, twisting only every now and then as she came too accept the fact that he wasn't about to let go, despite her wild thrashing.
"Now, would you lie to answer my question and tell me your name? Unless you'd rather I called you girl all the time."
She glared up at him, seeming to be struggling with whether to answer him or not. Biting her lower lip, her eyes closed as she drooped in his hands, head down cast.
"Lyanna." She mumbled, the lone word barely comprehensible
"What was that?" he asked, feigning not to have heard. It wouldn't hurt to toy with her just a little.
"Lyanna!" she snapped, jerking her head up violently and almost knocking him in the chin.
"See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He grinned down at her sulky scowl, releasing her to fall back to hr rocky perch.
Turning away from her, he paced in a five-foot circle about her stone, every now and then changing direction. What was he supposed to do with a girl who seemed to believe she was related to the Pharaoh? It was a possibility, he admitted grudgingly, however slim it might be. Her clothes certainly were fine enough. The dress was a thin, gauzy silk that clung to her body in a most interesting fashion, showing nothing and hinting at everything, just barely opaque.
Lyanna she had said her name was. Bakura had never been one to keep track of the rulers of the world, especially the ones of Egypt. His face twisted momentarily as he thought of the Pharaoh, but then it had passed, his face once more unreadable. He vaguely recalled the current Pharaoh's sibling as a girl, her name something along the lines of 'Leah'.
"Wha--what do you mean to .do with me." She asked haltingly.
Bakura ceased his pacing, turning his head just enough to gaze at her through slanted brown eyes. Her skin, like burnished copper, shown in the weak rays of early morning, dark black hair tangled about her face. He thought momentarily over the question, his brows drawing together.
"Depending upon how valuable you turn out to be, who knows? Your worth may turn out to be too great to do anything, as of yet."
Her eyes widened at his words, eyebrows seeming to be trying to climb into her hairline. "My worth?"
One pale eyebrow arched as Bakura regarded her, turning to face her fully. "If you really are who you say you are, I couldn't just turn you over to some drunken old man with no more need than a young girl to entertain him, now could I? Your brother -- if he is your brother -- has several enemies out there, more than he'll ever know of. Some would pay a heavy blood price to gain such a leverage over him."
Her pale amethyst eyes flashed angrily as se jumped from the rock, storming to just in front of him. She came only to his chin, forcing her to lift her neck upward to meet him gaze for gaze.
"You wouldn't dare!" she shouted, her eyes betraying the confidence of her voice.
Bakura grinned, gaining length at the offended set to her features. "For the right price, I'd sell you to the Roman Caesar."
Her eyes enlarged momentarily, returning to their normal size almost instantly. She ducked her head, breaking the eye contact she had so persistently held only second earlier. Frowning at the display, Bakura crossed his arms over his chest considering her with an appraising eye.
"Unless you would rather the harem," Bakura began, pleased to see her look up fearfully, "I suggest you behave. I'll not have you ruin another perfectly good heist like you did the other night."
Bakura grimaced, the gold necklace a welcome weight in the pocket of is open robe. Unfortunately, that had been the only thin he had managed to obtain. The jewels inlaid in the gold would fetch a fair enough price, the gold even better, but unlike most of his robberies, he would be unable to actually keep any of what his hands had so carefully taken.
"Now that that's settled, I believe I have a. friend . who might be able to give me some provisions and added help."
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Yami's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he regarded the messenger before him once more. The news had come in he middle of the night when Lyanna had not been seen entering her rooms or found anywhere on the palace grounds. Hair still disheveled from waking to the urgent voices of one of his priests -- Isis, he believed it had been -- he had yet to find time to dress properly. The kilt he wore was hastily donned, precariously wrapped at the side of his waist.
"And you mean to tell me that no one -- not a single person in the entire palace! -- saw Lyanna after sundown?" Yami's voice held a note of quite harshness, not unmissed by the messenger.
The man swallowed nervously, sweat trickling down his darkly colored brow. He nodded, unable to get the words out at first.
"She was last seen heading away from the palace, but where no one knows. She refused to take any of the guards with her or even a slave, demanding to be left alone." He hesitated, unsure of whether to continue or not. The gaze of the Pharaoh flashed somehow knowing he was holding something back. "She . she da-dared one of th-the guards to tr-try and s-stop her." He stuttered, gazing anxiously towards Yami.
Yami swore under his breath, knowing the story for truth. Lyanna would do such a thing, if only to annoy him n some small way. She should have told him where she was going! Now she was Ra alone knew where with no protection. Images flashing before his eyes of what could be happening t her, his hands shook as he grasped a goblet of untouched, chilled wine in both hands.
"You are dismissed." He murmured, unseeing of anything in front of him. Distantly he heard a relieved sigh followed by the hurried steps of the messenger departing.
Lyanna was all he had left, really. He had protected her the best he could, but he was unsure of what brotherly roles exactly he was supposed to be fulfilling. The marriage had seemed the best thing at the time; perhaps in Rome she would be safer than here, in Egypt, where so may plotted for some way to gain power of their own and were willing to go to any means necessary to get what they wanted.
His eyes closed as thoughts of the Roman envoy that was to come tomorrow crashed down. They would not be happy to find they had come all the way from their homeland only to have their profit from the contract missing.
Brushing the matter aside -- Rome be damned for all he cared -- Yami strode across the antechamber to his suite or rooms to find the rest of his advisors and priests. Heads would roll if he found someone had harmed his little Lyanna.
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Lyanna grimaced as the camel Bakura had 'liberated', as he put it, continued to bounce her around uncomfortably. Camels, she had found, were not comfortable to ride unless you had grown use to their odd gait. For what seemed the hundredth time she thought longingly of the feather stuffed cushions that decorated her rooms back in the place. She was rudely brought back to the present as the ungodly beast lurched forward in a sudden burst of energy.
Squinting under the thick, woolen material Bakura had used to blindfold her, Lyanna tried once more to move it by rubbing her face against her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Again.
"If you don't loosen your hold you're going to squeeze me in two." Bakura snapped grumpily.
Grinning, she tightened her grip around his waist, some of the fabric of his robe falling between her arm and his stomach. He always wore it wide open, she had found, displaying a well-defined chest and a knee length kilt, much like the one Yami wore, but not so finely made. In response to her action, Bakura dug a well-placed elbow into her side, just below the ribs. With a yelp she loosened the hold, but only slightly; after all, he deserved some discomfort for kidnapping her.
Smiling once more, Lyanna opened her mouth to reiterate what had become her favorite sentence.
"Are we there yet?" she whined. She felt him tense with more than just a little satisfaction. It appeared that Bakura could not stand whiners, and was quick to yell whenever she began.
"No, we're not." He replied through gritted teeth, the effort of not doing more showing in the strain of his voice.
"Are we -- "
"If you ask that damn question one more time, I swear by the seven regions of hell that I won't wait to see what you're worth and strangle you myself!"
She swallowed as she felt Bakura turned around to face her. Unable to see him as she was, she could still feel his intense gaze eating through the cloth. Nodding slowly as he twisted back around, she loosened her hold on him till she was barely touching him at all, just to be safe.
A few minutes passed in silence, Bakura tightening and loosening his hold on the reins, thinking of them as Lyanna's neck, and Lyanna brooding in her own thoughts. Growing impatient, she decided to push her luck.
"So, who is this friend that you're taking me to?" she questioned, having nothing better to do. Unable to see any of the scenery, there was little to entertain her with. Staring at black got really old, really fast.
"I wouldn't exactly call him a 'friend' " Bakura began slowly, "so much as someone who owes me a rather large favor."
"How nice." Lyanna muttered dryly. "I've been kidnapped by a second rate tomb robber who's relying on a favor. Isn't this just wonderful."
"I'd watch who I called second rate, if I were you, Princess. There's a brothel not far off from where we're headed and I'm sure they could use a new addition. Especially one who's untried, as I assume you are."
Lyanna shivered, the brief flash of anger subdued as she remembered seeing some of the girls for the same purpose around the palace. She had only seen them long enough to see large black and purple bruises forming on arms or legs or face, marring whatever beauty they might have possessed.
Subdued at last, Lyanna hung onto Bakura limply, shifting every now and then in a vain attempt at finding a more comfortable position. As the sun continued it's journey upwards, the heat intensified, making runnels of sweat stream down Lyanna's face.
Unfortunately, the sweat made the blindfold wet. Coarse wool is never the most comfortable of things to have rubbing against your skin, let alone when it's damp. Scrunching her face up, trying desperately to ignore the steadily growing need to scratch her nose, Lyanna tried rubbing her face against her arm once more, not trying to remove it but to simply shift it in some way. Twisting the best she could and still hang on to Bakura, Lyanna slowly slid to the left, despite her efforts to right herself and rub her face at the same time.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bakura demanded. His voice was that of an adult annoyed with a child.
A flush crept into Lyanna's face as she slipped further yet, grab at Bakura's waist though she did.
"Do you mind helping?" she snapped.
Lyanna felt him turn in his seat in the high pomelled saddle, holding the reins with one hand while grabbing Lyanna by the hips and yanking her upwards. Never mind the fact that such an act included manhandling her. Or that Lyanna's face was completely red with mixed embarrassment and anger at being touched in such a demeaning fashion.
"What the hell were you doing?" he demanded once more, gripping her wrist tightly in one hand.
The camel had stopped, she noticed, for which she was only partially grateful. The grip tightened and he twisted till pain shot up her forearm. Lyanna bit her lip as tears stung her eyes, threatening to add their moisture to the material around her head. She wouldn't cry out, not in front o f him; his satisfaction would be too much if he knew he could hurt her, make her beg for him to stop.
"Stubborn little brat, you are."
He clucked his tongue, heeling the camel into motion, setting a ground eating pace. Lyanna glowered on the back of the beast, touching Bakura as little as possible. Leaving her injured arm free of him, she flexed the wrist, gradually working it till the knot of pain was little more than a dull throb, flaring only when she extended the fingers too far or rotated her hand too fast.
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The rest of the trip went past in silence, neither in the mood to deal with the others current disposition. Lyanna spent the time in sullen thought, while Bakura watched the surrounding area with wary eyes. Slowing signs of civilization began creeping into view, the buildings circling 'round a cluster of plaster buildings delegated to worship of the gods and goddesses popular in this part of the land. Spiraling out, the buildings got steadily shabbier, the outskirts hardly deserving the name. None were above one story, made of sun dried clay that was found in vast supply so close to the Nile.
Bakura reached back, tugging in a certain spot so the blindfold fell away as if never tied in place. Lyanna was left blinking furiously as the light suddenly changed from a dank gray to noonday brightness, heightened by the reflection of the surrounding sand. Heeling the camel into a fast trot, Bakura grimaced as the girls' arms tightened once more around his battered waist.
It should be around here somewhere . there. The jumbled streets of the small town made it impossible to find any one building without an extended period of time wasted is search, sometimes given up for a lost cause, if one did not know the town well.
Sliding off the saddle, Bakura grasped the reins in one hand, turning to impart a curt "stay" to Lyanna. She sniffed, opening her mouth as if she meant to say something and the then closing it once more as she jerked the wrist he had twisted earlier. Pulling the beast along. He headed for the plain, smallish building much like its' counterparts in almost every way, save that this one was even more ran down than most.
He got as far as the door before an angry squawk made him turn slightly back the way he had come. Lyanna was scrambling from the saddle, both legs on one side of the saddle as she slid down on her belly. Not a comfortable situation from that height, in a dress, from the back of a camel. Bakura's eyes narrowed as she walked towards him stiffly, obviously sore from her da in a saddle.
"I thought I told you to stay."
Her head lifted to were it looked as if she meant to stare down her nose at him, dampened slightly by the height difference. "I will not remain behind while I'm being discussed like grain at market."
Hesitating briefly, Bakura nodded to the girl, motioning for her to stay beside him. "You speak only when I tell you and say only what I tell you. Otherwise I'll bundle you up for the slave auctions."
Ignoring her glare, Bakura turned to enter the small tavern. The building had little trade save the locals who needed to drown some misery or another in a cup of watered beer, the nearby crops of barely an excellent supply. The front room was filled with smoke, the patrons laughing rowdily or making coarse jokes with one another. The sound died down briefly as the two entered, only to resume once more with a few hollered suggestions to Lyanna.
Bakura watched as her hand s tightened on her skirts to a white-knuckled grip, face darkening as one particular drunkard decided he'd be cute and throw her a coin, in hopes of a little attention later. Catching the coin out of the air, Bakura tucked it into a small pocket inside his robes, shooting a glance in the direction it had came. Needless to say, the shouts stopped as the customers returned to each other, and safer subjects.
Scanning the room, Bakura's eyes stopped on the familiar head of Cail, swirling his drink with a dirty finger. Pulling Lyanna along behind him, he crossed to Cail, placing both hands on the table and leaning forwards, so that his face was just in front of the other mans'.
"Cail, h -"
That was as far as he got before Cail backward in his chair, screaming.
Dueljewl: So . that's the end of that chappie. Did ya like it? It might have dragged along in places, but . yeah. I blame the caffeine deprivation. Once again, I am soooo sorry about the long wait between updates.
Reviews! I feel so loved! People actually like this fic. Thank you to all of my spiffy reviewers, you guys are the best!
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Bakura ground his teeth together as he gazed ahead firmly, a useless attempt to force himself into some semblance of calm. The girl sat on a rock in the middle of the deserted, sandy area; arms folded across her chest stubbornly and head turned up with her nose in the air. She refused to acknowledge his presence or the fact that she had been kidnapped from the temple for that matter. The whole ordeal was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth, in his eyes. Thinking fleetingly of the opportunity he had had to slit her throat, he stalked over to her, growing impatient with her childish behavior.
"Whether you like it or not, girl, I'm in charge now." He snapped, breaking the three-minute silence. "I'll ask you one more time, and then I stop being pleasant
She turned her head slightly, regarding him from narrowed, violet eyes. "This is pleasant?"
"On a good day, yes."
"Well then, I'd hate to see you on a bad day
"Keep it up and you'll know soon enough." He growled, advancing still further until he was less than two feet of her
"I'm so scared." She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You should be, girl. I've frightened men twice your size who've committed crimes far worse than any of mine."
She sniffed dubiously and turned her head away from him once more, her eyes fixed on the clear, dark blue sky of early morning. Having had enough with meaningless attempts at pleasantness, Bakura seized her slim shoulders in his hands, dragging her upwards till she stood to her full height. Her mouth fell open as she gaped at him, struggling within his grasp in a futile attempt to break free. He waited till she was done, holding on with more than al little effort. She slowed after a few minutes, twisting only every now and then as she came too accept the fact that he wasn't about to let go, despite her wild thrashing.
"Now, would you lie to answer my question and tell me your name? Unless you'd rather I called you girl all the time."
She glared up at him, seeming to be struggling with whether to answer him or not. Biting her lower lip, her eyes closed as she drooped in his hands, head down cast.
"Lyanna." She mumbled, the lone word barely comprehensible
"What was that?" he asked, feigning not to have heard. It wouldn't hurt to toy with her just a little.
"Lyanna!" she snapped, jerking her head up violently and almost knocking him in the chin.
"See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He grinned down at her sulky scowl, releasing her to fall back to hr rocky perch.
Turning away from her, he paced in a five-foot circle about her stone, every now and then changing direction. What was he supposed to do with a girl who seemed to believe she was related to the Pharaoh? It was a possibility, he admitted grudgingly, however slim it might be. Her clothes certainly were fine enough. The dress was a thin, gauzy silk that clung to her body in a most interesting fashion, showing nothing and hinting at everything, just barely opaque.
Lyanna she had said her name was. Bakura had never been one to keep track of the rulers of the world, especially the ones of Egypt. His face twisted momentarily as he thought of the Pharaoh, but then it had passed, his face once more unreadable. He vaguely recalled the current Pharaoh's sibling as a girl, her name something along the lines of 'Leah'.
"Wha--what do you mean to .do with me." She asked haltingly.
Bakura ceased his pacing, turning his head just enough to gaze at her through slanted brown eyes. Her skin, like burnished copper, shown in the weak rays of early morning, dark black hair tangled about her face. He thought momentarily over the question, his brows drawing together.
"Depending upon how valuable you turn out to be, who knows? Your worth may turn out to be too great to do anything, as of yet."
Her eyes widened at his words, eyebrows seeming to be trying to climb into her hairline. "My worth?"
One pale eyebrow arched as Bakura regarded her, turning to face her fully. "If you really are who you say you are, I couldn't just turn you over to some drunken old man with no more need than a young girl to entertain him, now could I? Your brother -- if he is your brother -- has several enemies out there, more than he'll ever know of. Some would pay a heavy blood price to gain such a leverage over him."
Her pale amethyst eyes flashed angrily as se jumped from the rock, storming to just in front of him. She came only to his chin, forcing her to lift her neck upward to meet him gaze for gaze.
"You wouldn't dare!" she shouted, her eyes betraying the confidence of her voice.
Bakura grinned, gaining length at the offended set to her features. "For the right price, I'd sell you to the Roman Caesar."
Her eyes enlarged momentarily, returning to their normal size almost instantly. She ducked her head, breaking the eye contact she had so persistently held only second earlier. Frowning at the display, Bakura crossed his arms over his chest considering her with an appraising eye.
"Unless you would rather the harem," Bakura began, pleased to see her look up fearfully, "I suggest you behave. I'll not have you ruin another perfectly good heist like you did the other night."
Bakura grimaced, the gold necklace a welcome weight in the pocket of is open robe. Unfortunately, that had been the only thin he had managed to obtain. The jewels inlaid in the gold would fetch a fair enough price, the gold even better, but unlike most of his robberies, he would be unable to actually keep any of what his hands had so carefully taken.
"Now that that's settled, I believe I have a. friend . who might be able to give me some provisions and added help."
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Yami's crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as he regarded the messenger before him once more. The news had come in he middle of the night when Lyanna had not been seen entering her rooms or found anywhere on the palace grounds. Hair still disheveled from waking to the urgent voices of one of his priests -- Isis, he believed it had been -- he had yet to find time to dress properly. The kilt he wore was hastily donned, precariously wrapped at the side of his waist.
"And you mean to tell me that no one -- not a single person in the entire palace! -- saw Lyanna after sundown?" Yami's voice held a note of quite harshness, not unmissed by the messenger.
The man swallowed nervously, sweat trickling down his darkly colored brow. He nodded, unable to get the words out at first.
"She was last seen heading away from the palace, but where no one knows. She refused to take any of the guards with her or even a slave, demanding to be left alone." He hesitated, unsure of whether to continue or not. The gaze of the Pharaoh flashed somehow knowing he was holding something back. "She . she da-dared one of th-the guards to tr-try and s-stop her." He stuttered, gazing anxiously towards Yami.
Yami swore under his breath, knowing the story for truth. Lyanna would do such a thing, if only to annoy him n some small way. She should have told him where she was going! Now she was Ra alone knew where with no protection. Images flashing before his eyes of what could be happening t her, his hands shook as he grasped a goblet of untouched, chilled wine in both hands.
"You are dismissed." He murmured, unseeing of anything in front of him. Distantly he heard a relieved sigh followed by the hurried steps of the messenger departing.
Lyanna was all he had left, really. He had protected her the best he could, but he was unsure of what brotherly roles exactly he was supposed to be fulfilling. The marriage had seemed the best thing at the time; perhaps in Rome she would be safer than here, in Egypt, where so may plotted for some way to gain power of their own and were willing to go to any means necessary to get what they wanted.
His eyes closed as thoughts of the Roman envoy that was to come tomorrow crashed down. They would not be happy to find they had come all the way from their homeland only to have their profit from the contract missing.
Brushing the matter aside -- Rome be damned for all he cared -- Yami strode across the antechamber to his suite or rooms to find the rest of his advisors and priests. Heads would roll if he found someone had harmed his little Lyanna.
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Lyanna grimaced as the camel Bakura had 'liberated', as he put it, continued to bounce her around uncomfortably. Camels, she had found, were not comfortable to ride unless you had grown use to their odd gait. For what seemed the hundredth time she thought longingly of the feather stuffed cushions that decorated her rooms back in the place. She was rudely brought back to the present as the ungodly beast lurched forward in a sudden burst of energy.
Squinting under the thick, woolen material Bakura had used to blindfold her, Lyanna tried once more to move it by rubbing her face against her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Again.
"If you don't loosen your hold you're going to squeeze me in two." Bakura snapped grumpily.
Grinning, she tightened her grip around his waist, some of the fabric of his robe falling between her arm and his stomach. He always wore it wide open, she had found, displaying a well-defined chest and a knee length kilt, much like the one Yami wore, but not so finely made. In response to her action, Bakura dug a well-placed elbow into her side, just below the ribs. With a yelp she loosened the hold, but only slightly; after all, he deserved some discomfort for kidnapping her.
Smiling once more, Lyanna opened her mouth to reiterate what had become her favorite sentence.
"Are we there yet?" she whined. She felt him tense with more than just a little satisfaction. It appeared that Bakura could not stand whiners, and was quick to yell whenever she began.
"No, we're not." He replied through gritted teeth, the effort of not doing more showing in the strain of his voice.
"Are we -- "
"If you ask that damn question one more time, I swear by the seven regions of hell that I won't wait to see what you're worth and strangle you myself!"
She swallowed as she felt Bakura turned around to face her. Unable to see him as she was, she could still feel his intense gaze eating through the cloth. Nodding slowly as he twisted back around, she loosened her hold on him till she was barely touching him at all, just to be safe.
A few minutes passed in silence, Bakura tightening and loosening his hold on the reins, thinking of them as Lyanna's neck, and Lyanna brooding in her own thoughts. Growing impatient, she decided to push her luck.
"So, who is this friend that you're taking me to?" she questioned, having nothing better to do. Unable to see any of the scenery, there was little to entertain her with. Staring at black got really old, really fast.
"I wouldn't exactly call him a 'friend' " Bakura began slowly, "so much as someone who owes me a rather large favor."
"How nice." Lyanna muttered dryly. "I've been kidnapped by a second rate tomb robber who's relying on a favor. Isn't this just wonderful."
"I'd watch who I called second rate, if I were you, Princess. There's a brothel not far off from where we're headed and I'm sure they could use a new addition. Especially one who's untried, as I assume you are."
Lyanna shivered, the brief flash of anger subdued as she remembered seeing some of the girls for the same purpose around the palace. She had only seen them long enough to see large black and purple bruises forming on arms or legs or face, marring whatever beauty they might have possessed.
Subdued at last, Lyanna hung onto Bakura limply, shifting every now and then in a vain attempt at finding a more comfortable position. As the sun continued it's journey upwards, the heat intensified, making runnels of sweat stream down Lyanna's face.
Unfortunately, the sweat made the blindfold wet. Coarse wool is never the most comfortable of things to have rubbing against your skin, let alone when it's damp. Scrunching her face up, trying desperately to ignore the steadily growing need to scratch her nose, Lyanna tried rubbing her face against her arm once more, not trying to remove it but to simply shift it in some way. Twisting the best she could and still hang on to Bakura, Lyanna slowly slid to the left, despite her efforts to right herself and rub her face at the same time.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bakura demanded. His voice was that of an adult annoyed with a child.
A flush crept into Lyanna's face as she slipped further yet, grab at Bakura's waist though she did.
"Do you mind helping?" she snapped.
Lyanna felt him turn in his seat in the high pomelled saddle, holding the reins with one hand while grabbing Lyanna by the hips and yanking her upwards. Never mind the fact that such an act included manhandling her. Or that Lyanna's face was completely red with mixed embarrassment and anger at being touched in such a demeaning fashion.
"What the hell were you doing?" he demanded once more, gripping her wrist tightly in one hand.
The camel had stopped, she noticed, for which she was only partially grateful. The grip tightened and he twisted till pain shot up her forearm. Lyanna bit her lip as tears stung her eyes, threatening to add their moisture to the material around her head. She wouldn't cry out, not in front o f him; his satisfaction would be too much if he knew he could hurt her, make her beg for him to stop.
"Stubborn little brat, you are."
He clucked his tongue, heeling the camel into motion, setting a ground eating pace. Lyanna glowered on the back of the beast, touching Bakura as little as possible. Leaving her injured arm free of him, she flexed the wrist, gradually working it till the knot of pain was little more than a dull throb, flaring only when she extended the fingers too far or rotated her hand too fast.
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The rest of the trip went past in silence, neither in the mood to deal with the others current disposition. Lyanna spent the time in sullen thought, while Bakura watched the surrounding area with wary eyes. Slowing signs of civilization began creeping into view, the buildings circling 'round a cluster of plaster buildings delegated to worship of the gods and goddesses popular in this part of the land. Spiraling out, the buildings got steadily shabbier, the outskirts hardly deserving the name. None were above one story, made of sun dried clay that was found in vast supply so close to the Nile.
Bakura reached back, tugging in a certain spot so the blindfold fell away as if never tied in place. Lyanna was left blinking furiously as the light suddenly changed from a dank gray to noonday brightness, heightened by the reflection of the surrounding sand. Heeling the camel into a fast trot, Bakura grimaced as the girls' arms tightened once more around his battered waist.
It should be around here somewhere . there. The jumbled streets of the small town made it impossible to find any one building without an extended period of time wasted is search, sometimes given up for a lost cause, if one did not know the town well.
Sliding off the saddle, Bakura grasped the reins in one hand, turning to impart a curt "stay" to Lyanna. She sniffed, opening her mouth as if she meant to say something and the then closing it once more as she jerked the wrist he had twisted earlier. Pulling the beast along. He headed for the plain, smallish building much like its' counterparts in almost every way, save that this one was even more ran down than most.
He got as far as the door before an angry squawk made him turn slightly back the way he had come. Lyanna was scrambling from the saddle, both legs on one side of the saddle as she slid down on her belly. Not a comfortable situation from that height, in a dress, from the back of a camel. Bakura's eyes narrowed as she walked towards him stiffly, obviously sore from her da in a saddle.
"I thought I told you to stay."
Her head lifted to were it looked as if she meant to stare down her nose at him, dampened slightly by the height difference. "I will not remain behind while I'm being discussed like grain at market."
Hesitating briefly, Bakura nodded to the girl, motioning for her to stay beside him. "You speak only when I tell you and say only what I tell you. Otherwise I'll bundle you up for the slave auctions."
Ignoring her glare, Bakura turned to enter the small tavern. The building had little trade save the locals who needed to drown some misery or another in a cup of watered beer, the nearby crops of barely an excellent supply. The front room was filled with smoke, the patrons laughing rowdily or making coarse jokes with one another. The sound died down briefly as the two entered, only to resume once more with a few hollered suggestions to Lyanna.
Bakura watched as her hand s tightened on her skirts to a white-knuckled grip, face darkening as one particular drunkard decided he'd be cute and throw her a coin, in hopes of a little attention later. Catching the coin out of the air, Bakura tucked it into a small pocket inside his robes, shooting a glance in the direction it had came. Needless to say, the shouts stopped as the customers returned to each other, and safer subjects.
Scanning the room, Bakura's eyes stopped on the familiar head of Cail, swirling his drink with a dirty finger. Pulling Lyanna along behind him, he crossed to Cail, placing both hands on the table and leaning forwards, so that his face was just in front of the other mans'.
"Cail, h -"
That was as far as he got before Cail backward in his chair, screaming.
Dueljewl: So . that's the end of that chappie. Did ya like it? It might have dragged along in places, but . yeah. I blame the caffeine deprivation. Once again, I am soooo sorry about the long wait between updates.