To Walk amongst Mortals
Being a Gua'old had its perks.
Skipping lines in front of shops and ignoring their usual times of openings was quite nice and useful: but obviously the customer service sucked.
It wasn't because the sale persons, or the few tailors in their little shop, were unkind or showed any sign of annoying or irritation with one's early appearance and ones attire…or rather the lack there of.
No the problem was simply: you couldn't get anything done!
"Now go on with it, you said you need to take measures: so please do it, now preferably.",
I said, with a small measure of annoyance dripping into my voice, as I regarded the seamstress exasperated and reached up to hold my face as she paled quickly and fell to her knees, putting her forehead on the floor and prostrated herself before me.
"Ohhh Divine, If I displeased you….my live is yours to judge how you want!",
Sighing and holding my head, with the dull headache still echoing in it, I waved her off and looked over the terrified younger girls on the side: the seamstress assistants. Gesturing them to come closer, I looked down impatiently at the still kneeling woman and tapped the tips of my right boot, impatientely on the floor:
"Jaffa, Cree!",
I finally cried out and a part of me felt a bit unwell with the way all of them quickly jumped up and looked at me, only waiting for my next order, even as my voice was still booming through the rather small room with the counter and the low tables on which the woman and her girls sat while working.
"If I'm displeased than only because you seem to refuse making a new set of clothes for me…",
The woman quickly shook her head, her normal healthy dark skin tone paling more and more as she desperately pleaded:
"No…not that Lady…but….but making new clothes for the gods….it's something the priestess do in the temple, I do only make clothes for the mortal and…"
"…then hereby see yourself promoted to my personal seamstress, if you want to become a priestess too, I will call you back as soon as I established a temple.",
I said dryly, but unsurprisingly sarcasm didn't reach her in this moment as a look of stunned shock and then of fierce proud blossomed on her face, her head soon against touching the floor as she kissed my boots before looking up again:
"Ohh thank you divine! Me and my assistants won't disappoint you!",
Looking to the side uncomfortably, I gave them a short nod and stepped back between the two tables on the sides, closing my eyes and letting the glow recede as seamstress went on her feet again and the girls slowly and reluctantly started to measure me: still flinching at every touch.
Usually I wouldn't have anything against silence, it was even enjoyable most of the time, as I had to endure far too many chatty hairdressers in my life. But the silence right now was neither comfortable nor even professional, it felt oppressive…something a certain part of my seemed to approve and even wish for…
Opening my eyelids a little I stared into the wide eyes of one of the young woman, tilting my head a little to the side as I raised my arms and let the seamstress took measure of my waist, instead staring for another moment at the girl, finally asking:
"What's your name?"
Instead of answering the wide brown eyes stared at me for a moment longer….before rolling back into her head and her body, which had until now "only" shivered like a leaf in the wind, fell backwards onto one of the tables which she remained lying still.
Normally if a person faints and falls to the side, someone would at least cheek on him or her, but in this case all eyes were on me and the seamstress and the other two girls were shifting their glance unsure from me to their fallen colleague and back to me again.
Rolling my eyes I gestured towards her, shooing the measuring tape which was held against my arm away with my free hand, and said:
"Go and take care of her: lay her on her bed and give her a few moments to wake up again."
I only got silent nods in return and the two girls quickly went to their friend and picked her up, carrying her out of the workplace together and up some stairs at the back of the shop.
"I'm sorry Divine…the girl is young and…"
Raising my hand and cutting of her excuses I simply shook my head and pointed down at my side again, calling for her to return to her work and take my measures:
"Fainting in my presence is something I can endure, wasting my precious time is a whole other matter."
I said sternly and looked to the side again as she licked her lips nervously and mumbled apologies before putting the tape around my neck, taking the measures quickly and with skilled hands, which did not hide the decades of working experience the woman had.
"So? What's your name then?",
One could have thought I had hit the woman, because she flinched and lowered her head deeply again….which was quite at odds with the way I imagined proud warrior people like the Jaffa: but alas: she's standing before one of her gods so that might be understandable.
After a small eternity, for her most likely, she half bowed and said quickly:
"Mut'auc.",
As if me hearing her name would mean something ba—ok…if you take in account how the rest of my kin behave, it is most likely a bad sign if a Goa'uld is asking a female Jaffa for her name….
Smiling a little, I nodded and then turned to look at the large polishes brass mirror, taking in my own nudeness in the ill reflecting metal, setting underwear somewhere high on my priority list right now.
Another perk in my new life: One could turn up basically naked at a door and as long as one played the glowing eyed god card, everyone would let you in without even minding that…after all you missing an fabric on your body pales against the presence of a god in a families living room….but more to that…maybe later.
"So Mut'auc, would it be possible for me to get something to wear while you adjust an outfit for me?"
The woman spluttered for a moment before gasping:
"Adjust? But…mistress! I thought we would have time to create something new for you…adjusting something isn't the same as one made to measure for you would be!"
Tilting my head to the side and rolling my eyes out of her view, I simply shrugged and said:
"I'm going to fly to Da'lamar this afternoon, you will be finished till then and then take care of your business before packing your things and following me…when we are there you can start thinking up a more personalized outfit for me."
Waving off any other protest she might have had, I simply turned and moved further into the building, away from the public shop and into her home, past the simple kitchen with the steadily burning heart fire and the chicken walking over the floor, further down a hallway into her storage room, where not only bales of cloth but also her finished creations were lying and waiting.
Hearing her footsteps and quick breathing somewhere behind me, I reached for one of the candles which lightened up the hallway and carried into the storage room: the light flickering and dancing over the wooden tables and chest which rested against the wall, only two high and small windows letting some light drop down into the cool chamber.
Unsurprisingly most of the clothing consisted of the simple robes and coats the Jaffa on Chulak were so found of: dark and heavy material which shielded from the heat of the day and the cold of the night, covering everything except the hands and the heads, and even those were most often hidden by a cowl. A sensible fashion if one was living in neighborhood of a binary star.
Dozens of this outfits, most likely manufactured by the girls as trained were lying everywhere and it took me a moment to notice the chests with a slightly…richer design and as soon as I opened them I found myself greeted by an sea of different colors: Jackpot!
Indented to be more practical than the usual Goa'uld fashion I had seen so far, most of these outfits consisted out of dress which reached down to ones shins and had either longer or shorter sleeves, paired with a long coat to keep out the cold at night and the burning sun when one travels.
Reaching into the chest and starting to pull out the different articles of clothing, I look amused at the seamstress which seemed to be closer to fainting…or having an apoplectic fit if it wouldn't have been one of her gods simply barging around in her house: which turned it more into something to feel honored by: after all? Who else had a goddess search their house, just before whisking them away to become her personal servants? It must be a tremendous honor…or something like that.
"Do you think stripes would suit me?",
I ask faintly as I pull up two dresses and lay them down next another: one had long sleeves and was made from a white fabric, which felt much softer than those the Jaffa usually used. Holding it against me I looked down thoughtfully at the way the light orange stripes were reaching down from the collar to the hem…
"It does make me look slimmer, doesn't it?",
I couldn't help but ask with a smirk tugging on my lips…one I wisely surprised as the woman quickly nodded and sung me praise…
"Of course mistress, it wonderfully accents your skin tone, if you might look further into it, there would be a leather belt which is made from the hide of a local predator: it is not only sturdy but also wonderfully smooth."
…or she simply fell back into her practiced sail pitches….which was of course more of a manner of speech as there was little to no trade in a settlement like this. Maybe some bartering here and there when it came down to some fruits someone gathered or a nice set of sandals someone made and someone else really really wanted.
For the rest it looked like this, as I was later quoted:
Whereas some states possess a palace, the Goa'uld palace possess a state.
There are perks to being someone who couldn't possible have known of a quite similar quote from earth, it gave you a nice deniability. But back on topic: nothing in this house, not even the house, really belonged to Mut'auc: everything was property of Lord Zipacna and part of the palace resources. The closest thing on Earth would be the Minoan palace cultures: a parallel which also worked perfectly with me and my job: as just like in that ancient culture only the scribes were able to read and write: everyone else was illiterate.
This of course worked perfectly well with the general rule that the human or Jaffa slaves and servants should never know the unnatural workings of their gods "magic", the few which could be called "engineers" in a rather forgiving application of this word were mostly fighter pilots or the ground crews which took care of the death gliders and were able to perform a number of rituals and prayer to appease and realign their gods magic when it got moody and asked for attention.
"But white? It gets dirty to easily.",
I chimed in thoughtfully as I pulled myself back to the more important matters at hand and put the white dress down, instead reaching for the next one: also bearing stripes but this time horizontally instead of vertical. Taking a long look at it I finally put it down again, shaking my head at the slightly garish colors: black, light brown and blue mixed together in batched stripes on top of another: a bit over the top.
The next dress was particularly….unimpressive and I couldn't help but ask:
"Are you sure this is not a pajama….a sleeping garment?",
After my little question and the explanation of the for her unfamiliar word, she shook her head, even as I hold up the simple white dress with the long sleeves which would fall over my hands, while the
end of the piece of clothing reached down to my ankles.
"That's a high sought piece from our Lords planet of As'krip, a travelling merchant left it here for me and I will have to give it back to his wife when she returns in a few weeks…the black coat goes with it.",
She said helpfully and I only replied with a small nod before smiling and pulling out a light purple colored tunic, laughing lightly as I asked:
"How did they get this color into the cloth?"
Mut'auc stepped up to me and filled in helpfully:
"They soak the fabric in the brew of some sort of berry, it darkens when it ripens and seems to consist of lots of small balls which form one of the berries together…it a bit bitter most often…"
Blinking for a moment and taking a few seconds to remember just what kind of berries she meant, I finally got it and then looked down with a smile: we did have them in our garden at home.
Looking at my personal seamstress again I let my eyes glow for a moment, before asking as she was
cowed enough:
"What else comes with this tunic?",
Looking up to me with a mix of fear and religious veneration which was close to bursting out…at which point other Jaffa I had met over the time would fall to their knees and sing one praise, while lighting scented candles on their private altars… my personal seamstress was quickly at my side and burrowing through the content of the chest.
"Here…this….",
With little to no warning I suddenly had a pair of rather tight stockings in light white in my hands, followed by a set of dark toned shoes, which would cover my feet up to their ankles and be closed with two laces on the front of them.
"….and this to keep you warm….".
She continued and threw a long bright red cloak in my direction, which I caught quite easily and marveled at the quality of the color: the merchant must have been quite rich if he was able to amass enough wealth by selling trinkets between planets that he could buy his wife a dyed fabric like this. After all usually one had to travel to a few special sea sides or even another planet to get a red this dark and rich. Only the lighter nearly pink tones could be created with the local plants and fruits, but mostly they stayed far too sensitive when it came to water anyway. Even the long sleeves on the coat were overly richly decorated: golden bands with geometric patterns were adorning them near their end and I saw that a large golden brooch was holding the coat together at the neck of the wearer, as cloakpin.
"Mhhh…to keep your hair from drying out in the sun mistress.",
Were the last accompanying words as a long white cloth was draped on the other pieces, it's edges colored in a soft gold and two round brooches holding onto it to keep it secure in the hair later on.
"Thank you Mat'auc….if you would leave me alone?"
I shouldn't have formulated it as a question, but the seamstress obeys nonetheless, leaving me alone in the barely lit room as I sat down on a chest and put the outfit she had pulled out for me to the side. Reaching up I stroke through my hair and let out a small sigh, pushing the black locks backwards and closer to my head, before I lifted my legs, one after another, to pull the leather boots I had taken from the palace off.
Stroking a hand along my calves I shiver lightly as I find the muscles I had earned from bicycling with my father in my last life missing, biting down to stop myself from shifting into nostalgia again…by a simple touch of all things! Instead I tried to concentrate, my underwear was sufficient for now, I had even been handed a new cover for my breasts after I came to this shop and now I was again constantly reminded why it might be a good idea to loot a clothing store on a more...modern planet.
I was only glad that the stockings seemed to be made out of a fabric which was not only holding you warm, which of course was important too, but also soft enough to let you wear it comfortably without having the urge to scratch your legs the whole time.
So without losing further time I was pulling them up my legs, happy that I at least didn`t have to put down my bare feet on the dusty ground beneath them. What came next was….more or less….the practical version of a garter belt: so less lingerie than simply an assortment of leather straps which were then connected to a slim belt which would fit underneath her clothing and in turn hold the straps. This formed a X shaped netting with the two loose end being lead up and then simply dangling on the sides of my thighs, with both ends adorned my small gold applications.
It might not be what people would call sexy, but it was holding firmly and fixing the stockings to my legs: it would be far too embarrassing to pull them up again if they should glide down when I`m at the court or simply in public!
Standing up again I slipped into the leather shoes, sighing only a little as they were only an inch or so too big for me, but quickly found the latches on them sufficient enough to stop them from moving around. Pulling my hands up again, I went through my hair with a small sigh and gave them a once over before going for the tunic, holding up the purple fabric in front of me one more time and quickly slipping it over my head. Struggling a bit with finding the hole for head at first, I found it after a moment or too, my view, which had been replaced by lots of purple for a moment, was giving me a clear gaze at the room again and my arms only had to wiggle for a moment before finding the exits for themselves as well. Stroking along my sides I smoothened the wrinkles I had given the fabric and whirled on the spot, the hem of my tunic moving up and wrinkling even worse before I stopped with a laugh and stroke over it again.
As it was a tunic and not just a short dress, there also belonged a belt to it and that one was quite embarrassing. Not because of its looks but because of the fact it was a bit too long, which made me a bit self-conscious about the size of my waist, as it was there the belt was slung around the body to give the tunic a form.
I was not that terribly vain, that is what I hope at least, even if someone might have a better figure than me -which was again shifted into balance again by Mat`auc having to widen the tunic a bit at my hips to keep it less form hugging- I would surely not go all Elizabeth Bàthory on them….I hope.
Still compared to the bodies more singled out symbionts would get or even be given a chance of choosing, mine was mostly mediocre in the looks department: nice but not at the first place of a the Gua'old beauty ranking, which of course wouldn`t have been the same as a human one. Bodies after all were also tools, so while vanity had to be taken into account, it was also important to choose and groom a fit body, afterwards the symbiont could mostly negate any effects which would have changed this peak performance. I have to take a deep breath after this thoughts to calm me down and play with the thought of simply slapping myself after I found my thoughts wander to more beautiful forms….forms which would already belong to people. People not Tools! I try to repeat in my head, even while my experiences from the genetic memory seem to enforce just the opposite idea.
Picking up the cloak I shake my head, as if to clear it from the small ball of shame and envy forming in me when I think of the more perfect hosts others are using, only succeeding in banishing the thoughts for a later moment, one which will be far far away and as late as possible if I can manage that. Slipping one arm into the wide red sleeves I pull it up and quickly shift my other arm in too, now reaching for my brooch. Holding up the two ends beneath my neck with one hand I open the brooch with the other and quickly close it like this. Tugging on the rich red fabric probingly, I find myself satisfied at the secureness of the brooch and the comfortability it offers by not reaching a little past the middle of my shins. It might be a bit tight at my shoulders but at the same time it fit quite well to my height so….it will work I think. Placing the spare brooch on the edge of the cloak and over the right side of my chest, I reached for the white veil, which was the easiest of all to put one: simply lower it onto your head and then connected it to your hair with two brooches which get placed a higher than your temples.
It hide most of my short hair from the sunlight, or rather would do so, as the storage room didn`t really have light in abundance. Putting my hands on my hip I smiled a little at the comfortable way the clothes fit me, mostly fit me but that could be fitted, and allowed myself a little laugh: I was now on the height of fashion…which earth had maybe one thousand two hundred years ago.
Laughing a little to myself I stepped to the door, opening it and nearly hitting Mat`auc with the heavy oaken door. As I step out of the storage room I flash my eyes in bright gold and command in my best booming voice:
"Return to your workshop, I will come to you when I deem the time right to fit my clothing…I will return shortly my servant."
Giving her a grave nod as she bows humbly, I turn and stride towards the door, slightly bemused as I entertain the idea of having a cape instead of a cloak….it would have been more flashy, high heels might too but: who would seriously invent a heel like this without tarred streets available?
Bemused I skip up two steps over a small stair case, passing a small room with a bed in it and a few furniture pieces. Further down I spot a ladder, the wood well-worn and signed by years of use. Quickly grapping the rungs I nimble pull myself up even with my long cloak, grinning a bit to myself as I come face to face with one of the young woman….girls who helped in the shop. Bringing my finger to my lips I signal her to be silent and I step past her as she sinks to her knees with her hands raised in prayer, grasping lightly for the hem of my cloak.
The reaction is….quite normal for Jaffa which do not have constant contact with their gods: the fulltime warriors: Jaffa Civilians on the other hand may have combat training but not the professional ease of these warriors, to whom sinking down to pray would be too time consuming….and it would most likely drive one crazy if everyone was praying constantly on the Pel´tak of a ship.
Walking past her, without another glance down at the kneeling figure, I went into the half-darkness of the hallway, not minding the glances and quickly whispered prayers of the other two woman as I passed them….only at the last one I stopped and reached out, gently taking the ceramic mug with diluted wine from her hand and giving her a small nod.
Continuing on my way towards the last room at the hallway, a rather cramped dormitory in which Mat`auc seemed to host all of her assistants, I played a little with the small weight I had pulled from my last sash before I changed clothes.
But of course it only took me a few steps and I was standing next to a bed, it was rather small and seemed to be used by at least two people, if the sets of clothes on the box next to it were a hint to that. But far more interesting than the question if they took shifts in sleeping or simply fit in together as best as possible…which might be the answer as the other bests were also empty but had two chests next to each.
The girl lying in the bed beneath me was breathing slowly, but her sleep was interrupted by winces and small moans of pain from time to time, the paleness, which had gripped her face after she had feinted before me, not yet gone. Taking a small sniff I frowned: blood. It didn`t cling to the air of the room as sweet and heavy as my memories showed me on battlefields, but it was there….and no Gua'old who wants to survive more than a few assassination attempts should be unable to identify it.
Reaching down I put my hands carefully beneath the girl and then slowly pulled the clothes covering her top away and suppressed a scowl of revulsion as I was hit by the stench of rotting flesh.
Maybe that was over the top: but a large patch of her back and the top of her right arm looked like this: her skin was bloated at points, sickly red and yellow at others, while bits and pieces of bare flesh were exposed and festering underneath what was little more than some clumsy placed bandages and a few vegetables of all things…
It looked like someone had first boiled this part of her skin, then thrown acid over it and finally left it to fester for far too long….no wonder that the girl fainted so easily: it was nearly a wonder she could stand! And the…vegetables…one couldn`t call them herbs in good conscious, were more intended to hide the stench then to help her.
But right now this was good….the more miserable she been the better. A smirk flickered over my lips as I put the mug aside: why should I only do so little to get a few of the girls to talk…if I could do so much more? I nearly laughed as he stroked through the girls hair: I wouldn`t put her above seventy, maybe even younger: Jaffa age graciously after all.
I didn`t need to turn around to guess that there were three faces or more looking past the door and at my back…while praying of course, to avoid my ire if I should find them staring. I only needed to lower my hand a little for the healing device to slip over my hand, the huge gemstone pressing comfortably in my palm as I closed my eyes and let it hover over the girls back.
With all my concentration I willed it to heal, the naquadah in my blood allowing me to access the technology and to bend the crystals and their function to my will: warm light was spreading beneath my hand and the warm was also filling me and my whole body as I poured more of my willpower into it, combating not only the initial damages but also the infection and gangrene which was nesting in the death and tainted flesh.
The device worked more through intent than through knowledge, it was nearly automatic and one didn`t need to be a dedicated medic to use it…even if it helped to focus the attention of the device. But the simply brute force attempt directed against her back was enough: under the awed eyes of her colleagues her back was healing: death flesh seemed to disappear, new flesh growing out from beneath her as the smelling liquids which had gathered in her wounds were pushed out and ran over her back only to stain the bed covers, while bright pink skin started to seal the former wound once more.
Compared to modern medicine it was nearly magic and compared to the herbal herbs most Jaffa knew it was magic! Magic or miracle: divine power used in their own home, under their own roofs and most importantly: on one of them.
If I wouldn`t have felt so tired suddenly, I might have laughed as I turned around to regard the awe struck faces looking at me with wide eyes and with renewed devotion. It was easy to play a god…..a frown on my face, quicker hidden than one of them could see…it was hard to stay one.
The girl whimpered a little on her bed, my eyes glancing down at her again as she tried to push herself up and roll on her back again. Sighing softly I helped her and smiled as kindly as I could…especially when she looked at me with wide fear filled eyes….before her mouth opened in surprise and she tried to look at her back, noticing the absence of pain even thought she was lying on her back. Shaking my head lightly I leaned down and whispered in my human voice:
"Hello there….who might you be little one?",
It was a bit silly: she had been alive for at least twice the number of years I had and most of my seven years were a hazy memory of some faint singing and boring lounging around in a Jaffa`s pouch…but she didn`t have a genetic memory crammed sideways through her head which filled her with the knowledge of ancestors from thousands of years ago.
"Ica`al.",
She mumbles through lips which were still forming a thin line and her pale face still grimaced in pain…even if it was less than before and some colour could also be seen returning to her cheeks. Reaching out I patted them gently and pushed some of her dark brown hair out of her face, before asking once again:
"How did you wound your back?",
She grimaced even stronger for a moment, her hands clenching her bed covers as she simply gasped:
"Dyer….too close to…..hot pot…..burned."
Nodding I took the ceramic mug up once again, leaning forward and bringing it to her lips: her eyes flickering from indecision and fear to eagerness and quickly drowsiness…as whatever herbs they had mixed into the drink were affecting her and her large brown eyes quickly fell shut and she sunk back into a soft slumber.
Setting the mug aside I stood up and turned to the door, facing Mat`auc and her other three assistants where were quick to fall to their knees, praying me thanks as I stepped to them and intoned:
"As you can see. Server me well and I will take care of you: you will be mine and I will watch after you, no matter what trouble you run into…"
I smirked as they looked up and did my best sinister look…the one which had taken multiple hundred years for my ancestors to develop….before saying softly:
"And you can guess what happens to those who disappoint me…"