Well hey! Long while since the last update, in comparison to the daily updates I was planning, but oh well! Here it is! Thanks to my awesome reviewer! And the rest of you...please give some feedback! Thank ya kindly.
Chapter 8 – A Rather Awkward After Party
Continuing with the supposed tradition, there was a celebration after the formal ceremony, far more perfunctory. Qymaen, still in a state of awe with his new position, and quite humorously appalled with himself for actually caving under Rahkah's persuasions, stood by himself, wondering how anyone found such a prolonged period of socialization enjoyable. It was pathetic, when he considered it; it was a party for him and he had barely spoken to anyone, remaining in his present location for the better part of the evening. He just had to make it to dawn, when the festivities would be over, and he could retreat back into his temporary home.
His domicile, along with most of the others in the permanent settlement, had been burned to the ground – his few possessions destroyed with it. He, unlike the rest of the people who had to stay out in the elements, was to stay at the military headquarters in a temporary room until a new house could be built. The other general's had their own homes, most as large as temples, going deep underground, to go to, and had no reason to stay in the base of operations. That left Qymaen alone with the guards more days than not. He was welcome in Rahkah's home any day, as it were, but with all of the...odd goings on there, he preferred not to spend time there very often. Along with his multitude of wives, Rahkah also gave shelter to a large harem, who were – less than desirable to view for the broadly pure mind.
His shoulder was bothering him. He ran his dexterous fingers over the place where he had been ritually branded, seeking to soothe the ache of the burnt flesh. As he did this he observed the goings on, and was thankful, above all else, that the whole thing hadn't turned into one large orgy, as Rahkah implied that his own had. Qymaen held back a shudder. Lo and behold, General Rahkah came sauntering through the crowd, a young female on each arm. Qymaen recognized them, and concealed his revulsion. Picking it up nonetheless, Rahkah said something to the two of them, and they dispersed into the mass of people, leaving the older man alone with his friend.
"Arad will not be pleased when he finds out you have been spending time with his two youngest wives, N'jaere." Qymaen stated openly when Rahkah had gotten close enough to hear his voice.
His response was a flippant hand motion. "Welcome to the world of being an important person, kid. It's practically in the contract. Read the fine print."
"And when were you planning on explaining these strange practices to me?"
"I thought you knew." Rahkah said with a shrug and a knowing smirk. "After all the times you visited my house? Come on..."
"You neither declared nor demonstrated such things. Your residence is much different than the others. My only assumption was that you were infinitely different in your lifestyle."
A moment of silence. "Well...yes...I am."
"Exactly."
Changing subjects rapidly, Rahkah gestured towards the other side of the room. "Have you had anything to drink yet? Truly delicious, it is."
"No. I have not. Must I?"
"Um...yeah! Come with me, your moping is depressing the girls I'm gonna hook you up with." Qymaen's arm was grabbed forcefully before he could resist, and he was abruptly dragged through the swarm of party-goers. Eyes watched him as he and Rahkah passed. On the other side of the area, there was a lavish – in comparison to the poverty that had stricken the rest of the planet – bar, not facilitating to those who wanted to sit, but still elaborate. A half-full bottle of a red substance was thrust into his hands by the other general, who watched him expectantly. "Just wine, I swear." Rahkah assured him, and he took a hesitant drink. Subsequently, he was slapped encouragingly on the back, and Rahkah yelled out, "Hey,everyone!" Those in hearing range turned to look. "Our new recruit here is drinkin'!"
Qymaen's eyes widened with horror at the unwanted announcement, followed by another, impromptu round of applause. Rahkah laughed at his discomfort, and motioned for a woman who had been watching with a particular interest to approach them. She seemed a bit nervous to be in the direct presence of two military commanders, but still put on a smile. Qymaen eyed here suspiciously, taking another drink, despite himself.
"Do you..." Rahkah began, "...deny that he is not the most wonderful specimen that you have ever laid eyes on – besides me of course."
"I - " She started, only to be cut off by the person of her scrutiny.
"I am, sincerely sorry for his behavior. I give you my word that this is all of his own doing, and not that of my own."
Smiling again, this time in a more shy, innocent manner. "That is all right. I was only going to say that is it not my place to make judgments like that."
Forcing a small quirk of his mouth, Qymaen uttered his thanks quietly, and, after handing the bottle to Rahkah, bid them a swift farewell, needing air. He stepped outdoors. The celebration was held in the home of General Aavok, in the main room upon entering, making the world outside easily accessible. Breathing deeply when the fresh air greeted him like an old friend, he attempted to mentally find clarity. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would have to become accustomed to such parties, unenviable though they were. He would have to live the life, not to the extent Rahkah did, but his demeanor would have to change. Life in the public eye would be most difficult, and he had not even accomplished any great victories yet. Women would be brought before him as great in numbers as the insects in the night, and he would have to learn to be guileful in his denial of them if he was to remain in solitude. He planned to stay that way for a long time. The "next generation" meant nothing to him; fatherhood was a crippling situation that he did not want to find himself in.
He backed up and leaned against the side of the dark, rock structure. His eyes strayed to the left, off into the shadows, and that was when he saw them. Three silhouettes, moving deftly in his direction, not stopping even under his gaze. The emerged, and he backpedaled only for an instant. They were prostitutes, that much was clear by their scantly clad bodies, and he scowled deeply at them. This expression only brought sick contentment to their own faces, and they exchanged glances of their own with each other.
"Look who it is..." The nearest one to him hissed. "Our...rising...celebrity." She pronounced her words slowly, temptingly, close enough then to touch him, but refraining as the other two circled around. "Off on his own. Lonely."
The two who were farther away laughed. The closest one who had spoken ran a finger down his arm, eyes burning with a fire he did not wish to see. "So strong..." She expressed; her sisters moved closer.
Still scowling, he shoved past them, leaving them to find someone else to harass. It was then that he speculated: being inside amongst civil people was much better than being out where the uncultured could get to him. He went back indoors, reluctant but knowing that it was for the best.
Little did he know, things were about to get very rough in the near future, and no amount of mental planning could prepare him for it.
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