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Oct. 4th, 2004 @ 06:29 am The Truth
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
*She sat there, silently, her knife striking into the stone she was working on, drawing on, trying the best she could to fulfill the task set before her, she sat there - lost deep in her mind thinking to herself focusing on each word as she tried to explain them in this strange and forgien manner to her. Each word of the Khabar stabbed at her, each like a sword twisting around her, she carefully tried to draw thier meanings in a way to convey them, slowly, meticulously drawing the thoughts that came into her mind attempting to express concepts with pictures.

She lowered her head, once again, in shame, she knew the nature of her crime, she lied, not once but twice, worse she knew, she had lied not only to her clan but to herself, trying to think herself worthy of being thier equal if only they would see her as something more then the slave she was bound to be. Her own mind, had betrayed her, she should have never made the attempt to hunt the Sabbat as her true self, this was her own folly, but somehow she had hoped that it would have worked. They reconized her far too easily as Abdul, knowing far more about her then she wanted them to, but they, nor her own blood had known the truth about her. She pulled upon her own strengths and felt the tug of that persona come upon her, but even he at this point had abandoned her.

She carved into the stones, trying to make the pictures in her mind show on the stone- she understood her crime, her punishment, her disgrace - she had expected that sooner or later they would find out. Her tongue was a small price to pay for such a lie, she pushed the knife into the rock, trying to draw stick figures to represent the picture of the clan and the picture of the individual, she knew the meanings, yet her own lack of knowledge would prove the challenge here. She knew the only skills she possessed were on the battlefield or in the Manor, besides that she had no skill at the task set before her, her hands once soft, now calloused from years of being a slave to years of being a soldier, were use to the hard work, the tasks that were neigh impossible to complete she had no intention to fail at one now, not now, not when she knew in the balance her existance hung.

She remembered the pain of the lashes she received and cringed slightly, thinking back and remembering ever scar that ran up and down her body. Remembering how her own brother had determined that she would be worthless forever and threatend to sell her simply to pay off the costs of trying to raise his own family if she would have been worth anything. She had hoped this would have turned out differently, she had hoped that of all things, she would have been able to rise above the upbringing that foreshadowed her every moment. She knew her brother had money and had no need for anything, yet she sat in the barn, huddled in a back corner to protect the cattle at night.

He came to her, she was sleeping for once, in the corner. His eyes settled upon her and he yanked her up by her hair, anger and rage growing in his eyes as he accused her of allowing one of the Horses to be stolen. She cried out, horrified at such an accusation, none were missing she tried to convince him, but he knew she failed in her tasks. He gripped her throat, pushing her against the back wall of the barn, choking her his gaze unrelenting, his power too much - she knew he was angered with her, but as she glanced in the barn all the animals were there.

"You are worthless, a girl not even worth so much as a single coin. Not worth so much as a scrap of bread. And yet, when I grant you kindness you repay it by falling asleep while you are to be guarding the horses we rely so heavily upon." Her eyes grew black and the world started to spin, slowly it was falling away from her, he took her and threw her to the ground, kicking her until finally she crawled outside the barn, struggling and gasping to catch her breath. She cried out to Allah for assistance, and again he kicked her until she moved away from him, she looked up into her brothers face with tears streaming across her face, shamed for his own shame of having such a sister stand amongst him. Shamed for his having to pay for her own well being.

She fought back the self-pity that she felt, she took every blow that he gave her, staring at him, wishing for it to end, hoping that he would simply take her worthless life so that she could find peace, instead he tied her to the ceiling of the barn and left her hang there for several days and nights, brused, hungered, thirsty and tired, she glared out the door, watching each day as her own brother would come with water, stopping briefly enough at her to sit there and torment her already weakend soul with such succor, yet never giving in to her whimper. Each whimper only brought her more pain, more force taken upon her body, more lashes from his whip. She knew not how many days exactly passed but the sun rose and set many many times. Her mind uneducated even for the wealth of her own family, she had been born worthless and as such was relegated to such a position in society.

Finally, peace came, her sister in law came to her and set her free from his shackles one night, giving her a knife to protect herself with and food and water and a horse to get as far away as she possibly could, the last gift, the one that she knew would forever condemn her in the eyes of Allah and her own society was a pair of pants and a shirt that belonged to her brother. She worked hard, first using the tack to tape down her body to make her appear more masculine, and finally learning to be a man in thier society, her face, for once uncovered, daunted and revealed, hardend and perhaps aged far more then what it should have been. She blended into thier society, thier world of men, as a soldier. No one knew she was female and a run away slave, Nadia hadn't even known until recently, when she went hunting. She had hoped to bring one thing - honor to herself, instead she found herself only bringing more disgrace upon herself lowering herself to the tactics of the munafiqun, having to lie contunally against herself nightly.


Her knife carved pictures, deep into the stones, as she expressed herself with each stab and dragging of the knife. Finally she hoped that she had at least written something to express Asabiyya to the point of which she understood it, knowing that there was no way she could ever truly express such with the disgrace she had wrought upon herself. Hoping that somehow these lines would express the bond of loyalty that she was to have for her own clan and thier interests over her own. That somehow, her still lines would express the feeling of obedience to Abdullah.
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