[h1][center][color=orangered]Bes'eshe Sethokpara[/color][/center][/h1]

Her grey-green eyes widened, as Bes'eshe took account her father's sharp words. Idiot child for riling him! Set was a angry and wrathful God. Though he had never and would never raised hand to her, Bes'eshe had tested his patience a time or two but each time she had relented. As his eyes flash gold she sent a pray to Ra that the little fool knew to keep her mouth shut. [color=orangered] "Yes, Papas." [/color] She nods her head, before watching the Lord of Red Sand dissipated amongst the dust and sand he wielded. Turning herself she scooped up a woven basket on each hip. One filled with the flax thread, the other filled with dyes. Looking back over her shoulder at Qel, Bes raised a brow. [color=orangered] "Next time you make him mad, there won't be a third. My father does not raise his might against women, you should apologize for your hubris." [/color] 

Stepping out into the street, she raised the hood of her robe over her mass of hair. Walking through the street she labored under the weight, while tightly clamping down on her presence among the Gods. To stop a immortal or a 'sensor' sort from noticing her. It was something all beings could do, but the level depended on how practiced they were. As the daughter of a possibly, and most likely possessive God, she needed to be secretive from him. Especially if she wanted to get to know some of the other gender without them being pinned to the wall and having their bones shattered to pieces. Simply because he was certain that no man she had yet met was good enough for her and she had a suspicion that no man would be good enough. Mortal or God.

Not looking where she was going, she regained the attention too late. A fleeting glance of a large figure in Roman armor. [color=orangered]"Ah, I'm sorry. . . I wasn't looking where I was going."[/color] Looking to the spilled baskets she scooped up the flax and dies. Cursing in Egyptian, she noted him as a Centurion. A leader, one she could use. Most likely he would march on by and curse her. His kind often did and she took no notice of it other than for information as her father commanded. Though the cursing was real enough, those dyes were precious and they were threatened to be ruined!

[@Karos][@Rune_Alchemist][@Zahrale]