Lion Head Mesa המבול

backdated to april 9th! @Toula @Rashepses @Senmut <3

smokey eyes (@Legend) had led him here.
he wasn't quite sure what he expected from such a place. the mesa is grand, rising high above the badlands as if its very existence was some testament to a higher power. he can see skyviews adorned with decor that must not have been easy to find, and little passageways shrouded in red shade. it is so familiar and yet nothing like home at the same time.
izaiah braces himself as he reaches a strongly marked border, not daring to so much as step over it without an escort — he'd learned at least a few things in minya, what these people expected. he squints through the haze of midday, jaw clenched tight, and sends up a lone note.
all he can do is pray that his journey was not for nothing.

coyote-made, shades of shadow upon stone.

with doubled patrols between and around the palaces, the sentinels spotted the shade against the red sand from a distance.

the stranger, then, was shouted to a halt.

the mention of legend, her scent — these things earned izaiah his entry. guards escorted him down the wide red road and up the three large steps, into the open-air palace now thrown with petals.

here a path dipped down, and the man was led below the mesa. here a catacombing of networks, rooms, hallways, apartments, and courtyards were revealed, staffed by whisking attendants carrying garlands and greenstuffs, some wine, all illuminated by sunlight which fed down and down.

the wellspring burbled.

and the red prince came to receive izaiah warmly in an austere room with no prettying. his kohled eyes took in the stranger. "welcome to akashingo. i am senmut, erpa-ha and high priest. you must be tired."

he sent now for refreshment.

a red man comes to greet him. he is lithe, handsome; cloaked in crimson and sharp-edged much in the same way izaiah was. akashingo; the red palace. bodies begin to surround them, both of high and low class. the stonebuilt face is unmoving save for intrigued glances here and there.
erpa-ha, this man is called. izaiah, the boy introduces. he gives a small, relieved smile. very much so.
he speaks of smokey eyes, of minya, of his internship which led him now to the palace doorstep. the position he seeks here — a doctor, no longer a student.
there is so much to this place. where minya was stationed in open scrubland and shaded only by the trees, this place was the mesa. the interior is somehow even more grand! his eyes slowly begin to adjust to the flickering light as he studies the narrow scarlet-crested face of the priest. he wonders what god he praises, but finds himself too nervous to ask.
instead, he lands upon idle, friendly chatter. he eyes the wellspring with interest. i have to say, this is much better than what i expected.

"and what did you expect?"

there was a smile on senmut's face, for they had truly been sent a skilled one in izaiah, and interest was clear in the prince's countenance.

"will you tell me of your best expertise?" he asked after a moment, wishing to know how best to specialize this man.

well, i didn't know akashingo was rich.
minya was a place clearly divided by class. the khalifah sat high above the barren sands in his own bubble with his wife and sons, the crest of a short desert mountain making their home; the closer one lived to said peak, the richer one was. izaiah had seen it only briefly when hassan was requested to tend to a nephew, and while at the time the sight sparked wonder within him, it had nothing on this.
i've been trained in many branches of medicine, he says it almost bashfully, wishing not to brag. i studied complex conditions, necropsies, all the fancy stuff. but i will do whatever is needed.