Please let
@Fable post first, thank u!!
On the fifth day of waking up with nothing but sand and his brother, Sonnet was going to fucking lose it.
I need civilization!
His whining had been going on since he woke up, and he wasn’t about to stop now.
My feet hurt, its hot, do you know how bad I look right now? Do you? Because I look terrible!
He stopped for a moment to wail dramatically at the midday sun, throwing a pale forelimb over his eyes.
And, in the waft of air over his nose, he smelled it.
Other people. Like a bloodhound zeroing in on a scent, Sonnet was on his feet within seconds, staring into that middle distance with unnerving focus for the flighty creature he was.
And off he darted for that scent, suddenly absolutely ravenous for connection. Any protests Fable might have had faded into background noise as the cherubim choir rose in his ears.
Ah!
Ahaaha!
Civility! People! Two bright, sparking pools of water! Everything a bard could ever want, Sonnet could taste on his tongue.
You could do with a shower, for sure,
Fable commented idly, but his eyes and his focus were both trained ahead. They'd found a place. Out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere. He was so not here for it.
But Sonnet was, and whatever Sonnet said went. Fable trailed after his sibling, rolling his eyes for a moment before he tilted his head back to call out to whoever lived here, lest they be seen loitering at the borders and chased off under the assumption that they meant to cause trouble. Of course, Sonnet didn't think of that. But Fable did.
Days passed and so too did the palace grow in wealth and beauty and populace. It was becoming more a monument to Pharaoh’s power. The hebsut busied herself with Toula’s rituals, arranging morning breakfasts before prayer and drawing her evening baths. She is returning from her work in the divine chambers when a voice arises from the desert and she changes course to greet the caller.
They are a pair who wear rich tapestries of golds and reds and carry an air of importance even on the outskirts of palatial opulence. She feels compelled to bow low in pertinent reverence before lifting her chin to address them.
“Welcome to Muat-riya, reign of Pharaoh Muat-riya Isetnofret Toula of the Red Serpent. I am hebsut of the palace, Eset. How may I help you?”
Sonnet heard his brother, and his response was to wait until he was promptly by his side to swiftly aim a foreleg at his shoulder.
Shut up, oh my god, you do too!
He hissed sharply, not even noticing as someone answered their call until she was literally right up on them. He jumped, despite himself, near clean from his skin!
A-Ah..mm..
Him, a bard, stuttering over a little fright. Father would be ashamed to call him his son. Before he could wail dramatically into despair, as he no doubt would later, he cleared his throat and bowed right back, a proper, courtly bow.
I am the esteemed bard Sonnet Melodia Gallus and so on and so forth Dubois-Mayfair. Esquire.
Then, as if an afterthought.
Oh and this is Fable.
He straightened to gesture to his brother, smile wide on his fine boned features.
We’ve travelled very far, searching for a court to play in. We have songs and stories in much abundance, he and I! But alas, courts without court bards are far and few between, which has brought us here!