The river ran. Between it and the sand that hugged its bank, there, the imp treaded the fine line of its wire. As if she could move endlessly, and her legs could carry her mortality just a bit farther each day. Through night, through day, through morning, through twilight, she moved. Akashingo to her back, she carried furs to the great Hebsut beyond the way of the river. A safer passage of travel, it was hardly questionable as to why. With near water, and the abundant marks of land to decide, 'I am here' when each mark was hit.
It was only when the moon was high that she moved in recent times. A true entity now, and some nights, she did not appear at Akashingo or Muat-riya. Sometimes, she was nowhere.
Nowhere to be found at all.
The shadow nymph's silhouette closed in on a lanky figure lurking by the run of water. Soon, prowling. Staring. Quietly moving her feet far beyond the back of the man. Slow. Angry. But what was she? But a mink who could hardly carry the weight of her own waist.
Legend tunnel visioned, seeing nothing but the towering of his ears, the drag in his tail, and the pinch of his body. A raging boil rummaging through her body, she saw nothing but him. As if she would find his body covered with the sink of her teeth. She watched him, angry. The bite in her tongue enough that she thought her mouth would bleed. If this was how he returned himself, it was there that she decided she wished to see him fall.
He saw her.
The stiffening of her posture and the way they watched one another then spun her reality. A weightless wrist then put in the river, Legend watched his limb drop, and saw not the sun in his eyes to burn her, but something far softer. And she saw then, how his height did not make her want to fall.
An understanding rushed through her, and she dropped to the ground in a still, before then a prompt stand, and an uneasy approach that wished to see him closer. More.
"Iz-Ai-ah," she didn't know an Izaiah. She did not know his frame. She traveled the riverside frequently, and of each time, she could not piece together his origin. Though, she saw him. Legend drew closer to his face, hackles bristled and tail held high. He asked.
She ignored.
"Don't know I-zai-ah. Who," she motioned her nose across all of him. Because his entirety, she wanted to know. If his name was unimportant, then maybe his title was. Her heart raced itself. "is he?"
Somebody! Somebody! Somebody, somebody, somebody! The arch in his brow caught her pretty little attention. Somebody. Somebody! She dove to the ground, and her hind legs skidded her backwards. Lifting a forelimb, her nose leaned forward towards his, with a tilting muzzle and big eyes that turned to a saying. Her tail shook itself out.
Akashingo.
"Mentor," came out the word. "Who? What tribe sends him?" And Legend found it more amusing, more fun, to let herself sound only a little more foreign. Even if foreign she was, and it came out of her lips easily. But oh, what a mistake did she make here, to not deny relation to The Red Palace.
Legend felt as though she should have heard Minya before, and if she recognized it at all, she showed nothing. Only watchful eyes and close lips, with unwavering eyes, a cold soul. He turned from her. Silky in his turns, and of stone in others. Unmoving, the corners of her eyes were left with nothing but to take in the peppering along his back; the dark fades along his spine, as if moonlight had only touched his night through the filter of clouds.
A prolonged silence went on long enough for her to take notice of a cool breeze. "The Pharaoh." More than a Queen. "She is not far." Enough of a walk that she hoped the man would crumble and fall. The spry river may have prevented that. "I will take him to her. To say that I-zaiah of Minya comes with service for Her Divineness." It was one of the few ways that he would have been granted access to the Pharaoh.
"Is that what he wants?"
Izaiah of Minya touched her. Her jaw was cupped in his fingers, and it did not move. Instead, Izaiah of Minya would only see how she bore their shared sight. A smile was painted upon her inky mouth, and it stayed there. One would think that she was dead if it were not for the skylight moving across her pupils. By now, Izaiah of Minya had seen this ones mouth move enough to know that she breathed.
"Yes."
Tavina would appreciate it, perhaps. To not be Sesh alone. With the attacks, maybe the royals would see luxury in someone to look over mauled bodies. Whatever the reason, Legend was not in position to care, or to concern herself with higher things. That was not her place. Her duty now was this man, as it was asked of her. "If he is of desire to the Pharaoh, then I will want," came the willows of her voice again.