Lion Head Mesa the price of luxury

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Charles had stuck mostly to himself after Ramesses had made him prince, other than his meeting with the woman that he was supposed to marry. He did enjoy the life of luxury; he wasn't quite used to being bathed and pampered so much, honestly, and was not so sure he would ever get used to it. When they left him, he would often hurt himself because the voice in his head that told him he did not deserve any of this would speak to him. Nobody else would beat him (and he was too ashamed of himself to ask them to do it). Thankfully, they did not ask him questions when he would wound himself. Thankfully, he was good at hurting himself and making his head spin by smacking it against the cold stone repeatedly without wounding himself.

He enjoyed the company of @Sayf and @Jawahir particularly — though felt disgusted he let men take care of him in that way (he thought, anyway, that both were, though it was somehow very awkwardly difficult to tell for sure with Jawahir). He never let them touch him, not in any way sexually of course!, but he enjoyed being bathed by them very much. He was always tense when he was bathed and tended to, his muscles on edge to show his terrible shame, but deep inside his gut he could feel that it was good. To always have food and a clean pelt — it was a luxury that Charles was not used to, but he was growing quite attached to it fast. He wasn't so sure he would ever be able to leave here again.

Today the coywolf was lounging about his den and his shrill voice echoed through the halls as he demanded — Berrieeees! More berries! — to whichever servant wanted to hear; even though he had had some earlier. Perhaps that was why he needed more already. Somehow, eating the berries — or drinking them, as Ramesses would say — always made him want to eat more berries.

There were things of great importance transpiring now within the palace, the least of which were the cries of one sodden man who had garnered the interest of the pharaoh; yet it was to Charles that the jewel attended most attentively. He called for more berries, so he would have what he craved.

They moved from storehouse to baths deftly, holding aloft a clutch of thin furs as one might carry a sack of cloth, and within this were the precious berries - as well as sprigs of greenery, some floral arrangement of indiscriminate type, and herbs for the water.

As Jawahir slunk in to view alongside the pool, this bundle was placed with great care upon the wide edge. They began to separate the edibles away from the more perfumed inedible pieces, all with a thin, coy servant's smile upon their face.

Large ears swiveled forward as Jawahir came into view carrying a bundle that Charles had come to long for; there was usually something precious inside. Food, berries. Sometimes useless stuff. Ah, finally! Charles brought out with an exasperated sigh and he watched as Jawahir proceeded to separate the good stuff from the useless stuff. Pretty things were fine enough and all, but Charles preferred the useful things. As he watched Jawahir, he played with the thought of asking the servant to find him a good stick to chew on. The thought brought him back instantly to Leta, and he quickly diverged from the thoughts.

Charles lazily got up from his feet and skulked towards Jawahir, finding that he had no patience to wait for him to unpack everything and bring the berries to Charles' feet. The coywolf watched the servant with a twinge of awkwardness, staring just a bit too long at Jawahir's face as he thought once more, what the fuck even are you, but words did not find their way to his throat. Idly Charles wondered what one had to do to become a servant in Akashingo, considering becoming a prince was so damn easy.

They could barely separate the items before Charles was crawling forth with hungry eyes set upon the berries.

Jawahir knew better than to speak ill of those favored by the pharaoh and so held their tongue as the intoxicants were placed within reach for the man.

It was after, when he had consumed some of the over-ripe fruit, that Jawahir asked, Are these fruits to your liking? And then, whether Charles answered or not, the jewel began to steep the rest of the bundle in the water.

The slightest of perfumes would arise given enough time; to mask the sour notes of the berries and soften the air in a way that was most appealing to previous visitors of the wellspring.

Still, those eyes remained half-lidded, an expression of obeisance.

Charles didn't have to wait very long. Jawahir understood exactly what he wanted and sorted out the berries first. The coywolf smiled, pleased, and he reached out to eat some of the fruit. He felt pretty disgusted with himself, truth be told, and wondered to himself how wolves like Ramesses dealt with the self-hatred. It was pretty hard to get a grip on. Well, nothing that more berries couldn't fix, probably.

Jawahir asked if the fruits were to his liking, and Charles nodded, his mouth still full. Yahmb, as he started to speak, realised his mouth was not quite empty yet and swallowed mid-word; Yeah, they're great! The berries loosened some of Charles' normal reserved attitude towards, well, anything and everything, which made him seem a bit more abundant in his expression compared to his normal mousy self. Charles still had no clue where the berries were from, but heck if it mattered. As long as they kept on coming.

Akashingo was such a strange place. There were all sorts of.. creatures.. here. At the Saints, it was like he was a bit of a freak because of his large ears and being part coyote, which was apparently nothing like being part wolf. But here, Charles felt like there were way bigger freaks around than him. Freaks like Jawahir. It was nice.

His tongue loosened by the berries, Charles found himself asking the question that was on his mind every time he saw Jawahir, So uh, what are you? After asking it Charles immediately felt heat flush to his face as he realised despite the berries' intoxication that what he just said was not okay, but it was too late to withdraw his words now, so he just stared at the servant somewhat aghast, hoping that Jawahir's reception of these words was better than Charles' delivery.

Jawahir had been subjected to scrutiny before. It was something they used to find offensive, those eyes and those stares, the voices that would snap like whipping reeds through the dark; but as they grew they came to know themselves and trust themselves, to the point that the ignorance of other minds faded away.

Sometimes they played with these people. Now was such a time that Jawahir might have done so - speaking softly, or choosing to showcase certain parts of themselves, leaning in to the feminine or the masculine to unsettle. Charles was staring - that was all that really mattered.

If Jawahir had someone's attention, that was good. That was the point. It was the role of the jewel to transfix others and make them feel things, rather than think.

I am fellahin, they answer softly, with their eyes averted. Ramesses calls me his jewel. The jewel of Akashingo. They blink and as their lids open, they are looking pointedly upon Charles with warmth there upon their face.

I am whatever I need to be, for you. And any others that I serve.

Fellahin, yes, Charles knew — but what? What was Jawahir? Instead, all Charles got was more pretty words. The jewel of Akashingo. Charles did not know what a 'jewel' was, and for a moment he contemplated asking. Then Jawahir said that he was there to be.. whatever Charles wanted him to be. That was... Weird, but not entirely weird considering Charles' experience here at Akashingo so far. He could feel his cheek burn as he thought about that. Whatever? he echoed with a touch of longing to his voice. But he knew that Jawahir was far too beautiful, handsome, or whatever in between to be.. something for Charles himself. The berries did not help, as it clouded his judgement. Perhaps that meant that Jawahir could be — was — a woman, if Charles wished it so. A chance, perhaps, for Charles to prove his worth as a man with someone who was not so... too feminine, too, eh, woman.

Every man had needs. The berries served to brighten the mind, to bring those needs to the forefront. Jawahir had answered the man's question to the best of their ability and now waited, watching, biding their time — until, ah, understanding. Maybe not in its entirety, but enough. Charles murmured one word and the look upon his face told Jawahir that there was something else the man craved beyond knowledge.

Jawahir let the warmth upon their face become a smile, and they moved closer; though not so close to touch the Neb. Near enough to taste the berries on his breath and watch the movement of his pupils. What do you desire, my lord?

This was part of the show. They knew that look well, as it had been worn by men and women, peasants, pharaohs — and yet Jawahir would push for Charles to make the first move, giving him control of this situation (as if Jawahir had any to begin with). The fellahin was here to bring pleasure in every form.

It was like a super weird dream to be called a 'lord' and to be asked what it was that he desired. Charles still did not understand how he had gotten here. He did not understand why Ramesses thought he deserved all of this. A moment he wondered if Ramesses would think of him badly if he.. did.. anything with Jawahir. Charles did not understand the rules of Akashingo at all. He didn't know what was good to do and what would mean crossing a line he shouldn't have touched. Was touching Jawahir one of those lines...?

Somehow it always made it more exciting when you didn't know whether you were perhaps doing something bad. The thought that Ramesses might disapprove, might press Charles against the ground and chew on his face — it only further excited the coywolf. I... ah... Honestly, Charles was a bit out of his depth here as Jawahir closed the gap between them, coming close, but not quite touching him. He could feel the hairs in the back of his neck stand on end in excitement, but he did not know what to do.

The haze of the berries helped a bit and Charles leaned his nose forward. He could smell Jawahir now, and the scent was intoxicating. He wanted to admit that he was not very experienced in any of this and he had no idea what to do or ask, but that would make him look like an idiot and that was the last thing the coywolf wanted in front of this jewel. I'm confused, he murmured under his breath, a hoarse voice; what did he want? He had everything that he could desire in his claws, and Charles didn't know how to ask for it — or what, precisely, it even was...