Lion Head Mesa Ogre Daughters

Set before the PHE in Firefly Glen! For @Racharra <3

Life within the red palace was a far cry to the quaint, little life the girl had at the lake. Her father would bring their mother meats. Zharille would flash him her teeth. The children would wrestle, often with Aiman being the loser. The air was laced with wood scent, lake water, and fish.

Akashingo was a different life altogether.

The culture shock was would have rendered her paralyzed were she not hungry to know this strange new world. The sun was fierce in comparison to the wooded shade of the lake. Even stranger was that the wolves rose to meet the sun. "To greet Ra." Those were the words used by her father and many of the not-wolf strangers to describe the ritual. Taliba had been given words to say as they did so. Strange and unusual, the girl often stumbled over them (but she was getting more and more right by the day). The not-wolves also had a name. "Coyotes." Or "coywolves" as some said in a scandalous air that the girl was too young to understand.

Each day she was to follow her father and brothers on patrol. The girl's paws and legs had begun to ache. Not just from the new sort of work she had been introduced to, but the beginnings of a new great change. Unbeknownst to her, her body was preparing itself for growth. Along with it came new aches and pains and a very grumpy child that Mesen-ka would have the misfortune of entertaining as he worked.

Today Taliba scampered away from her father as soon as she could without getting scolded for it. He was stricter here too. The girl pouted as she took to the darkened hallways of the palace. She did not have an entourage to follow her as the royal family had. She found it refreshing to escape into seclusion. She had begun exploring the hallways of the palace outside of what her father showed her. She wasn't allowed in some for some unknown reason and often had been chased away by the fellahin. So the girl was quiet as she passed by various empty chambers, only to stop when she saw servants posted outside a chamber set in her path.

Ducking around the corner, Taliba peered at the entrance of what must not have been an empty chamber.

Who was in there?

blue powder barely pigments her eyelids. gold is her personal favorite, but it was too flashy too put on every day for an event. even if her suitors would be watching. not even during the visit to moontide did racharra adorn herself with makeup, only the traditional kohl of the red palace.
she scrutinizes her reflection in a pool, weighing whether this powder is worth bringing. pink was more her color, but this blue is more traditional for a woman of her status.

but the feeling of a pair of eyes bearing into her crashes her train of thought. the dark girl turns around to face her visitor, expecting a curious fellahin or mazoi, but instead finds herself having to tilt her gaze downwards. racharra's lips purse as her own eyes stare back in a much smaller body.

..are you lost? she straightens, drawing a line in the sand between herself and the girl with her nobility. racharra had no heart to dismiss her entirely, no matter how much she wanted to. indeed, she'd made deliberate steps to avoid the new ogres, despite a gentler opinion of them. up until now.

Caught red handed.

Taliba's eyes narrow as she contemplates her next move. She could just run away. But she might be scolded regardless for skulking around, right? The girl bit her lower lip as she slowly slunk out into the open. Her body low before she stopped and did an awkward bow. She was still getting a hang of the whole bowing thing and who it should be performed for. It took several bows to the fellahin as "hello" before she was told it was for Pharoah and her family. Taliba had not seen the older girl before, better safe than sorry.

No, I'm not lost. The ogre girl answered as she straightened herself. She chewed on her cheek within the young Nebet's doorway. Sun-gold eyes lifted to looked upon the girl in front of her. She was pretty with a pretty color staining the fur around her eyes. It was on her paw too.

Taliba suddenly became very aware of how empty the hall way. She swayed where she stood like a children wringing the bottom of their shirt.

...Um. Whatcha doing?

hm? do you know where this is then? racharra tilted her head, feigning amusement in her tone. that was how you interact with children, no? go along with their whims..? this is make-up. it is for important occasions, like festivals, rituals, and meetings. but some use it daily, too. @Zaahira came to mind.

the dark nebet contemplates for just a moment, catching the quick glance to her paws. her pursed lips stretch, unsure whether to feign a smile or remain straight-faced. instead, an awkward compromise is made between both expressions as she comes to a decision.
..would you like to try it?

We're in your room. Not that Taliba knew the name of the room's occupant. Nor would Taliba admit that she was not supposed to play in these hallways. Not readily. Taliba instead focused on the older girl's explanation of the pigment. Her little neck craning to see it better without closing the distance between them.

Make-up. It was a funny string of words. The girl knew how 'to make' something and she understand what 'up' was. Put them together and you get the powdery colors?

Is there something important today? Taliba's heart quickens. Was there somewhere she was supposed to be? Would her father be looking for her? She focused on the nebet. If she was supposed to be somewhere, perhaps they'd be going to the same place. Her ears pique at the invitation to try on the make-up. Eyes set upon the older girl. Would Taliba look pretty like her with the make-up?

Tentatively, Taliba closed the gap. Coming to sit besides Racharra, Taliba nodded shyly.

I would. She looked between Racharra and the pigments, adding quickly, Please.

racharra stops for a moment to assess the girl's answer. hm. that much is true. she chortles, returning to her own reflection to look at her progress.
no, not today. this will be for the hunt. make up can go bad, and lose its beauty. it can expire, like meat eventually does when left for too long. i want to make sure i'm not bringing anything that has gone bad.

a chord struck when the little ogre sat next to her, her own shadow nearly engulfing the still tiny girl. racharra remembers what it was like to be at her height, where everyone were giants. did she understand as much as racharra did their fate as daughters of ogre?

close your eyes, then. she hushes. do not open them until i say you can. she adjusts the girl to face the sun, so the nebet could better see the canvas she's painting on. it wasn't a bad one. may taliba never lose the confidence she has now.

The blood relation to the girl before her in entirely unknown to the young ogre. The nature of her own birth in its entirety is shrouded too. Beneath all of the affection and attention from her father, she is a girl made to be bartered away by her mother. A tithe paid in blood to Pharaoh from a begrudging vassal. Perhaps in the future Taliba would come to know the truth of both matters. Perhaps she would be Racharra's age. Perhaps even younger.

But the future does not exist yet. In the present there is a young girl with her eyes closed. Face craned upwards towards the sun.

All of Taliba's efforts are focused into holding still. The girl ignores the itch behind her ear, the desire of her nose to twitch, and the building anticipation to see the results Racharra gives her.

No, the little ogre girl holds herself still all the while. Trusting Racharra with her world, her eyes remained closed. She would look only when she is told to.

racharra's strokes are delicate and tender, her hands too used to a much larger canvas. still, taliba made a wonderful canvas; racharra couldn't help but smile at the girl's strain to remain still. she's a lot more patient than the nebet remembered herself being.

first, blue would illuminate against the reds of her face, bringing attention to the golds of her eyes. she steadied her arm, careful to never betray the girl's trust and push too hard. please keep still.. you are very doing well. she whispers breathlessly, sweat beginning to cling to her brows. when she'd pressed enough of the pigment to paint even the creases of her lid, racharra moved to the next step.

she reached for the black kohl, analyzing taliba's eyes. something traditional would do just fine.
we are almost finished, just give me a moment. she assured the girl as racharra prepared the dark pigment for use. the girl's auburn fur was still light enough to allow for the black of the eyeliner to stand out alongside the bright blue it laid against. but it was the ankh that gave racharra struggle — her arms sore as they strained for perfect precision. even if the girl was going to smear it off later, why did she deserve anything less than racharra's best?

and her best she gave. you may look now. she ushers taliba to a pool, unable to stop the wag of her tail as the nebet unknowingly sat eager for a response. well, little one?