Lion Head Mesa each one a line or two

for @Charles. dated before the queen's murder. early may maybe?

he wandered the halls, on his way to the upper levels, where he could properly sunbathe and scorch away all them awful worries that kept his head bent and brows furrowed.

the route required of him to pass by the old residence of his friend. still the dog would occasionally poke his head in and take a sniff, but not as of late; the way crowfeather's scent waned only saddened him more.

today, however, passing by the doorway, he caught a fresh smell, and heard from within sounds unmistakably canine. in spite of all pessimism, bad dreams and dark thought, gucci was at once glowing and excited, the way he'd been whenever his Ma would come back home after a day's absence.

on teacup paws the dog pranced into the apartment, dogtag tinkling like a lamb's bell, trough the drawing room definitely now inhabited and into the bedroom where his dear dreary dark friend rested--

"oh." 

the male on the bed was not crowfeather. it took only a glance to take in his much narrower and smaller features and far more colorful coat - and for all that excitement to go with the wind.

oh.

"you ain't crawfetha." gucci said, instantly cringing at his own blunt idiocy.

Charles was happily laying around in a haze of berries — the berries were both the best and the worst of his stay here in Akashingo — when all of a sudden the weird creature showed up. A question came out of its mouth that Charles did not understand. He blinked in confusion and peered at it. Was this just a fever dream?

What? Charles asked and he blinked, his eyes hazed and intoxicated. .. What are you? Well, at least they were starting off on equal foot when it came to rudeness.

the smell of berry juice - which he'd learned was a kind of intoxicant, less damaging than pure human alcohol - filled the room, with such a density gucci could almost see the miasma.

had he not entered breathless and optimistic, the dog might've sensed it from the receiving room. the way he did, however, made him feel all the more embarrassed for intruding upon the man's private hours.

stupid, tactless lil' dag.

his brain clicked and whirred with effort to deduce how to lessen the awkwardness.

"ehm." the chihuahua cleared his throat. "ah'm georgia honeys veni vidi gucci, neb, and ah apologise manyfold fer th' uhm, intrusion." a forced laugh. "a-ah'll be on mah way right now..." 

and yes, the little noble turned to leave, made a few steps forward and away - then stilled mid-gait.

his head turned, batty ears perked.

"jes' uhm, who's it ah've th' please of bargin' in on?" a weak, apologetic smile.

An answer came, but it honestly wasn't much of an answer at all. Charles blinked in confusion and he honestly wondered for a moment if this was just some sort of thing his mind made up but wasn't really here. But then he was reminded that this was Akashingo, and there was all sort of weird stuff going on here. It was difficult for Charles to follow the words that this.. man.....? spoke, and he was too flabbergasted to respond with anything as it excused itself and decided to leave. Charles just blinked as he watched it all unfold, laying sprawled out on his pelts and looking a little caught out, and opened his mouth to say a 'bye' just as the creature stopped in its tracks and turned around. This prompted Charles to swallow his words and he blinked another few times as the creature asked it (from what Charles could understand of the way it spoke, really) who he was.

Charles leaned down slowly and quietly to guzzle down a few more berries, his eyes glued on the creature the whole time. He had understood a grand total of nothing of its introduction, but was too embarrassed to ask it to repeat itself. I... What? he asked, blinking in confusion and clearly intoxicated as well. I'm... Charles? Is that what you ask? There was a 'who' in there, so that must've been the question, right? Charles sounded sheepish and embarrassed now, as he wasn't sure what was going on and he had the distinct feeling that was because of him. It seemed this creature just used fancier words than what he was used to, which left Charles at a disadvantage, since he didn't know a lot of words.

gucci watched with a forced smile growing more stretched like pulled rubber, as the man, not once breaking eye contact, scooped a few more of the fruit into his jaws.

the awkwardness had certainly not diminished.

charles. the offered name was a lifeline.

"w-well, mistah honor'ble charlie, since y'are now in the rooms o' ol' prince crawfetha, ah do presume y' are, uhm- a person o' great importance?" the dog raised a brow and angled his head to accentuate the expression.

his own quarters were cushy and clean, yes, but this was a wholesale apartment the pharaoh had bestowed upon mr. charlie. what had he done or who was he related to that these rooms were now his?

Charles squinted his eyes and paused mid-berry-chomping to try and figure out what this.. wolf? creature? was saying. As if the difficult words weren't bad enough he also spoke with a thick accent. Charles didn't like being called Charlie, because it reminded him of Leta. She was the only one who called him that. Don't call me that, he said, surprisingly snappy. He seemed shocked even at his own snappiness, and though he looked apologetic right away after that, he didn't say the words. Instead he repeated, calmly this time and a little deflated, My name is Charles.

He hadn't caught all of the other's words, but he had caught the last bit — importance. Charles somewhat puffed out his chest and lifted his head and said, Well, yes. And what... who are you? Important also? He didn't realise that he'd already been introduced. At this point Charles was pretty self-conscious that he might come across as daft, considering he was missing so much of the words.

the correction came like a slap - or at least a thwack on the snout with rolled-up newspaper. gucci hurried to fix the mistake.

"ah- apologies mistah charles, that's a real true fine name fer a y-young man your years very, uhm, dickensian, naw? bit royal too 'thothatoneain'tapopularmember..."

his aplogy descended into mutters until it was beyond hearing. the strings of this conversation were out his paws.

important. yes! buoy tossed into the deep end of the social awkwardness pool!

"ah m o' lesser importance fer sure, but ah do still hold some rank 'ere." gucci shook out his own ample chest fur and raised a paw in the wrist. "ah m a noble, as decreed by th' queen herself!" 

he smiled pleasantly at mr. charles. "what role had the pharaoh bestowed upon yaself?"

Charles had a hard time understanding what Gucci was saying. He blinked owlishly as the weird-looking creature spoke, and when 'Dickensian' was mentioned he narrowed his eyes and asked, You calling me a dick? In all the confusion, it was hard to figure out what was really being said. In Charles' experience, that usually meant that he was being mocked.

Honestly, Charles thought that all 'Neb' ranked were princess, but perhaps it wasn't so..? Gucci mentioned being bestowed royalty by the queen (whatever that meant) and in answer to the question he said, I am a Prince. He was not too sure what that meant, honestly, but it sounded important when Ramesses said it, and a lot of Charles' current identity was attached to this; the fact that he was prince was what gave him his current life of abundance.