Lion Head Mesa I only want to play a little

As if constant patrols along the mesa weren't boring enough, Khaba decided to stay within the palace today. 
Ramesses had stated prior that he was meant to be the pharaoh's guard; thus, it made more sense to stay near the white man.
Only a step or two from the opening to the divine throne room, the shadowed beast sat like a statue, unmoving and tightly bound. His silvery eyes stared forward, lost in a void of absolute blankness. Silence, and nothing but. He was used to it, after all. Silence was his life.

Today, the Prince wandered Akashingo, visiting his people simply to get to know them better. He was passing the throne room when he spotted the dark male, whose name he did not know. Pausing, Siptah dipped his head to the man and said, Hello. How does the day find you?

Much to his dismay, someone eventually happened upon his post.
It was inferred that the boy was still in his youth by appearance and voice alone. Both suggested the obvious.
The mazoi willed for them to continue on and not speak, but they did not continue. No, they stopped and spoke.
As the boy waited expectantly for a reply, the shadowed creature stared back in silence. His gaze was heavy upon the child, blank and cold. Perhaps the refusal to speak would render annoyance or disdain and nudge them on their way to find someone better worth their time.

The man did not speak. Prince Siptah had no experience with those who were mute, or otherwise unable to talk, so he found it quite odd. Rude, even, especially as the male looked at him with a cold, blank gaze. Siptah bristled. I am your Prince. If you cannot look upon me with grace, you can look away. He had approached to be kind, to get to know his people.

A prince.
Pharaoh had mentioned there would be one — two at most.
The mazoi's body did not shift much, if at all; however, his gaze would lighten as much so as he could bear. There was little way to show respect in grace or poise, so the least he could do would be attempt to speak sincerely through his hazy eyes.

The silent man's gaze lightened enough to appease Siptah, and he nodded brusquely after a moment. Are you a mazoi? he inquired — the man seemed to be guarding the throne room. Without really waiting for an answer, for he wasn't sure he would get one, he added, I'm training to become a warrior, after... after my mother, he finished, frowning.

so sorry for the delay, my depression is a lot rn.

If ever able to do so, Khaba would have laughed. The child was so naive that he even considered such a question as the beast's place in the mesa. What else would a creature his size be skilled at? Besides, he was a mute beast, at that. If not to speak, his massed physique would be the only aspect left of use.
Unable to publicly jest with the query, the mazoi simply jutted his snout forward in a hasty nod. His version of saying, "yes, I am.".
Of course, the acknowledgement would have likely been drowned out, given that the amiir continued on in haste of his own. Khaba couldn't have cared either way. The child could make his assumptions as he so chose.

Last from me!

He did not expect sympathy from the silent man. Huffing softly, the Prince shrugged then said, We should patrol sometime. But I should be on my way now. He would dip his head, then offer, Good day, before he continued out to the mesa.

A patrol with the boy? It seemed a jest, but there was no such note in his tone.
The child was amir, after all. Whether he enjoyed the mazoi's company or not, there were responsibilities to fulfill.
Khaba watched keenly as the boy quickly departed, only to be sure he made away without trouble. But they were tight within the palace. What could happen here?