Rosewater Oasis the supreme nameless

@Ximena

it is today that Pharaoh searches for the silver-tongued woman amongst his oasis. to speak, perhaps to feast—all in due time they would come to find out.

as always, black as the midnight, gold as the sun’s light. it beams down on him, casting the great one in it’s pride. he beams. he wears the blessing of his dear Gods and goes forth upon the sands and jewelstone, gilded eyes swiping across the earth.

he finds her before long. and it is with a paw he beckons her as he strides past, gait collected and embodying the regality he was born to. his voice a honeyed scripture. how have the sands treated you, child?

both of them know she is no child, yet in the eyes of his Gods she is. he speaks from a pedestal of self-importance; of superiority and grand regale. his strides now a waltz he expects she indulge him in.

ximena had been reclining at the edge of the oasis, her body draped in languid ease, a picture of indulgence against the stark beauty of the desert. the water shimmered beside her, its surface kissed by the fading sun, and she traced idle patterns in the damp earth, lost in the slow rhythm of the evening.   

then, like a storm rolling over the dunes, he arrived.  

she rose immediately, but not without her catered grace in an effortless motion to greet him.  her golden gaze lifted with a slow, knowing flicker, a cat watching a king who presumed himself untouchable. he was carved in shadow and sunlight, adorned in the blessing of his gods, and yet—so mortal beneath all that gilded splendor.   

his words curled around her like the heat of the midday sun, and she let them settle upon her shoulders before responding.   

the sands are ever-shifting, mi rey, she mused, voice smooth as the wind that shaped the dunes. they whisper and they bite, but they have yet to devour me. a slow, amused smile graced her lips.

she watched how he moved with all the weight of divinity upon his shoulders. ximena had met gods before, after all—whispered to them in the hush of night, bargained with them in the quiet spaces between fate and folly.   

and you? she purred at last, falling into step with him as was expected, yet just a breath outside his reach. have the heavens been generous to your growing kingdom?

delay -- sorry!! <3

the heavens have given me much, he muses. and yet, i find fortune does not come without a price.

his gaze drags over her, slow, considering.

tell me, ximena— her name rolls from his tongue like honey, like something tasted. what purpose do you seek in vahanet? how shall you serve the chosen of ra and ma’at?

a pause, the faintest curve of his lips as he awaits response. drawing himself to a seat at last.

ximena let his gaze linger on her, let the weight of his words settle between them like drifting grains of sand. he spoke of fortune and price, of purpose and service, yet she only smiled—slow, deliberate, like the curling of a flame catching dry kindling.

propósito… she mused, savoring the shape of the word. a languid stretch, a subtle tilt of her head. some seek it like fools chasing mirages. gold eyes gleamed beneath the dying sun as she stepped forward, drawing close enough that the space between them felt thinner than before. i do not chase.

her voice was a purr, velvet-soft but edged with steel. i take.

she moved then, circling, light as a desert breeze but with the silent intent of something far more dangerous. i have seen prey before it sees me. i have taken life before a whisper of warning could reach its ears. vahanet will feast, pharaoh—and you first among them.

she stopped, standing before him once more, chin lifted in quiet defiance, in certainty. the saqqar belong to the hunt, and the hunt belongs to me.