Deepwood Weald ghabat hadia

@Anarkali

tiring of the thick smell of rotting fish, by midday jawahir has traveled elsewhere.
the weald; though the scents are strong here, they are of a more terrestrial sort. picking their way carefully along shadowed paths, they come to a narrow corridor and then duck low, sliding over slick mossy logs to where the soil is soft.
it is here they hope to speak with their own kind; it is a meeting place, well hidden.
the courtesan hums a lullaby, known among her people as a summoning song; to wolves, it is only noise.

sweet music, slipping through the verdant weald.

she is summoned to these dulcet tones, small and lithe traversing the winding forest paths. her enormous ears are cupped forward, catching each note—oh, how sweet! for she knows the singer, and they have been separated for some time.

but now, reunion—

she happens upon the other fae and moves to brush her lips against her temple, cheek and jaw in turn. ukht, she purrs, doing a small circle 'round her companion before bringing herself face-forward once more. much glad am i to see you again. i had thought. . .

the courtesan trails off, golden eyes lowering, observing the earth. she mourns for a silent moment, ruminating on what could have been, then returns her gaze to her fellow jewel.

how do you fare?

they come, but one.
the others likely scattered, taking footholds throughout the wilderness. jawahir is glad to be attended.
quick kisses, a snaking body.
when anarkali bows, the jewel moves to press forehead to forehead; eyes closed.

I am well. it is good to see you, sister.
back, now. settling so that they can look upon the beauty of the other, the likes of which they have not seen in many days.
this land has much prey for us.
jawahir speaks of wolves, of course. a knowing warmth finds its place within the jewel's darkened gaze; reminiscing.

sorry for the wait!

the aroma of a sister; ah, ambrosia, how wonderful it is! she sighs as their foreheads touch, the connection between them—though never broken—revitalized at once. capable apart. . .but much stronger together.

indeed, she responds, one corner of her mouth curling in a devilish smile. there is mirth, sparkling in her precious-metal stare, tucked away in the playfully curved cheek. tell me of your quarry thus far.

for her part, anarkali has nothing. no tales, no conquests, no bounty.

she will live vicariously through her jewel-sister—for now.

jawahir enjoyed the physical a touch too strongly, unwilling to let the moment pass, and lingered there a breath longer after the withdrawal.
the question earned a smile.
a boy, though i judge he was made a man already; i found him willing. although he had nothing to offer the jewel in exchange.
our favorite pharaoh, of course. lashes flutter. anarkali knew the man the same way as jawahir - more, maybe, as she was often his chosen.
and others, but none keen for a bite.

her lower jaw falls slack, her tongue lolling out in playful abandon. of course jawahir had found pharaoh again. she tries to recall the man's scent, hoping she can one day track him down and have her way with him once more. for now, she relishes the memory of his touch, and softly envies her sister's conquest.

wolves are stubborn; you know this, anarkali says with some pique. our gifts are best suited to the mating season—but soon, it will come.

she stretches, yawning in unrestrained languor, enjoying the cut of sun through trees, dappled upon her back. lovely weather, she remarks, leaning into the heat. they are born and bred for this, and the north is warmer than any time she's known before.

perhaps their time truly has come.

stubborn is not my word for them, jawahir sighs, rolling their eyes. for a moment a dreamy look ensconces their face and shifts to something sharper, almost annoyed. but i will play the game.
becoming whomever or whatever the wolf desires, for a time, and for a price. to work magic and change the minds of those in power. it will only benefit them in the long run and thankfully, jawahir is patient.
mmn, it is warm... the coyote arches their back and stretches, feeling the heat of the sun follow the curve of their spine, drawing close to their sister for a playful muzzling against anarkali's neck.
where will you go, sister? this land is vast. there are many prospects - or will you stay, knowing that pharaoh favors you?