Lion Head Mesa thamir alward

from the lakeside through the dark wood, the summer heat began to ease. by the time jawahir had led @Maggie to the barren edge of the dry meadow the world felt far more mild, and then it began to drizzle.
it is not far now, the jewel promised.
soon enough the path began to carry them up a length of sloping clay. jawahir was amused to watch the pale girl's feet take on a ruddy cast, their eyes tracing the ochre glow of the crimson path against their sharp little body.

her feet had begun to hurt long ago, and when red mud began to clog her toes, maggie swore aloud. "tup me!" she shouted to no one in particular, struggling up toward the giant monolith of stone. "what sorta lord lets 'is roads turn to ruin?" maggie was starting to feel as if she had been taken in, and glared toward the bawd.
"i won't be cheated. let that be known."

the rain began to ease as they climbed higher among the stones. above them lay a scattering of broken clouds and soon, as the wind blustered in the upper atmosphere, blue sky would dominate again. they had made good time; jawahir would find a place for them to shelter if pharaoh was taking his time to meet them, though... it was not exactly an ideal situation.
of course, my sweet... jawahir held back a chuckle, sharing a coy look with the dove.
a stairway rose before them. overhead curved a red monument and it was through this massive thing's shadow that jawahir crossed, breathing in the dust. they thought to call for the golden man — to flaunt that he should come when called — but opted not to, and settled sharply back upon haunches instead.
waiting. combing teeth through the ruddy fur of a wrist, patiently.

the time had come to announce to their neighbors what they were. ramesses wanted no teeth descending on their head. the mesa and its land were large enough to sustain their small band, and their point of focus would not just take joiners of any shade.
jawahir's scent rose.
pharaoh strode forward, eager for the promise of another afternoon whiled away, and stopped short.
a glowing porcelain seraphim! she stood muddied and stained as jawahir, though with more disgust. "what have you brought us, my sweet?" pharaoh intoned, drawing jawahir into his arms, pressing his lips to the haughty arch of her neck.
fascinated, to be sure, with the pale bit of flotsam. "you will be a princess here. the stuff of dreams, lovely one," pharaoh told the newcomer softly, marvelling.

the flesh-monger paused — to wait. maggie scowled. "odd sort o'cunny-'ouse, innit?" rain and muck clung to her coat.
just as maggie was readying to tell the bawd piss off! and return to hawking her wares in another clime, they were joined by a tall and pristine stranger.
the beauty watched as he embraced the peddler. but his interest was in maggie, and she straightened up beneath his cultured voice and desirous eyes. "yew've a square of bliss 'ere, oi'm told," she observed. "let's see what sort of payment yew 'ave. then i might hoist me skirts!"
loud, mocking laughter. this was all a joke, wasn't it? and maggie the unwitting butt!

joyous with his arrival, the jewel rises and wraps themselves around the golden man. humming against the affection he spares, then looking sharply to the haughty girl as patience begins to wear thin.
pharaoh appears pleased with the look of her. the raucous manner of speech left something to be desired, but, even if he were to fancy an experience with this pale thing, jawahir knew he would still favor the jewel.
you have been told already, there is much for you here. my king has many... appetites.
laughter; soft and warm, pouring from the courtesan.

the manner of speaking that poured forth from the alabaster lotus had ramesses tense with a delectable anticipation. she truly was an exotic and foreign creature, and he thought of how much she might fetch beneath the arched stone roof of the mesa.
jawahir's laughter wended through, stirring him further. "what is your name, dove?" pharaoh inquired, these aforementioned hungers truly whetted.

maggie sent a scourge of a look toward the simpering woman with her beautiful tawny body. she had seen it bend lithely toward this lord. snaring him sure as a trussed trout. perhaps she had magick stuffed somewhere up her—
"i was told oi'd 'ave a meal an' a job. nuffin about what else oi'll get to keep as me own."
she was defiant, a smouldering little fire of snowfall.
the lord was asking her name. the milkweed sent him a bold and undressing pass of her wintry eyes. "maggie lacewell." she approached ramesses, feigning the confidence of the beautiful, and looked up into the black-painted eyes. "what's the name of the lord wants to keep me 'ere wiv empty words, hm?"

his attention shifted to focus upon all that the newcomer was; jawahir let it happen, wished it be so, for the more that the jewel could provide for him the more favor they could derive from him.

giving him a moment to speak for himself, for the woman to say her bit, and jawahir slid cat-like alongside pharaoh with a possessive gleam in their eye.

they would not speak for him; by now jawahir knew how much he loved the sound of his own voice and the sharing of titles, and besides, the coyote was much too keen on studying the pale girl anyway.

"maggie lacewell." interesting, that this one's clear lowborn beginnings did not deter pharaoh. maggie was not like aerin, a lovely and cold slave made conqueror. she knew her role already in this palace, and he stared down upon her with wanting lapis eyes, lusting after the very taste of her flippancy.
"i am pharaoh, Lord of the Two Lands, Beloved of Amun, He Who Shapes the World. i am a god."
he smiled softly, the glitter of gold highlighted upon his withers.
ramesses breathed against the tall exquisite auds of jawahir. "feed her. see that she bathes. then send her to my chamber." a grin for each of them; his gaze lingered upon maggie, and he looked second to his jewel with a deep and affectionate gaze.
pharaoh left them in the coolness of the stone, melding with the darker path as he eagerly sought to await maggie and her ribaldry.

the beauty's eyes widened slightly as the pretty man began to list his titles. none that she recognized. and the end of it, his perilous pronouncement. a god. 
her gaze shifted to jawahir. 
what sort of place, once more, had she been lured to?
pharaoh dazzled her with a haughty stare, and then began to speak as if she was not present. she met the desire of his gaze with a giddy smile, one that faded swiftly when his back was turned. "'is 'e a madman then?" maggie demanded in a whisper. "phay-row. that's a nonsense word it is!"

fade?

a hidden place that jawahir kept well guarded was home to a more volatile creature, a piece of themselves they had cultivated during times that necessitated violence. it was this hidden place that reacted to the pale girl's commentary now; though jawahir did laugh softly - as a school girl might while the headmistress had their back turned - there remained a dark and toothy undercurrent to the sensation.

he is our beloved, you will see. the jewel remarks to the nearest white ear.

pharaoh was away from them now, and it was jawahir's turn to play the role of a kind matron, which they did not take kindly to. though they would do what was required of them with a smile, leading the lamb to water.