Lion Head Mesa thirty-seventh
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All Welcome 
for @Wren & @Akavir! backdated to ummm june 26th, evening <3

the roman had brought guests with him.

senmut sought them out once he had washed and eaten his evening meal, alone as he desired.

a servant; he told the fellahin to bring him the strangers and waited for them atop the mesa on a low couch of soft furs.

the fermented berries were laid out in three portions before him.
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What in the absolute holy fresh hell was this place?
A hilltop view, perfectly preserved furs of various animals, an intricate system of tunnels. Murals, altars, gemstones, jewelry, finery; even the food they had eaten was well-prepared and better than anything she had eaten in months.
Wren had enough self-awareness to know that she was a wolf. A wild animal. A wild animal with mud in between her toes who caught fish right from the creek and ate them whole. A wild animal who swatted at fireflies with the tip of an ashy tail, who howled songs in the dead of night and who shared tongues with her comrades. A wild woman, no less; a woman who spoke like a man and fucked like one, hunted like one and fought like one.
And this, she thought, was the most physically disgruntled she had ever been in her life.

The terracotta floors of the mesa's skyview are abysmally hot beneath her feet as she pads begrudgingly behind the little red man. He was smaller than her, visibly, and that made her oh so self-conscious. She shrinks down as much as she can when she sits, and before her and Akavir are what look to be... berries?
It would rude to deny them, especially with the way the red man glares gemstone daggers into her soul. And so, wordlessly, the berries are swallowed whole in one snap of wolven jaws. They are sweet and yet bitter and they burn. She smiles toothily anyway, tongue running over a lower lip to catch a mahogany pearl of juice.
She's not sure whether or not she's supposed to say anything. She decides that she isn't.
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Winding hallways and grand rooms, carved in stone unlike any he had seen, despite any cavern explorations he might have held in his time. The walls were adorned—nothing like the rudimentary decor he had seen a time or two before, and grand rugs of animal skin.

A man was laid before them now on such—they had been summoned, brought forward by what he had come to learn as servants—the fellahin were. Germanicus’ whereabouts remained unknown to him at this time, and any indication he were to leave the side of Wren from those that followed the Queen was met with a polite but sharp ‘no.’

This man, though, he did not recognize from when they were brought in. Nor had they held time with @Toula, as had been promised. Instead, they had been taken to clean—offered succulent meats and were expected to lavish in the mean time.

As if the inner caverns were a spiderweb, and they were being lured.

He remained silent for a moment—Wren consumed the berries without question, and he kept a blank stare for now, less inclined to worry about slighting the other, though his muzzle dipped down to pay his regards to the man in power it seemed—curious to know this ones title and purpose. “We haven’t met yet,” he offered, his tone a soft rumble. “I’m Taltos. This is Swan.”
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taltos. swan. "i am senmut, erpa-ha. hereditary prince." these things would likely mean nothing to the strangers.

they were earthy creatures, cool-eyed. the high priest watched the woman down her full offering of berries and the slightest smirk touched his elegant mouth. those had been potent, meant to be enjoyed over a sitting. 

he took one now. "i am told you seek someone who was once here. ask."

the green eyes flickered between them, these strangers that the roman had brought.
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posting as twin requested to go after akavir

He was correct—the titles meant little to the Alpha of a small claim at a creek—spare that hereditary princes could be fickle creatures when plotting the demise of the one upon a throne… eager for their own chance to rule. Or, so it had been at the Empire in the mountains.

He blinked—the barest hint of a smirk not missed from the erpa-ha when Wren flashed the man a smile and downed the berries in a fell swoop. Relief only grazed at his nape when the man plucked one of his own and consumed—not laced with poison, then.

At the request to hear of who they sought, the shadow runner smoothed himself to a gentle seat—poised, still, and yet his muzzle tipping lower to offer the titled wolf his respect and understanding of where he sat—within quarters that were not his own. “My daughter. Lilitu.” He tried to remain impassive—forward and stoical—but there was a tick in his pulse, the churn of his gut.


Where was his girl?
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Erpa-whatever. The words of this land fall upon lost ears, and admittedly, Wren had zoned out somewhat. There are tall-eared strangers who shuffle about — not wolf, but not not wolves. Fellahin, apparently, and round and round they go, at the beck and call of those who live amongst the palace. It sounded like such an odd term.
It swims around in her mind. Fellahin. Fellahin! Fell-aaaaa-hiiiiiiiiiiin. Errrrrrpaaaaaa-haaaaaaa.
The bubble of thought pops just in time for Akavir to sound out the name of the girl they sought. Yes, she affirms, a confident nod of her head. we'd like to know her whereabouts. If she's still here. 
Except now, Wren had begun to notice a tingling sensation in her paws and a blood-rush to her cheeks, and she gets the burning feeling that she should keep her fucking mouth shut because something is wrong. Nod, nod, nod! Nod along! Just sit there and look scary!
Except she doesn't do that.
She waits for a good time so it does not seem as though she is interrupting, and quietly, she peeps out. Sorry, uh, Mr. Senmut, if-- if I may ask, blink, blink, blink. Her blinking feels slow. Everything feels slow. Why is everything so slow? what, uhm, w-what were those berries?
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"she is no longer here. i shall tell you what i know."

senmut knew much more of the princess than he had known her. he noted that taltos, newly revealed as father, did not touch the berries.

to swan his attention now. "our fellahin collect the fruit starting at the beginning of the warmer months. they are left to ferment in the darkest storerooms, where strange magick turns them from mere berries into a drink of the gods."

the striking green of his eyes lingered upon the woman before returning to her companion. "lilitu was made a princess by ramesses. he married her to a man called charles, whom he had also made prince. when her time came, they joined, but i do not recall that a pregnancy came of it."

senmut spoke frankly, seeing little reason to hide any details. "she rejoined her family after the ascension of the second queen, and i have not seen her since that day."

another berry, proud gaze moving unhurriedly between the two as he waited for their reactions.
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His eyes remained sharp upon the man who lounged before them, as if a cat that quietly lapped at a bowl of cream set before him. Wren, then, speaks, and something seems off. His muzzle tips toward her, eyes studying her features and the rapid succession of her blinking.

When her question is answered, Akavir considers the berries. A lift of his wolfish brows were given to their host—concern drawing him to question more. “The effects are much like mushrooms when consumed, then?”

But Lilitu is mentioned—and is heart all but pauses in his chest. Relief, surely, that she has not been back to these walls—disappointment that she remains missing. He knows where to search next—and he steels himself, knowing it unwise to simply leave just as swiftly as they had come. And as such, to encourage continued conversation, the swarthy man dips his muzzle, tasting a berry—good faith given.

“Why was she crowned a princess? Especially if she was from another pack?”  The culture of this pack remained strange to him... and thus, he would try to string the pieces of it together. Or, what he could gather.
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Something something princess, marriage, pregnancy, Lilitu, Charles. At this point, Wren could hardly bring herself to focus on the conversation. Princess made her think of a little black-coated girl dancing around as a knight steals a kiss from her, cartoonishly riding off into the blazing sunset on the back of a bison. Oh, man, that's so funny. She wants to laugh, but physically stops herself with a paw that presses to her lips.
Oh, holy shit, something is so very wrong. Shut up, shut up, do not say a word about Lilitu. She's lucky she had just enough remaining inhibition to control herself. That's a shame.
Absentmindedly, she leans on the sharpened shoulder of Akavir. Her vision blurs in a strange way that she decides she absolutely cannot stand, and her legs feel oh so warm and wobbly. Are the, the berries supposed to make you feel weird? Or am I just, like, allergic? Drowsy gaze wanders to the forest-eyed man before it rolls over to Akavir, or what she can see of his face from between the raven fibers of fur.
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senmut reclined upon one elbow, his face a smooth study in open, quiet amusement as swan moved through the stages of her headlong consumption. "it is meant to make you feel this way," he said to them both. "drunken. light. evocative." 

noting how she watched taltos, the prince now answered the man. "it is akashingo's way of honoring one who has come to make a marriage of benefit for the kingdom. it would not do if a prince married below himself."

granting royalty to lliitu would also have added another rein of control to ramesses' hand, a hold over brecheliant made in blood. but senmut did not say this, for such was the right of whomsoever sat upon the Horus Throne.

"akashingo has other pleasures to enjoy," senmut said at last, his eyes returning to swan. "other things to imbibe."
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‘That’s a shame,’ Wren offered less than helpfully, leaning into him as she presses a paw to her lips. Was she going to hurl? Or was she trying to not word vomit on all of them?

He pauses—the effect of the berries would likely continue to worsen before becoming better, and Akavir has to bite his tongue at Senmut’s offer. Seemed as if Wren had imbibed more than enough—though he wouldn’t speak for her.

He thought of the Sharpfang close at home—fellahin. His stomach twists.

Shifting, his muzzle dipping down to preen at the crown of Wren’s head before casting a sideways glance to Senmut, he continues twenty questions, despite the golden wolf’s persistent invitations. “By benefit for the kingdom, you mean ties to an outside pack?”

Pawns upon a chessboard, perhaps. But it didn't explain quite the way in which Akashingo would benefit by such an alliance. He had always assumed Brecheliant quiet in their ways. What was it they offered the redstone kingdom?
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It was now that the unsanctioned anger began to twist at her stomach. Other things to imbibe? What, are you gonna get me drunk and then capture me and make me a prostitute?
She says this not in words, but the frown that presses at her lips is apparent. I appreciate it, but I'm-- I'm good, thanks.
Akavir has resolved to just interviewing this fellow, and Wren has no idea what they're even talking about at this point. Some other pack she had next to no knowledge of, if any. Strange ways of life, arrangements. Political-speak. Ugh, why are dudes so boring? So you mean to say that Lilitu married into Akashingo, by way of, um-- s'cuse me-- Charles, for political brownie points, and then she... left? She felt that an inoffensive enough inquiry, tone light and yet husky with her ever-increasing inebriation, that same toothy smile forced onto her face. Sorry, I'm just, uh, trying to understand. We're a little outta place here. Lotta unfamiliar jargon.
As much as she tried to remain coherent, the soothing touch of Akavir's lips to the top of her head is more than enough to distract her. As if she had relapsed into estrus, she finds her body wanting to lurch toward it, begging for more of that touch.
And just as quickly, she is overcome with the urge to leave. Oh, God, she's being annoying, isn't she? She isn't helping at all! She's horny and she feels so weird and she's making no sense, and this schmuck probably thinks she's a freak, and Akavir's gonna hate her, and—
No, she is not a coward. Alright, you drunk piece of shit, be less drunk.
Maybe if she just sits really still, it'll go away.
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no mention from taltos, who remains dogged. and a decline from zaahira. senmut watched them touch one another in a soft way, and knew he would not offer again. their chambers, as well, would be arranged together.

the red ankles were crossed, the slow burn of the berries astir in senmut as well. what did this dark young god know of courtcraft, nor how it let those inferior stay alive?

"theirs was an arranged marriage. to my knowledge, we share hunting grounds now with the caldera." vaguer now; he wanted to be pursued down into his words. senmut had spoken true; he knew nothing else, but toying with these outsiders had piqued him.

"yes. the pharaoh allowed her to return home, and thereafter she chose to leave. perhaps she was ashamed, but she was no prisoner," the prince told them, a hint of firmness lingering.
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An arranged marriage to benefit hunting grounds. He considered this a moment—Akashingo would be benefited from the extra hunting ground, given he couldn’t imagine what type of prey lived amongst them—but what did Brecheliant gain from it?

Wren rambled then—Akavir remained tight-lipped for a moment. Lilitu chose to leave—the man assuring him she was no prisoner amongst them. As such, Akavir selected another berry, the juices a burst of flavor upon his tongue. He wasn’t privy to Wren’s thoughts—simply trying to not draw much attention to her, should she mishap their names in her inebriation.

“Can I be honest with you, Senmut, erpa-ha?” His tone quieted now, his eyes intense as he studied the other man. It was not a glance of disdain—but nor was he warm.
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Akavir's words echo in Wren's zonked-out little mind. Honesty. Honesty? What the hell was he going to say? While she had tried so hard to bite her tongue, agree with him in relative quiet — which, as she would have added if she were vocalizing this, was damn near impossible for her even while she was sober?
She slithers in her seat, every bone in her body telling her to nip just behind that feathery little ear atop Akavir's head and tell him to— no, oh my God, don't do that!
Unless.
Senmut was right there, too, and surely he had parts that could—
No, no, nope! Nope nope nope! She'd crush him beneath her anyways.
She remains silent as the burn of the berries stills in her throat and the wrinkles of her brain slowly get steamrolled. Eagerly, she awaits Akavir's cue of honesty, if she were so lucky as to get to take her own bite out of that pie.
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the prince matched taltos' berry with one of his own in perhaps some shade of answering male challenge.

as senmut felt himself drawn below the delicious net of the fermented fruit, he watched swan more openly. perhaps the man who was her companion would think it want, but the priest was only fascinated by this quicker mirror into himself.

"speak without fear, friend," he said, his throat ending the words with a trailing of rich laughter as his pupils slowly dilated.
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‘Speak without fear, friend,’ the man encouraged—laughter echoing hollowly in the room in which they shared. It was the words of a viper, masked as a mouse—Akavir’s knowledge of such political standings had been brief from his days at the Empire, but he had witnessed enough to know that speaking without fear might have been encouraged, but it didn’t mean one would still speak without consequence.

The man’s eyes were sharp on Wren, who remained leaning to him. Did he wonder of their relationship? Or perhaps he hoped she would devolve further in the throes that often came with false freedom given by intoxication.

“Lilitu was born a princess in an Empire,” he offered, eyes tracing the man, watching for any tic of recognition. “The politics there were less than noble… I worked hard to find her a new home, away from such… antics.” He paused then, wondering what this man would read into his tone—his carefully chosen words. “So I was surprised she had managed to find herself back to them.”

Defiance, then, when he could feel the light burning of the berries. Nothing to hinder him, for his samples had been meager--but again, another one to his mouth, as if he did attempt to match Senmut.
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Senmut was just taunting them now. Akavir mirrors it with his typical dry-witted clapbacks, a tone of voice she knew all too well. She'd been interrogated the same way when asked of the red-eyed man.
She feels the urge to go, Ooooooh, shiiiiiiiiiit, but it ends up coming out in a garbled whimper before her eyes widen. Sorry.
It was getting agonizing, really, the testosterone that simmers between these two. So, with a tilt of her head upward, she speaks: I think what Taltos means to say is that he doesn't fully believe you. Her own curling, devilish grin, and a proud, glossy gaze that travels up to Akavir, seeking approval.
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the prince glowed with a moondown grin, reaching for two berries to the single one plucked by taltos. what a name; from where had it come?

"as far as akashingo knew, lilitu was born in brecheliant and came to us a wide-eyed peasant girl," the prince said, a low note of superiority sidling into his voice. how were those divine to know the origins of each given an audience in their court? "but once you have known royalty, its trappings are hard to escape." the heart wished finery in all tropes.

to swan, a blink. "i would think anyone a fool who traveled here and believed anything anyone said at once," senmut said, his voice stirring to honey. "so i suppose, taltos, you must weigh the benefit of a lie." his eyes, once intrigued upon swan, now rested with greater weight upon the darkfurred man. "i only withhold from those who have something to offer akashingo."

a slight? a challenge? senmut's darkened green eyes softly blinked.
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It was certainly a dangerous game—Akashingo, he knew, was not a place he wished to coax from their redstone walls and their mountain. He had a daughter to protect—also, a litter of cubs.

Silvertongue.

Still, a smirk played upon his lips as Senmut downed two berries—and Wren, beside him, piped up in yet another helpful statement. Perhaps it was the effects of the berries, but he found his jaws leaning down, preening at her again, a whispered: “Very astute, little swan,” he rumbled, though they weren’t words meant only for her, should the other be listening. He simply couldn’t help himself from teasing at her—cloying.

“As far as Lilitu might have remembered or knew, she was and is a wide-eyed peasant girl,” he noted to the man, his muzzle tilting back, pale eyes sharp upon him as he indulged another berry. “So I’ll be bold and ask… Are the politics of Akashingo something I should feel the need to protect my daughter from? Who is Charles?” And did the man need a lesson in how to better treat another being?

Whether the words were a slight or not, Akavir couldn’t be bothered to rise to the bait of it—his ego was not so easily bruised. But he did always enjoy a verbal spar or two, and could appreciate the other man initiating a blow.
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Oh, sweet heavenly Jesus, Mary and Joseph. She was done for.
Absolute toast. A puddle, even, melting beneath the heat of his breath, the huskiness of the whisper. She had not the remaining inhibitions to feel any ounce of control nor regret. A whine trills from her throat, and dilated saucer-eyes stare up at him as if to say if you do not fuck me right after this guy leaves us alone I might explode.
Loopy, loopy, loopy— oh, right, there's a kind of important conversation happening here.
An airy, strangely girlish giggle, a raise of eyebrows, and then; Taltos, she coos the alias with a raised lilt. he just called your daughter a peasant girl. I feel like if somebody says that, it automatically implies some shiftiness goin' on.
A yawn, followed by an additional, I would know. My dad was a warlord. He called people that all the time.
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his head was beginning to swim. senmut fought the indicative slurring of his tongue. "the only one here who posed any threat to lilitu has been dead for a long while."

that horrid eve; he remembered the way ramesses had drunk down the draught in full knowing before he and the daughter who became pharaoh thereafter.

to swan, a glinting smile. "child of a warlord. it is no wonder you found company with that roman."

those dark secrets were not the man's to know; he understood only the natural enmity of akashingo's blood against that of germanicus.

the woman, staring at the man with the gold-yellow eyes in such want it began to heat senmut's own blood.

"i did not know his origins, only that he was a sort of plaything to ramesses."

did swan want this of taltos? the prince found his breath warming to spiced wine in his throat. "i might leave you to your discussion," was his next invitation, for surely they both would fall to fire when he had gone. "tomorrow, an audience with the queen."
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Wren’s eyes drowned him for a moment—his own pale gaze studying her with silence. In the moment, it was hard to remember the look she gave him stemmed only from her inhibitions being silenced by the wine that coursed through her. Something he could never act upon or take advantage of, lest she woke in the morning with regret hanging over her.

He didn’t speak that for now though—let the other man believe them lovers, or at the very least, easily wishing to give in to their carnal pleasures.

Instead, he was lured back to conversation. Mesmerized for a moment at his made-up name by the she-wolf beside him and the breathy way she spoke it—before the slur of words from the man before them… a statement that darkened his very soul as he finally pulled his eyes from Wren, pointedly upon Senmut now.

Shiftiness indeed—particularly if the man who posed any lingering threats to his daughter had wed her off to a man who had been described as a plaything. All for the reach of shared hunting lands—

—something remained amiss, but Akavir was no sleuth. Lilitu was gone, and a Pharaoh dead. The Erpa-ha offered them seclusion—a certain thrum in the man’s words stirring Akavir to look back upon Wren once more, the gentle curve of her neck. Playing the part, he laughed—“I fear no discussion may be needed, hm, Swan?” Heated—playing a part, he told himself, his muzzle brushed to her. “Perhaps a spanking though, for your quick tongue.”

He would move to lead her from the room of the man—they would find their own corridor. A tilt of his muzzle back, he would offer the man a pointed look, but a sharp tooth smile. “If that is all the information to give on Lilitu’s whereabouts, I wouldn’t wish to impose on your Queen’s time,” he noted to the man—a dangling hook, wondering if everything truly had been shared.
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Wren found herself wanting to fight back upon Senmut's backhandedness, a snide curve to his lip as he drawls. She was no companion of Germanicus, nowhere near it; not a friend, not a travel buddy, nothing short of a goddamn tour guide. She was her father's daughter, the last of a garbage bloodline full of garbage politics and garbage treatment of others. This was not something to be proud of.
And yet, she straightens up in a sudden move of seriousness, bloodshot eyes boring right into the green-eyed fox of a man. That's right, her breath twinges with alcohol, her mind swirling and marbling; but with all her might, she forces herself to be clear. I come from a looooong ass line of men who once controlled an entire chain of mountains to the east at their peak. My father was a smart man, very smart. A damn good tactician. We're talkin' almost hundreds of men in militias, and they had to find wives for 'em somewhere, right? her eyes burn with challenge, the grand tale of her youth that may or may not have been... somewhat exaggerated. So, y'know, believe me when I say I've seen it before. Maybe not with your fancy grandiose gold-plated way of life, with, like, princesses and shit, but I've seen it. Everything is for the betterment of the clan, at the expense of the women, eh? A brief look to Akavir. That being said, if she was the wife of somebody important, she would either be here, or they'd have kept better tabs on her. Taltos, I don't know how much more we're gonna get outta this.
And with that, she slumps once more, swinging a foreleg around the small of Akavir's back, pride brazenly smeared across her hazy features. She is the one who leans up to his ear, now, with only one thing in mind; payback. Is that what you want, Akavir? To spank me? a whisper, only for his ears; warm, sultry. How 'bout I let'cha show these fuckers how to really treat a woman?
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such a pairing intrigued him. for all the cold upper hand that taltos meant to maintain, his efforts were sundered by the drunken woman beside him. 

senmut did not ignore her; he listened intently to this tale that veritably marinated in her disdain for akashingo and the things its prince had said.

resentment for her father. loathing of wealth. a sad understanding of one's place divided in by sex and class. swan doubted him and senmut, who had gleaned much from her diatribe, said nothing until its end.

"there is nothing more to say." a tap of his rail brought a servant. "reconsider, in the morning. the hemet-nekheb is a kind soul. for now, allow the fellahin to bathe u or bring you to your chambers, or both. i had you lodged together."

a glinting smile. a dismissal of the guests to their lustier forays, the existence of which senmut almost wanted to know.