Lion Head Mesa blood & bone

midday in the palace was sweltering. outside crept with wavering lines of Ra's impenetrable mercy.

khusobek kept his patrols just outside the walls where the towering head of the mesa offered some minute shade. it took him near an hour to walk the grounds entire; he had placed a waterskin midway, to replenish him as he passed.

the burning of his paws as the sun crept to take away even that small shadow signalled to the man that he must return to the underground palace, and khusobek trudged to pick up his depleted carrying pelt.

plz forgive my grabby hands for wanting these two to meet

truly the mesa is no different from the desert heat during the summer. the sand felt red hot beneath her pads, though Tuna has found the feeling growing less unpleasant the older she becomes and the longer that she endures. certainly sweat clings to her in the more unsavory parts, though the girl does her best to stay cool with her own secret dips below the kingdom into the waterways.

evidence of these savior-like baths seem to dry within minutes however, and Tuna now must fight the urge to go back as she continues her duties. today, she's been instructed to offer extra water to the others of the kingdom to avoid overheating, and with her she carries a makeshift pail to carry water with floating cups in the wake.

upon her frequent paths to find all of the inhabitants, the bat-eared girl comes to see one of the strong mazoi move forward from the heat of the outer reaches of the mesa. so the girl moves forward, politely and low as she draws closer before setting the pail down.

"honor'able mazoi," she comes to say, "do yew require wah'ter after yer trip?" a gentle nudge of her nose against the structure, the splashing noise of the water evident and echoing off the halls.

ofc!! same! <3

the mazoi had not gone far when a dutiful servant approached him. one of the queen's very own retinue, offering water. "yes, fellahin," the guardian answered, pausing to sit and outstretch his jaws for such a cup and a drink.

when he had finished, khusobek eyed the girl. purely desert stock, from eartip to coloration to stature. he thought of his unsatisfied flesh but felt their ruler might take none so kindly to his choice in this particular servant. "your name?"

she pours him his drink, and perhaps must cast her eyes away before he can catch her staring. Tuna would have to be honest, she's never been quite this close to a man of his size and blood before. in many parts of the world, he may come to snatch her throat and wear her body as a medallion of honor over the coy species. but in the walls of akashingo, he is kept on tight reins it seems.

"Tuna," she states as she comes to pour another cup for him, "an' may ah have th'a honor to know yers?" it is perhaps no place for a fellahin to ask, but saying roles rather than names always seemed a bit much on her foreign tongue. beads of sweat come and go upon her coat, though the water remains untouched by her own lips. "do yew request a meal, or anythin' else ah can provide?" perhaps she is ignorant to his desire for flesh, perhaps she knows to keep her legs closed.

but through all of it, there lingers a curiosity of his taste.

another drink. the mazoi enjoyed the nearness, her deferential status. he swallowed the water again and handed back her cup. "i am khusobek."

tuna. little fish flipping fins in a large pond. anything, she said, and his muscles tensed. "i would take a meal, if you would share it with me."

khusobek was not ignorant of his class nor hers. but there could be an easing from time to time.

a meal, certainly that makes the most sense in Tuna's ears. "awf course," she comes to say, sweeping up the returned cup and placing it with the others in the ripples of water, "please, wait'ere." 

perhaps she simply misses the invitation, but Tuna is more focused on serving more than she is listening to what little crocodilian words flirt in her ears. but despite the heat, there is swiftness in her step as she comes to search for the nearest pantry. scanning for the moment in hopes to not waste time, tune comes to return with a platter fit for the mazoi.

"before yew," she says after placing down the meal before him, "is'sa round from tha shy deer, along wit' bits o' tender-loin an' fat tah' cleanse tha tongue." the meat is plated with a conscience, and even atop the cuts is a meticulously placed herb, perhaps meant to dazzle the eyes. round is a cut that not many come to learn of and appreciate, but Tuna picks this cut to serve due to the secret tenderness that can often be associated with it.

"does this please the honor'able khusobek?" she comes to ask, ready to sweep away the platter if he wished for something else to fill his gut.

eeager thing. khusobek watched tuna for any signs that she could interpret otherwise what a man could want, besides water and meals. his appetite was great. his appreciation of her plating was also so.

when finished, he favored her with a grin. "i am very pleased. it is no wonder they call you Favored of the Queen."

in his ice-eyes there was a deepening intrigue.

he eats, she does her best to not watch and allow her eyes to linger on his form.

when he appears to be done, she is quick to take the tray and set it aside near the pail. had it been an ordinary occurrence with the others, Tuna would have just excused herself to clean up and leave the man to his day. instead, the mention of the favoritism toula harbors for tuna causes a bat-like ear to stretch towards khusobek.

ignorant as she may be to many things under the umbrella of romance, tuna at least has some sense of knowing a compliment when she hears one. ears splaying out with a sheepish smile, the fellahin comes offer a polite dip of the head as a thanks. "ah just do mah best fer her." had she no fur, a blush would burn brightly on her cheeks.

to live well is to try hard and to take pride in one's work. for tuna, this is every day that she wakes in the palace walls. "our warriors deserve good care, just'as much as our queen," a small tilt of the head, "ah heard yew marched on'tha back of khaba wit' bravery at'tha lake. brings us all types'a joy to have 'im under control." it is polite to offer something back, is it not?

tuna enjoyed the flattery, despite the way she turned it away with her tongue and placed the praise on him. "scarcely a war," the mazoi told the servant, eyes tracing her sharp coyote countenance.

he liked the way she shaped her drawl in adulation. a light curve touched his mouth. "the queen is lucky to have you beside her. i am certain you make her feel well cared-for." tuna took pride in her work, so khusobek would also.

he doesn't revel in the wash of glory. perhaps there is humbleness in the places tuna would be afraid to look. there it is again, words that cause a burning on her cheeks and her ears once again come to stretch outward in an flustered spectacle. "ah can only do so much as'a fellahin. ahm sh'ure she feels safe'r wit such strong protection."

it feels like there could be a secret consequence for teetering on this edge with the crocodile king. there could be a trap door and tuna could fall through and be nothing more than lunch. but is that the worse thing to be? to be consumed by the air and teeth of a strong figure before her? impure thoughts...

"an' we need yew tah feel well-cared fer, tew." a bold (and tiny) step forward, coming to make sure the plate is pushed out of the way. "is'that somethin ah do fer yew?" she comes to seek his icy gaze, wondering if her warmth would come to melt them.

secretly scheming a possible hoe phase for tuna BAHA

>D

what was this, stirring beneath the flesh of the coyote? khusobek caught the minute changes in her stance which evinced — more.

boldly his paw raised to flicker claws along the fur of the servant's hip. brief, answering. what did this fellahin know of a man's wants?

"perhaps you can. i imagine you to be devoted in more ways than royal. is this true?"

if tuna has a chance to be completely brash and crude, she'd tell khusobek that she has absolutely no knowledge on how to please a man. but he didn't need to know that detail, did he? or perhaps tuna is simply so obvious, he'd probably pick up on it soon enough. 

an electric current glides across her spine at his touch, and tuna must not gasp at such fancies. "yes," her voice grows meek, a pink tongue comes to swipe against her lips, "ahm 'ere tah please. tha's it." and certainly, this is something that can be taken advantage of. but perhaps not so in tuna's world if she is feeding the desire for it. 

she is more than a pound of flesh, she knows this. but perhaps for the crocodile king, she does not mind being seen as something different.

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he was monumentally aware of this, as he had been with melody. khusobek enjoyed the toying, the resplendence of a woman opening to herself and her wants. because she had not been averse to his touch, the mazoi did so again, pulling tuna against his chest until she felt the strength and heat of him.

"come with me," away from the stone walls and hot sand, to a copse of trees along the serpent carpeted with softer grasses.

and it is here he presses his kiss, once, and then again.

there is a silent thrum of a quick beating heart against tuna's ribcage, desperate to wrap itself around the form of the mazoi. and perhaps all there is to do is relish the moment before he sweeps her away, the fellahin hot on his heels.

the sun perhaps burns the sensitive eyes of any onlooker, their dance may remain in simple peace. a gentle wave is what seems to come over the crocodilian, and tuna greedily drinks in every second that she finds herself being given what she feels is special treatment. perhaps, if only she were to know...

her own kisses would come for his figure, the silent little gasps when they intertwine in this soft grass. in his book, perhaps she is nothing but a nameless face. but in hers, he will remain as a sacred song that her heart will sing.

she finds herself continuously searching for his touch, fearful that he may come to his senses and pull away at a moment's notice. so she gives tirelessly, endlessly, in any way to keep him ensnared. khusobek may come to even hear her beg, if he allowed her to.

there is a playfulness in all the lost breath, even nips of her teeth to see if he finds such things as amusing.

because she was not wolf, khusobek did not seek the harder factors of her femininity. he was wolf. she was coyote. their hierarchy was clear, and he took the role over her own with fervency. her sounds; absorbed; her teeth provoking a low and pleased growl from the muscular guardian.

below him; khusobek looked down at her and was almost solemn. she would be memorable in the rightness of her service to him, and he taunted them both into a higher want until there was no longer to wait.

to the fellahin would fall this taste of the crocodile's dominance, one yet unknown by the women he courted; in it, a relief for khusobek, to be seen even when he was not.

when they parted, the heat had died down, and he grinned but did not rest so long. "you have pleased me," were his only words, before he made his way back into the mesa and headed for his post in the catacombs.

the next morning, tuna would be given a piece of tooth-carved wood from his own jaws, a circle of pine marked in such a way that it delineated the sun's reaching arms, a blessing of Ra for the coyote and one that also signalled his intention to ask for tuna again.

she is silent, breathless, lost in the mesa winds.

to know that work can come in more pleasurable forms certainly brings about an interest to tuna. but perhaps that leads to a dark hole, one that inji had spoken of before. all that glitters is not gold, and if there is one thing that the fellahin knows, it is that men can have a strain of dangerous ignorance and taste on their tongues.

perhaps she may rest knowing that this dance lacked the dangerous and forced element, but there will always be the inherit risk of something hitting the fan if she is not careful.

she watches the man walk to return to his duties, and eventually tuna would come to return to the hallways to clean her water pail and cups, along with the meat platter. and when she would see the special talisman marked with khusobek's own cologne, a small smile would climb over her dark lips as he encompasses her mind.

last from me, thank you for this exciting thread! <3