Lion Head Mesa forty-second

senmut had not forgotten the devoted intensity of @Legend.

he sought her that warm afternoon, keeping to the cooler places of the palace beneath the mesa. he could have had her brought to him, but the memory of how her eyes had burned with something like greed had remained in his mind.

and now his own searched in curiosity for the woman that sutekh had brought unto them.

Her paws graced the touch of rising structures, where the sun still touched the rising sandstone. Personal exploration took her only so far. These dipping structures, she'd seen, and her paws had touched them all. One by one, placing her pads on them and sliding them off, other times trying to leap on top of them with hopping back legs.

Though, she wanted to see more.

Echoes of the underground hit her ears throughout the night and days. She crept forward and through the front of many of these dipping entrances, tail swishing around below her legs and a devilishly curious smile painted on her lips. Oh, this was interesting. Quiet as a little mouse, and trying to slip through cracks like one too to scratch her itch.

Tunnels? Yeah?

Standing at the front of an opening, her front paws went down into the first step, and it had been there that she started to lowly, quickly hop as if the shaded soil and rock was hot. Then, she retreated backwards, taking her paws out and peering her head farther in.

she had explored all parts of the palace with body and foot, and he found her happily down one such excavation. the prince's face lit with amusement.

"well, mazoi? do you find akashingo to your liking?" he signalled a waiting servant to bring leaf-cups of water for them both, and settled to sip at his. 

"what sort of role do you wish to have in the queen's service?" he asked, raising green eyes to the face he knew already could be worshipful.

In moments, her head bowed. Her eyes averted. Her thin front legs, they splayed. In mind, she put herself far, far below him. She was at his will, and thus at his question, she only spoke once she saw permission to answer. Her bones had a pleasant crawl that she released through a slight shiver of her back. She held, for him, a slight smile and calm, yet stormy eyes. A storm that subdued, and made way for his entrance.

Entrance she welcomed. Her ears gave slight twitch to the water brought to her feet, and though she did not look up, she acknowledged it. Acknowledged him. Her attention was pinned in the low light of one of the passages. Whether or not she needed permission, she did not know. Though, there the prince was, offering his tongue in word.

"I am no great warrior. My body holds no competency for the strength of a lancer or prideful Yaret." In Prince, there is calm. A gift he must have used wisely, and she understood such in his view. Then she would not take it for granted. "I am messenger," she told.

she spoke humbly, bowing before him. senmut wished that her reverence did not move him, and yet it sparked the portion of him which responded to his gods, and to the touch of his gods.

his heart took up a faster beat.

"you would travel far for akashingo?" but she meant it, he saw, she meant all words.

the green eyes sharpened. "would you strike a foreign king, if you were given the opportunity and the poisons?"

Then he would be treated as one of the gods.

"Forever on foot, My Prince," she answered. Endlessly, she would move for Akashingo if they commanded it. It was what she understood best. It was what she craved to do. Even now, the idea offered to put her heart in a nauseating flurry. She put it aside, she let it rest, she listened- patiently. She wished not to disrespect him nor his name. The royal showed kindness and mercy, something she offered not to take advantage of in the moment. He could choose to revoke it.

So, what her prince, who seemed of Ra, spoke of with her next, stayed between his and hers prayer. In a quiet chamber.

"I see many. Hear many," she said, swishing the tip of her tail at her leg.

In the next moment, her foggy eyes in a submissive, unguarded blink locked to his. A little smile that had been long on her mouth was given to his pupils. "And should a king fall at my feet, we will say it was the winds."

her devotion forced his hungers to make themselves known, that kernel of ambition which had lodged itself beneath his heart at his ascension and now fed upon her adulation.

having at least one fully loyal to him should not have pleased the erpa-ha, and yet it did.

not to possess her, as one might have done with such praise; she was of the sand, the wind, the earth. an elemental spirit and one in whom he sensed a great deal of power.

"akashingo is blessed to have such a zealot." as am i, the bright green of his eyes said.

"Your blessing, I receive. And I abide by you."

Where desire stirs and hunger is greeted, there is a calm. Her stomach soon met the floor, tail slowly coming to a curl around her hind leg. Before him, she stayed upon her knees and a bowed head. Little did she dare to look him in the eyes, and when they did she acknowledged, respected, an emerald valley lit ablaze.

So, she stayed with him. Even if it would be short. He offered the warmth of them and a trust. His blessing.

Her tongue lapped once, twice at her gift of water. In her homeland, it was of fine luxury. "Does that please Prince?" 

Her head was down still, yet at that question her tail swayed once to her other leg, then took rest as it returned. An echoed drop of ground water falling a level in the chambers slivered down their ears.

senmut was no longer immune as a priest might be. entering the palace had been the end of his time as training-priest. ascension to erpa-ha had rendered him a man. and with these eyes he recognized the intention of what could be more in legend's shifting slink.

what consumed senmut was her seeming zeal — for him. immediate. burning. something that in his depths he knew he had not yet earned.

"i am pleased."

his voice was hoarse.

The mighty erpa-ha did not dismiss her. Instead, he watched. She stayed. She knelt, and she drank before his figure.

She was his mazoi, and him her erpa-ha. One that she held desire for to satisfy his mental with loyalty. One she far from minded. His gaze brought forth a chill down her spine, and she let it wash her in plenty with each drink she took. To her, this was how he should be treated. How he should be addressed. How he should be looked to. How a royal, an erpa-ha, a prince, should be addressed. How he deserved so.

In a turned head, eyes seldom to reach the touch of his, her lightly smiling lips, default as it was, dared to ask him a question. Oh, she wished not to upset him, and the obligation softly pulled her undercoat. And softly she asked, even if she knew the question to be empty. The conversation soothed her skin, and oh, how fluid it came. "Does my presence disturb him?" 

He could answer however he desired, but it was clear that regardless she would bend without complaint to accommodate his answer, wouldn't she? 

He should know so. She felt he did when his voice of rust settled into her ears for an ingrained memory. That stayed in her bones for these seconds. Every second more, she showed gratitude for the gift of his voice. His time. His space. His water. She felt no rush.

what was this? what was she?

senmut commanded the respect of the palace entire. he controlled the conversation, the discourse. he told the servants how they must be, and where, and all fellahin reported to him the whereabouts of their queen and if anything plagued her.

such was his expectation, at least?

but senmut desired none of them. the ill-fated night with isa had put him off. only just recently had he called for jawahir to join him, once, twice, and splendid with guilt the morning after. 

desire was felt fleetingly. rarely. never. his devotion was to gods and queen.

but now the full-force of lust struck senmut; in a moment and in full awareness of his rank above legend's own, his shaking paw reached out to raise her chin, her eyes to him. they were the shade of sky before rain, they promised petrichor and fire, and he asked: "suppose i wanted your presence in my chambers?"

daring; daunted; his stomach thrilled with the uncommon daring of it, but in every part of senmut was now writ his want as he stood above this prophet-for-self.

And his commandments.

By gentle fingers and the palm of a golden seraphim, her head rose. His eyes: all knowing. His wings: cold. In an embrace of ice, they offered to cloak her until she felt none but warmth. Her own gaze broke away from her cheeks, and ascended to the sight of her new priest. He cupped her so gently. Doe-like, large eyes fell upon him, and they could have only mirrored the wonderment that blazed through her.

It was his terms that he spoke to her on. It was on his terms he touched her. It was on his terms that he looked at her. So, now, it was his terms that she stared at him, where she examined his features. His face. His jaw. His ears. His bridge. His mouth. There was none she could truly look at, however, when it was not there that he'd locked her to. Only her peripherals were allowed exposure to his structure. The rest of her, all of her, was intertwined with his pupils, where he told her she belonged right then.

The tops of her lids were soft, her lips were relaxed, her jaw offered little weight against his guiding hand. There was a slight quirk in her head that naturally came up as her was extended. A gentle breath of air floated down her nose. For a scent she found so subtle before, she now found it thick. "If he did, then I would follow." Then, her head turned only slightly more, but suddenly, as her smile was pulled up by her mouth. "I?" As if that thought, as if that notion that he'd suggest, I, was the reason that her pupils bounced momentarily between the edges of his. Even now, she did not expect him to act, but when he did, she burned with him. He was modest. Reserved. She knew he would keep the loudest secrets under his tongue. He gave nothing without his own awareness. For the tower his aura held and the shadow he casted, she did not expect the generosity of him placing her in it. She did not expect anything from him at all and would only take as he gave. And now he'd been given a taste, and so had she.

So, then came a new question that in no hurry started to cling to the walls of her mind.

Who was he?

Spark. Spark.

veneration. yes. he knew such when it was seen, malleable. he saw it in the set of her jawline and the way her eyes drank upon him as if he were not something she was allowed to behold.

it was as if senmut stood once more before the altars of Amun, but instead of his own soul there tied by wrist and ankle it was that of legend, and instead of senmut's usual pious fear, she burned up at him in oil fires of her own.

every twitch of lash and curve of mouth was attuned toward him, and through these things senmut felt as if he might have known her once before, or if through her came the message of the gods: that the divinity of the queen and her ancestry had somehow brushed the high priest.

high priest and she the priestess who kept her gaze only upon his. senmut felt his breath hot and fluttering, and wondered if he should give in to waiting or have what they both wished now, the etching of his rights over her exercised in a way he had not before.

"then come to me tonight," the prince ordered lightly, the verdancy of his green eyes darkened by pleasant anticipation. he traced her lips; once; and dropped his paw.

dismissal for only the exquisite wretching wait of several hours.

Her voice was just as feathery, just as scorched. Swiftly, her eyes broke down to his face before returning to his pupils. Eager to him.

"Yes."

He teased.

Not only had he touched her chin, but her mind. He would make her think about it. He would make them wait and make her have the decision of coming to him. On her terms, under his order, when the sun fell and when the flickering of this flame grew all too strong, she could come. Then, he had will and restraint. He had a mind and a body. Now she could only fester. Now he could only fester.

He played a game.

Then he truly had her focus, her attention, her thoughts. Where he had her ears and eyes before, now he had her mind and he rattled it. Why, why, why. Why did not matter. She did not mind why. What only mattered was that pit in her chest and stomach that was filled and devoured by his thoughts; thoughts he carefully put upon her lips and that she ate.

Now every hour she would think.

Now every hour she would wait.

Now every hour she would want.

Now every hour her veins would sting.

Now every hour her head would ache.

Now every hour she would wonder.

Now every hour she would break, and it would build her all the same.

Dropping her head, a final lap at the cup she drank from had been cleaned in a swipe of her tongue. Rising, she pinched it between her teeth and departed without looking to him again. Instead, he would only see the back of her dipped neck as she turned her back on him and removed herself from his space. Long legs moved slowly, lightly, carefully, and he did not see her eyes again in her leave. Instead, she took a quick glance to the surrounding walls from the corners of her eyes. He could wait.

Senmut made a decision.

He made it fun.