Lion Head Mesa girl with crimson nails has jesus 'round her neck

While Mírwen prided herself for her self-taught preservations and street smart antics, the travel to desert palace had not been as easy as she had hoped. Germanicus had told her of a kingdom that all but ruled the flatlands—his brazen suggestion that if she were to escape the clutches of her old pack, it would be best to do so here.

The idea of trading her unclipped wings to another cage, even if gilded, was something that left a bitter taste on her tongue.

Yet there was a certain desire in the youthful woman to do right by the wandering solider—loneliness had shrouded the man, particularly in the silence of his death. Surely, someone should know he was now beyond them all—and he had spoke of this place as one he had given protection and honor to.

If they merely scoffed at the news she would come to deliver them, she knew then she could never stay.

She had bathed herself—a child of the forest and bountiful waters, she ensured her pelt remained at the finest of ivory—the strip of ebony perfectly set upon her crown. So when a perfectly trim paw met sand and sank for the first time, it was a frown that marred her features for a stolen moment.

And then, telling her inner hesitation to GTFO, she purposely began to stride forward—albeit stopping as she looked for any tell-tale scent markers to lead her along the way to this alleged great kingdom.

word had come that many were coming. travelers that had been delayed by Winter storms and their own politics would make way to pay tribute to the royal couple and the new Pharaoh. Toula had some understanding that she had been on the throne long enough for curiosity to prevail for at least some of this number to come this way now, but equally believed the legitimacy of winters terrible power. and she knew for a fact the way of politics. they could keep even a Pharaoh rooted! 
she and her husband had greeted Ra, and now, Toula made way to pray to Khonsu for these travelers. several attendants with her, and a guard—they moved in slow progression toward His altar, gifts in tow. but in the distance moved one of the loveliest beings Toula had the pleasure of witnessing. their furs reminded her of her father, but were purer still than his. pure starlight! Nwt-touched! 
Toula was dazzled. and taken with the way that she moved—a royal, if ever she saw one. even on territory that was foreign, the woman moved with steps so well-practiced it appeared effortless. to move so beautifully was an art. Toula, too, had been taught—and to see it in the other was to understand that she was not at all ordinary. the beauty of this perfect stranger could inspire poetry. Toula knew it could inspire more than even that, when witnessed by the right eyes! 
she adjusted her course. her path was now for the woman, and when they were in close proximity a Mazoi would seek to give the stranger pause, if she had not independently!, before an attendant introduced Toula to her with each of her names and all of her titles. and once those formalities were out of the way, Toula stepped nearer as her guards stepped aside. and then Toula observed that none followed the other, which was curious given the station Toula presumed her to occupy in life—but, perhaps she was wrong. or perhaps Khonsu had only blessed her path! it was time to discover as much.
this close, Toula saw the woman was also kissed by Kek atop her crown, a spot of the nightsky there. I hope that Khonsu has kept your travels here safe and uneventful, she begins, voice soft and warm.

cameo unless noticed! aka i need him to stay active lol

Haizel was never far from flora, his giant frame and brown pelt akin to a doe's, often decorated with petals of varying flowers. He liked it that way, and it disguised the dirt lingering in his fur more than it didn't. But today, in his infinite wisdom, had chosen to rid himself of the dirt. Today, he was once more in search of spring blooms to cultivate in his chambers to prepare them for planting elsewhere. 

A master flowerkeeper he was, and a budding flowerpriest, even if he had no idea how to do this priest stuff. Maybe he'd ask Senmut if he got the chance to speak a word. 

Maybe he'd like another flower of friendship?

He'd definitely like to give another friendship flower! Maybe one to Her Royal Awesomeness Pharoah Toula? She'd probably love it.

When @Germanicus had spoken of a great kingdom, the lavender-kissed girl had not expected such an entrance.

Swept before her was a girl of sun-kissed hues—eyes as bright as the ocean the Tawarwaithian had witnessed prior to even her time spent in the hinterlands colder grounds. Expectantly, as guards came forward, she slowed her pace—her chin notched higher in royalty, though dipping to accept inspection—demure eyes flashing to any who bore witness to her.

It displeased her to once more play such a role—salvation encouraged her to do so.

The weeks had been long since her first encounter with the tactician. His company one she had been grateful for in such lonely times. His death, though—that, she knew was not only a devastating blow to the girl who had been looking for a kind face amongst the normal world… and a blessing to the royal she would once more need to become, should she wish to remain from the clutches of her own kingdom.

Mírwen had attempted the route of a simple dispersal wolf—it had given her little reward or satisfaction. Now, it was time to play a new hand of cards. She could only hope they could not call her bluff.

Her eyes traced over the extravagance of the woman who greeted her beneath a humid sun. Perhaps, one day, a great friend—for now, one to study with casual interest—and now, with a quaking hesitation as the game begun. Another remained close to them as well... but her eyes were only for the royal.

Her own form remained genial—bowing to the one she could already see ruled these sands—her gaze fluttering between toes and mouth, barely grazing the girl’s kind eyes. Her voice was warm—kindness seemed to emanate from her.

Please, she quietly prayed. Please, let her be kind.

“I.. I’m so sorry,” she offered, her tone perfecting that of grief and uncertainty. “I do not know whom you speak of—but I…” She bowed her head lower, gaze casting to her own paws—but of course, her role would not allow such a trembling waif to look the other in the eye with the news she would bear!

“I come bearing news of… the Imperator of Mereo. My… my fiance."

"how did he die?" senmut knew very little of the man, and far less about his personal matters. there was nothing in the prince to counter the claim of the royal. her clear elegance and polished mien told him she was not common, an odd choice for a military man.

but all of it mattered not if she was widowed.

senmut had moved to the side of pharaoh and spoken in curiosity. clad only in kohl, he regarded her with a calm watchfulness, saying nothing more as he waited for their ruler to appraise the striking words of the gold-running stranger.

she watched the beautiful woman, rapt, invested—but the words that came from her in the end struck her with such force that she was rendered silent, as though the wind had truly been stolen from her lungs. hadn’t it, though? the great Imperator, dead—! no! and it was not so much the words that brought her to this thought, but the way in which the beautiful stranger trembled, and held herself. what other news could it be? 
it was not her great plans that she considered then, only the great man. how had yet another been stolen from her? ah, his son—Cornelius! he would be devastated, too, 
she was meant to be Pharaoh, but for a moment she was a girl again, asking Germanicus to teach her to spar and explaining her love of dance, and he, in kindness, likening the moves of a spar to such a thing. it had been the first time Toula admired any, outside of her family—and the feeling never changed. even in death, she would admire him,
thank the Gods for Senmut. the stranger would have had every opportunity to throttle her, were it not for her own guard—and Toula blinked, no longer in the past with a great man but in the cruel present, where and when he no longer was. she mourned him, and she was not ashamed of it—and she did not hide it. but Senmut, he ended the silence, he asked a question of the woman who—
fiance? her voice cracked—but her gaze was all the softer upon the woman before her. at least Germanicus had died loved, and by a great beauty. yes, loved—she had to believe that this was no thing of convenience, though he was a man of duty. she had to believe that in the end that he had at least found this soft, sweet feeling for himself. 
but she also hoped for Senmut to be viciously corrected—not in action but in word, that the pale one before her would say, no! he is not dead! only very ill, and it is very urgent that you go to him at once and save him! 
a silly little dream, perhaps, but one she allowed herself for these precious next few minutes—until the correction never did come.

Her head bowed—a masculine voice questioned her now, and her gaze snapped upward, lilac settling to greenleaf, kissed with black—surprise written to her slender features as he all but assumed the man’s death before she had even spoke of it.

She swallowed—the grief on her features was real, despite the farce she maintained. Even more so when Toula’s voice whispered as a crack in the sandy air—the humidity for a moment stealing her breath.

She didn’t know if she could do this. This was a mistake.

“Injuries he had sustained defending the palace.” Her words were a whisper—her gaze wavering between both—a quiver tracing her thin limbs, threatening to give way. “He lays to rest in a forest of tall trees. An acorn is knit within the fur of his shoulder… the acceptance of our engagement. He was going to protect me.”

Long lashes cloaked her gaze as she glanced down—most of her words true.

Self preservation was something she firmly believed Germanicus might have commended her for.