Ghost Lion Crag wilting lotus

He leans closer, a roguish glint to his eye, and his masculinity is beautiful, though Hatshepsut scarcely has an eye for any other wolf aside from herself these days. The familiarity with which he greets her would have brought her hackles alight had she not often heard the same since traveling through these lands, and she arches a brow instead.

"You are very forward," the Regent rejoins in an accent he would not be able to place, not unless he had visited Karnak himself, and her tone is merely observant, not scolding. Hatshepsut moves on, though not so quickly the man could not keep pace. "What is this place?" she inquires at length.