Hideaway Strath giza

He was a wise man not to wander too close.

It rankled her that he was even so close as this and knew that his scent was something that would also stir something protective in @Vein's (reference) chest as well. She could not quite forget his disdain for the lowborn -- for the lives that had been forced upon the once-slave, the same lives she had clawed and fought her way out of. And it was for this that Ramesses would come to know a similar withheld contempt from The Priestess, polite but only on the surface. In all truth, some aspect of her felt she had denied the retribution he was due by sparing his life. It would not fix anything, his blood on their borders, but it might make her feel just a little better -- like some debt had been paid, if not to her then to the slaves of his homeland who had surely also been the victims of great monstrosity.

The mother was tall and proud, every bit The Priestess she had been named if still bearing the scarred flesh of slaveskin, as she drew upon him -- eyeing the ruined beauty in his jaws with an unreadable gaze that murmured of disgust. What a waste, to kill such sweet, pretty things -- and with no purpose, for even as sacrifices they would not mean much to her gods.

"Vhat is zis?" Was all she asked, all judgement withheld in the cool hum of curiosity that fled from her like cicada-song.