Lion Head Mesa 家 okaerinasai

ramesses listened. crowfeather. such a feral little name. he did not miss how her eyes lingered upon the boy, and jealousy began to burn fast and verdant in his belly. beside him, maggie simmered with her usual insatiable curiosity, a touch of snow so deep as to pull any man from any fever. jawahir gleamed in the long shadows cast by the mesa, gathering all light with the sandspice of silken fur and glowing with in Ra's gift.
recognition dawned in the lapis eyes, and then a deep, gliding amusement, one meant to mock the sable youth as he sought to escape pharaoh's eye.
germanicus.
at once pharaoh's attention was captured by the man made of iron and little else. this of course might have been explained by how the brute seemed to shoulder forward. satsu's guest had a voice gnarled as a sword's edge. beneath ramesses' impatience grew the steady climb of hatred, for he had known at once the sound of that name, and the untenable caesar following behind.
a roman cur, kicked dogs scouring an existence among wild forests and ledges of stone. had they not killed one of egypt's own princesses? sister to the pharaoh's own grandmother, given in hopes that rome might stay their ragged teeth in the eyes of such beauty blessed by Iset Herself.
but it had not been enough. nothing was ever enough to quell the ever-empty stomach of those pretentious soldiers. above all they wanted land, and the glory of taking land, of having enough dirt reek of roman piss that they might say it was owned.
imperator. this man wore the highest honor of his country's military. ramesses knew well what the name had meant: son of an emperor, surely given as little more than a suckling to the captain of the guard, to be trained and reared in that hard and violent world of men. it disgusted the mind; seti would never have dreamed such a thing for his children. 
now this roman stood before him and spoke of alliances already made, threatening pharaoh upon his own land with the hint of armies to come if he was not given what he wished. 
the serpent of the desert: the asp. germanicus insulted the Great One of the sands. when had his kind ever sought to respect those who had come long before they called themselves senators? 
it was an obelisk of pride to ramesses that he remained outwardly unmoved, as languid as if he had been fanned softly by plumes. the small, mocking smile had never left his lips, and now ramesses allowed it to deepen. he was starkly aware of his own beauty as he faced this germanicus, uncowed.
the sea-tongue that flowed forth pained the royal, if only for the simple fact that the cliffdog had butchered it with his heavy, forbidding voice: that of a man who expected ramesses to simper and rush as if he were a servant.
only the firming of his lapis eyes into their own set of harsh gemstones warned the soldier not to press him.
"you are so very bold, to speak to me in this way." ramesses kept himself conversational, tilting his head to one side as his eyes smoothed slowly to where crowfeather cowered some way behind. "forgive me, but i did not know an imperator could be ... demoted back to an auxillary." the sharp white teeth glittered in a soft laugh. "i understand. the saints have gained a name for themselves."
what sort of men had satsu brought beneath their roof? was it all for this boy, that she might — "akashingo is our own land, and we are no longer saints. ask your companion how terrifying their leaders appear to be, and how i played my part in this deception well against him. he was spared a savage's mauling upon my intervention." the smile smoothed bemusement into his eyes. "whoever has charged you to seek among us surely also seeks you to return."
pieces upon a game board; jackals keeping a pair of hounds at bay. "i would be remiss if you should review us badly. a palace such as the one satsu and i seek to build here must be seen. allow me, germanicus julius caesar, to plant akashingo so deeply in your mind that your report becomes an invitation."
"i am the Morning and the Evening Star. i am pharaoh. i am Userma’atre’setepenre, Keeper of Harmony and Balance." an arch of gilded brow. "and i say there will be no more talk until you have been treated to the honey and wine of our court."
he searched the man's face. the soldier had spoken in greek. but ramesses would choke this son of thieves on his own bile. "non mirum est quod romanus miles cum puero proficiscitur." ramesses notched a proud, heron-fletched arrow onto the golden and shining bow of his tongue. "omnibus gustibus hic servimus, imperator."
he leant a bit closer, perfuming the air as he murmured, "ne mireris. linguam hanc didici cum feminis romanis dormire."
ramesses turned away with a grand gesture. no man played more cunningly the role of courtier than he, and certainly not a dusty, sweat-stained emissary from some fickle land which loved blood more than pleasure. "satsu, please lead us." his tones were light, unaffected; but only she would know the truth of them.