Lion Head Mesa duat

My lord! Jawahir's voice carries, winding sharply through the dark to where the man waits, glowing faintly where his fur is gilded. The hebsut moves so close to hide their own shape, bestowing kisses to the pharaoh's throat as they oft did at other more appropriate times.

They knew how to tuck their body close and to be alluring, but not with the added bulk of motherhood upon them. It was an added complication which Jawahir had not considered in their haste to distract the man from what lay among the shadows and the stone.

There is a visitor -- a girl, from Brecheliant. As you requested of me. And so the coyote claimed, pulling back enough to bow humbly before the lord, yet those pitted eyes did not once blink or turn away from Ramesses.