Lion Head Mesa A fake brother, who steals your jeans.

with the dazzlingly proud air of one who carried proverbial crook and flail, ramesses entered his own chambers. he swept beyond the brecheliant girl, beyond jawahir — though his eyes lingered upon his returned jewel with a flicker of want — and settled himself upon the throne of redstone.
only then did his lazuli stare move fluidly toward the presumed bride sent to him from the familial little hamlet of brecheliant. she was as beautiful as he had claimed she would be, perhaps moreso.
greatly pleased, pharaoh looked down upon her with marble face eventually softening into the honeyed smile that jawahir would know as dangerous.
"we welcome you to akashingo. what is your name?" he inquired pleasantly, tracing the fine bow of her mouth with his gaze as he waited for her to speak.