Lion Head Mesa the price of luxury

Jawahir had been subjected to scrutiny before. It was something they used to find offensive, those eyes and those stares, the voices that would snap like whipping reeds through the dark; but as they grew they came to know themselves and trust themselves, to the point that the ignorance of other minds faded away.

Sometimes they played with these people. Now was such a time that Jawahir might have done so - speaking softly, or choosing to showcase certain parts of themselves, leaning in to the feminine or the masculine to unsettle. Charles was staring - that was all that really mattered.

If Jawahir had someone's attention, that was good. That was the point. It was the role of the jewel to transfix others and make them feel things, rather than think.

I am fellahin, they answer softly, with their eyes averted. Ramesses calls me his jewel. The jewel of Akashingo. They blink and as their lids open, they are looking pointedly upon Charles with warmth there upon their face.

I am whatever I need to be, for you. And any others that I serve.