Lion Head Mesa or the house burns down

wild men indeed. 
their virility was not lost on ramesses, who came with jawahir trotting elegantly beside him. the jewel, received at least once back into his good favour. 
his steps were confident, the banner of his pale body an obelisk to the tribute demanded by his presence. "who are these fair young gods come to the house of akashingo?" he said with a laugh, seeking his shabti with a kiss to her cheek in the next.
that one of the men matched him in age did not matter. 
flattery? mockery? a gentle, probing test.
yes; possessive. "i am pharaoh." he did not speak his name, for they would soon know it. his title was enough.
like marble he gleamed alongside the forest goddess drawn from her trees to sit at the helm of their land, lapis eyes observing openly the fierce pair before he and treva.
jawahir, to his left, missing nothing.