Lion Head Mesa stele

"it cools the golden blush of your cheek with red fire," ramesses commented, letting his gaze linger pleasantly on the composition of feather and fur. she had taken it, and with it she had surrendered in a way.
let her bear such a scarlet item back to her brute of a man. he would assume much and ramesses needed say nothing. "all these things are offered to those who stay even briefly in this place. but not all accept." deliberately vague, for he remembered reyson's aggravated rejection.
but in the way that the soldier might think in new ways of his lovely chosen, so would pharaoh allow meadow to choose what she would believe.
her voice was silken, threaded with drink and the overwhelming number of emotions which had played so harshly upon her countenance. he had seen her watch nazli, and his knowing eyes wondered if she saw the beauty which perhaps burned close to reyson.
intriguing that she did not know her own. "i have met many mereoans. they are married to their work and i have long been uncertain they understand any pleasures outside of it."
meadow did not move back to a chaster place and so ramesses did not either. their fur brushed and soon their warmth mingled upon the reclining-couch. his lazuli eyes sought again and easily the jeweled features. she belonged in a place of splendor, but surely she thought herself in love. hard-bearing and a hard life would age her, and it would be what she swore she wanted, wife to a man who kept her pregnant and expected her to work alongside him just the same. 
the end of his tail flicked.