Lion Head Mesa akhet

some foul humor tipped his mouth toward an ugly slash that could not aptly be called a smile. "charles, perhaps. but charles has — become mine." he shrugged, thinking of the unabated passions of that hard-muscled body, sweet with drink.
gucci would take his meaning.
"she may not wish to return. i have considered extending an invite to basilica and to kvarsheim, to put forth their own offerings. but lilitu —" he let out his breath. "it would be a way to further bind brecheliant."
he at last sat down. "i love makono." his voice trembled, with love, with sorrow, with anger. "but too many a pharaoh has been couped or killed by their heir. it will not be me, gucci."
a glimpse, now, into the ravening blackness beginning to eat into ramesses' pupils.