Lion Head Mesa the [m]arble hall

Perhaps she'd have moved. Perhaps, without intervention, she'd have left their prince to his chambers where he could bask in dim light and wines. To be in, to be out, and to not question. It was the wrap of his arms that pulled her close, the kiss to her nose that struck warmth over her spine, and the firmness of his chest that changed codes.

His scent was a wash, his skin and room like luxury she had never been permitted to before. Her body soaked in it. Rolling along the sheets of bedfurs beneath them, her eyes gazed across the ceilings and walls again, her legs stretching and moving as if she'd never felt something so serene and soft. It was in the crook of his arm that she stopped, pressing her forehead to his body while the top of her muzzle gently rubbed his fur. She'd shown enchantment with wonders that were new to her, open in ways she'd never been given before, all laid out before her in simple things. A soft bed made her diamond mind dance. "Yes," her voice prodded.

"All prince- all royalty is to be devoted to. And the blood of a priest drenched in Ra who is worshipped and who I have vowed to. A holy prince. That is worship to him, yes?" A lick of a sultry smile, hidden under coy, jester layers that both taunted and gave. Secrets, and yet none at all to the immediate attention if he slipped away her words. She played with them. Her smile dropped to flat lipped with big, curious doe eyes.

"Our gods." With an extended paw, she pressed against his face before returning her limb. A pawing gesture- she wanted his attention before her eyes quickly shied elsewhere. "I know only so many. Only the almighty the desert demands in full. I learn- more, in Akashingo?" Then her eyes were on him again, smile in tact.