Priestess of Nwt

Nazli · April 21, 2024, 04:45 PM

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the proposition of a fertility ritual was brought to nazli in her temple, by word of mouth, and she was left to think, and pray, and listen for the next steps. she did not need to choreograph anything—Nwt would provide.
those of muat-riya gathered. nazli had a branch of the sycamore sapling carefully wrapped for transport. there were fineries prepared; the red reeds of incense were packed and carried. blue pigments and red, and gold, made from the flowers of the meadows between, having been made paste and gathered in to shells.
the arrival came, and nazli brought these things to a room for preparation. the vaulted ceilings of akashingo welcomed her and she was pleased by all of the commotion—but she missed senmut, who was busy with his own work.

the four days passed and nazli worked to tend the offerings to toula and her consort.
blessings, charms; oils, blossoms, sweetened water.
on the fourth day as she was taken aside to be cleansed and tended, nazli allowed herself to feel the sanctity of the moment. she was washed by fellahin. anointed. painted across the eyes; and in secret once these things were finished, she went to her collection and brought out a precious oil she had left out to be blessed by moonlight, and painted this with great care upon her belly.

so came the time of the procession.
at the head of each column was senmut, was nazli; they did not look to one-another as they marched.

she felt the thrill of eyes upon her. she felt the desire in her body to be fed in many ways; the desire to look upon her beloved before he could assume the power of the gods—but before she could give in to this, his voice filled the space.

the song began.
she looked to him.
before he could become a god and herself a goddess, they were man and woman, and there was love there between them. if nazli expected to feel embarrassment for their audience to see this and to know this, she did not. she only saw senmut and knew her love for him.

as he sang, nazli began to move. it was an animal dance; for each name he called out, she would rise up with a fluid shape to her body. a snake, a crocodile, an eagle; the waving of a palm frond. the lifting of the sycamore branch.

there was blood in the water as they neared it, together.
nazli lay the sycamore branch within the serpent as her dance finished, and as it saturated with the blood and the water it sank, and drifted, and pulsed along with the flow of the water.

the wine burned at her tongue and as it flowed down her throat, nazli felt any of her remaining nerves calm. there was time before the consecration and she found herself eager for it. the drink made her aware of her body in a profound way; her legs felt too long at first, then just right, then a part of the earth in a heavy way. the delicate flavor of the drink was spiked with something she had not tasted before, and as the poppy settled in to her body nazli felt as if she dreamed, but knew she was awake.
she looked then upon senmut and had to be mindful of the lust in her eyes. the urge to call to him was held firmly back, and thankfully, he began the final song.

the magic ignited.

blue flowers, dancing before nazli.
senmut, burning in the halo of Ra's light.
herself, slipping away; she wanted to reach out to Nwt and cling to her, to make her final wish, but it was not the voice of her goddess she heard—it was senmut, as Min. it was her own body pulled in to a new dance she did not know the steps of, yet moved through as fluid as the serpent; as senmut held the voice of Min it was nazli who was taken by Iset.

their dance became so much more potent.
the lust overcame nazli; she knew it was Iset working through her, and she was glad that it was senmut that held her, that it was Min come to meet his beloved.
she gasped and she wept, and she fell away to the pleasure of the ritual.