Rosewater Oasis maat ka ra

His expression was unreadable as Ezen tore into the haunch with ravenous efficiency. The faint curve of his lips suggested satisfaction, though not outright approval. She did not waste what was given; there was strength in that, a practicality born of survival. She was deliberate, guarded. And yet, Samirseti saw the embers of something greater—a fire waiting to be stoked. He remained lounged, his frame sleek and regal as his tail swayed lazily behind him, though his molten eyes never left her form. When her gaze finally lifted, meeting his with an air of cautious defiance, he leaned forward slightly, his chin raised, the weight of his stare bearing down on her.

“Loyalty,” he began, his vox the cadence of a man who spoke only to be listened to, “is a precious thing, Ezen. An unwise ruler demands it blindly, expects submission without having earned it, respect without understanding the heart of those he seeks to lead.” He allowed a pause, the faintest tilt of his head betraying his interest as he watched her reaction. “But a wise ruler knows better. A ruler worthy of his title understands that loyalty must be nurtured. Followers must be guided. They must be taught.”

His tail flicked once, the motion slow as his sharp gaze pinned her in place. “You do not know me,” he continued, his voice dropping to something lower, warmer, yet still edged with quiet dominance. “You do not know my gods, nor the divine blood that nourishes my veins. You do not yet understand the purpose that drives me, or the will of the forces that shape my every action.” The faintest glint of amusement flickered across his features, though his tone remained serious. “But I see you. I see strength. A survivor. A wolf who does not roll belly-up to the whims of a stranger. I respect that.”

Samirseti shifted, his frame fluid as he settled more comfortably, though his posture never lost its inherent regality. “That is why I do not seek your submission,” he continued, his voice smooth, each word spoken with measured precision. “I seek your rise. I would have you not as a servant, but as one who understands. One who sees the path I walk and chooses to walk it beside me—not behind me.” His molten gaze softened, though it still carried the weight of a serpent poised to strike. “I would teach you, if you would allow it. I would share the will of my gods, the wisdom of my people. Through them, you would find purpose greater than mere survival.”