Rosewater Oasis up in smoke

flooded?

the single word is like a blade cast down from the divine themselves. behind the panther's long frame, his tail lashes. he is a serpent coiling with unease; and if not unease, then panic. now, he steps closer to the famished woman, uncaring now as to her whereabouts. towering over her, his molten eyes blazing with a fire that no oasis could quench.

my uncle, rashepses—my aunt, toula—their children. the words tumble from his lips, each name carrying the weight of generations, of divinity bound by blood. tell me, racharra. do they live?

now, frantic.

memories of a life within ta-senet with @Rashepses flood the mind. days spent up to no good with his uncle, hours of lessons in life and rule. teachings of the will of their shared golden blood. there is kinship there. a bond that stands the test of time.

the veneer of composure he so often wears now cracks, revealing the raw undercurrent of familial devotion, of fear for the divine bloodline that binds him to the red sands.