Rosewater Oasis the supreme nameless

ximena had been reclining at the edge of the oasis, her body draped in languid ease, a picture of indulgence against the stark beauty of the desert. the water shimmered beside her, its surface kissed by the fading sun, and she traced idle patterns in the damp earth, lost in the slow rhythm of the evening.   

then, like a storm rolling over the dunes, he arrived.  

she rose immediately, but not without her catered grace in an effortless motion to greet him.  her golden gaze lifted with a slow, knowing flicker, a cat watching a king who presumed himself untouchable. he was carved in shadow and sunlight, adorned in the blessing of his gods, and yet—so mortal beneath all that gilded splendor.   

his words curled around her like the heat of the midday sun, and she let them settle upon her shoulders before responding.   

the sands are ever-shifting, mi rey, she mused, voice smooth as the wind that shaped the dunes. they whisper and they bite, but they have yet to devour me. a slow, amused smile graced her lips.

she watched how he moved with all the weight of divinity upon his shoulders. ximena had met gods before, after all—whispered to them in the hush of night, bargained with them in the quiet spaces between fate and folly.   

and you? she purred at last, falling into step with him as was expected, yet just a breath outside his reach. have the heavens been generous to your growing kingdom?