Golden Glade One summer day

ramesses credited his silver tongue for the luck of turning nyra's attention off him, and toward the stranger. his tones were shattered with fear, and pharaoh nearly laughed aloud. 
pristine plume switched at his heels. "a seer," he said with a mocking air, though his brow arched with a true interest. "and visions, though not of where might be most dangerous to walk?"
ramesses began to circle to the left, drifting closer with the same leer in his lazuli stare. "what else?"