Lion Head Mesa Egó

ramesses gleamed with the delight of one who has found a particularly dull head to pat. "that is correct. report to me." pharaoh knew nothing of how the man had come to be in the palace, only that he did not trust germanicus. and so he did not trust this one.
the difference was that the roman had never evinced love for anything. arsenio was a man of humour and, ramesses believed, boisterous, deceptive tastes.
"to akashingo!" the royal exclaimed, licking a tongueful of berries to nestle along his gumline and slowly release their fermented juice. "you might return now. she should not be alone for long."
but first arsenio would drink. the imperial gaze demanded this be so.