Ocean's Breath Plateau sun-worshipper

a burning tree, upon the middle of the plateau.
ramesses did not dream.
lightning had touched the blackening thing with her breath, and now amid the snow the branches billowed with dark smoke.
he had heard of such things happening before, but had never seen it — the man walked closer, and closer, transfixed by the radiance of the flickering light.
"has Ra come down to this place?" pharaoh called, standing still and mesmerized.

the coaltree, he whispered.

and even as he said it, he heard her voice, saw her face, in his mind. would she and her island forever haunt him? he stood a ways back, rooted in place, trembling with apprehension and the everlasting lust for coelacanth.

aditya had finally found the plateau, more or less the same as how he'd known it as govinda. it was like returning home after a long voyage; the relief he felt upon arriving here had only cemented his desire to settle. after giving the necessary parties a tour of the place—for sure brook, but perhaps others, idk timelines are weird—he had began to process of moving in. digging caches, making mental landmarks.

but now, this. he saw a figure, illuminated by the blaze. could have been one of his. . . but no, it was a stranger, he noted, as he moved closer. a stranger dangerously close to fire.

arrey! he called out, stomach churning. at dawnlark plains, the fire had spread so quickly. they had never recovered shale's body. still, he shifted into a trot toward the man, kicking up the snow. maybe it would not grow so rapidly considering the ice—but he was cautious all the same.

it was not the first time he had heard a tongue outside of common in these wilds. after all, pharaoh resided in yuelong beneath an empress who hailed from the silken lands. beneath; he hated the thought of it, would rather plague himself with other meanings of the word as they related to the sea-queen.
but it was not lust that buoyed ramesses' voice now; it was devotion. he turned his muzzle toward the arriving man, but did not halt his trajectory yet. what mortal man might call him away from the sun barge? he would not be harmed, for pharaoh himself was divine.

the man did not stop; no, he edged closer still, and aditya began to wonder whether he was dealing with a lunatic. when he was close enough to be in earshot without yelling, he gave the stranger a puzzled look, ears swiveling sideways. you're not afraid? he asked, incredulous. 

even at this range—and he kept a good distance, still—the smoke was beginning to purl toward him, stinging his eyes. he coughed and kept memories of dawnlark plains at bay, but it was growing more difficult by the moment. between that and seelie's whispered "coaltree" in his mind, he was in mental agony.

kyon? aditya queried, brows knitted together. why aren't you afraid? he should be afraid. perhaps the boy had never seen fire.

"why would i be afraid?" ramesses retorted in a low tone of irritation. this man was disturbing his worship, this sea-tossed. undoubtedly salt-caked peasant. why did everyone here rely upon their tongues first and minds second? "this is how Ra shows His glory," pharaoh explained, as if to a child.
"He shows Himself in such forms as these." fire flickering in a reverent reflection on the surface of his lapis-dark irises. ramesses looked again at the stranger. "why are you afraid?"

worship—he finally understood. didn't make him any less nervous for the young man, mind, but it at least eliminated the thought that the stranger was a complete bird-brain. adi kept his distance, still, letting one corner of his mouth quirk upward in a slightly tremulous smile.

fire has never been good to me, he called out, shaking his head. it destroyed my home, and killed a friend. others were lost. i prefer to stay away.

perhaps some sort of divine retribution—but then, the fire had come well before his transgressions at the island, and in nitya-mata. . .

he sat, a little awkwardly, the firelight turning his eyes to molten gold. i'm sorry for interrupting you, aditya replied—though this was, after all, where he meant to settle. had he the clout, and the borders marked, this man would be trespassing. as it were. . .adi was content to watch. maybe learn.

very well, ramesses thought to himself. Ra had received his honor. pharaoh turned to approach the other, moving so that they would not have to shout across the plateau.
having disregarded all markers in favor of the flames, his cool lapis gaze flicked quickly over the man who had spoken a language not recognised by ramesses. 
windswept; he smelled of sea and of himself. the stranger somehow felt ageless, like a heathen prophet who had suddenly sprung up to chastise a king.
the thought curved his lips. "i am not disturbed. Ra takes much in sacrifice." but that was something ramesses had expected. perhaps this man did not. "are you a wanderer or do you seek a home?" brazen.

he dipped his muzzle in greeting to the other wolf as he approached, silently grateful that he was moving away from the tree. he spoke of ra, once more, and aditya wondered how much the god had in common with his hari. but the subject shifted, and he abandoned thoughts of religion, smile growing wider.

neither, he replied. i have come to claim this plateau for my own, my family. and anyone who needs a place. there was no malice or misgiving in his voice; without scent markings along the border, the man couldn't have known he had stumbled upon a territory in the process of being settled.

his eyes flickered to the flames—'coaltree,' the whisper came again—and then he looked back at the young man. my name is aditya, he introduced himself. and you? do you wander, or seek a home?

he smelled of other wolves, but perhaps he had left them. had adi been there more recently, he would have recognized, perhaps, the aroma of the island upon the stranger's pelt—but as it was, he was blissfully ignorant (for now).

claimed land. ramesses glanced down at the earth beneath his feet, then upwards again. "i do not. the place i live is yuelong." though he had become distant and bored the longer winter bore on.
"i am pharaoh." ramesses remembered swiftly the notion he had taken before, that this would be the name he said. aditya, and it reminded him of an emissary who had once come to his father's court.
"why have you chosen this place?" an inquiry with a note of interest. and how would aiolos take to these wolves gathering here upon the plateau? ramesses looked toward the sea. "are you one of those who finds that salt water beautiful?"

like the other, aditya, too, found familiarity in the man's name—if only vague. his ears pricked at the mention of yuèlóng; he wondered how far it was, and if it was on the coast. pharaoh's pelt smelled like the ocean, but that may very well have been picked up in his time here, had it been long enough.

you could say that, adi replied, smiling. i grew up on the shoreline. the sea is in my blood and bones. there's no other place for me.

he cast his muzzle in a gentle arc, gesturing at the land. as for this territory, i was rescued from near-death here, he explained. it is special. as you may have discovered. . . he trailed off, looking at the burning tree.

a place of more gods than just his own, it seemed. aditya always knew the plateau was something more, even if just to himself. but if others found the same sanctity here, would it be a safe place? not everyone looking for peace was peaceful themselves.

the flames danced in his eyes.

ah, another ocean-worshipper. the brine could be lovely enough beneath the eye of a proper sun, but not here. not so cold. he remembered the river that had brought green to all of his lands, and how along every curve, seti's people had offered tribute to the gods.
not so here.
pharaoh too looked back upon the tree, watching the fire billow despite the cold air.
"so it is twice sacred," the man commented, looking back upon his companion. "it would take a certain kind of leader to hold such a powerful place. which are you, i wonder?"
smoke rolled. ramesses was intrigued.

which are you, i wonder?

who was he, anyway? lest aditya fall into some sort of existential crisis, he clung to the present, to the heady scent of smoke in the area, the question in the other's eyes. a god-fearing man, he replied solemnly. a man who has been given many chances—even when i didn't deserve them.

he sighed, nostrils stinging a little at the next inhale. i hope to make the most of this chance, adi said softly. and if this is truly a sacred place, then i'll be even better for it. perhaps the gods would guide his way here, steer him from his more earthly and foolish pursuits.

quiet fell between the two of them, then, aditya's eyes wandering intermittently from the smooth-tongued stranger back to the tree.

he was a holy man. a prophet in this windswept place that reeked of salt and now smoke. an oracle for another land. ramesses had thought the same of the cold-blooded women upon the beach; the first with one eye and a sharp tongue, the second who had saved and questioned him.
a priest.
priests he knew. pharaoh's figure slackened of lasting tension and became more formal, more attentive. priests had taught the sons of seti all that they knew, and had been free to keep the princes in line with whatever means necessary. ramesses had cultivated a healthy respect for holy men.
"i wonder if our gods know one another," the sand-wolf mused aloud. "will you tell me the names of your own, if it is allowed?"

it is allowed, aditya responded, his lips curving in amusement. my god's name is hari. his eternal consort, nitya. he did not elaborate further, if only because he didn't truly know much about his own family's lore. he'd caught bits and pieces as a child, and then again when he lived in one of the many bharati packs down south.

but all he really had was the names, and the image of a dark wolf, glittering green eyes.

like radha. . . adi wondered if that was merely a coincidence, or if he had been attracted to the woman for the god he saw in her visage. either way, there was nothing holy about what had transpired next.

his part done, he lifted his chin a hairsbreadth in query. and your god? gods? he knew some had many.

hari. nitya. again the sound of the names bringing to mind that face. "Ra is chief among them. god of the sun. but it is Amun i serve. we do not know how life truly comes to be. Amun is that wonder." and his heart lifted to think of how he had been chosen by the high priest to bring a sacred offering during a festival.
once long ago.
the brief tic of good feeling faded, but pharaoh's expression had not much changed. "it is pleasing to the gods that we speak of them all now, i think. the reverent are rewarded." a smile.
was it so, however? Amun held the ka and ba of ramesses and yet he was here.

his lips curved in a smile. ra and amun, he repeated, as reverently as if they were his own deities. i am named after a sun god—or so my uncle told me. and my first wife was named dawn, and her brother was sunny. i have much connection to the sun; maybe your ra has guided my path so far.

aditya felt briefly unsure about the whole "reverent being rewarded" thing. after all, was he not a pious creature? not always, he corrected himself, frowning both inside and out. he had strayed many times from the righteous path, and each instance had brought him nothing but bad things.

maybe, if this place was holy, and maybe, if he stuck to hari's guidance. . .things would be all right again. maybe, as pharaoh said, he would be rewarded in his later life.

the smoke had ceased to bother him. he almost reveled in it now, the fragrant smell of it, the tingling at the corners of his eyes. if the sun god guides my path, and he is responsible for the flames, then maybe this is where i'm meant to be, adi concluded.

and pharaoh, too? but he had a home. . .yuelong, of which aditya was not familiar.

pharaoh enjoyed the respectful way in which aditya said the names of his gods, cradling them close as though they were precious stone carried from the mountains. he who served Amun guarded any mention of the sacred one. aditya had secured his foothold of respect within ramesses' grudging head.
perhaps it too was where he was meant to be.
the thought unnerved pharaoh; he had chosen yuelong for its pearljade leader and the aspiration toward rulership he had always borne. he was Horus-in-the-nest; fledgling perfect prince, and in the end it had been evil hatshepsuun who removed from him his birthright.
an ugly tale, one sure to twist him into anger.
"perhaps i will come another day, aditya," the canzan murmured thoughtfully. "for now, that is where i must be." hesitance clinging rarely to his mouth.

i would be happy to have you here again, pharaoh, aditya said warmly. you are welcome—fire or not. the flames were beginning to ease; their fuel was diminishing fast, and there was nowhere else for them to go. the grasses were still frosted over, and the tree stood alone.

soon, it would be just a charred monument—a memory of this conversation, and of coaltrees of yore.

he smiled, a little sadly, at that, his eyes having shifted to the natural torch. i understand being tied elsewhere, he murmured, almost too quietly for the other man to hear. one of my greatest sins is that i've always cast off those ties—no matter how strongly or fervently they hold me.

never again. he was too old to play the fool, and much too old to wander.

take care, adi said, looking back at pharaoh. he had left brook and suddenly missed her; he wanted to tell her what he had seen today. i must go. with that, he turned, leaving the priest to whatever worship he still had to do.

ramesses was welcomed. it was an uncommon sort of feeling that he experienced now, and it delayed him from responding to aditya's departure. their own had come together at once, and he could only nod in the direction of the prophet, watching the man disappear into the recesses of the seasward.
one of my greatest sins.
perhaps pharaoh might share in this as well, and he departed across the plain toward yuelong, knowing in his heart that he would return.