Lion Head Mesa [WP] sage

any/all are welcomed to watch or post a reaction! a gift/sacrifice is being made <3

when most had settled themselves after the fanfare and mingling, makono knew the time had come.

a horse. a priest. a princess.

gods watched above and below.

she had informed treva that this was a gift, given on behalf of none other than the amiirad. which meant that the pharaoh would most certainly also have his eyes upon this moment.

look at all she gave him! time and time again.

with something bitter in her heart, she summoned @Senmut to her all at once. no time to waste.

at last she called for him; senmut dropped all he was doing and came at once.

he lowered himself before her. "great one." the priest's voice, a whisper.

a horse subdued, by magick or by potion he knew not, only that its great body could not strike.

pharaoh's eyes glowed beneath the moon, and senmut turned away, shivering.

time was a limited factor here.

even makono knew as much.

quick, but precise. her voice something closer to a low hiss now.

there was the lingering knowledge that if any of this went wrong, it would tarnish her image — and she would see fit to punish him for it!

she searched for that glow of pharaoh's eyes, and would hold it, unlike the hem.

how odd for her to look closer to a roman emperor in a coliseum, standing before the show prepared to give verdict. rather than that of the image of royal princess.

kicking; lashing.

a beast's voice raised in supplication, and all the guests gone silent and rapt for now. 

and so senmut moved to the animal's thick and straining throat; he glanced once toward makono, wondering if she would bid him now to strike or if she would speak, and strike he would if she did not stop him, snipping into the blood-vein.

she did not give any words, only a knowing looking.

and the work of the hem was glorious.

it filled makono with a million wonderful things in that moment, the sudden spilling of the beast upon the land of akashingo. a childish part of her wished to parade it before her father, drag it right to him and drop it at his golden feet.

but this was enough. a display for all eyes who had come tonight, a message of herself as much as it was one of the union that had taken place.

a sacrifice for none other than the Apis Bull.

and she found she could not look away from her father.

the horse's dying scream was terrible.

blood poured over senmut; blood filled his eyes, his nostrils, his mouth. he gasped beneath the deluge but stood transfixed by its blessing.

makono faced out over the platform, her feet awash in the red pouring from the sacrifice. 

senmut thought her fierce. splendid. beautiful. divine.

for this second act, ramesses had gathered at an eating-mat with treva and their children. there had been whispers of something to come, but he had only thought it a performance.
pharaoh was thoughtful when his daughter called for their young priest, stiffening when it was revealed: a great and almost impossible sacrifice to the Apis Bull.
pride choked him. makono vied again for her heirdom; she commanded it. he held her eyes as she his own, as the horse shrieked and died there upon the plinth and the child of nekubi satsu scintillated with the raw power of her mother.
pharaoh saw her. pharaoh heard. he raised his voice in a long, eldritch howling of open delight and praise to the god, to akashingo, to makono herself.

tavina could no longer bear to be parted from nala. she went to find the exhausted sanpin, cooing into the tired ear that the princess now called them together.

at least out here nala could recline, half-hidden by the sesh. they must all witness this.

tavina too did not expect what came; she was by turns horrified and impressed, and when the girl stood more warrior than child at the top of the dais, her father's baying a ferocious sign, she found herself shaken.

but the song too was hers to sing, and so she did sing it.

teya had gathered at a 'table' of her own, keeping sorana close. she was offered more berries and declined, though did partake in the sweetmeats of sheep which were also brought around.
something was happening, a new spectacle. teya expected singing, dancing; anything besides what she witnessed.
her mouth was dry; as the animal cried out, she moved to shield sorana, but it was too late.
ears pinned back, teya watched as father and daughter exchanged an ancient look, and then found her own voice rising, hoarse, shocked, the sound of a dutiful emissary.
did she want to leave? she did not know.

treva had hardly understood what the girl had meant.

never could she have predicted this as being the gift the princess had spoken of. she had figured riches, a performance of sorts. not a grand beast, bled before the eyes of akashingo and visitors alike.

sethnakht was near her one side, toula placed along her front.

pharaoh strong alongside her. of course none of this seemed to shock him! perhaps he expected it from his own child. perhaps he had been better informed.

but when the horror of it all only seemed to just barely begin to settle, he lifted his head in a great call.

she listened to other voices fall in.

carefully, she aligned her own, encouraging the children to do the same.

nala had heard whispers at best.

some bodies had gone into setting this up, but still she had not known the grand image coming together. instead she had been dashing around behind the scenes, prepping more meats and honey.

only to have tavina come gather her.

the princess wished for an audience.

she had to force herself to step behind her sanpin mindset of the night, to follow along her lover. easily hiding along the body of the sesh.

it horrified nala.

beyond any notion of a gift or a sacrifice to a god. any meaning of good was lost on her the moment the last sound escaped the beast.

she found herself unable to speak, to sing alongside those around her.

she felt sick.

Akhtar stood near to Pharoah’s family, though, if you looked close upon him, you might see the gentle sway of the inhibited. It wasn’t an odd thing to him, he himself sacrificed every day when the time had called for it.

The red river rushing around Makono’s paws, though, made his already spinning head all the more foggy. He couldn’t stop staring at it, before his eyes, suddenly sharp, as though he had sloughed off the alcohol, found Senmut. He stared at the boy, for a time.

Then, he smiled. A slow, spreading thing, one of his flopped ears curving up as he tipped his head to the side. An acknowledgment, a praise from teacher to student. And when the pavilion broke into song, it was Akhtar’s voice, high and scratchy, that added a note upon it.

There was a stillness as all witnessed the final moments of the beast, the bloodletting by the boy priest, the seeming ascension of Makono.

Nazli as lost as the visitors among them, who had never witnessed such a thing. Whose only experience with the death knell came from the few birds or mice she had caught herself; a handful if that.

This was something else.

Makono stood with the blood at her feet, and for that moment Nazli did not recognize her.

Sorana watched the spectacle, gnawing on the exotic bits of meat brought around by attendants, and at first she was captivated. She had never seen a horse before. It was rather like a deer, and yet nothing like them. Where deer were elegant and fleet, this creature seemed strong and dignified.

Or it would have if it wasn't laid out upon a plinth.

Sorana had no context for what came next, but a bit of meat slid from her lips to slap wetly alongside her paws when the priest slit the beast's throat, eliciting a terrible shriek and a fountain of blood. Her previous curiosity and delight turned to abject horror. She screamed internally, willing her eyes to look away, and finding she could not move.

When Teya added her voice to the others, Sorana began to tremble, suddenly terrified of those around her, while tears leaked from her eyes.

reactions still welcomed at any point <3

an ugly sound brought her to life.

her gaze alight with the raw strength of this moment. there was warmth budding at her paws, the lifeblood of the very sacrifice. it would stain and stick to her. a rare sight for the usually well groomed amiirad.

yet everything seemed as it all fell into place.

piece by piece.

her father was first to pierce the veil. his voice primoradial in a way she had sparingly heard. others trickled and fell in line with the loud song.

when she looked out to them it felt as though it was with eyes that were not her own, in a body not befitting how large and grand she felt in that moment.

a shiver down her spine that raised hackles and ridges.

the image of divinity brought upon their plane.

the blood at her backside was the only warmth to her in those pulsing moments.

first pharaoh, then the royal voices lifted.

a young girl trembled; he looked frantically for her, noting that she was with brecheliant's emissaries.

his heart sank, but the praise heaped and heaped, and even the high priest wrapped him in a delighted aspect of the gods' peace.

so he must be content. he must accept. the sacrifice to the Apis Bull was necessary. it was righteous.

she wanted to change.
she wanted a place given to another; yes, pharaoh knew.
his princess, discontent with her lot for her spirit was male, and it cried for the throne of akashingo. not one of queen, but to remove the stamp from siptah and affix it to herself.
there felt a great grinding in his soul, a changing, the shift of something powerful and inexorable.
ramesses fell silent now, hearing voices murmur around him. but still he was fixed toward makono, watching her stand before them while she traveled to Ra in her own eyes.

tavi out!

it all startled tavina. she jerked, looking around for the children who had come with their packs, then glanced worriedly at nala. "i was not expecting this," she began to say, then spotted the green look on her lover's face.

"oh —" torn! frazzled! why had that wild girl chosen to do this? tavina knew nothing of Ma'at, only that it had changed the wedding party into a spectacle of violence.

the sesh scrambled after nala.

teya sang; she sang and sorana screamed inside.
it cut her voice away with a gasp; she reached for her daughter as she saw the tears.
she regretted this, all of it; the party, the loudness. she should have known! she should not have —
the former fenwolf was rising, ignoring the eyes on them both; she was drawing sorana away from the crowd, to the side, smoothing cheeks and brow, whispering to soothe her poor child.
"it okay, baby, breathe." they were going to leave; they were going to go. how could she have subjected sorana to more horridness after all that had happened.

toula, to her credit, remained unafraid.
she was a soft girl, but her lessons had taught her of sacrifices. though this one was as of yet unknown to her, she knew the necessity of such things. it was costly to not do so, and what the amiirad had brought was a gift worthy of her mother, her father.
that was what toula understood of it. and so in this moment, she approved. one day, she could be mighty enough to do such a thing for her mother and father, too. resolutely, toula determined that one day, she would.
so her voice joined the others for a time, and she smiled gently to be a part of it. toula quieted to observe the crowd, and saw a frightened face within it. she looked to her mother, her father, for leave to find them—her soft heart yearned to help, however she might.

neb gucci, coming back on top of the mesa after relieving himself, blinked at the crowd. the scent of blood was nearly as strong as the berries on his breath. he blinked some more, in the manner of a dumb, content cat.

"what'd ah miss?"

It was a brutal display. Cries of death mingled with shouts of celebration. Blood flowing freely. the chosen animal, felled.

Taktuq found herself like a stone of Easthollow. Steeled, rigid, silent. Her nostrils flared against the display. Her cheeks flushed, ears tingled.

She had heard of blood sacrifice from the sisters in the North — but those, they said, were long past. No longer needed, no longer offered.

Taktuq did not understand what this one meant. Did not understand what she was watching. Did not raise her voice, for to do so would make her a part of this, and something deep within her wept at the thought.

She had not realized she had closed her eyes until she opened them again. The scene had not changed, but she heard confusion around her. Mothers consoling children - and though Taktuq wished to slip away, she searched the crowd for @Bjarna.

Reyson had watched from the shadows. Always on guard, and then as the ritual ended as people brayed for happiness and some for fear. Some left in disgust. His own chest rose and feel as easy as it usually did, his face did not show his emotions.

But his heart tightened and his stomach gnawed and he was sickened. To waste meat for Gods that killed your people and let you live did not sit well with him. It was honorable he felt in the air, especially if a priest was doing it, but he didn't understand it and he was disgusted.

So he turned his gaze from the spectacle and instead looked to the crowd and watched for any place his body or voice maybe needed. To soothe a child, to help those who wished to leave, but he would not go near the dais or the royal family and the thought of having to run a mission here where he didn't understand and was uncomfortable made him wonder if he should even go for a higher command.