Lion Head Mesa stele

set after this!

oh, reyson gave himself away with this one! every muscle in his body clenched, every heated whisper, each heavy footstep; yes, pharaoh saw his anger, and saw in the woman now a key to unlock such rage.
"now," ramesses said smoothly to @Meadow; he indicated where a meal of sheep haunch and odd red liquid had been set out upon leaf-matting, while pure white furs provided a couch to sit or to lie.
"sheeps'-blood and liqueur melted from the pines themselves." his smile was elegant, and he sat down before she did, keeping a space between them.
they were alone here, even the hush in the hallway muted for now.
this was a rich repast for just the two of them, and he expected it to be far more interesting than whatever her peasant backwater had to provide.
ramesses did not yet know the scent on her delicate coat. "from where do you hail, lady meadow?" he asked, seeing no flaw in her face and understanding why reyson had grown so very protective.

Lítið dádýr.

Little deer, the whispered voice of Solpallur drew her upward. She missed him greatly in this moment—less romantically, now, and yet for the familiarity and simple life she had drew from him. What would he thought of these extravagant walls? A room lined with fur and a display of meat and sweet nectar to tantalize taste buds.

She could practically see the disgust in his bright yellow eyes now, the disdain in his unkempt but pleasing form. He would have hated this with every sense of his being. But it was not lost upon her that not only had she been brought within the den of lions, but the king among them was before her, and his bright eyes were upon her, unreadable to the silver healer who usually had a good handle on others. In this place, she was as naive as they could come.

Reyson had discussed the culture of this place. The expectations, and of course, his loathing for it. Never had she seen him so rigid with anger, and there was a coil of nervousness in her stomach—hoping that whatever spar he discussed would not end with her needing to patch him or others in the wake of his anger.

Her gaze drifted from the pale man before her to study his offering, a polite tilt of her muzzle given and a small but shy smile. For now, she could humor him. “Well, Lord Pharaoh,” she gave a pause at the title, hoping it correct, after what the she-wolf had called him earlier. “I was born in a forest just a little to the North of these mountains,” she offered, moving herself to gingerly sit, uncertain what would be considered offensive in this pack. “But I’ve lived in many places since. Now, I live with a pack called Epoch.”

wild creatures were uncertain beneath the mesa. ramesses saw it in the well-bred lines of her, how she sat stiffly and uncertainly. her voice remained soft as silken petals beneath rain. pharaoh saw much, perhaps more than she intended.
he reached for a slice of the tender meat and washed it down with a deep drink of the bracing draught. it was not sweet as the fermented berries, but it held its own allure, and in the concoction was the lightest infusion of poppy, undiscoverable unless one drank much.
"i have received no word of epoch, lady meadow." he reclined on one elbow beside her, watching his guest. "who are its leaders?"
his mouth, mobile with a smile; eyes guarded, movements languid. a perfect god.
lord pharaoh. meadow learned swiftly, and his pulse quickened for want of reyson's ultimate sundering.

Languid in his movement—confidence all but oozed from him, and Meadow couldn’t quite place his keen interest in her. Reyson disliked the politics of Akashingo—but if she was not of Mereo, what could the Pharaoh possibly wish from her?

It was hard to truly focus on the man—not when worry festered in her heart for Reyson and what he was potentially doing now. If anything about this entire visit determined for her it was that she no longer felt guilty about potentially taking him from Mereo—she didn’t want to be apart from him any longer…

…And that thought terrified her even more.

Still, the man displayed before her—propped up and indulging upon meat. He knew nothing of Epoch—her brows arched in surprise, given how close Akashingo was to Mereo—and she gave a brief tilt of her slender muzzle. “Arsenio and Tamar lead Epoch,” she offered, considering her words carefully. Had she known the lead couples ties to the Mesa, she would have skirted the topic more delicately. “Our home is in the vale of the mountains.”

arsenio and tamar!
pharaoh had always favoured the court and the bedchamber more than the military ring or the endless training with the jodai. it was a credit now to his upbringing that not so much as a slender nostril flared to give away his surprise and deepening interest.
"the soldier from mereo seemed quite close to you," ramesses commented as his figure was flooded with an electric energy. so that was where they had fled. and germanicus had known it, there was little reason to believe that lady meadow and brash reyson had snuck all the way to akashingo for a liasion.
his mind clawed to fore thoughts of makono. had she too known of epoch and seen fit to keep it from him?
meadow was all the sweeter a prize for the information she had unwittingly given. ramesses smiled toward her, the sugared grin of a courtier. "please. drink. the servants toiled hard to make it." 
oh, makono!  do you know you keep company with a flesh-monger?
it had been the imperator himself who had sold belen to pay for tamar. she had been a true slave to the palace; pharaoh had never become used to losing his hold over her. "i know the place well. i led a battle in the sunspire."

Without as much of a blink after learning of her home and leaders, he shifted the conversation—swiftly, almost, and in a way that appeared openly friendly, as if simply curious and looking for amicable discussion. Meadow knew better.

Reyson had claimed to be courting her—he wasn’t looking to keep their relationship a secret. It had been her request to the tawny wolf to court her, slowly, but surely… and he had done so without pressure.

Courting, however, did not seem official enough. Permanent enough. And so, she allowed with a soft smile: “I am his and he is mine,” she commented, forcing herself to relax more, reaching for his offer of the sweet liquid.

She would take a sip—a soft hum of appreciation given, forced, yet still genuine. Reyson had warned her of its effects—but she had a feeling the Pharaoh’s invitation was less suggestion and more insistent. “This is divine,” she offered, determining now two could play this potential game—whatever it might be. Flattery seemed a safe route with the man before her. “Can you share with me how they make it, Lord Pharaoh?”

A pause, she demurred another smile to the man who was very pleased with himself right now. “A battle in the sunspire? I would love to hear more. She paused, eyes grazing over him. “Am I too bold to believe it victorious? I’m a healer, you see… I don’t see any past injuries that would speak differently.”

ramesses wondered if meadow's flattery was practiced or unknowing. she wrapped her tongue around such words as he would like; she seemed to place them down between he and she, somehow aware and yet he saw nothing malicious in the clear hue of her lovely eyes.
"perhaps after this i could prevail upon you to stay a while longer, and come with me to see how it is made for yourself?" her face filled his eyes, but reyson corrupted his mind. "unless, of course, you must return to your betrothed. i would not keep you from one another."
how had such a brute captured her heart? pharaoh could not help but feel that meadow simply knew no better. she had come from the mountains, and what sort of wild land was kept by a greek mercenary and his flighty wife?
"victorious indeed," he confirmed, shifting but no closer. yet his gaze reached for her own, twining a hot moment and then flicking to the decorations upon the redstone wall above them. "this painting details it." perhaps she might see the wolfish representations as he did; perhaps not. "i had it done not long ago. the young priest-in-training, senmut, is a fine artist as well."
pharaoh watched meadow once more. "am i to believe congratulations are in order? how long your courtship, lady of epoch? akashingo is well-positioned to host the weddings of those allied with our gates."
his rich laugh was easy, but it probed.

She hummed softly at his invitation, honestly tempted by it more for curiosity sake than anything else—and she openly considered. “I wish I could, Lord Pharaoh. I have a patient at home, however, who I wouldn’t want to leave without checking on her for too long a stretch.” Some could call it a small fib—others, if they had met Towhee, would understand that perhaps there was some truth to that statement.

She also knew the feisty woman would have no problem being thrown under the proverbial bus… at least not for this.

She couldn’t help but notice that he did not truly tell her one way or another to what she was drinking.

His eyes searched her before leading direction to the wall—her own gaze roved it with open intrigue. “You seem to have much talent here at Akashingo,” she murmured, once more offering the praise freely—not just to keep her current company pleased, but also with the hope the compliment would be paid to the one deserving of it.

She also couldn’t help but notice that he offered no detail of his supposed battle and victory. Interesting…

With her praise and flattery offered to push the spotlight from her to him, he was quick to return it—looking to delve into the details of her supposed mateship with Reyson. With a blush rising to her cheekbones, Meadow stole another small sip to steal a few moments of time, calculating her words and then cursing herself at the vibrant flare along her tastebuds, reminding her to tread cautiously. She was only small—surely, she could handle a lot less than most.

“We’ve vowed ourselves to one another in the quiet company of our closest friends. But how charming—does Akashingo have many weddings?” Deflect, deflect, deflect.

they played quite the game. and meadow seemed a natural at this verbal senet. he looked back toward the painting as she praised it, nodding once. "it is important to me that akashingo treasure art and medicine alongside pleasure."
his eyes traced the shapes. "i have had two lavish weddings here, lasting three days each." his lips quirked but he did not look toward her now. "the saints had taken the vale but we came to the canyon. we routed them from all of it, akashingon and mereo beneath my helm."
his tongue was loosened; his eyes were bright and interested once more, having moved back to her. "it is good to see someone so devoted to her work. before you go, i will send you with three leaves from our most precious tree. guard them well."
he still did not understand what she saw in the man, but ramesses knew to pry no more. his limbs were filled with the hot cinnamon fire of the drink. a vow was not a marriage. and she seemed scholarly. ramesses was adept at discovering one's temptation. "i must give you gifts for arsenio and tamar. tell them of akashingo, of the favour you will carry back to your home."
his own. the lazuli eyes tested.

Was it coincidence he placed importance of medicine alongside that of pleasure? Was he trying to flatter her, now? She felt a small smile pull at her lips—one of amusement—and perhaps the heated warmth that spread from her belly and toes outward. The few sips she had partaken in beginning to reveal themselves to her.

“I’ve not heard of the Saints,” she offered, the hint of a frown marring her copper features. “Does that mean they’ve been eradicated?”

Was it important? These were answers she could gain from Reyson, no doubt—even Germanicus, if she ever dared seek the man out once more. But why should she do that?

He spoke of sending her with a gift—she hesitated, the gleam of his eyes met with her own. “You’re generosity is a rare trait these days,” she offered, though she sought his reaction—generosity, or was there a favor tied to this supposed gift?

“Arsenio and Tamar will simply be pleased to know we are in good standings with our neighbors,” she offered in turn, purposely not mentioning how Epoch was shaping to become a haven for those willing to learn under care and tutelage.

And then, because it seemed their brief interlude was coming to an end, Meadow allowed herself one more sip… Because surely, Reyson’s warm embrace was what would welcome her soon.

pharaoh watched her gentle elegance as she drank again. such a jewel was wasted in the helm of such a man. "if you have not heard of them, then i have stricken their name from time." and well so, and woe to those who stood against akashingo.
so meadow would go to be a soldier's wife. or reyson would leave his post, which was unlikely given the obsession with rank borne by all mereo wolves. it was an ironic thought.
no; that man seethed with want of meadow, to have her, to possess her. ramesses hoped the fighter suffered even now, wondering if he had taken the lady of epoch into his arms.
if she had desired the pharaoh.
but he did not see such in her, only politeness. "such generosity is my birthright. Amun has blessed akashingo, and so i make gifts to those outside. yet within these walls, lady meadow, i live in riches and splendor."
surely his wealth did not go unnoticed, even if meadow truly only wanted the unpolished man who waited for her. he took another long drink and granted the lady a long look. "i send items to your leadership. but tell me what you desire to take with you."

He desired to be preened with compliments and fancy—and so she indulged him so an extent, primarily keen on returning to her soldier before his frayed nerves imploded everything he stood for. The Pharaoh was quick to reveal to her that as he believed his pack was blessed, he had the means to share his gifts to the world.

Honeyed words with a lovely outward meaning—spoken much like the spider to the fly as he wove an intricate web. She simply could not quite understand just who he was hoping to capture in it—nor why.

His eyes remained fast upon her. No rush given in their company—he seemed content to simply introduce himself to her and learn of her—all while partaking in a drink that warmed her to her toes.

“My leadership will be appreciative of the gesture,” she spoke softly, reiterating—still curious to just what price tag might loom on these supposed gifts. What possibly could she be getting Tamar and Arsenio into?

A silver paw lifted to gently rub at her cheek momentarily, fatigue pulling at her, but outwardly she ignored such demand on her body. This was not what she had expected to be doing into the evening—and when he asked what it was she desired to take with her, the sliver of a coy smile pressed to her lips. “My solider,” she all but purred without a thought on it, but her shoulders lifted in a gentle shrug. “But I am a patient woman, and when his duty here is ended, we will have our time together once more.”

tag for ref!

with meadow in his grasp, volunteering so freely, ramesses saw a way to discredit mereo and perhaps ending whatever secrecy his crown prince shared with the imperator. 
should this tale leak out, germanicus might find himself destroyed, sundered. 
his lazuli eyes were warm as she moved paw to cheek. he took the dregs of his own drink and laughed a little at her wit. "your soldier is not mine to give. he belongs to mereo." and to her, the lady had said, but ramesses did not see it. meadow seemed content enough with reyson's possessive nature. 
"it is only some days before he is sent home to the canyon," pharaoh said, his voice made of silken threads. he did not ask again what lady meadow wanted. a sharp word brought @Nazli close, she of the newest training.
she carried a black fur, and walked with a trained new elegance. ramesses let his eyes drift over her figure. he had not yet summoned her, for the education was to be polished before she came, and oft that was months. the young servant moved with bowed head to unwrap the jet pelt.
inside, a single hawk's feather, scarlet from end to end. 
"a gift for the lady of epoch, from pharaoh of akashingo."
ramesses waited for her to deny him, to misstep as had her intended.

“For now,” she acquiesced. She wasn’t keen on offering too much to the beautiful man before her—but surely Germanicus knew what was potentially coming down the pipeline at their pending union?

Unless the Imperator knew something she didn’t. Such as Reyson’s loyalty being far too steadfast within the walls of Mereo. Another broken promise perhaps—because surely, she could not thrive within the militant pack. Especially so close to the man who drew something from her that none should.

Not even her suneater had.

Leisurely, she stretched, reading the mannerisms of the man before her and believing such a lackadaisical motion to not be one of great disrespect. Her muzzle brushed lower though, eyes of honey gleaming up at him. He was one that thrived to have his confidence fed—surely, she could so such, until she was reunited with her soldier. And then her pack.

“Some days,” she agreed, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Surely, you must understand how that feels an eternity?” He must have had someone by his side.

But before she could delve further upon that, the Pharaoh beckoned another forward—a delicate and beautiful creature. Her heart clenched—surely, Reyson noticed this sort of beauty he was surrounded by, day in and out. She was nothing compared to these wolves—a plain pelt of ash, defined only by copper points and plain amber eyes.

Surely, that was why others had turned to others from her. They always would.

When the feather was revealed, she gave only a moments pause—a mind that was becoming fuzzy with indulgence attempting to grasp the unspoken meaning of such a gift. She knew nothing of it—and so she practically purred: “It’s beautiful, Pharaoh. How would one obtain such a rare treasure?”

meadow glinted with the drink and with her unsurety in akashingo's opulence. ramesses relished how poised she remained, how diplomatic. and all the while, for all the talk of her man, she had not moved away from him nor quit his company.
for now, meadow said, and he, hazy with drink and the warm pleasure of her nearness, almost did not hide his smile. it said more about germanicus than anything, and he saw a blow to be wielded against mereo if this woman should take with her the scarred watchdog of a man.
the lady stretched her warm and lithe body. ramesses did not look away from how her muscles tensed beneath the willowy limbs, nor how the silver of her soft fur smoothed in the cup of her waist, over the swell of her hips. did the roman wretch know what a pleasure he had in the affections of the epochian?
nazli hung close. pharaoh dismissed the young fellahin, with a flick of his tail, and spared her his following gaze this time. instead he watched meadow caress the fine thing with her eyes, his title honeyed in her mouth. 
his laughter was low and rich. "you need only reach out and take it, lady meadow." but his eyes were on her now, and in a moment's time pharaoh had loomed closer, still untouching, only testing each measure of the promised woman with his lapis gaze.
"say a word. i shall call back the fellahin. they will bathe you in dried flowers and scented water, wash the red sand from your feet, drive the tension from your body with their massaging." eyes flicked to her mouth, to the scent of the liqueur and meat and her own vital golden scent of her own fur. 
did she not see how her beauty and bearing commanded even a pharaoh? "take it," he urged again. "and when you depart this palace, keep it in memory of what i offer to your gemstone loveliness." the elegant mouth was a smile; he kept himself close, watchful, expecting her to demur. and he held her eyes with his.

The girl before them was dismissed—while Ramesses eyes were upon the silver waif, her own followed the beautiful girl, the emotions of her own inner turmoil likely open for any to read—her uncertainty, her faltering trust of others—most importantly, when all others in her life had left for greener pastures, how could Reyson not be tempted by the beauty within the walls of this palace?

His laugh drew her back to him—the pinched smile to the corner of her lips an attempt to bring herself back from her thoughts, and at his motion and words to reach out, the she-wolf knew the invitation was not a suggestion—to not do so would impart an insult to the ravenous man.

As he spoke to the gift of being pampered, she felt her humor returning—a shy glance given to the Pharaoh before a gentle shake of her slender muzzle was offered in wake of words, if only for a moment of silence as she looked to him, his deep eyes truly unique. “Is this generous offering something your fellahin do for all of your guests?”

Of course, what she meant… was had her scarred-bearing soldier been bathed by the beautiful residents of Akashingo to help him relax? She could not even be simply jealous of the women in this regal land—Reyson’s eyes swung both ways.

The question came out smoky on her lips—lower than her prior coy nature with the Pharaoh, and she gave pause, knowing she was letting herself slip too far.

“It will be a cherished gift,” she offered to him, and then, dipping forward to gingerly take it, briefly aware that the distance between them had lessened, somehow, but when?

"it cools the golden blush of your cheek with red fire," ramesses commented, letting his gaze linger pleasantly on the composition of feather and fur. she had taken it, and with it she had surrendered in a way.
let her bear such a scarlet item back to her brute of a man. he would assume much and ramesses needed say nothing. "all these things are offered to those who stay even briefly in this place. but not all accept." deliberately vague, for he remembered reyson's aggravated rejection.
but in the way that the soldier might think in new ways of his lovely chosen, so would pharaoh allow meadow to choose what she would believe.
her voice was silken, threaded with drink and the overwhelming number of emotions which had played so harshly upon her countenance. he had seen her watch nazli, and his knowing eyes wondered if she saw the beauty which perhaps burned close to reyson.
intriguing that she did not know her own. "i have met many mereoans. they are married to their work and i have long been uncertain they understand any pleasures outside of it."
meadow did not move back to a chaster place and so ramesses did not either. their fur brushed and soon their warmth mingled upon the reclining-couch. his lazuli eyes sought again and easily the jeweled features. she belonged in a place of splendor, but surely she thought herself in love. hard-bearing and a hard life would age her, and it would be what she swore she wanted, wife to a man who kept her pregnant and expected her to work alongside him just the same. 
the end of his tail flicked.

He complimented her—a blush would rise beneath her fur, though it was the way her head tilted in a manner of self awareness. There was no beauty to be found here—but it was kind of him to imply such. Reyson, though—she believed he found her pretty.

So when the regal man replied with masked vagueness, she could feel her heart sink within her chest. It was one of two possibilities: either Reyson had partaken in such intimate actions with the beautiful inhabitants of this man’s empire and the Pharaoh merely tried to guard her heartbreak by remaining so vague… or he was simply implying guilt where none were.

But what guilt would it truly be? She claimed Reyson to this man, but in truth, they tentatively courted. If he were to bed another on one of his trips, was it a true betrayal to her? When she was the one who had insisted they move slowly as they navigated whatever budding relationship they had?

So in thought she barely felt the brush of ivory fur to her own silver—his comment of a Mereoan soldier a solid statement she knew to be true. Her fuzzy mind tried to circle back to Germanicus—to how she had felt in those few moments with the Imperator. His duty had been obvious to her just in that short time—and while Reyson claimed he would drop duty for family if she requested it… could she truly make him do so? What if he became miserable?

“I think… They must place what they do to the forefront of everything, and to survive what they bear… They must place all else in the shadows.”

little by little did meadow relent, until in her voice ramesses heard the doubt he had meant to sow. she spoke of work and shadows, and he took this to mean that reyson kept himself guarded in a way she did not understand.
that was the way of men. even he kept much from treva. she shared his leadership but to be pharaoh was to be alone, as he had told makono. and yet it was reason to leverage, to glance across her chin and mouth and the proud arch of her neck.
"you are correct, of course." why did she want this? already she seemed tremulous with unsurety. or perhaps pharaoh saw only what he wanted. "i do not think a soldier made for blood is also made for beauty." meadow had remained organized and poised — until this moment. it was no frenetic nature; she did not exclaim upon his rightness nor weep.
but she had questioned this before she ever came to akashingo, he chose to assume.
"you are too precious to be relegated to shadows," ramesses said softly, and searched her eyes for the sign that he had been correct. all her expressions could not be veiled; she was open as a mossy clearing. 
now he was closer; now he sought to fill all her senses with his nearness, and he with her own.

His words of course confused her—a solider made for blood could not be made for beauty—and she could only understand he meant the finer things in life… Here, she would muse quietly, was where Reyson would scoff—surely, Reyson’s pleasures in life didn’t include being bathed and primped by beautiful wolves. Lavishing himself upon a thrown.

No, her soldier took pleasure in the simpler things in life, and she breathed out now, feeling easier on the topic.

There was much to be said on his statement, and she offered a crooning approval. It was easy to do so—the effects of the drink, the warmth that spread from her toes and upward. “I’ve been relegated to the shadows my entire life, Pharaoh,” she offered then, considering her travels from pack to pack. Empty promises.

“Reyson is the first to bring me from them.” He, and her friends at Epoch.

so. it was love, then. it felt enduring, and it had chased such things away from her. reyson had brought her from her pain.
could she do the same for him?
but ramesses saw no more reason to continue his lulling. he sat back as gracefully as before, but separated their bodies this time. yet his lapis gaze remained unchanged, resonant and watchful as ever. perhaps he had forced her to a conclusion.
but let meadow not forget the doubt she had just shown him. "queen treva wishes to have a winter feast, with our allies brecheliant and mereo. i would like you to bring gifts from akashingo to epoch. for arsenio and tamar."
their names scorched his tongue. he only wished he could be present when meadow unthinkingly spoke his name to tamar, especially.
this the light licking of his whip for her honeyed refusal.

It was only when the rush of cooler air came upon her as he moved upward did she realize just how close they had come in their little interlude. Surprise flickered across her features, and she too pushed herself to recline, gaze swiftly looking away as if she had been caught doing something untoward.

She hadn’t—but would Reyson feel the same?

At the mention of a queen, she felt her smile return, as if relieved that the man before her was married. Of course he was—there was nothing more at play here than her imagination.

“I will do that. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sure they will be grateful.” She paused, dipping her muzzle down lightly, hoping this now meant she could seek out the man she had actually come to visit. Little did she know the makings of what she had concluded as a pleasant conversation in passing time.

with meadow, he would send good red wood, tooth-carved antler-ivory, three good black pelts, each carrying dried meat or a collection of chamomile or even good smooth stones. he was certain that reyson would help her bear such things.
the bundle would be brought to promised man-and-wife before they departed. ramesses gestured to the feather, however.
"i hope such gifts are enjoyed. i am apt at choosing fine things." he would let her go now, unless she wished a tour.
and then, when meadow had gone, the good humour would fall from pharaoh's face.
now Amun manuevered reins into the hands of his chosen godhead.
it was enough to assure ramesses that he must smite makono before she moved against him. and meadow had delivered a beautiful new playing-piece to this senet board.

Just assuming she didn't really see him just to keep it simple for current threads happening re: Reyson's return.

He gestured to the feather—she cast him one last smile before she ensured it’s safety with her and departed.

Sent with her were rather illustrious gifts—all of which she quietly wondered the point or use of, and when she would seek to meet @Reyson by the trees he had claimed to reside, the man was not there. It was her assumption he was training… and as she paced to and fro, the lighting of the sky would indicate she would need to return. She could only hope he had not gotten himself hurt in his anger—and as she longed to ease him, she knew she must go.

The treasured gifts were escorted with her for a time before she crossed borders, and after, she would carry them, slowly, yet surely, piled upon the black pelts, to a nearby area of Epoch before placing them safely in a cavern… At least until she could report to her leaders or Reyson. Without seeing him, she felt adrift and unsettled on the entire evening.