Lion Head Mesa what a grand and intoxicating innocence

The mesa crawled beneath his touch like a millipede, sun glinting off its rocks like a carapace. So many here, seeking Toula’s young hand. They brought with them viziers, guards, a smattering of servants. He remained fascinated, a black hare skin coifed perfectly around his neck, watching them come and go.

Properly fascinating, this.

He entertained the brief idea of revealing his heritage, smothering himself with furs until he looked the part, and telling the first one he saw that he was a prince, and he demanded to be treated as such! But Toula was far, far too young for him to even think of that. He remembered when she was young. And besides, his heritage was a long forgotten thing, no matter the power he could gain. And besides.

He would look rather the madman, spouting claims about being a prince. It made him laugh at the thought, taking in the sun as it rose in the far distance. He raised a paw to it, closing one eye, then nodding to himself.

The prayers to Ra came so easily. It was second nature, somehow.

"one's got tah wonder," gucci's smile were dry, voice smidge too conversational for the silence following a prayer. "what's brought y'all back t' our fold?"

the noble sat, imitating some sort of pomeranian with all his mass of fur and chub, shivering in the chilly air of a spring still holding onto memory of winter.

he did not like akhtar, not enough to give him enthusiasm in this Sunday church meeting of a situation.

Ah, Pharaoh’s favorite half-pint. With his accusatory bug-eyes.

No matter, no matter.

He turned his head just enough to look at the former vizier, face split around a lackadaisical smile.

Is it not common sense, Neb, that gods speak through priests? He looked to the distant sun.

I was called to return. Akhtar raised his head, feeling the breeze ruffle through his coat.

I am called to many great things.

You will go.

I will go.

were he a smidge more childish, gucci would'a muttered back what the priest'd said in a mocking voice.

as it were, his smile stretched further, squinting his eyes. 

"interestin' t'was now ya got called. what's it good gawd o' sunshine said t'yaself?" come hither, pervy ol' fool, there's young'uns tah diddle fer status n gain!

please forgive me, gucci once misconstrued a situation as akhtar sleeping with nazli and has since then assigned him the resident No No Man

Akhtar’s grin became something more mean, perhaps, with his eyes kept turned from the Neb.

T’was not Ra. He tisked his tongue against the back of his teeth, half mock, half reprimand.

It was Toth who called to me. He told me to return to give my knowledge. It was sudden, the turn of his eyes to the Neb.

Perhaps the question is why are you still among us, Neb? I would have thought you would be gone to your own seat of power by now, was that not in the plans? If it wasn’t, perhaps he could guide his own piece into that play.

UR FINE I remember!! It’s all good here!

akhtar were selling him a rotten apple painted red, an' gucci wasn't buyin'.

he smiled all customerly either way, nodding like he comprehended the confounding pantheon akashingo and its lik ascribed world-moving holiness to.

now, when the pointed speech turned itself gucci's way, the neb stiffened a lil'. wouldn't let that smile waver, though. he hoped it was as unpleasant an expression to see as it was to make.

"gawds... work in mysteriousmost ways." his tail swayed like wind-played fabric. "who's tah say why ah ain't runnin' no summer palace fer our fair queen? who's tah say why's it the baby queen's enthroned, 'stead the toddler one? don't ever try tah calculate th' chain o' causation which led fram two royals naw mummified -" gucci patted the warm stone where they both once raisinated. "over runaway princelin' tah today, wardrums in mah ears makin' me rise for once tah see th' mornin' prayer."

by now, gucci's grin was wide.

"ahm slave tah will o' th' mah'th 's y' are, sweet hem."

Slave, Gucci spoke, but Akhtar knew better. He was not slave, not servant, but mouthpiece. A page, a messenger.

Quite correct.

But he would never say that.

The hem looked across the mesa, allowing the godliness across his shoulders to fall, for a moment, as he watched the land beneath him.

I almost expected war to break before now. Perhaps that says something. The tensions between them and the mountain packs had been high, last he had known, but it had seemed as though the scents hadn’t been as heavy when he crossed the peaks. As if wolves no longer lived there.

Akhtar released a great sigh.

It has been a long few years, hm?

he wouldn't trust the man 's far as he could throw 'im - which were mathematically improbable. still gucci let his disposition lower in intensity to honest neutrality.

was as good a shield from anxiety as any.

"it's been." he took quiet pride in never leaving . "nawt once had this much occur in a season, way ah lived afore."

he lifted his paw to examine the claws.

"nawt that ah worry so severe." a lie. "prepubescent or nah, senmut's a force guidin' our royal. if he steers her a way, she'll go."

traitorous talk. and yet, were he wrong?

You speak treason. His voice did not accuse, but he looked to the Neb with a raised brow. Well, he had not expected that from someone so mired in Rameses’ court.

But I too have observed that. He holds the reins, Toula’s mouth holds the bit. Amusing, how a pupil of his could have turned out the way Senmut had.

But not surprising. The boy had ended up with his bad habit of reaching for more.

I wonder if this war is of her doing. Or had his pupil surpassed Akashingo’s royals on that blood splattered road known as power?

while his eyes kept to the claws - clean and bare o' marks o' labour or wander - gucci's ears were turned akhtar's way, listening for any shift in position, change in tone, whispered confession.

"doubtmuch." he took to manicuring. "she's a gentle soul. good, great even in peacetimes. 's unfortunate her sister left 'er a steamin', hot... nonsense tah deal with." gucci chewed on a claw.

"mah issue's that ah cannot determine which way she'd go when th' war's," pause. "won."

"senmut could chisel her inta shape o' some war goddess, while he relaxes. child soldiers, tha's one thang, child warchiefs - wholly another."

The little man had sage ideas. He was a clever fellow, Akhtar could begrudgingly agree to, but he did not say it. He hummed a little note.

I fear this will shatter Toula’s peaceful nature. Perhaps that’s what the boy’s going for. He couldn’t speak to who Senmut had become in his absence, but..well. He knew what he would do.

The priest used a forelimb to adjust his rabbit skin, watching the sun begin its higher climb.

That is, if we win at all. Perhaps we lose, what then? Where would they go? What power vacuum would be left open if they were brought to heel.

Akhtar’s lips pursed. Abruptly, he wished for wine.

teeth by now tarnished with eating and years split his muzzle like an axe does wood.

"ah die." 

the manicure continued.

"them's brutes thataway, no use fer tiny men who clink 'n' yap among that sort. maybe ah get mistaken fer pet rabbit." the neb giggled. "either way, no-one's loss. mah children'll do without me."

he blew at his claws. over dainty, glowed paw, he looked up at akhtar - smile bordering on bedlam.

"see now, why ah might believe queen toula best be collectin' soldiers, nawt husbands." with flick of wrist he set his paw down. "n why this war needs patriotic men, nawt tail-chasers o' royal titles."

with his best expression of chihuahuaian innocence, he blinked up at the taller dog.

you's got th' good o' this mesa at heart? you ain't naw tail-chaser, yah?

blink. blink.

Akhtar mentally took a sip from his wine glass, his mouth pursed into a hard line. Oh, the small man was quite correct. Any of the wildlings of the lake would use him as a toothpick, would probably turn even himself into moving target practice.

His face soured more, if that was possible. Even when he’d been underneath the former pharaoh’s rule, he’d been aware that at any moment, should the tides turn against him, he’d find himself shredded like a deer fawn left alone for too long.

Quite right. Before we can have any weddings, we need the soldiers to win this war. One of his ears twitched.

The tail-chasers at least seem to have brought some of their military. But we certainly do need more mazoi, since our jodai decided to up and run.

correct! correctmost! gucci downed his metaphorical southern comfort. more forces, more teeth, but for us, not fer them. somebody needs tah git their priorities straight, n if ain't gon' be these, these foreign men who don't care none fer us, why nawt... men o' loyalties?

gucci cocked a brow. 

ngl i feel like we could be winding this one down to a close and then get something fresh~

Oh, never for us. Akhtar agreed, crossing one leg over the other.

Then, he glanced down at the little man, the corner of his mouth lifting, unsure if it wanted to be a smirk or a frown.

What are you suggesting, Neb? A voice like honey, words like durian.

Absolutely!

gucci grinned.

ah gat naw idea. 

n'yet! the little noble hopped to his paws. he shook out his coat, surrendering patches of unshed winter fur to the wind. 

when all'a this war business's wrapped up neat wi' a bow, he placed a dainty paw on akhtar's svelte leg, looking up at him with the same grin. ah'll come t'ya.

...well. someone else'll come. in mah stead. he winked. 

the chihuahua danced away for the stairwell.

praise gawd 'n' all'at, hem akhtar! gucci said with a yip, then dove in.

The priest watched chihuahua leave with a furrowed brow, one ear lifting if only to twitch back. After a moment, he would look back to the sun, now climbing even higher into the sky, and snort.

What an odd little man. He spoke coy to the sky, before he stood, shaking out his coat.

He had some work to do before he could rest until evening prayers.