Luneshale Pass season of the witch

@Legend.
The damning information whispered to her by Khusobek left her wondering. Perhaps he'd been right and it truly meant nothing beyond a union of bodies in the dead of night — but Senmut, as she was aware, was to be pharaoh if not one of these foreigners. And a pharaoh was surely above lying with mazoi, was he not? Unless—
But it was not as if it mattered to her. Zaahira was never to be a pawn, nor a token of gossip. Besides, Senmut nor Legend were in her bed, and so it was not her business.
And so she seeks a chat with the chittering little bird today, decidedly unrelated; ears forward and ever attentive as she sets a luncheon of fresh meat and blue-violet aged berries upon the sands.

Swift paws took the changeling towards raw scents. Hunger dug into her stomach; following it came second nature. Why had she not seen Za? Where was Za? Where was Seth- Seth, Seth, Seth, Seth! With the words dribbling off her mind, she shook out the tension off of her coat. "BRRRR!" Went her lips, like a toy engine. Halting, her foot lifted to scratch at her ear with winced eyes. She scratched it so hard that ther were audible thumps from her pads hitting the shale.

Opening her eyes, her vision pinned. Excitement! She felt excitement! Her voice called out instantly. "ZA!" Fumbling down her way, she was quick to the womans front to press her forehead against her friends. They were friends, and they were great! "I come find you. Za eats?"

Ah, there she was. Seemingly oblivious to her status as a pawn upon the proverbial senet board; from what the mazoi knew of her colleague, either she cared not for politics both of lake and of mesa, or was very good at pretending she did not.
Either way, it mattered not. Not today. Hi, Dove, a lazy smile spins her features as she gestures to the assortment. come eat with me, yes? I want to talk with you.
Little stormy-eyed Legend, always so brave. Zaahira splits the meat into two portions; the larger slid in the direction of the little blackbird, along with a berry, should partaking interest her. She laps at one of them herself; slowly, swirling the earthy flavor of the skin on her tongue, before crushing it between molars and allowing it to burst. Never once do her eyes waver. I may have a job for you.

"Yes!" Her mouth found delightful watering, and her tastebuds came to a tingle! Outwardly, she'd been still as a rock, unmoving after the arranged meal was plated before her. Then, her tongue was clicking back drool, preventing it from slipping out of the corners of her lips until she wildly broke! Shaking out dust from her sand-dipped coat, she splayed her wiry legs all the way down to eat. No one was near! She'd eat how she wanted! 

With that, her entire jaw clasped around the top of the meat, berry in the assortment and all. Yum! She needed it! All of it! Her stomach ached! So much aching! So much moving! Now that she started to eat, she found it difficult not to swallow the slab whole.

Then, she paused her tonguey chewing suddenly. It registered quickly, Zaahira's last statement, once it broke through her munches. Ohhh! Job!- Job? "Job?" Pinning her eyes upwards, she froze her body in time to await. Then, she unpaused. "That's me! I do all the jobs!" she proudly announced and boasted, and then went straight back to munching!

Legend seems eager to follow directions, and this pleases Zaahira greatly. While a friend, she was also co-worker — and, if plan went accordingly, would soon be employee.
First, I must ask, her eyes narrow before they dart left, right, a whirl of her head to look behind; caution must be taken and held gingerly like delicate pottery. what do you know of the princes, Dove? Are they kind to you? a pause as another berry is swiftly crushed, a pearl of violet dribbling down her chin. Do you trust them?

Meat split between her canines as her jaws nipped and crushed. Her tongue was greedy for food, eyes fixated in a way that almost stole her away from Zaahira. An energetic shiver vibrated across her tail, before it tightly curled and her elbows pushed her towards the meal.

In a quick glance, her eyes locked to Zaahira.

"Princes?"

With the food pressed against the edges of her lips, the audible sound of her molars crushing and grinding it down had begun. Ahead of her, she stared, empty headed in nature with no immediate response.

Did she hear her?

"Yes! I do not know of Thutmose. Princes stay.." Dig, dig, grind, grind, and through bone, her teeth pierced through. Shard by shard, she ate with soft, tender flesh. "Isolated. Away from one another. The air is thick. You feel it?" Not even a look to Zaahira this time; only her owlish eyes ahead. 

"Prince Rashepses feeds me. His mind thinks- you see it? Kind. Prince Senmut- Humble. Generous to me. But, to trifle with the name of his land sparks fire akin to nothing. You see it." No question. "Rashepses' voice- loud. Senmuts- reserved. I see scorching embers in their future, should they cross. Rashepses' orchestra, and Senmuts hymn. Embers. You see it? Thutmose.." Her head tilted. Had she seen him? She did not continue farther with him, because..
She did not know.

The little blackbird speaks in what may as well have been riddles. Zaahira listens anyway, ears curved, eyes pointed.
Thutmose. Thutmose had appeared kind, studious, and perhaps for all of a minute he could have fooled her; but she thought of their spar, of an innocent fight turned brutal with bloodspill that felt, in some way, targeted. As if she were expected to bow to fragile egos and flaunts of muscle and teeth that meant nothing without a crown.
And then there was Rashepses. Buttering Legend up, he seemed to be doing, and this brought the festering, seething grudge inside her to a growl.
Senmut was, perhaps, the only man truly loyal — humble, thoughtful, devoted to their Queen. Although he was, apparently, not above exerting his power over the women of the palace.
I am glad they have been good to you, and she meant that, for at least there was one woman's head not now pressed under rancid, hairy foot. but I worry about their intentions. I worry for us. The women of Akashingo. Rashepses, in particular; the tyrant. I would like you to keep close eye on them when they are near her. Keep watch of our Queen. Our devotion lies solely with her until a pharaoh is crowned, yes? You understand?

"Yes," she replied absently; though, not because of her lack of understanding nor notice. Her mind had faded away, once her mouth finally chirped and gave answers Zaahira dug for. Oh.. all too much.. lots of thhinking.. she didn't mind thinking.. Not enough thinking! Her mind branched out, clawing for ideas and subjects, things that her head could dance with until night fall.

All of the food, she'd finished.

Her tongue pressed roughly into her teeth.

Her attention ran into her arms. "My understand!" Me...My...Me..My..

What was the difference again? Oh well! Must be my!

"Rashepses and Senmut, I watch," she declared, her voice quartering in volume, tail swishing side to side. "Thutmose. He is princely?" Legend knew little of this...Thutmose!

Thutmose is sphinx too, yes. Which means he must be watched too. While Legend has finished her meal, Zaahira's has hardly been touched; she quietly slides the rest over in silent offering, for her own appetite has now faded. We must hold these princes at arms length, Dove. Do not let them earn your favor with gifts and toys. It is fake. See that they truly mean well for us. Our Queen is not a plaything, and nor are we.
Venom, poison; curdling, toiling, twisting.
You are... close, with erpa-ha, yes? He likes you? her eyes narrow into something fierce, yet inquisitive. He is man of our own. He is humble. Understands us. If any man is to be pharaoh, I believe it should be him. a thick, drawn-out exhale comes from her nostrils; she mustn't say it too loud. If it were my choice, the Queen should take the throne. But we must cooperate.

:D!!

Their erpa-ha.

Her head looked to be an empty vault. Her eyes ahead, giving quick glances to Zaahira when words that sparked her interest prodded her for a greater attentention. Then, wide, peering eyes locked to her on the name of their erpa-ha, as if Zaahira spoke of magical storybooks with heroes and conquerors. 

Many things could've been touched, and that was what Zaahira had selected.

With a tilt of the birds head, there were quick, small nods in agreement- bewilderment under a does gaze and a hawks pupils. She agreed, yes, all the way until Zaahira's muttered breath came to a ghostly stop. Legend greeted her at the end in a soft messengers knowledge.

"Order. Of an empire. The Gods will lead us to their vision. Za, we are-" her head lifted, nose trailing over the sky to remind of their people that prospered. And Toula, only a young woman with innocent eyes. "Empire!" And in an empire, the Pharaoh was level to the Gods. "We will prosper in time. That is our Gods will. You trust?" In a sway, her tail waved. They had no choice. It would shatter their culture to not crown a pharaoh, no matter who he was.

I pray to Sekhmet every day. I pray She protects us.
For there was reason for everything, and Rashepses' presence among the halls of Akashingo was necessary for some lesson. The people were meant to listen; listen for something, some sort of crow's omen shaded in moonlight, and this Zaahira believes to her core.
The Gods, Dove, are wise. They work in mysterious ways, I have learned, yes? They give good and bad signals that we must heed as Their servants, Zaahira's head lowers, chin pressed now to the sun-dappled ochre of her chest. we should not turn our backs and assume They do all work. And we must shun those who believe themselves above Them.
A glaze falls over her eyes.
Watch them, Dove, and keep Sekhmet close to your heart. See that their intentions are pure. They will not be truthful to me. a snarl, hard as obsidian, stretches across her tone; though not directed at the mazoi. If trouble arises, or if they break our laws, you will tell me. And I will alert our Queen. She will do as needed. I believe she would not choose a man who will harm us.

Last from me!

For that, there was no more to be said. In Zaahira's eyes, passion; one dug out from the graves of unresolved strings of frayed trust and broken promises. There came an unspoken click of agreement and word between their pupils, and in Legend's, a pique of anomalous fascination that desired to peck at these stones Za laid out.

Their ruling princes.

Fun.

No more was necessary. The deed was done; now did the little blackbird fly in the hopes of a greater future than the one now looking their kingdom in the eye.
Do not let them hurt you.
They would pay for that, if so.
The rest of Zaahira's meal is finished in silence, and ended with prayer.