Lion Head Mesa I Broke my Chains

Backdated to the day of the return from Moontide!
for @Racharra

It had been a long journey back from the coast, with—at least in Machi's case— many more things to be carried back than had been left with.

Upon their return to the great kingdom, the man wasted no time seeking out the designated drop-off point for the pelts he had acquired, eager to unburden himself of their weight. With a sigh of relief, he handed over his collection, feeling the strain ease as the load was lifted from his shoulders.

Deciding to spend at least a night, if not longer, within the palace walls, Machi resolved to distribute his gifts to the residents before departing for Muat-riya to deliver the remainder.

with her own gifts given out, racharra sleepwalks through red halls. she drips still of wellspring's holy waters.

the pitter-pattering of the droplets gets louder and louder, for some reason. the nebet wakes up and looks down at the droplets. strange, she shook her pelt right after her bath. right? right.
yet the dripping persists.

she whips her neck around so quickly, she feels a muscle strain in complaint. ow.
a fellahin that had accompanied them from muat-riya pitter-patters through the halls, and only then does the girl slouch.
ah, hahah. hello..

A girl approaches, tall and powerful—carrying the same weighty beauty of a ceremonial mace, with a coat of ash and soot, that caused the man to think back to the dark farm boy that had caused him so much trouble.

Good evening, Madam, Machi replied, with a small gesture of his head as the yearling fell into a slump—you are noble, hold yourself high!

good evening to you too.. racharra catches the gesture, but only partly corrects herself. she could slump and drag her weight around however much she wanted! unless in the prying eyes of those above her.

the white twig of a fellahin takes with him a collection of riches. are those for Pharoah? inquisitively, her eyes fixed on the trades from the sea people. if it were for Pharoah, she'd enjoy all of them she's sure, if even the slobber covered gems she'd presented to toula once was enough to touch the then-queen's heart.

The man gave an approving half nod; a small correction would be better than none, he supposed.

Only the pelts, I'm afraid, my Lady. The others are gifts for those in Muat-Riya, He replied, glittering gaze traveling over the trove he had managed to amass in Moontide, before flicking back to the towering girl before him.

If you do not mind my prying, Machi asked slowly, eyes scrutinizing the looming figure, are you all right, Madam? You seem unwell, he observed softly with a concerned tilt of his head.

racharra eyes the pelts, and they're nothing short of brilliant. but its par for the course as gifts for Pharoah. any less and it'd be like spitting over her greatness. the fellahin mentions muat-riya and the nebet wishes she could slump again. @Eset. why didn't she come to moontide? or visit akashingo to greet the returning party. or at the very least acknowledged the nebet's existence again.

the pale one's question comes slowly, hesitantly. as if he knows that in fact, she does mind the prying. she should be allowed to mope, if just a little.
it's nothing of your concern. when she realizes she came across a little snappier than she'd meant to, she reaches for her temples and rubs at them with her wrist. ..i'm so sorry, i've been fighting a headache today and.. she parrots a hiss. i hoped the wellsprings would ease it, but i think it only got worse.

The girl's abruptness startled Machi, causing his muddied ears to flatten against his skull in annoyance, recoiling from the unexpected snap. He did not have to inquire into her well-being, especially when he could have simply turned and left her to be incredibly rude all by herself.

But she was quick to apologize, and so he, being the benevolent man that he was, chose to overlook the slight, instead putting on a concerned look. After all, forgiveness seemed a more favorable way to continue diffusing the situation.

Oh dear, I see, Machi replied, voice much softer than it had been moments before. Headaches are nasty things. Do you know what has caused it? Perhaps the stress of our journey? He mused, glancing around thoughtfully.

Have you had enough to eat and drink? If not, I can fetch something for you and bring it to your chamber, He offered, meeting the girl's gaze once more. A bit of nourishment and rest in a dark, quiet space might help alleviate your discomfort.

the fellahin is offended at first, but when his voice softens for her, racharra knows her gamble worked. at least mostly. if he could boss her around for slumping then he would've probably slapped her on the wrist for lying. probably.

definitely the stress. this journey was more tumultuous than when we erected muat-riya. a part of me even regrets accompanying. a kernal of truth in her lie. the journey definitely was a headache-and-a-half. but if she had one, she couldn't feel it.

no need, i can fetch myself a meal — besides, you must work quickly no? to present the gifts for her highness. though finding a dark nook in the palace of Ra was near impossible, hiding in her chambers felt mighty appealing.

Me? Present these to the Pharaoh? No, Madam, I'm afraid you've got it wrong. I'll leave these with the pile, and some other lucky chap may add them to their own collection of gifts, He stated with a shiver, thinking back to the night he had been caught sneaking Rooke into the palace. It would be a long while before he would willingly face the Goddess and her Consort again.

Would you like them, Madam? The pale man asked, as if the thought had suddenly occurred, If you don't take them, they'll just be left here for some other soul to present.

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this pompous fellahin had the audacity to be a coward. as if the kind Pharoah would have a mazoi tear out his jewels over a gift. she gives him her own raise of a brow, but did not speak of her judgement. instead, he offers her one of the pelts. fine as they are, it isn't her duty.

i've already presented mine. the worst that could happen is her consort not appreciating them. but Pharoah's word is last, and if she accepted mine, she'd accept your collection too.

Pharoah is not cruel. she adds with crossed brows.

Machi regarded the girl with a furrowed brow, taken aback by the sudden tension in the air, especially after having just resolved the girl's first round of aggression. Had he unwittingly touched a sensitive nerve? Or was the hostility just a side effect of her discomfort?

Indeed, she would, he responded, his tone carrying a subtle note of perplexity as he observed her, a faint wrinkle of confusion forming on his snout. I hold the Pharaoh in high esteem for her exceptional kindness and forgiving nature.

With all due respect, my Lady, Machi continued, his voice adopting a firm yet diplomatic tone, I would appreciate it if you refrained from attributing your own assumptions to my words. I have complete faith in Her Majesty's character and have given you no reason to believe otherwise.

Forgive me if my gesture with the pelts seemed presumptuous, he continued, I must have missed the training on the proper protocol for such gifts. I certainly did not mean to overstep any boundaries or cause you discomfort.

I sincerely hope you find relief from your headache, he added, offering a respectful nod. Please accept my best wishes for your well-being.

Good day, Madam, he concluded politely, turning down the dusty hallway as he pondered the most appropriate recipient for the gifts he carried.

the poor fellahin recoils again at her expression, and this time she feels little need to cover it up. this time, she probably will get a headache as her proceeds to lecture her again.

if you held her to such esteem, why are you so hesitant to present these? racharra couldn't wrap her mind around it.
sorry. half-hearted, and curt. she owes him very little. of course, she'd be chastised for this behavior if someone were to witness it — or if he rattled her out. but it's the least of her concerns. a moody teenaged girl never killed anyone. probably.

best of wishes to you too. she drags herself back to her chambers, exhaustion returning to her and leading her through the hall.