Lion Head Mesa kadat ∢ nesikh

he was weak. he was threadbare, now. beneath the sun he withered; blowing his coat, losing pounds of muscle as the weeks wore on. sometimes he had visitors — they would bring the gifts of food and water, and they would make him speak.

little by little the language gap became smaller. he picked up a few rudimentary words and turns of phrase, and so did the woman-king toula of his mountain tongue. but today she did not visit him; today, drusk wondered if he might just die here.

a bone, almost matching his own thinning aspect, was clutched between his forelimbs as he chewed the end.

oops

 

she returned home standing a little taller. she considered all that transpired, and thought then of the trespasser they kept. she learned of his tongue, and learned of him—
now, she did not think his behavior was against Akashingo entire. but still she sought to understand the route if it, and at least now she could put together enough of his words and he hers to grasp it. 
first she had food and hydrating drink brought to him. and then she set the stage—two stones, which she identified to him as himself—a grapevine was identified as her territory. he would know now that she was Pharaoh of this grapevine, Akashingo. she drew a line in the sand, and put his stone before it, watching to see if he had a sense of what she did then.

he would not die; he cannot die. not while racharra is here.

mazoi are few and with the jodai's absence so racharra thought it easy to sneak in. pelts soaked in water and another plentiful with food so that he may see another day dangle from her jaws as she approaches his cell — only to come to a halt.

Pharoah had beaten her to him. she hadn't even considered either of the royals as a possibility. suddenly, the red palace felt very cold!

edited bc i posted after toula loooolll

despite his glaring need, he kept to his bone. he accepted nothing. the lessons had been a method of keeping his mind active and served as enrichment, and a routine - as much for himself as it was for his captors, he noticed.

now the talking one had brought a stone, a vine, and more words; but drusk ignored all of this.

he only reacted when he caught the scent of the tiger woman. shifting to glance her way, with yellow eyes narrow.

her head turns as she looks to Racharra, noting the things in which she has brought. there is no disapproval from Toula, who had done the same. but it is the look from Drusk that gives her pause. 
he knows you, Toula says to the Neb. there is no accusation or vexation in her voice, only curiosity—she was given pause from what she had intended for the hour. silent now, she waited for her to fill the quiet with an explanation.

without any protest, racharra finally enters, though sets aside her own offerings for now.

i visited him. curiosity had gotten the best of me. she shoots the boy a frown as he gnaws on a bone instead of the perfectly full food. i have my suspicions he might be drusk. my brother. racharra annunciates the name and watches carefully for any reaction.

the speaker and the tiger woman.

they were interested in themselves, then in him, and when he heard the name drusk spoken he gave a huff, put off his appetite even for the bone he had been coveting.

as he let's this fall from his grasp, he lays his head down in the dirt and sits there, feigning disinterest.

drusk drivat.  raesh-evethiz vazyol, drivat.

he was too tired to translate or to say more. these guttural sounds murmured from him as he lay like a beached crocodile in the dirt.

Toula looked to the royal girl, and then back to the boy. she did not see the resemblance between them—one was feral and unkempt, the other a Diamond prized from the rough. but the girl would not have said such things if it were not true, 
and Toula had promised to protect them. each of them. why would he turn against her? his sister? the boys mumbling was half-heard, and less of that was interpreted. have you any suspicions why he might have done as he has? she asked, speaking of his trespasses against Akashingo. even him, they had provided for—up until the day he had gone,
to some wild, wild place, Toula now understood. perhaps a place that had caused him to act beyond their understanding… she looked back to him, thinking.

her words had taken the Pharoah for pause, and racharra sits in silence while observing drusk's every move.

instinct, at best. spite, at worst. the nebet's attention remains on the captive, stalling to return toula's gaze. but he's not as beastly as i thought. the society he has been adopted into is sophisticated enough for him to have language but.. not sophisticated enough to not go pissing wherever he pleases.

...he does not recognize me. i have given my name, and he does not recognize it either. i might be mistaken. racharra's brow furrows, visible only from her profile as she's yet to given toula her gaze. only after a moment does she finally turn to the sovereign. what do you plan for him?

the women showed little interest in him after his words. presuming they spoke of their captive, perhaps deciding what to do with him, drusk could let their voices become a white noise as he finally took interest in one of the offerings.

more like, he was too tired to resist the allure of fresh meat.

as he took something and began to strip it to pieces, he only occasionally glanced to one woman or the other.

perhaps you are right, Toula ponders, gaze turning to the one that could be her sibling, but it is my intent to make certain of such. my sister, Ashikaga, is missing—her favored Hemet dead. our Hem has been savaged. this one found some corridors to flee to—which could mean familiarity with the palace, but it could also mean that perhaps he was simply looking for any place to run. 
her plan for him was simple. he will learn to speak a new tongue. he will soon enough be given the opportunity to explain himself to me, her eyes turned now to the Nebet as she then asked: do you trust me?

racharra gazes long and hard at drusk — could he? would he? — his familiarity with the palace is enough to ring alarms in the ears of anyone who cared.

of course. for it to be a question is enough to surprise racharra. of course i do — who else but you?

...i do not know much of those incidents, and i'm willing to accept that i am wrong, but i do not think he alone would do.. all of that. if he was bold enough to enter in daylight, yet sloppy enough to be caught, then i doubt it is him. though he could've become arrogant — only he and the victims know the answer to that.

I too might be wrong, she is willing to accept this as a potential outcome, but he cannot wander around freely in the event that I am not. he will be fed, bathed, given water, and educated. I grant you leave to visit him at your leisure, for if it was her brother, would she not want to know? both him, and the truth? you might even help him learn our tongue, if you wish. the sooner he learns it, the sooner he can be free of this pit, should he be willing to speak, at least—but innocent, or not, she would not keep him there forever. 
she did not enjoy this. there was no pleasure to be taken from this mans imprisonment, even if he committed these crimes. Toula was no torturer, and took no satisfaction from the circumstances that had befallen him, even if she was angry. 
Toula trusted Racharra, too. for her ears alone did she say, if you think there might be a better way, I would hear it, and since the trust between them was true, Racharra could know that the words would not fall on deaf ears or be resisted by a closed mind.

of course. even as she pities her brother, it'd be foolish to pretend he's completely innocent.

which brings her to her question.
what if he runs after he gains our trust? racharra furrows her brow, her lips guiltily pursing between words. but she wouldn't dare let herself have faith in ogres. never again. he could very well just be playing along.