Lion Head Mesa sun touched

A continuation of this thread, tags for reference

Briar's head was low as the tall meadow grass was replaced by scrub. Soon scrub gave way to coarse dirt and red sand. He refrained from flinching at the sunbaked earth underfoot, fearing he would dislodge @Silvertongue from his back should he recoil.

Akashingo's scent weighed heavily in the air. Each step was cautious. The winding water at the base of the mesa a temptation. He considered going directly to the riverbank and asking for forgiveness later. Briar also remembered the mazoi of Akashingo. Dutiful guardians. The woman on his back needed help, he would not ruin her chances by behaving rashly.

Locating the borderline, Briar gently lowered the woman from his back. Standing next to her to capture her in his shadow. What little shelter from the sun he could provide. His head lifted and a call for assistance was sounded for the palace wolves to hear. It did not matter who, be it fellahin or mazoi or Pharoah @Toula herself.

she was there, surrounded by her attendants and her fellahin. always, always she visited Khonsu—if her mother lived she prayed He would guide her steps here. more names given to Him, more prayers.
a call, and her gaze turned to see one wolf carrying another. she was quick to evaluate her distressed state, and directs a waiting fellahin take her from the man and carry her to Tavina’s medicine room. 
the sight of them has jarred her subordinates, who only now began to announce her—but Toula, wary of the time, gives them pause as she asks him what has happened?

skippable now, please liberally pp <3

a disquieting sense of awareness had begun to pervade what existed of silvertongue's conscious mind. hunger for the green; hunger for the dream. one moment she opened her eyes to see the red sand whisking away below her as if she floated. once more she returned to herself, hearing the voice of another; she smelled perfume, unguents, oils; "pharaoh." and then she was gone off, truly gone, her breathing shallow and her body fully given over to merciful darkness for a long while.

Briar's ears cupped towards the pharaoh and her procession as they materialized from the depths of the mesa. Eyes hopeful, a rush of relief floods his senses as a fellahin is directed to attend to the ailing woman. He follows their movements as Silvertongue is collected to be taken inside the palace walls. His attention turns to Toula upon her question.

She had collapsed in the meadow. His muzzle tipped over his shoulder, pointing northeast towards Fairspell Meadow. I'm not sure how long, but she had been weakened by the sun by the time I found her. As he returned to face the pharaoh, his ears splayed to see how limp Silvertongue was as the fellahin took her away.

She could only give me a few words. One being 'Akashingo.' There was a slight cant to his head he offered Toula a defeated shrug. I am no healer, and I knew where Akashingo was.

sorry for delay!!

 
it seemed he had nothing to do with the state that she was in—only the fact that she was safe and here, now. he was no healer—that was alright. he knew of Akashingo…
Toula had seen many faces, coming and going alike. they had been a host to many a celebration, and even those that had never attended knew of Akashingo. this statement was not strange, and she felt some pride to hear his knowing of this place. 
if you are no healer, who are you? she gently poses. the woman was being brought inside where Toula would shortly begin her work. but this man was deserving of gratitude, and given her time was short for the job she must soon embark upon Toula hoped to provide him at least this in a place here, perhaps, if he wished.

no worries!

To say Briar knew the inhabitants of Akashingo and Muat-riya would have been a farce. What connections he could claim were superficial. A traveler met once before by a patrolling mazoi. A guest once before at a grand party with a wide array of foreign faces. A wanderer thrown into the mix of diplomats and residents. A stranger at the gates with a woman in distress.

My name is Briar Cayde. His head dipped, curving towards the ground before returning to its position. The halted, barely formed introduction from the fellahin was ultimately a formality. Briar knew who he spoke to.

Thank you, Pharaoh, for assisting her.

Gratitude was tricky thing. Coming and going and sometimes being absent altogether. Sometimes it was just a motion to perform. Today? Briar he'd be a liar to claim it wasn't genuine.