Rosewater Oasis maat ka ra

for @Ezen

He found her near the water’s edge, the faint sound of her movements drawing his attention like a predator honing in on prey. Ezen. She intrigued him in ways others did not. A sharpness in her gaze, a defiance that others might mistake for arrogance. But Samir saw potential—or perhaps merely the amusement of a challenge.

He approached without a sound, his pawsteps as soft as whispers on the sand. When he was near enough, he dropped the haunch onto the ground before her, a smile curling faintly at the edge of his lips.

“Breakfast,” he offered simply. A gesture of goodwill—one she would likely take for what it was: a veiled attempt to test her. To coax her. Without waiting for an immediate reply, Samir lowered himself beside her. He stretched his tall, lean frame languidly, folding into a lounging position with practiced ease. His chin rested high, perched against the plume of thick fur at his neck, his molten gaze settling heavily on her.

“You are an interesting woman, Ezen,” he began after a moment of silence. He wished to decide if she was worth keeping close.

When the sun rose each morning, Ezen rose with it to pray. For Anurash and the Clan, for good hunting and good spirits. And when she was not hunched in the sun-cave, the desert woman spent her time exploring every nook and cranny the oasis had to offer. 

Others lived here too: the red man - haseki - and Samirseti she saw often, but a keen eye could spot the twitch of a rattlesnake basking, hear the quiet crunch of a jumping mouse feasting on coconut flesh. 

Ezen tiptoed along the pool's edge, eyes following the darting of tiny silver fish when the dark man's musk flooded her nostrils. A quick turn of a head as her gaze flicked from the meal and back to him before she slinked to investigate further. Lips traced flesh, searching for any sign of tampering, and when she found none the haunch was quickly snatched.

Ravenously, she tore a strip of meat from bone and swallowed it quickly. Samirseti sat sphinx-like before her and her gaze met his with guarded curiosity. "What about me intrigues you, Pharaoh?" Samirseti's words still carried with them a venemous undertone, but Ezen was not one to deny a free meal.

His expression was unreadable as Ezen tore into the haunch with ravenous efficiency. The faint curve of his lips suggested satisfaction, though not outright approval. She did not waste what was given; there was strength in that, a practicality born of survival. She was deliberate, guarded. And yet, Samirseti saw the embers of something greater—a fire waiting to be stoked. He remained lounged, his frame sleek and regal as his tail swayed lazily behind him, though his molten eyes never left her form. When her gaze finally lifted, meeting his with an air of cautious defiance, he leaned forward slightly, his chin raised, the weight of his stare bearing down on her.

“Loyalty,” he began, his vox the cadence of a man who spoke only to be listened to, “is a precious thing, Ezen. An unwise ruler demands it blindly, expects submission without having earned it, respect without understanding the heart of those he seeks to lead.” He allowed a pause, the faintest tilt of his head betraying his interest as he watched her reaction. “But a wise ruler knows better. A ruler worthy of his title understands that loyalty must be nurtured. Followers must be guided. They must be taught.”

His tail flicked once, the motion slow as his sharp gaze pinned her in place. “You do not know me,” he continued, his voice dropping to something lower, warmer, yet still edged with quiet dominance. “You do not know my gods, nor the divine blood that nourishes my veins. You do not yet understand the purpose that drives me, or the will of the forces that shape my every action.” The faintest glint of amusement flickered across his features, though his tone remained serious. “But I see you. I see strength. A survivor. A wolf who does not roll belly-up to the whims of a stranger. I respect that.”

Samirseti shifted, his frame fluid as he settled more comfortably, though his posture never lost its inherent regality. “That is why I do not seek your submission,” he continued, his voice smooth, each word spoken with measured precision. “I seek your rise. I would have you not as a servant, but as one who understands. One who sees the path I walk and chooses to walk it beside me—not behind me.” His molten gaze softened, though it still carried the weight of a serpent poised to strike. “I would teach you, if you would allow it. I would share the will of my gods, the wisdom of my people. Through them, you would find purpose greater than mere survival.”

Like an obelisk he towered above her hunched form, the silhouette of his cranium casting Ezen in long shadows. Some time ago, she might have cowered and felt the course sand beneath her belly as she had when Anurash had first found her. But the years had hardened her. They had moulded her from a snivelling babe to a chiselled survivor.

As he spoke, the desert woman did not conceal a disdainful glare as she rose to his level, tongue swiping to dislodge a splinter of bone caught beneath her teeth. Were all rulers this far up their own arse? His pause beckoned her to respond, but Ezen instead rolled the white shard between her teeth once, twice, before cracking it with a swift snap of her jaws. 

She did not fancy stirring the pot on a full belly.

Samirseti droned on of royal blood and purpose and while Ezen listened with bored interest, her ears flicked at his admission of admiration as she searched his gaze for dishonesty. It was then that her features softened genuinely, content to bask in his praise with the knowledge that, however he wished to shape her, her loyalty was already tied to that of the Clan. But that did not mean she dismissed his offer. Whatever the gilded serpent claimed he could teach paled in comparison to the prophet's wisdom, but she was curious nonetheless. Knowledge was power, and power here cemented her connection to Vahanet. To Samirseti. Ezen stretched the breath between them into a languid and purposeful silence before she spoke. 

"Your kindness is appreciated, Samirseti. Accepting me - a stranger - into your home is no small thing," she replied, words lilting in exaggerated emotion. "It sounds almost too perfect, doesn't it? A rise to power in exchange for unwavering loyalty. Most would jump at the chance." Her tail coiled round her paws as she shot him a sharp smile.

"You don't know me and nor I you. We have different gods, different paths, and yet you come to me seeking what; a friend? An equal?" It was almost too easy. "So I ask you this, Pharaoh," the word hung harshly in the desert air, "what purpose do you truly see for me?"

I'm gonna pretend I didn't just spend 2 hours struggling to write this. my brain is in holiday mode.

hello i lost samir muse for a bit but im back lmao

he rises from where he lay like a loafing lion of midnight, limber legs promoting a languid grace.

you speak as one who knows the bite of hardship, hemet, his voice is low, slithering like a serpent through the still air, silk layered with steel. yet here you stand, unbroken. stronger. that alone sets you apart from the countless who wander these sands, their backs bent beneath the weight of failure.

he steps closer, the movement slow, measured, his towering shadow swallowing the space between them. his tail sways in a languid motion, a cobra’s hypnotic rhythm. you mistake me if you think i seek a friend or an equal. i seek what is strong, what endures, what rises beneath the sun’s searing gaze and comes forth sharper for it.

his hum is soft, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over her, appraising. tell me, what wolf does not seek purpose? what soul does not crave to rise above the dust? i see purpose in you, ezen—not a pawn, not a servant, but a blade. tempered, sharpened. unyielding. if you wish it.

he circles her now, movements sleek, deliberate, brushing close enough that his fur whispers against hers. his breath warms her neck as his voice drops, honeyed and smooth. i see the seeds of greatness. you will be what you choose beneath my sun. the gods favor those who stand, not those who kneel.

rise, hemet. stand to be forged. your gods, my gods—what are they but facets of the same great light? do they not all demand the same?