Rosewater Oasis in the shadow of the obelisk

backdated to around Jan. 7th? for @Andalib @Gucci

samir walks beneath ra's searing gaze, his form draped in the sun-bleached hide of a mule deer. his steps are soundless, parting sand beneath thick paws.

cruel, gilded eyes scan the horizon laid out before him. the outer edges of his domain, a sacred threshold, demand vigilance. it is then he sees them—two specks against the endless expanse of dunes, growing steadily larger with each passing moment.

one oddly larger than the other.

his ears twitch, his head tilts. his gaze does not waver. the pharaoh waits.

assuming the duo needed a while bc:

• gucci's slow 
  
• gucci caught a cold
  
• gucci would've had them stop by the (empty) cenote

he insisted on walking this last length of the journey unassisted, even if he needed an occasional minute to clear his sinuses, or lean against andalib's legs to catch his breath - what spirit steals away the strength of old men and keeps it for the young? gucci would like a word with its manager.

when the oasis first showed on the horizon, the little lord paused, steadied himself, and discarded the urge to preen - there was nothing that could conceal the unkempt shape he way in. best he could do was play to his meager social strengths, and pray to whichever god remained in the pantheon of akashingo that he not be sent out to starve - it would take a while, was the primary issue.

not far from the territory's threshold, andalib spotted a silhouette. gucci fixed his posture. eyes on the blurry shape, he told his escort:

howl fer us. these are yours, but ah need permission.

all good with andalib canonically!

One might have expected even the youthful exuberance of Andalib to have wavered, given the trials that seemed to dog their every step. However, one would be wrong. He was still light on his paws, a mote of dust on an ornery wind.

The only thing that had any hope of dampening it was the cautious way Andalib sometimes watched Gucci — as if the other would fall still and silent. The thought made his stomach twist. He had swore he would see Gucci to Vahanet, and he would hold to it! He would fight whatever gods he needed if he were to see it true! He had ranted as much to a puddle once.

He jolted then, glancing aside as his companion curiously, before he barked a startled oh! of realization.

The oasis ahead of them was a welcome sight, he couldn't wait to roll in its waters and indulge in its berrywine. The very thought almost made him swoon here and now. Instead, he inhaled a too-big breath for awkward lungs, and howled a long beckon. He was excited, almost deathly so. Their goal was just ahead. We're here, greet us!

from the depths of vahanet’s twilight sands, samirseti approaches—a whisper of divinity given form. the air shimmers faintly with heat, even now, under the watch of ra’s dying gaze. he halts, watching the strange, diminutive figure steady himself beside andalib.

yet another?

they arrive broken. akashingo’s ruin has sent them forth like scattered grains of sand.

you seek my gates, it is weariness that fills pharaoh's voice. not weariness from a stranger, but weariness for the stranger himself. such a small man, exhaustion must cling to him from such a long journey!

it is now he understands why senedjet's return has been delayed.

do the sands not relent in their cruelty? did the red serpent leave any untouched by his wrath?

his beloved uncle, who had been more a brother than anything. his aunt, pharaoh of the red sands, who's reign had been cut too short. their young children. samir's own wife. the two boys, nokht and ahkre. samir's heart holds much grief for his subjects.

pharaoh tilts a gold crown downwards. you are welcome in vahanet. come. the gesture of a large paw, far too large for the scarred, lanky limb it connects.

oh, how could he ever have doubted where the blood of ta-senet flowed - samirseti stood tall and royal, precious gold and rare obsidian, with those same marks which the former neb had come to associate with them of blue in their veins.

he prostrated himself before the pharaoh, one foreleg folded to his chest and other outstretched, even if it strained his weary back to bow so.

radiance... he spoke breathless, conveying his awe he needed play up only a little before this last remnant of akashingo's great men - even if he were a mere in-law to ramesses, second of his name.

and when bid to follow, he followed, but couldn't keep himself walking in silence.

your greatness- mighty mesa o' kintla's plains fell into itself. ah remain, but ah prayed long, long that others lived too. have any found their ways here?