Ocean's Breath Plateau the feathered wings of jeweled gods

pharaoh lifted a brow. "you do not know dancing." an observation, not a question. he rose to his paws, standing still a moment before he approached, not directly, but toward her left. keeping some distance between them, he described a series of steps, sidling gracefully. it would appear somewhere between a trot and a walk, something practiced and perhaps fascinating.
how long had it been only she and aditya? she was young but no young to know nothing of the world. and yet brook still remained veiled, wrapped in several layers of linen.
he wanted to unravel them, curiously enough.
"surely you know singing," once more, not a question, but this time pharaoh did not wait for an answer. 
"her scent is the sleepy languid lotus,
"her ankles are graceful as the legs of a doe;"
voice moving along the swallowed, slow pitches of his natal tongue. she would not know it, but ramesses did, and that was enough.
"her eyes are precious amber, and when she breathes, the wind becomes sweet."
"she has stolen my heart with her kisses. she has no rival."
softly singing, the sound dropping as pharaoh sought slowly to finally draw closer, though not so much as to frighten the flighty bird;
"i am blessed among all men."
a song penned by a lovestruck boy in his father's courtyard.