Lion Head Mesa 羽毛 gaichū

satsu clutched a long brown feather between her teeth. she had never seen the likes of it before and thought it beautiful. it was banded with ochre, brown, and white.
she thought of what to do with it as she patrolled the cluster of withered trees which had become her favorite place, but settled in the shade of the largest, grooming at the feather toothily so that each piece of it was dust free and properly aligned.
@Nephele (who she knew as sabah) might enjoy another gift. it occurred to her that @Mouseberry might also, but the creature was likely off sulking with her kin. between the two of them satsu had already made up her mind over who was more deserving.

Sabah or Nephele.

Nephele or Sabah.

A new name didn’t help Nephele’s ongoing identity crisis much. It probably made it worse by any measure of the imagination. Sabah was becoming a skin she knew too well, and it made her itch inside. Because how did she know Sabah more than she knew Nephele? Who was she really?

Nephele groaned. Ew, thinking. She moved slowly, trying to avoid going so fast that her muscles burned. She knew her limits when it came to training now, she wasn’t doing that much ever again. Nope. Never.

List of things she wasn’t doing: that, going north to those woods, telling anyone who she was. Which brought her back around to pondering who the hell Sabah was. Who Nephele was. It didn’t help that her nightmares dragged back Pidáo into everything. The monochrome woman shook her head rapidly, raising her gaze to peer across the Mesa.

Oh hey, there was Satsu. She gave a little bark of greeting, a friendly wave of a tail. It was always nice to appeal to the royals.

a sharp bark against the wind; satsu snapped her attention towards it and saw the lithe figure of sabah, which earned a smile, a wag of her tail. she did not get up though - the shade was cool and pleasant.
come, come! she called to her.
has pharaoh spoken to you? ah, ramesses?
briefly she forgot about the feather.

Nephele easily agreed, stepping her way over to join the other woman in the shadows, tipping her head in a quick bow, merely a tap of her chin to her chest.

My lady. She knew from experience of how to address those above her, easily pushing away the persistent identity crisis for later.

No, I haven’t spoken to him quite yet. I’ve been keeping my time to watching the borders, for the most part.

sabah was perfect for them.
more useful than the lazy bones that pharaoh fixated upon, respectful, and kind. satsu was pleased to have her company.
i see. that is fine, she commends softly, smiling.
pharaoh and i... are to be married. it hadn't struck her as real until she'd said it aloud just now, and satsu paused, a little bit surprised by herself. she carried on as if she hadn't missed a beat - but there was a bit of shock on her face still. something she would learn to hide.

as he is the king, i will be queen. should i have any need to leave akashingo, i would like if you accompany me. you are a warrior and you have kept our home safe so far, with your great diligence. it wasn't a request - though satsu framed it as if she were asking permission of the woman, still unaccustomed to giving pure orders.

she did not think to mention mouseberry at all.

cameo, unless called back!

Mouseberry remained avoidant. She clung to the hip of Jawahir as oft she could, and when Jawahir was gone Mouseberry had found a place to hide where she had never been found. Whether or not the others were being kind and that was not the truth was a mystery Mouseberry did not investigate. There were wolves about, and Mouseberry still shirked at the idea of being near to The Great Ones.

But Jawahir had been absent for longer than she liked.

She must be dead. Ramesses must have grown tired of their ilk, and Mouseberry thought it might be time to go herself, too, before his appetite turned toward her. Mouseberry felt she had tried to convince Jawahir of the truth that must have transpired, but the guilt was great. It made her steps distracted. It led her near the den of the wolves.

Not near. To. A beautiful one. Both beautiful, truly, in comparison to her. Strong and fit and made for killing. Of prey. Of The Runners.

She hoped she had not been seen. Hoped and prayed as she pressed against a similarly colored stone and made to flee back to the den which she believed she could never be found.

Nephele’s eyes widened. The king was to marry Satsu, marry her and yet presumably keep Jawahir in his bed.

My congratulations. She said, tipping her head and idly swaying her tail left and right. The coyote on the distant rock went noticed, but she did not call her out. This one looked worried, so worried she was afraid the poor thing would have a heart attack if Nephele spoke about her.

I would be happy to accompany you outside the borders, if you so desire me to. Though, we may need to recruit more if I am to, I don’t want to leave the borders undefended for long.

satsu had no opinion on the matter, aside from its validity in keeping her safe, and saw it more as a business arrangement than anything romantic. however, having someone congratulate her for it felt very good, and very odd, in an indeterminate way that forced her belly in to a twist.

i am sure i won't need to leave akashingo, but in the case that i do. she went on to confirm. sabah made a good point too. i do hope that our numbers grow. it would be less work for akashingo to stay protected if you had help along the borders.

time would tell if ramesses' kingdom would flourish or wither.