Lion Head Mesa it's the same old trick, they played their hand

one would think two thralls plenty -- but for qiao, it was not enough.

she set her to-lang by the grand entrance, motioning to her guard to deposit the furskin cache of old trade goods. fermented roel jocon -- the off-season spices she'd collected upon her route.

her gaze flickered to the red stone facing as her guard announced their arrival.

qiao had come for @Sayf.

The regal took to their battlements once more, this season making a proprietorial stallion of him. He moved with the mazoi, patrolling their keep while others perched in the shadows at lower vantages.

When the call came he descended the length of the palisades preceded by his retinue. In the long arrows of Ra the obsidian king came to a lofty stand above the coyote woman, hard eyes collecting over her lean figure as royal titles lifted into the air behind him.

She came with offerings and smelled of low country spices. Her golden eyes glowed. His men stood down with a flick of ear.

“Qiao,” he tongued the modest name, “inform us of your purpose in Akashingo.”

surrounded by attendants and a guard, Toula moved to her favored place of prayer—the temple of Iset built here. their conversations had grown in frequency as of late, as Toula pondered motherhood as a growing woman with no mother of her own.
her memory of the Shabti that had been this to her, that was this to her, faded as the sands of time continued their shifting and their sifting. if only she could see her again, surely she would know her, as she knew
Qiao! one with her pressed forward to introduce to the coyote the new Pharaoh, and Toula smiled as she remembered the woman before her. yes, this woman always had the most intriguing things upon her, with her—and her father spoke very well of her, thinking her sharp and wise,
Toula remembered that too, as she looked to the woman before her! sharp indeed, as sharp as any cutting fang. you are looking very well, Toula said in earnest, I am afraid my father had left this world, before he told me of any place you may have gone. but he always spoke well of you, and I remember you fondly myself, yes, memories, rosy in hue, of Qiao moving throughout the palace… traveling and trading! 
she hoped, though, that Qiao might wish to stay again! she had always been an enigma to Toula, who continued to respect her for these memories and her fathers words of her.

it pleased qiao to be so grandly welcomed; even the pharaoh roused from their halls to meet her at the gates!

she motioned her guardsmen to step away as the retinue advanced, a voice doling out the storied epithets of the two souls that greeted her. 

no makono. 

 qiao noted, not for the first time, akashingo’s predilection for disposing those in power. the deck had been reshuffled  — who were the new kings and queens of this land with its insatiable appetite for kingsblood?

she bowed to the dark semer-wati and his moon-kissed pharaoh, the obeisance in her pose an insult to so wizened a spine. 

no sayf. no bayek. 

pharaoh. semer-wati. a custodial lowering of her head before she resumed, the scar from khaba still leering from her skull; i have returned from the red sands with the spices coveted by pharaoh ramesses, ordered before his unfortunate end.. she swept a long paw towards the peltskins carried by her guard. to toula, the once hemet-gaze briefly studied her. i tended to his body myself, pharaoh. i was only sorry i could not wake the dead myself. 

straightening just enough so that her olive gaze could behold both, qiao continued. there are other things that bring me to akashingo’s hall, great ones. her voice grew quiet, respectful yet gravid with intent. pharaoh ramesses and pharaoh makono understood my services did not come for free. both have left their debt unpaid. 

unafraid, unflinching, the priestess-hemet raised her green gaze. i have come to collect what is owed.

His wife’s loveliness radiated in such a light, the red earth contrasting the deep green singularity of her eyes. A soft breeze kissed her shoulders and the king imagined weaving his arms around her waist. His tail pitched into the air, an implication of ownership to any guards who chased too long a look.

“A friend of the palace, then,” semer-wati purled as he turned back to Qiao, a broad smile gracing his velvet lips.

“You’ll find the new monarchy always pays its debts. Come, join us for a rest. You and your company must be worn from the journey.”