Private Roleplay burn the knives

did his scribe not approve of gambling? khaemwaset grinned with extraordinary mischief at her. done. i would like to see your craft, y'var'la. and it was true, for he was not a man who laid any stock by such himself. others made that which made him glorious, and so it would be, and so it ever was. if you win --
here pharaoh's voice trailed in jest, though he was thinking of what he had to offer. their riches were great, but as they traveled, there was no root upon which might be built.
the skins of these three herons, and i will have a blue stone found which can be tied there.
over her heart, tangled into the fur -- blue and white, the colors of royalty or those favored.
herons lent fine, thin pelts of tiny and meticulous feathers. pharaoh felt that y'var'la would approve.

RE: burn the knives - Y'var'la - 12/14/2025

bit short sorry ;w; how do we want to decide who wins?

y'var'la's ears tipped forward, pleased with his choice. her gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before she inclined her head. fair terms.

her attention slides back to the reeds quick, posture lowering. the herons grow restless ahead of them, wings whispering as she inches a step closer, ready to spring. on your mark,

RE: burn the knives - Khaemwaset - 12/15/2025

oh good question, i am fine for her to win this one unless we wanted to find a place for dice rolls! <3

pharaoh lunged first, and came up short as the long-legged birds squalled and took to the skies. hyena dung! khaemwaset swore gaily, though he was not angry. to succeed so early into their hunt would have been strangely unenjoyable. leaping ahead, Horus found a new way through the reeds, quieting himself to hunt the fowl anew.
they would settle ahead; now he looked around at y'var'la, to see how she had fared and if she was ready to proceed. an advisor as well as a hunter. perhaps next time he would even ask the sesh!

RE: burn the knives - Y'var'la - 12/21/2025

y’var’la did not chase the first burst of wings—the taupe woman instead slides sideways, cutting low through the reeds while the herons scatter in panic, counting heartbeats rather than steps. one broke wrong, too slow to gain height, and she surged after it in a clean, sudden burst.

water flies as she leaps, jaws snapped shut around fragile bone and feather, the impact jarring but sure. the bird’s cry cut off almost immediately, wings beating once, twice, then still. she landed knee-deep in the stream, prize trapped between her teeth.

when she has cover again, she lifts her head, hazel eyes finding him through the reeds. the heron hang from her jaws, feathers darkening where the water touched them. she gave a small tilt of her head—a flash of pride. she drags her prize ashore in silence before she bounds forward once more.

RE: burn the knives - Khaemwaset - 12/27/2025

his scribe had caught one! he praised her, remembering all too late that he as pharaoh should not hunt the sacred incarnation of Thoth nor the Benu-bird. thus after congratulating her, he cursed himself for this development and veered through the thick mud at the base of the reeds.
there were others here -- white geese, green-headed ducks, long-tailed pheasant. unless he wanted to further risk a poor weighing, he should not turn his teeth against another heron, as he had done when he was a noble boy and not a god.
khaemwaset closed his fangs on a flapping, muddied wing, and hauled not a heron but a loon from its hapless place among the thick stalks.
his ears flickered for y'var'la, urging her victory even if he was forbidden in its sharing, and he felt a flash of purely mortal jealousy in that second.

RE: burn the knives - Y'var'la - 1/4/2026

y’var’la caught the shift in him—not jealousy but hesitation. she wondered, briefly, for deeper meaning, but she quickly refocuses to secure an uncontested victory.

the second heron flushed late, skimming low along the waterline. she chased it down in silence, a sharp burst of speed, and struck clean. the last tried higher, wings beating hard for distance, but the reeds betrayed it, tangling just long enough for her to spring.

each catch she dragged back to the bank like marks on a tally. her gaze slid briefly to the loon in his jaws, then back to his face, something like understanding there. whatever had driven her away from the herons, she could respect. i suppose i've won, then, she said lightly.

RE: burn the knives - Khaemwaset - 1/4/2026

two herons! your strike was ordained by the gods, khaemwaset declared, and i defer to your victory. these skins and the blue stone are yours. and the feathers of this loon also. he found himself turning sheepish, and lest he show this to his scribe, spoke. pharaoh cannot hunt the heron. but nobles such as yourself may. therefore the right is yours and not mine. it is something which demands remembering, yet he grinned, for he had not.
i will hunt the ducks with you again, for another round, if you are pleased, y’var’la. the blood was hot within him, and he was not certain that he was finished with coursing after waterfowl. you are a good hunter. it is moments like these only when i wish for the freedom of nobility.

RE: burn the knives - Y'var'la - 1/11/2026

she stepped closer, nudging the herons together with her paw, already thinking of how to work the hides, where the blue stone might sit. thank you, she added, softer. not for the prize alone, but for the honesty that came with it.

at his offer, her tail flicked once, pleased. another round, then, she agreed, second times the charm, hm?

RE: burn the knives - Khaemwaset - 1/17/2026

yes, pharaoh said with exultation. are you certain you are content as scribe? he teased y'var'la now. your aptitude for the hunt tells me otherwise.
a gleaming wink and he was off, swiveling through the reeds once more as he avoided the herons and instead sought any other waterbird which had inherited the hapless luck of today.
from time to time he glanced toward his scribe, curious at her own tactics among the tall green blades.