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intro party is welcome in part one!

one thing is constant, in between the space and time of “there” and “here”, of “then” and “now”. a hymn, chanted in song, the voice of Hem and Hemet—priest and priestess—ascending and intertwining with the voices of the Divine Ones… Mother, Father—the Pharaohs. the little Goddess found her own voice joining Theirs,
and when her eyes next open, the hymn is still in her mind, pouring forth from between closed lips in a tired hum. gold & vantablack arms encircle her, and tiredly does she look up at Them. and in this new place, the first thing she sees is the smile of The Gods—and then she can hear Their reverence, that she too has crossed through the Land of Reeds.
her brothers are not with them—they had gone upon their diplomatic missions, dropped off at each place with their own retinue behind them. ah! their people! as Mother confers with Father, her gaze having already taken in those that had passed safely through, Neferseba rises to all fours and stands as tall as she can, stepping pluckily over the arms that held her.
it is not the terrain she first inspects, but the number around them. had all made it through? she did not think that any among them had unworthy hearts—Satiset had selected those that would accompany them based off of this, and perhaps too off of her own adoration toward them. some her mother and father had sagely thought to include, though their selection ever made the young girl happy!
the Divine Ones were alert as they spoke quietly to one another, looking to their youngest daughter—the golden girl waited for the eyes of all the rest that had awoken to turn to her, the prayer still coming out in a soft hum from her throat so that they all might come safely through, and wake to these familiar notes!
the sun rose, and the eye of Ra found her even through the trees, warming her furs. a new hymn now begun, but would be no less familiar—the voices of the Divine Ones joined as they greeted Ra for the first time in this new land.

Skill - Warrior

Battles were simple, straightforward affairs compared to this... magic. And even knowing the voices who intoned it, knowing they invoked gods which wished well upon their servants, Nakhtmin felt an apprehension inside that he would not admit aloud. What if, even memorizing the incantations, and reciting them faithfully, his soul did not pass through the Field of Reeds?

What if he became lost there, without rites, and without purpose? How many demons could he hope to slay before he was overtaken? Nakhtmin was not a coward! No! But these were things beyond his purview, and he could not steer a barge of passing souls, only defend it and trust they kept to their proper course.

He need not be apprehensive, however. Neferseba's young voice faltered not a single note. Darkness fell, and passed over them.

The Painted Warrior awoke to her melody with a great surge of relief, knowing time had passed but uncertain the length or direction of it. An oryx aground was little use, so he scrambled to his feet and tested the weight of his sabers with a toss of his head. Breathed in the new air, felt the familiar Sun upon his back.

It wouldn't do to interrupt the prayer. Others still waited to wake. But with flared nostrils he turned to gaze upon his young goddess, offering her a solemn nod and eyes that glinted with energetic pride.

A song in her ears, in her hair. She breathes in in one world- and out in another.

The air is hot, familiar in that aspect, and for that she thanks Ra. Hennutawy gathers to her feet, standing upon her spindly legs as she casts her eyes towards the one serves, Satiset. It takes a moment for her to find footing. This magic has left her weak and dazed! After, she passes Nakhtmin, shield of Her and all that may dare to endanger their party. She dips head in acknowledgment of him, and takes her place a distance from Satiset, in respect to her Pharaohs.

Hennutawy stands tall, her wide ears pushed back slightly as her solemn scowl awaits the word of Gods in flesh.

Death was coming.

𓂀

A room filled with golden walls and pillars of sandstone. Pictures were carved to tell great stories, scratched by the craftsman paws of great scribes and artists.

It was said that the temple was the land of reeds. It was why the life never ended and the wines were rich from the east. Around the great kingdom were golden fields that were plentiful in sunlight and fed by the humid bridges surrounded by ocean water.

There was only a waiting game for the ritual to end. Listening to prayers, reciting the words of the Gods. Myrrh had first taken to memory Toula’s, where they might ask for her light through the depths and be granted mercy from ill balance. For those that wept, she wondered if they knew that their fate perhaps would not be so holy.

Words loudened as Khonsu’s moon grew. A drink: she prepared it just as instructed. Something soft on the tongue, an aid to the awakening. The last touch, just a pinch, the dried blooms that which the water a deep shade of purple. Men, women, children, drink.

Myrrh had little time in Akashingo before that night, taken through by another set of men with loud tongues and quick feet, and so she was captivated by reading each sacred engraving as the red fires flickered and burned. An incense like primrose filled the air. She was taken by surprise when the chants sounded almost like screams. Those prayers were the last Myyrh knew before she took it the circle, and tried to make out her own eyes in the reflection of the swirling liquid.

Never quite before did she have time to question if faith was a truth or falsity. Only work.

She drank,

and Myyrh shouldn’t have been so excited to ingest it.

—

The girl’s eyes opened weakly.

It was all foreign and strange to the boy, though he had been doing his best to learn their ways, the gods they revered. He had practiced the hymn so that, in theory, he could pass through their Field of Reeds. His voice had joined those of those around him, and even though it was all foreign to him, Xingyu felt as if a spell was being cast over him. His breathing slowed, his heart slowed, he felt apart from his body, he felt at one with everything, and then he was back, thrust into mortal flesh.

Xingyu opened his silver eyes slowly. He seemed disoriented as his head lifted from the strange land, strange smells. The strange feeling remained inside of his chest, spreading outward through his limbs, vestiges of feeling detached from his form. Time… Images… His gaze was as faraway as his mind.

He flexed his paws, then looked to the young princess—Goddess. She seemed alright—voice joined in a new hymn. Their strange, hooved guard, Nahktmin, also seemed well, and of course, the Divine Ones. A few others also seemed to be stirring.

Slowly, Xingyu stood and shook out his white fur.

it was an endless prayer—it rang in her ears as it poured like bitter medicine, like sweet poison!, from her mouth. ah, Her mouth—Their! mouth—the lips of the Divine. bodies, still before her—captured, briefly, in the stiff rigor of true death. not for long—not as the words grew louder, firmer, not when desperation became true devotion, true belief. they too will wake!
death was not the end, it was another beginning—but she did not wish to begin again without all of the faces that had gone to rest with her in the pyramid. Pharaoh was made of more than she, then—a young girl meant to be Goddess driven by feeling. but she must be Goddess, must be pious, to see all eyes open—
and they began to! oh, thank the Gods—Satiset moved to each of them, throat still working out the prayer as she saw Their work be done. relief, love, gratitude—her Mazoi, her apothecary, her fellahin, her—
no name for him, yet. she knew who he was meant to be, and her affection for him was the real affection of any young girl with a good heart who cared for each being she encountered. relief, yes—the Gods had found him worthy, and this meant something surely. something for them, perhaps—the dutiful daughter would wed who she was told, regardless of her own feeling on the matter; she knew his own arrival granted legitimacy to the desires of his own family. knew it when her mother looked upon him, to beckon him to their family.
Satiset Neferseba smiled upon him firstly, the hymn taking on a more joyous note now, voice growing warmer and warmer as she beheld her people and their return!

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this could be a fader for entry ◡̈ ! Feel free to throw up another post if you’d like!