there is no concept of kindness from jutting claws and sharpened teeth. she is tense, the beating filling her palm as the fingers slowly drag and tuck in a spider's death curl. there is mistrust under her brow, as she stares at the predator offering a name.

her own jaws open, to give back, and the name which the lips shape themselves for is heavy with history, with right and position.

yet, when she tries to speak it, only a puff of vapor leaves her mouth.

with rising panic she once again comes to realize something's absent. the fist on her chest is bounced by the heart. she breathes sharp, obvious, while her vision doubles, and between her left and right eyeballs, she thinks that's a man she sees, wild-haired and hunched, seated on the ground before her, eyes like aegyptus powder.

and then the laws impose themselves, and she is only a fearful beast, at the mercy (or mockery?) of another.

she whispers into the densing mist;

have i ever been?, and the hot air steals it away.

aghast. in the span of a blink the dull wakes are replaced by vibrancy - the landscape explodes across her vision, blue and ochre so bright they impale the pupils. have her flinch. have her gasp.

the lungful banishes the chill from her interior. the dizziness that follows is mistaken for buoyancy -

she'll float! she'll float!

-and to avert dropping into the heavens, she retreats to hold onto the trunk--

but there's nothing behind.

furred back meets warm ground, pushing a scared hoot out. she spasms. twenty fingers dig into the sands, clutching. clenching. preventing. the caged dancer finds a rapid rhythm.

rise and fall rise and fall -- her breathing is fast and shallow.

and the sky is the blue of a predator's eyes.

Skill — Ranger

There was a baboon in the sands.

Nakhtmin had seen baboons (though this one was shaped strangely, and darker of fur than he was accustomed)

Nakhtmin had seen sand (though this sand was hotter than it should be, some lingering wrath of the Sun still upon it)

Nakhtmin had not seen the two in such peculiar unity. How had a baboon come so far into the deshret? He could not imagine it surviving long enough to reach here. Not without strong legs, like his. Strong endurance, like his. Less courageous of his kind might flee the unknown, like prey to startle at the slightest of changes. But Nakhtmin was a mighty warrior! There was no place for fear! So he felt it worth investigating.

Head borne high, showing off the length of his spears and the jeweled-gold bands around them that glinted with the favour of gods-on-earth, he approached at a steady trot with practiced ease across the dunes.

it is too hot.

the grains her fingers dig into scald her - little pinpricks of heat. although, not enough to have her let go. far more oppressive is the sun, slowly climbing past the lower rim of her vision. sweat dampens her brow.

edepol (by pollux), has she done something to offend? is this her punishment? worse than all is how her head aches, a thrumming pain building up the more she tries to reason away what's happened.

where is she? who has done this to her?

the more she thinks, the worse her pain. and yet there is nothing to do but squint the eyes, furrow the face and clench fists and feet.

the wolf-man. were he, perhaps, a

the spearpoints frame the sun for the second it takes for the shadow to cover her.

she blinks. the black shape is unrecognizable. it confounds her two ways.

it isn't until she hears a snort than she remembers to be startled.

flailing, hooting, kicking up sand, she manages to scamper a length away. the shape had intruded from the back of her head, and so she has to turn to see it in the light.

quick, shallow breaths bob her shoulders up and down. all-brown eyes are wide with panic. there's no comprehension of the animal she's seeing.

Skill — Warrior

Em hotep nefer, aner! (In great peace, baboon!) Nakhtmin called out a greeting in Satriya's tongue, picking up into a canter to cut off the primate’s escape. Sand billowed like wings behind the slash of his hooves. Then in common tongue, I will not slay you this day! Though I am the mighty Nakhtmin, and very well could.

Closer, he attempted to circle her, and could see indeed she was unlike any baboon he'd observed before. Dark of fur, and all the wrong proportions. Instead of a long snout with sharp, battle-ready teeth, her face was pugged and rounded. And she was missing a tail! Perhaps her kin would not abide her deformity, and had cast her out. Baboons, after all, were a fractious and close-minded bunch, in his experience.

she is panicking.

beast body arranges itself defensively, the neck craning manic to track the circling enemy.

but within the skull, laws do their work. a compromise made. evidence erased - but she's the time to blurt;

how do you know demotic?

and is left confused at her own words.

Skill — Warrior

An ear swiveled forward and he stopped before her. Hmm. Some sorcery of Isis, I presume! Desert air blew from his nostrils. I am mazoi, and that is a question for hemet!

Lowering his head, he began to approach the outsider and get a better sniff. I have named myself, baboon. It is expected you should do the same, even if you are an enemy of Pharaoh!

---

btw i love nakht smmm <33

the animal stands proud. two horns banded with gold. its face painted stark black against white fur.

the word which surfaces to the forefront is goat.

and yet she knows two ways that isn't true.

it speaks confidently. arrogantly. the words which pepper its speech are foreign - but she knows them.

how - no.

she catches the side of her head, eyes shutting tight at the sideways stab of pain. would have been worse, she knows.

there is something wrong with her.

when her eyes open, the warm snout of the beast is a breath away.

isis. hemet. pharaoh. em hotep nefer.

the pain will worsen if she tries to think on it. so she says what is easiest;

... i don't remember. her palm slides off her head. falls limp in her lap.

please. where am i?

waaah tyyy innominatus is great, too!!! :D

---

Skill — Ranger

Hmm. He rumbled again, scrutinizing her with furrowed brow and rust-dark eyes, the secret red of them gleaming in the sun's unrelenting rays. A name was part of one's soul. Without it she was incomplete.

The heat has addled you, no doubt. You are not meant for the sands, baboon. Especially these. Ra burns them fiercely. A snort. Only the most endurant could hope to survive, even under relented wrath. Warriors like him. Not deformed monkeys.

Lifting his head again, he cast gaze to the horizon, tail swishing. You approach Skyspear, seat Pharaoh Khaemwaset and Divine Queen Merneith. But they are not here, they are North. Trespassers usually demanded harsh challenge and swift removal — or capture. But a sunslain baboon was not particularly threatening. Nakhtmin felt he had some rein here to do as he pleased.

Back to her, then, with iron-metal stare, If you stay you will die. Climb upon my back, and I will take you to shade. Perhaps you will find your lost name there.

her gaze has drooped. the pain subsided. in its place - lethargy. and it is the calmest she's ever known herself to be.

words pull her head up, swaying in a small circle. there's the imprint of indignation within.

baboon. she repeats, flatly. the not-goat talks on.

his words bring discomfort. the pain cannot pierce her current state, even as she idly wonders at the titles. that is good. she likes that.

and at his offer, she blinks slowly. out of sync.

... why'd i wanna leave? her speech slurs. her swaying obvious. is so nice here. warm.

two fistfuls of sand are grabbed. fists lifted, she lets the grains spill over her.

waaarm.

it's nice.

the sun is the kindest creature she's ever met.

even as her exposed skin heats to sunburns.

---

appended BWP to the thread so nakht will be gaining double points :3 also, feel free to pp!

Awww yisss

---

Skill - Warrior

Perhaps Ra wished to plain her, and Nakhtmin should leave her to the god's wrath.

But then he didn't think it would be sensible to have been led here to find her.

This fate was for Son-of-Ra, Pharaoh, to decide. Nakhtmin should bring her to those who knew better how to interpret signs. Very well. It would be easier if you would sit. But I am Nakhtmin the Mighty! I can be held by no binds! I will carry you regardless.

Velvet snout pushed into her shoulder. And then teeth, a great heave of corded muscle flexing down his neck as he lifted her into the air with intent to carry off.