humming

The sun was a distant, humming heat on the horizon.

Akhtar, who had never quite gone to bed, watched it with a low intensity. Sun, reaching for his paws, but he tucked them further into the shadows of the dunes. Akashingo rose from the ashes of its former self, headed by divinity, and yet part of him wondered. As it ever did. He was a curious creature by nature, even if most curiosity he’d held had been long killed in its bed.

The Gods had renewed him. The Gods had taken from those he loved. Tavina, another wife gone. Senmut, his Nazli and mother of his children. The Pharoah had all of her children. Her husband. Akhtar himself had both previously mentioned. But where were their justice. Where was his, for what he lost?

The half-dog rested his head on his limbs, and watched the sunrise like one would watch a funeral for a distant cousin.

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Before the long days' work ahead, he sought fresh air and the sun's soft kiss upon his back.

Only after a few minutes of a slow trek did he catch sight of a figure in the distance. It was not an unfamiliar one, as he'd seen them around before, but he couldn't quite put a name with the face.

Approaching carefully, as to not startle, he cleared his throat quietly. “You enjoying the nice view too, huh?”

---

Hope he doesn't mind a little company! ^^ Sobek's always looking for new faces and trying to get to know his way around the group.

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Sand, swirling around the paws of someone. It is not a step he recognizes, but the scent that washes over him is familiar in the way it is of everything that populates Akashingo. His ear twitched, then his head lifted to rest a cheek against his shoulder. His new company was made of desert sand and chiffon, as if he’d sprung from the dunes themselves. The slant of his ears, his face, they spoke of an ancestry like many of their fellahin.

Akhtar hummed, and for a moment, that seemed to be his only response.

“It is quite the view.” He finally said, raking his eyes over the man, before he cast them back towards the steadily rising sun.

“It is quite early. I didn’t believe anyone would be awake.” Even though his words said otherwise, his paw beckoned the stranger to join him.

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Bid to join, he settled gently beside the man, sighing softly as his chin rose to meet the rising sun.

“It is most beautiful and refreshing before a days' work. I come to meet Ra every morning as he rises. It has always been an act of luck, of sorts. When I do this, I know he is with me when I then depart to see the day through.” Or, almost always.

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Akhtar blinked over at the man. A follower of Ra, though most of the kingdom was. The wolfdog shuffled his stance until he was standing.

“He is. He follows all of us closely, His eye always watching.” He could feel the heat humming around him.

“Are you very religious?” He should introduce himself, he thought, but something held him back.

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The man stands. The fellahin hears, but remains seated, eyes still cast upward.

“I would say so. I was taught by many priests to learn of many Gods and Goddesses. But Ra has always been the one I look to the most. I helped build a temple for him, once. My favorite of many projects, really.” And he hoped to build more. One day.

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Akhtar watched him. He was rather good at watching, really.

“He is certainly a good god to follow.” Even when he had burned Akhtar, he had rose him anew. Even if he was buried in the sand when he awoke.

“I myself am a follower of Bast.” And oh, wasn’t that an understatement. His title wasn’t for nothing, after all. And his most beloved of goddesses purred at in the back of his mind, or so he thought.

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He hummed his agreement, lip tilting to hint a smile.

And now the man spoke of Bast.

“The Goddess of protection. I pray to her often, hoping that she may bring good will to my friend. He is a soldier. But while he is meant to protect others, who but Bast would be there to protect him?”

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“That She is.” Curiosity. It burned into a miniature sun in his chest. A friend who was a soldier, but he prayed to a goddess of protection. Akhtar’s brows came over his eyes.

“You do not pray to Sekhmet for him?” Perhaps not, the more he thought of it, if he sought protection for his friend and not conquest. Maybe he wanted a gentle life for the soldier he knew. But this was not something Irimaatenbast was privy to, without knowledge from this stranger.

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"You do not pray to Sekhmet?

He pondered this.

But when an answer came, the fellahin finally looked to the man.

“He is meant to be a protector of the divine, not a destroyer of the evil. Not unless it is to be commanded of him. Tahrosek has always been a pure soul. This I have known by heart. If blood need not be shed, he will do everything to avoid it.”

Then a question of his own. “Do you not think peace would be better? You do worship Bast. She brings what is good. Children. Pleasure. Protection. If you wanted the opposite, then you would know to worship Sekhmet. For the goddess of war and destruction would not seek peace.”

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He proved introspective, this fellow Akhtar did not know, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Peace is preferred. It is why I follow Bast. But I am a priest, not a warrior. I pray for peace, but when our mazoi go to battle, I wish for Sekhmet to aid them.” He remembered the times their soldiers had marched, how he had watched them stride forward in a snaking line. How he had prayed for their strength, and the defeat of who they were set against.

“Pardon me, I did not introduce myself before rounding you into debate. I am hem Akhtar, Irimaatenbast — carrying out the justice/order of Bast and follower of Her will.”

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“That is fair,” he conceded. “Perhaps I will look to Sekhmet more. Though, it is the hope that it may never come to battle and Akashingo will remain prosperous in times of peace.”

The man introduced himself as Hem, a priest. He had thought it so, but didn't wish to jump the gun in his assumptions.

“I am glad to have met you, Hem. I am Sobekhet, fellahin of our wondrous Pharoah.” The delight in his expression showed every ounce of pride as did in his voice.

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“I believe that to be the hope of us all, my friend.” Perhaps the warmongers among them did not, but Akhtar had quite the preference for peace. It got him more comfort, after all.

“It is good to know you, Sobekhet. I am glad to know our Pharoah has a devoted servant.” Akhtar felt that, truly. Toula deserved the very best of mind and body surrounding her. Allowing her to indulge in what her gods blood gave her.

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It was the hope, but would it remain?

“I am here to do all I can for our Pharaoh, and for those who will rise to lead Akashingo into the future.” For one day, their royal youth would step upon the throne in their stead.

“You know, I have come to miss my time studying with the priests of my homeland. Perhaps we should talk again, if you are amenable. I am sure there are things I do not know that you could teach me.” Just as he was a willing servant, he was also a willing student.

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