this moon.
this moon, it hung wide and silent and red. sitamun stared at its roundness with apprehension and with wonder. the fellahin had gone just outside the camp to bury debris, but when the task was finished, transfixed and speechless she had looked to the sky.
for these past months, she had bent her head in service to the Great Royal Wife, to the needs of satriya. those longings which eked out from around her tightened constraints were not turned toward her goddess, but toward pleasures of the flesh.
radiant! the moon seemed to turn its crimson face upon sitamun. Khonsu bleeds. perhaps it is Set's teeth which have torn the god.
this thought was not her own, and after a breathless moment sitamun prostrated herself. Nephthys was wife to Set, and so her voice might give life as avatar for her patronness, pleading for the Dread One to turn these strikes away from his fellow siblings.
and yet! and yet! her voice found a sliver of old teaching, faded;
did Khonsu bleed or was it Iah?

---

Lost.

For how long had he wandered this foreign land? It had surely been months - perhaps even years, who could say? Only the gods knew how far his paws had traveled, how he had endured the many trials and sufferings this terrible world had to offer. Poisoned air in the forests, toxic water in the highlands; the Wastes had scorched the very fur from his skin, and the heavy, unyielding clouds to the north had shrouded Ra's light from the land.

Mekh looked like shit.

Mekh felt like shit.

He could not find his Pharoah, he had found no safe shelter. At every turn, he found himself assailed by larger predators, inclement weather, natural disasters, and now -

Tilting his head up to look at the darkening sky, the moon bleeding like a great red wound, Mekh felt his chest tighten. Now Khonsu was acting up.

So distracted was he, the coywolf did not detect an incoming tree-root as he abruptly stumbled forward. Disheveled, disgruntled, and thoroughly out of his element, Mekh swore. Ghabi! (Idiot!)

But he was not alone any longer, and had very nearly bumped into a woman in a posture of prayer.

Oh, he said. Thankfully she looked unharmed; Mekh offered a deep bow, bending himself nearly as low as she. Apologies, lady with fur of sunset. I did not see you there.

---

turn His face from this murder. turn His heart from this hatred, Lady of the Temple, nebet of our house.
sitamun might have continued the litany were it not for the garbled word sounded behind her. she whirled in graceful rise, ears up, eyes hardening. his blunder had nearly cost the priestess her footing, and now she glowered at him with the all righteous anger of her role.
the man was travelworn and did not look well. juxtaposed against the velvet of his tongue, his appearance stirred something in sitamun. he had not meant to stumble, nor to call out. his intention had not been to disturb her.
the fellahin put her head to one side in consideration, pursing her lips. you have come very close to the travel-camp of satriya. our great royal wife has a kindness for wanderers. but the iron eyes had not yet softened; she took him in with a cool appraisal. now you have seen me. what has befallen you?
she could afford to be kind in light of such a smooth apology.
seeing that his eyes were gold, that he was slim-built with what she felt was desert grace, only then did her annoyance become intrigue.

---

The curious familiarity of her prayer-speech gave him pause. It sounded just as the priestesses of the Kemet family had, a hopeful plea to the gods for their benevolence and generosity; he paused, looked up at the moon, and seemingly parsed the connection.

For just a moment her eyes were wrathful, turning their ire upon him like twin daggers. He did not know what stayed her righteous anger from further escalation, but here, in this strange pocket of silence where she carefully regarded him, Mekh appeared to be intrigued. She said nebet, and referred to a house - she also carried the scent of many, so that must mean -

The answer came in short order.

Satriya.

He had not heard of this particular dynasty, but there were many beneath the watchful eye of the gods as they dutifully carried out their deities' sacred will as intermediaries.

I was foolish and did not observe as keenly as I might, Mekh offered with another short dip of his head. I have grown - careless, in my journey.

'Journey' was a very lovely word for the hell he had experienced up to this point. It made it all sound very noble, and Mekh distantly hoped this might carry some weight against her perception of him versus any pity that might otherwise flicker across her delicate features. No; Mekh would hold onto what dignity he had left.

I am Mekh; a gift to my Pharoah, Seti of the Kemet, but now displaced, he said. It was sudden, and I still do not understand; as if Khonsu, or Shu, whisked me away from the house in which I served, and now -

The coywolf cast his gaze to the side as the Seti-shaped hollow in his chest tightened. They had been close. Now there is only Mekh.

Was this a punishment, he often wondered - had his lips been too loose, conveying information he ought not to have - or worse, had he in his penchant for acquiring knowledge managed to listen in on something sacred and holy, not meant for his lowly ears?

So far it felt like one.

The lady's iron eyes had softened only marginally, perhaps swayed by his fervent apology, but Mekh remained respectfully contained in his posture; he would not push his luck.

---

ah. sitamun fully released mekh now from her ebbing ire, appraising him with an empathy borne of their mutual servitude. we have this in common, then. i gave myself as a gift and you were once given as one. i am sitamun, and i serve the queen of satriya.
he wore pain in those goldcoin eyes. but that is not where i am taking you now. we will go to Setemhotep first. he is our sesh and i must have you well before you are brought before the sight of pharaoh khaemwaset. you are no longer alone.
putting out a paw toward mekh as if to guide, sitamun gave him a look of knowing melancholy. i am priestess to Nepthys. there is but one truth i have learned, and that is to accept we will never know the will of any god. Khonsu bled, and so it must be Shu. but she did not speak that.
she liked mekh already, liked his humility and his openness. it was why she sought to bring him into the perfumed arms of the palace now. some force had decided that he was to be placed here with and before them, and her -- she did not question.
and that it was pointless to ask. we are at peace here. i think it will be true for you as well. now he would be any he wished to be, and that was the beauty of such a place as satriya. the sounds of their camp loomed ahead, and all bathed still in that eerie red light.

---

What tension yet lingered in the air had been loosed. His shoulders - larger than a coyote's, frailer than a wolf's - slumped, and the soft breath he exhaled seemed to take the remains of his already-depleted energy reserves with it.

Mekh had spent the greater portion of his life in servitude, but perhaps another might have taken offense at the implication of his 'presentation' needing improvement. To the coywolf, however, it meant more to him than even Sitamun. One did not offer themselves to a ruling head disheveled and showing their ribs; it was a privilege, a joy, even, to be considered worthy of joining a house.
He remembered well the day he had been gifted to his Seti, and his chest ached with the feeling of loss.

You honor me, he said, bowing again. Had they both been of similar rank, the gesture might have been unnecessary, but here he was a stranger without home or master. It was Sitamun who deserved deference. I will follow the instruction of your sesh until it is deemed fitting I may bask beneath the gaze of your pharaoh.

His stomach growled, and Mekh averted his gaze in shame. He hoped she would not speak of it; already her generosity overwhelmed him, and he felt pathetic enough coming to her in such a state as he had, in the way that he had.

It is true. Even so, the gods are merciful, he said, lifting his eyes once more. Where once there had been iron, Sitamun's gaze now held a curious empathy, and Mekh believed the statement with his whole heart. It was not coincidence that they should meet and his life be given a second chance. His ears swiveled, catching the sounds of the nearby camp; how hopeful elation soared within his chest, and the baleful eye of the red moon seemed so much more distant than it had before.

Thank you for this opportunity - I will not squander it. Take me to your sesh at your will.

---

did somebody order a sesh

---

Skill - Heartbroken 1/5

Setemhotep was busy with his work. He had grown haggard again of late, under the redness of moon and the fresh visions which plagued him of demons in the smoke. The red sky, he hoped they could avert this omen, but the efforts did little to quell his anxiety as the moon bled on and on. Yuèshí claimed kinship with Khonsu bathed in red, and this was an omen sesh found it difficult to interpret. Was it all ordained? Did Ma'at shatter!

So he was distracted when Sitamun brought Mekh forward, and it was the mark of greatly practiced dignity upon the sesh not to leap clean out of his pelt when they politely made themselves known. Straightening, he looked to the stranger briefly, certain they did not know each other, and then Sitamun. Tension was visible in him, but well restrained.

He greeted, Em hotep nefer (In great peace).

sitamun hoped, in time, that mekh would recover the gracefulness she saw in him already. for his rescue he was filled with gratitude, and no doubt pharaoh would be pleased. but there was more to all than their worst. in satriya, sitamun believed in his convalescence. setemhotep occupied one of the spaces underlaid with grass, branches curled into archways overhead. here she intended to help the newcomer sit, resting upon the small pile of simple skins he would find there. attention shifted to the physician. he was scented with herbs which was comforting in its familiarity, but sitamun did not quite like the look of him.
sesh. this is mekh. those thin lines of tension in the energies of the other were something she felt only knowledge of him endowed her to know, and she worried. but worry must be held another time. he found me while i was at prayers to Nepthys, that She might intercede with Set on behalf of Khonsu. he spoke of the Great Defender and of Shu.
to be a priestess was to be trained also as scribe.
he was once a gift to pharaoh seti of kemet. there is no doubt within me that he is to stay, but as you can see, he is not well.
as sitamun spoke, she began to move, eye casting for moss, mind forming a pathway to water. i believe he should be whole before he is seen by pharaoh.

---

Em hotep nefer weret, (In very great peace) Mekh returned mechanically, his tongue readily speaking for him before he'd even had a chance to think. How long had it been since one had greeted him in such a way? The words were almost foreign now, but how his soul longed to hear them still, a reminder of a home lost.

The sesh appeared confident, standing straight as he regarded Mekh with the careful eye of one assessing a fresh cut of meat. The coywolf tried to balance an honest meeting of their gazes with the occasional shifting glance aside, showing deference to the sesh's position as respectfully as he could - looking as he did.

He was grateful for Sitamun's interjection on his behalf. Mekh allowed her to guide him to where he might seat himself, curling his tail self-consciously around thin haunches as he did. How ragged he must appear; hopefully they could see through his current state and observe the potential that lay within his hungry, desperate soul.

Mekh was neither priest nor scribe; he was, as ever, only Mekh. Lavished companion to a spoiled Pharaoh, but oh, he had loved him fiercely.

To continue to show his deference, the coywolf bowed his back and lowered his forelimbs toward the pair. He would wait patiently until addressed.

---

Skill - Doctor 2/5

A gift to Pharaoh Seti. Hotep's eyes creased, turning from Sitamun to the bedraggled stranger. There was no Seti, here.

In Hotep's chest something twisted, a recognition, perhaps, or the hope of one. But these were strange times for the gods to send another displaced spirit into Khaemwaset's fold.

Mekh. I am Setemhotep. You have found yourself called to join a great and noble procession. Hotep's passionate belief was not extinguished, but it seemed to cost him something to get the words out. You will be safe here, in the shade of Horus-Heir and his Divine Queen. One hoped, at the least. So long as he did not go wandering off into the mists.

At a glance it was easy to see the strain upon once-nobler form. Hotep flexed his shoulders, keenly aware of the lingering stretch of desiccated-looking spine still visible from his own ordeals. He knew the ache of long hunger intimately.

Mekh would need food — light on the stomach, rabbit, perhaps, or even frog. A bath, certainly. And clean water, though Hotep noted that Sitamun's practiced eye seemed already set upon this task. We will see you made well, again. A soft smile.

Though impossible to be distracted entirely from the red light bathing them, at least here was a useful way for Hotep to apply himself. Motions instinctive, he moved to examine Mekh, a keen nose sniffing for infection or blood which might indicate injury. Have you eaten anything unusual, since leaving your court? Carrion, particularly snakebit or rotting? Parasites and foul magicks. Hotep spoke gently, but fixed searing eyes, tinged hotter by the red gleam through the branches, upon Mekh. Something could be done about one of these things. If so, I may need to mix herbs with your meals, to soothe your stomach.