"This warmth, it is yours to keep Ba'shara. No one can take it from you."
"I know father."

Molten suns opened come the morning light filtering through the window of the rented room at the Red Dragon Inn. The memory had faded chased away by the sun.

Sinuous the strength of her was a beautiful nature to endure. The subtle ripple of muscle, the nimble grace of movements,the unusual heat that warmed her flesh ever and always.

The vision of bare flesh in morning light she once knew was an exquisite thing to witness, to endure. The compliments on tongues of the Pharaoh upon praise of the harem proved this. Indulged the warmth of spirit.

It was a fleeting moment. Those simple luxuries. To bathe in rose water and the powders that left the Egyptian's scent spice marked. These were the mysteries of a woman's flesh, a life giving womb.

The desert canvas of flesh was caressed, fingers fanning out across her abdomen. Molten suns glittered as she dressed. The bolt of crimson had been created into something simple and magnificent, upon the flesh of the Egyptian it was a bewitching canvas of material.

Golden cords completed the ensemble. She did not dress for him. Her thoughts turned to the hypnotist and his assistant... the deep, intimate allure of the pair. Fleeting passing thoughts of the minotaur. His words lulled a smile from her lips, an expression that surely would be the cat's expression at finding and devouring the canary.

"What has happened before can happen again. "

Ba'shara stepped out from the room, a moment's certainty of a closed door to withhold secrets. Away from the Inn she would travel as the Marketplace perhaps would be different come the dawn's caress.

There was an allure to those bright burning hours, and in that brilliance she certainly... would burn.

"Would you dare to love, would you take that risk? Toy in that temptation, sister? What would you give for a moment's waking breath to know more then this desire felt?"

"Everything... I would give it all. Even for but a taste."

A Heart was a dangerous weapon. Sight a weak shield. Touch nothing more then a drop of a gauntlet. A challenge.

One did not challenge a Sphinx unless they knew the answer to the question. Were willing to accept that answer when it spilled off the tongue.

The Egyptian had not slept, had not dreamed. Mirages had melted into reality and twisted her perception.

Such perception was not a technique but a life given talent.

The desert paint of fingertips moved together. Rubbed and rolled the soft sensation in her touch.

Hours had passed and still it all was sensed. She still felt the bite of the tree's bark at her flesh. Still felt the moonlight's caress. Felt more so another caress.

A Hunter's scent would still linger. Something akin to a cat nip that a mere house pet might roll and writhe around in.

Her pupils rounded, dark moons eclipsed by the sun. Those dark moons were rich and hungry for something more. A wanting, a hunger for thirst in the desert of spirit that had before seemed... desolate.

Kohl marked, the molten suns flicked a side glance to a carefully made bed.

Mouth so dry was licked. Bathed with tongue. Duality of the feline and the woman felt in inner core a burn of molten heat. A rich, spilling warmth.

The dream fever vision of twisting, writhing bodies. A sweat dappled embrace. It was but a vision to tempt and intrigue.

Ba'shara wanted to see stars. To touch the sky. Fall into blue.

Regal grace was something that even a goddess in a moment could leave their crown for.

There were far less significant things a life could be offered over for, that a soul would be awakened to, that a heart... would beat for.

In those sleepless hours. Her heart would beat... and it... was a wild tandem.

"You act as if this is an eternal thing. An everlasting moment."
"Has this not happened before? I feel it has. A belonging hour. Something that happened before."
"How would you know? Time perhaps has tricked you, Ba'shara."
"Perhaps. I but wish that for another hour it would trick me once more... so that I might have this feeling again."

A soul could be a barren, empty land. Desolate and endless. For what seemed like years her soul had been a dying tundra that the heat of the desert winds had devoured. Leaving her empty. Never cold but barren.

Molten suns would watch the world awaken as her thoughts turned to moments in the past. Knelt there by the springs, a reflection would give a memento of the past.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How a woman years since past had let silk fall from frame to the floor, had left flesh of desert warmth become seduced by the sweet allure of rose scented waters to bathe and swim in. There had been the command, the order that she could not disobey. It was written in obsidian by a scrolling design of gold.

Change the Pharoah had ordered. Like a parlor trick she had. Dark mane had emerged from the slick wet of the bathing pool, tossed back. The vision of her flesh at that moment a man's undoing. Until the vision of her was gone. Change he asked. Ordered and obeyed.

From those waters the beast had emerged, the panther leaping from the slick wet of the bathing pool rather then the woman that had been there before. Water drops would fall as tears around her. Prison and freedom all in the nature of an obsidian collar. Like a pet, the beast fell to the Pharoah's feet while it dreamed of tearing into flesh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How much she had come from. The kohl marked depths flicked away from the depths of the water as her memories were banished of long nights as a Pharoah's amusement. A Pharoah's entertainment. A lick of lips as her fingertips traced a heat line at her collar where the touch of another had rested and laid only hours earlier.

How eternal was time? Was there repetition to it and could something that once had been happen again?

A soul once so desolate near felt overwhelmed by sensation and yearning that near claimed her entirely. A wild tandem of a beating heart and a sense of the familiar. A belonging.

A fitting nature of a complex puzzle. Something near as natural as a cat prowling the night, as unique as a raven's feather landing in the thick mirage of desire.

All that happened once could happen again. Could be over and over. Time was never a straight line but a loop, a tapestry.

She could only hope as she stared out along those dark waters and thought of hunters and ravens, cats and dancing gunslingers...

That it all might happen again. Warm a woman's soul until it might burn.

She if anything... wanted that warmth.

"This moment, it will break you. Eat you alive."
"Perhaps this moment is worth the price of the pain."
"It is a tragedy this choice you make."
"Not a tragedy... but a bittersweet glimpse into the life I might have had."
"Is it enough? Is it worth the price for the pain?"
"To me it is... to me it always will be."
"You are a fool..."
"Maybe I was destined to be..."

What was the canvas of flesh in midnight? Was it the molding of clay, a continent left undiscovered to explore?

Desert paint of her touch, moved. Spilled down flesh. Traced the pattern of muscle and bone. Touch could leave her breathless, a look could leave her weak.

Passion could invoke a fire. Desire could bring the flame. Yearning but a match to ignite.

The moment seemed real. Lovely. Sacred and Surreal.

It was a burden to wake alone, curling in the silk of sheets. Molten suns searching.

The burden of a beast. No feathered cries to pierce the awakened hours of the Egyptian. No comforting claim of a sweet embrace to be lost to.

Alone.

The night felt longer and she never wished more for the sun. If only to escape a dream. A dream never to be brought to life.

Unbearable.

The growl devoured the scream that threatened to part her lips. The silk spilled from flesh, fell to the floor.

No orders. No demands. No curt words to make a trickster of her spirit. The duality was stirred to life.

Awakened the wild.

A cat, a panther would hunt that night. Solitaire save for the duality of her soul.

This was ever her burden to carry...

"This that is offered in the night, this part of myself... it is sacred. Only yours for this night."
"So much you offer, this I know is sacred..."
"Know this what was taken before of me never had my heart, had my soul laced through the moment... now it does."
"All that I want..."
"...Is all that I have wanted in you."

Her fingers spilled a design, a drawing caress to the dark fabric of the robe. Abandoned the robe rested in a black shadow spill across the chair.

The fabric was drawn to her. Breathed in a scent. The swell of pupils. Wild black moons eclipsed by the sun forge of iris.

These hours were what she knew of peace. Soul full of tranquility, full of wild fire.

Her head bowed, desert tone of cheek to brush against the held fabric. A feline nuzzle. Scent marked.

The scent of her to ever remain.

Dark cloth spilled from her fingers, fell back to lay across the chair in waiting.

Hours now were redemption. Salvation.

Naked flesh was adorned with blue of sky, of water. Silver cords to remind of the lining that might possess ever dark forged, storm born cloud.

Molten suns lifted, touched to the mirror as the art and design of raven mane was eased into intricate allure of braids. A curling smile. Basking in the Blue.

Today she would honor that memory. To share that moment in private revelations. Desert tone of fingers would fan across abdomen, rested over that blue. A reflection. Life-giving womb knew a claimed sketch of nails, of claws.

She knew now that when the sun sank away and drifted from the sky that the sun yearned.

That the sun waited every moment to melt once more into the claim of the sky.

"The card is gravity. You and me. I'm always here."
"I thank you for this, Madison."
"It's nothing much. But you're one of a kind. Goldmine."
"Do not subject yourself to not being a burning bit of fire in the sky, yourself."
"The sky is mine for the watching. That's where I'm content."
"And the sun is ever drawn to the sky..."

Confessions. The woman would draw them from the Egyptian. Now in her room those molten suns cast a contemplative glance to the playing card palmed. Ace of Diamonds.

Once she had spoke of the knowledge of the Diamond meaning wealth in the nature of symbolism.

Now she knew of the gift of such a card. The eluding reference of the gunslinger that the engima, was but a bit of diamond in the rubble.

A reminder of words.

Her words were languid, hushed in those awakened hours in the presence of Madison. Shared that drawn kinship to the woman, the sensual allure of two born of different lives yet ever bound.

The card was stuck in the side of the mirror. Molten suns lingered there before left to fall on her own reflection.

Beauty eluded her. Ba'shara simply was

She had spoken of Fire and Ice. How one could stir passion and yet soothe.

Not one to betray the truth of words she would go to them. Seek them once more in darker hours.

The egyptian would keep her word...

Unaware again how the desert painted touch of her fingertips had found a rest at her stomach. Rest in peace there at the life giving womb. The Hypnotist seemed a memory to her... but one she would not forget.

She would find them again.

"Take a new path, Ba'shara..."
"What path would I choose?"
"Alone."
"This I have known well...for so long."
"Come to Ghost Town."
"I will find a place there... "

Fire burn. A writhing caress of heat that warmed her. Ivory in that glow of flame would become phoenix shade to paint a shift of cotton. Alter it. Illusion and Mirages.

Her lips were licked. The Rain Dancer left her. Lasting words. A cool touch of fingertips to brow. The rose of a gunslinger's scent. The salt of her flesh still known.

Shared those moments. Quiet embrace of two. Intimate as lovers. Endeared as heartsworn.

The gunslinger's hands had fallen, chased a braided design in black river mane. Desert paint of touch crept a line to calf. Hushed words.

Tender discussion. Confessions of the soul. Freed the burden without giving the heart of the secret.

Lips touched pulse. Wet silk and grains of sand tongue brushed. Tasted salt. Knew there below was a life flowing river of red.

Alone again she rose. Carried away from the flame. Up stairs. A gathering.

Items to name swept away into a bundled collection.

The Egyptian would follow the forgery of new path. Desert Walker to allure and beckon the Rain Dancer. Perhaps the Rain Dancer to do the same for her.

To Ghost Town.

A whisper forged of earlier hours lingered in soul. Hushed and sacred to heart.

Intimate bliss.

"Goldmine..."

New lines drawn. Path followed. Hunter. Raven. Guardian. Rain Dancer. Hypnotist.

The lines they painted for her. She followed them. They had captured her.
Ensnared her entirely.

Heart. Soul. Spirt. Body. Mind.

Ever Bound.

"This what you do Ba'shara, it is not right."
"What does it matter if my heart is with him?"
"It means everything..."
"This is not meant for you. He is not meant for you."
"You are not of our Gods, Aunt."
"No but he is destined to be."

How long had she been walking. She had lost track of time. Her steps carried her in the way of one who knew the path without seeking it.

A Goldmine.

Her eyes closed as her thoughts ran rampant. Chased a path through memories in search of the one that held such great importance once to her life.

To understand the present... and the future... would not one have to reflect on their past, to see where it had led them from?

She remembered dark hair in her hands. The plaiting of a braid in thick mane. The protests that left the younger vision of herself laughing, bemused by a lover's meaningless jest of dismay.

It was all she remembered save for the sharp words of her aunt calling out to her. The rough slap of palm across her face before she was pulled away roughly by wrist.

How many nights had she cried in her chamber after her mother had been buried and now those moments where she'd been taken away from true friend, the only person left to trust in the world... and she could not even remember who he was.

Hands rubbed her face as molten suns lifted to the moon.

At least she recalled that after that pulling away, after all the tears... she had ended in the harem. Sixteen years destined. The years after that seemed blanketed in black velvet.

A dream of fur, of claws, of freedom in the night. The blessing of the hunt.

Those dreams seemed never to return, even if a panther would pace in her thoughts, prowl in the cage of her soul.

"You are not meant for this emotion"
"Which emotion do you speak of?"
"Love."
"Aunt, everyone should have love."
"Not you."
"Your words..."
"They will destroy you."

Sunlight burned through her window in Ghost Town. The thick heat of whiskey rested in womb as a rich reminder of the night before.

Languid.

Cal had spoken of the morning hours offering explanation and theory, the Egyptian wondered on the truth of that.

Exuding heat from bare flesh she withdrew from the comfort of bed. Naked form finding the welcome promise of silk robe.

Hand through hair as the preternatural heat still rolled around her. Tempered like the morning sun would lust for the shadows of night. This was very much her duality.

The window was pushed open, arms folding on the sill as she leaned forward.

Sunlight to wash over her face.

Invoked a purr from her.

Desert spice brushed with the lingering scent of rose water from the bath of the night before.

Breath exhaled.

The need, the want of a duality to mate into a forging of one.

Her eyes closed.

She waited for the answers to come with the fierce warmth of the sun.

Still the sun was silent.

It would not answer the call of Sphinx.

"You will be broken."
"Perhaps I already am."
"You are losing yourself."
"I already am lost."
"You will be left alone."
"I never felt more alone."
"He never will love you."
"I am forsaken."

Spirits. Apparitions. Ghosts of her past moved back into the present as mirages in the desert heat of her soul.

The weeks spent at beast had done nothing to console her. When she walked the world as Egyptian again, returned to the marketplace there would be a Ghost waiting for her.

So it would seem.

The Raven.

Some cultures believed that if a raven came to you and you followed it, it would lead to one's true love. Soul Mate. Kindred Spirit.

Complex to follow the Raven, lost when the Raven led her no where but the same places she had been before.

She did not understand.

There in the glen her desolation, her despair was her own. Heart torn. Spirit severed.

Lost.

A burden of the one who felt too much.

All her life she had played the part of a lie, gave her body and pretended to share her heart, her soul while her mind wandered.

Now free to choose her own love she found her heart in shards... yearning... reaching in so many directions and she did not know even where to begin to pick up the pieces.

Guardian. Lion. Rain Dancer. Hunter. Raven. Gunslinger.

Never to leave any of them behind... all of them sacred.

Loved.

"Why did you leave?"
"To find myself."
"That is only a half truth in what you speak. There is more."
"My heart stopped beating once when I came down the stairs. Then it beat again. So fierce... I thought it might burst from my chest."
"You are falling."
"Fallen. Unbound. I left that night to find myself."
"Did you find yourself then?"
"No... but when I came back...I found that which I had lost."
"Which was?"
"So Blue..."

Midnight Tears and a Masquerade. A Rain Dancer and a Sphinx in reunion in hours that would wax and wane. Drawn to the Northern soul in a wonder more potent then a feline's curiousity.

Ba'shara had left to find herself after being freed from the collar. The Rain Dancer's love had unleashed her. Hours were spent in that freedom so restless. So captivated.

It had left her in a moment that felt like eternity when she had descended the stairs of the Inn to find the Raven again. Time in stand still. A moment where give the world a crowd and all she would see was one.

The moment made her breathless. Made her alive. Heart wild and trembling with realization.

There was only so much the Egyptian could take of those moments. Falling to Blue.

Sun drawn to Sky.

It was heaven wrought, something ethereal.

Left it behind the sun might mourn the loss of the sky. A return. Home was Ghost Town.

Ba'shara would find the Rain Dancer. Moments in reunion.

Midnight Tears. Desert Heat. Rain Wet. Lightning Rod Electricity of the one who joined their company there in the Inn.

Forces of Nature.

The Egyptian would find the company of Madison again. Returned to the Inn like a honing beacon to the woman's dark light. Found the Rain Dancer and the Northern claimed.

One unlike any known.

There was a Masquerade in the wild hours. A Queen in the Valley of Death she had been.

Mask of Bast. Silken bra and skirt of her homelands. Gold paint dusted her flesh. Left her as a sun glow.

With unspoken questions and unbridled answers had she left the Inn to find the Masquerade.

Lost in a crowd everything she had sought to find when she ran away... she would find... would be just where she left it.

Sun drawn to sky.

Like a dream. Destined power.

Ignited like soul magic and she was drawn. So drawn.

Lost in Blue.

This moment in her heart was no longer a Masquerade.

"You will love again and again."
"Do I not already, my Aunt."
"So freely you give... yet you realize."
"Yes, I have accepted the price."
"They will never be yours."
"Love to have is everything. Without it..."
"Without?"
"There is nothing."
"You are a foolish creature, child. They care nothing for you. It is desire... Desire that feeds them."
"Then let them desire me if it but brings me solace"
"Solace in Desire? You are a fool."
"It is all I have now."

The night found her comforted, healed and sated by a random whim to join the Doctor within the confines of the kissing booth.

Around her Beltane festivities went forward and on. A dizzy spiral of light and laughter, love and desire.

In those hours she wished nothing more then to forget herself. To forget everything lest the emotions give her away.

It was all too much to endure and a Sphinx never would offer the vision of a heart in breaking, for what sort of riddle might a Sphinx offer if such was revealed.

Visions of her present and her past would torment and soothe. A fever burn as much as a balm over wounds that never would be revealed but still could bleed.

Again she would fall into the harem ways. Giving of herself even as her spirit disappeared in the shadow dark of her ways.

A kiss shared with the reporter, a kiss with a scarlet horned man that exuded temptation.

The kisses though shared with the masked Horned God would be that which would be a soothing balm to lead her to forgetfulness.

For those hours the sun of her spirit would burn to life, the flames of her spirit ignited into passion and warmth that could heal even her own soul.

Lines and binds to twist them all together. Corded in a bond she never expected when even she and the doctor had shared a sacred kiss for the Merchant Prince's coin.

A Prince and a Doctor.

Alone in Ghost Town.

Once in the hours there were mirages of what she prayed and believed would be the Rain Dancer's return.

The Raven had returned and the mark upon her brow would last her for eternity.

Molten golds would close.

"Rex."

A quiet whisper in the night. It would stir and awaken memories that flooded through her of all those loved and lost.

She had given herself over to desire for in this path she knew nothing of the promise of love.

The silk spilled away from her flesh and she would step away from it.

The bands of gold discarded and there then the torque tossed aside with a rare frustration the Egyptian so infrequently would expose on her visage.

She gave herself to the night as the feline would worship Bast and elder names of those feminine born that had gone unspoken.

In her own way.

Her Duality knew well of Desire. Knew well of Lust and Need. Want and Cravings.

The beast cared and had no need for love.

To be wild was the smoldering burn that she needed.

It was enough...

Enough at least for part of her.