The Egyptian's sleep was fitful and restless. The Midnight Tear's had perhaps clouded her judgement and darkened her spirit to a point of careless oblivion and violent indifference. The state of the Egyptian's altering of mood was present by the state of disarray of her room, the perfume bottles resting smashed into glistening pieces of glass upon the vanity, the jagged cuts in the fabric of the curtains. The token trinket of black silk, crimson ribbons, raven feathers, and gold cat's eye thrown across the room and left abandoned.
There were many things she had been called in her time, Harem Harlot Queen, Goldmine, Sphinx, Enigma, Sol, Fiery One. So many names cluttered her thoughts and mind, tainting her memories. The bottle of Tears rolled away from the bed where the Egyptian rested sprawled over the covers. It was a strange thing that the glass did not shatter as the bottle had fallen from her fingertips, but merely rolled away in its own abandonment to clink in a sound like sadness and utmost anguish of loss against the token trinket.
It all seemed mirages and desert illusions the presence of the Guardian in her room. The haunting scent of the mountain lion clinging to the air near suffocating her senses... and the blue... oh the blue would stifle her.
Such a permanent thing the blue would be in her life ever present in the eyes of those the Egyptian would be drawn to. Surely there were others that had drawn her that carried not those stains and strands of blue to overcome Ba'shara but it was a frequent thing. A known thing that the Sun would ever be drawn to the sky. Taken to the blue.
Ba'shara did not recall the moment she took up one of the dream scarabs from the vanity, nor did she remember choosing the stones. Everything seemed so faint and distant, everything seemed so wrought in magic and deceit she no longer could separate the illusion from the reality.
Succumbing to the dreams she gave in, submitted in a way she never had before, until those dreams claimed her in such a way that a mere dream became unconsciousness.
A flash of images. A glimpse of those she was leaving behind. The Hypnotist and the Rain Dancer. Tavarius and the Gun Slinger. The Rex and the Raven. The Guardian and the Hunter. The Roman and the Savage Lord. The Northern Born and the Enigma. The Ember Princess and the Sun Prince. The Wolf and the Nameless.
The dreams seemed to brush and carry them all away, so far away from her. For a moment she felt the tearing pain of infinite loss and melancholy but her steps continued on along that dark road gilded in gold.
The greater the distance between the more distant the memory and presence of them became in the Egyptian's mind. There were no doors where she entered but the dream became a room, and within the room rested a scale and the great book. She stared quietly up upon the presence of the one that guarded and directed it all as he picked up the feather of white, as pure as innocence in his hand as his lips never would move but the words filled her head, her mind, her soul awaiting her answer to that eternal question.
If your ka was weighed on the scale against a feather, how would the scales be moved? Would they move at all? Where is your balance now, little goddess? Where will your ka go when the Sol dies?
There were many things she had been called in her time, Harem Harlot Queen, Goldmine, Sphinx, Enigma, Sol, Fiery One. So many names cluttered her thoughts and mind, tainting her memories. The bottle of Tears rolled away from the bed where the Egyptian rested sprawled over the covers. It was a strange thing that the glass did not shatter as the bottle had fallen from her fingertips, but merely rolled away in its own abandonment to clink in a sound like sadness and utmost anguish of loss against the token trinket.
It all seemed mirages and desert illusions the presence of the Guardian in her room. The haunting scent of the mountain lion clinging to the air near suffocating her senses... and the blue... oh the blue would stifle her.
Such a permanent thing the blue would be in her life ever present in the eyes of those the Egyptian would be drawn to. Surely there were others that had drawn her that carried not those stains and strands of blue to overcome Ba'shara but it was a frequent thing. A known thing that the Sun would ever be drawn to the sky. Taken to the blue.
Ba'shara did not recall the moment she took up one of the dream scarabs from the vanity, nor did she remember choosing the stones. Everything seemed so faint and distant, everything seemed so wrought in magic and deceit she no longer could separate the illusion from the reality.
Succumbing to the dreams she gave in, submitted in a way she never had before, until those dreams claimed her in such a way that a mere dream became unconsciousness.
A flash of images. A glimpse of those she was leaving behind. The Hypnotist and the Rain Dancer. Tavarius and the Gun Slinger. The Rex and the Raven. The Guardian and the Hunter. The Roman and the Savage Lord. The Northern Born and the Enigma. The Ember Princess and the Sun Prince. The Wolf and the Nameless.
The dreams seemed to brush and carry them all away, so far away from her. For a moment she felt the tearing pain of infinite loss and melancholy but her steps continued on along that dark road gilded in gold.
The greater the distance between the more distant the memory and presence of them became in the Egyptian's mind. There were no doors where she entered but the dream became a room, and within the room rested a scale and the great book. She stared quietly up upon the presence of the one that guarded and directed it all as he picked up the feather of white, as pure as innocence in his hand as his lips never would move but the words filled her head, her mind, her soul awaiting her answer to that eternal question.
If your ka was weighed on the scale against a feather, how would the scales be moved? Would they move at all? Where is your balance now, little goddess? Where will your ka go when the Sol dies?