Post by The Puppeteers on Aug 10, 2016 18:28:32 GMT -5
Imbeciles. Peasants. Slaves and outsiders. Meaningless lives led by brainless fools.
All of these things and more ran through the Pharaoh’s mind after his wasted trip to the states. Ashanti, while of his chapter, was still jerking his chain in spite of his many, many warnings that she should never do such a thing. She had pulled him away from his council, and for what? Bonding? With a beast? He had no use for beasts. He had the ones he needed and wanted. He had no use for any further bonding. He had bound himself to the ones he felt were deserving.
And a non-Egyptian human monster was no more a concern to him than the dirt he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
His council suggested he let this whole incident go and focus on the more important tasks at hand. They were closer and closer to having the resources and allies required to go forth with their plans every single day. A delay such as this could not have set them back. Not after their hundreds of years of diplomatic meetings and secret assemblies. Not after the hunt and preservation of creatures that still thrived on the pantheon he remained nothing but faithful to. Not after all the resources they had saved, the weaponry they had created, the holy rites they had sought after. Not after he had become the demigod who would lead this nation into a new age. He needn’t worry over the pirate and her menial exploits.
So why did he?
He recalled the boy Ashanti had thrown at him. Well, one could not call him boy. He was a grown man. Or grown monster. What was it she had yelled as she lifted the seven foot former beast and heaved him across the way towards him?
That’s right.
Bond over repressed cultures.
Pharaoh scoffed at the very notion. What did a beast know of his repression? Of his loss? Of his grief and strife and determination to get back what had been lost?
That last question gave him pause. A long pause . . . .
What exactly did that beast know?
Perhaps too much. Perhaps Ashanti had tipped him off to a traitor. If rumors were to be believed, he was in fact a traitor to the Puppeteers. He had deserted, but had had enough favor with the new North American Puppet Masters that his life had been spared. That meant little to Pharaoh, what did matter was what did he know that the pirate deemed so important for him to fly halfway across the world just to speak with him? He did not like mystery, nor did he like her simple way of addressing issues. One could not just hall a living thing at another and expect an accord.
Why was he even still considering it?
“My darling,” his wife interrupted his thoughts, leaning close. “You are thinking a great deal. What of?”
He did not answer immediately, simply gazing at Bahiti and considering his latest concerns. Should he call them concerns? What else could he call them? He had been pondering a great deal too much to simply brush it off. Ashanti may be a peasant, but she wasn’t actually a fool. She respected his space and he respected hers. That she had entered his space (or rather thrown someone into it) . . . perhaps he should pay attention. With this in mind, he sought counsel from his queen. “I am considering returning to the states.” The beast . . . Tea had not argued that he wasn’t oppressed. Rowan had not argued.
That he remembered the beast’s name was answer enough. He must return. Bahiti’s quiet, “I follow you, my Pharaoh,” was also confirmation.
All of these things and more ran through the Pharaoh’s mind after his wasted trip to the states. Ashanti, while of his chapter, was still jerking his chain in spite of his many, many warnings that she should never do such a thing. She had pulled him away from his council, and for what? Bonding? With a beast? He had no use for beasts. He had the ones he needed and wanted. He had no use for any further bonding. He had bound himself to the ones he felt were deserving.
And a non-Egyptian human monster was no more a concern to him than the dirt he scraped off the bottom of his shoe.
His council suggested he let this whole incident go and focus on the more important tasks at hand. They were closer and closer to having the resources and allies required to go forth with their plans every single day. A delay such as this could not have set them back. Not after their hundreds of years of diplomatic meetings and secret assemblies. Not after the hunt and preservation of creatures that still thrived on the pantheon he remained nothing but faithful to. Not after all the resources they had saved, the weaponry they had created, the holy rites they had sought after. Not after he had become the demigod who would lead this nation into a new age. He needn’t worry over the pirate and her menial exploits.
So why did he?
He recalled the boy Ashanti had thrown at him. Well, one could not call him boy. He was a grown man. Or grown monster. What was it she had yelled as she lifted the seven foot former beast and heaved him across the way towards him?
That’s right.
Bond over repressed cultures.
Pharaoh scoffed at the very notion. What did a beast know of his repression? Of his loss? Of his grief and strife and determination to get back what had been lost?
That last question gave him pause. A long pause . . . .
What exactly did that beast know?
Perhaps too much. Perhaps Ashanti had tipped him off to a traitor. If rumors were to be believed, he was in fact a traitor to the Puppeteers. He had deserted, but had had enough favor with the new North American Puppet Masters that his life had been spared. That meant little to Pharaoh, what did matter was what did he know that the pirate deemed so important for him to fly halfway across the world just to speak with him? He did not like mystery, nor did he like her simple way of addressing issues. One could not just hall a living thing at another and expect an accord.
Why was he even still considering it?
“My darling,” his wife interrupted his thoughts, leaning close. “You are thinking a great deal. What of?”
He did not answer immediately, simply gazing at Bahiti and considering his latest concerns. Should he call them concerns? What else could he call them? He had been pondering a great deal too much to simply brush it off. Ashanti may be a peasant, but she wasn’t actually a fool. She respected his space and he respected hers. That she had entered his space (or rather thrown someone into it) . . . perhaps he should pay attention. With this in mind, he sought counsel from his queen. “I am considering returning to the states.” The beast . . . Tea had not argued that he wasn’t oppressed. Rowan had not argued.
That he remembered the beast’s name was answer enough. He must return. Bahiti’s quiet, “I follow you, my Pharaoh,” was also confirmation.