{ ☆ — ; }

                                        His tanned nose scrunched at her tone, the answer                                         given to him only making things more confusing.

                  “Greece. A respectable empire. Full of very curious people ——-”

                                        A deep chuckle shook the room, matched with the                                         ruler’s teasing smirk.

{ ➸ — ; }  

                        It's name had changed but not it's history.                         Her home; a land filled to the brim with heroes                         and monsters of yore. He knew of it. What chance.

                                 ❝ And some nary a person at all. ❞

                        Implication only went so far. He did not seem daft.                          A quirk of a smile lay 'pon parted tiers, grey eyes                         fetching over a tanned form if only for study.

{ ☆ — ; }

                                                       ” Pharaoh.                                                               The title Prince belongs to another.

                                                      And, sadly, I can’t say the same.                                               I do not know of your people or ’Old Ones.’                                                                  So, before any questions are answered —

{ ➸ — ; } 

                                      A foreign word to stress 'pon a tongue that knows not.                       How belittling she finds it, though warrants correction all the same.                       To them, she could sing for Apep but what good would it do? 'Lo,                       their beasts and gods so vast from the torrents that kept her caged.

                                                  ❝ You may not,                                                    but I will tell thine ears all the same, Pharaoh ❞

                           A sickly stress to pour from lips so venomous, she delights in.    

                                  ❝I am known as Maud, though that is not my name.                                                 And my old ones speak of roaring thunder                                                                                 and peacock feathers.                                                  With heels covered by wings and serpents                                                         to  s w a l l o w  the seas with tridents. ❞

                           She pauses, gaze filtering down to catch on a tanned collarbone.                                                    

                                                  ❝ Now my query, -- 

{ ➸ — ; }

                                      ❝ --Couldst I ask you much the same,                                        though doubtfulness swarms                                        my vision at the reprisal met. ❞

          Serpentine shimmer and smile break easily 'pon a fair visage. The scent is not that of hume but something darker, slithering and foul beneath the disguise of rot. And how loathsome she finds it. What a delight.  

                                      ❝I am Maud, though that is not a given name.                                                                     But mine curiosity knows                                                           you already haft such knowledge.