@sunpharaoh​ said:  ROOOOOOSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

You know that booming voice as if you’d only heard it yesterday. The one that’s just as warm and bright as it is condescending to the point that it’s fucking infuriating. It’s Ozymandias, and judging from his volume he’s gotta be right outside your door.

▊狐 A crackle of flame tore through the air, a number of balloons consumed by the heat that spread decimated regardless of concern for their colour. So long as the majority of them were white, the source figured, it didn’t many how many of the black balloons were caught up as collateral. 

Oh, was that a Servant that had been caught in the flames as well? Hopefully he’d moved in time! ...Well, she didn’t actually care.

  ✫     𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒, even if the rest of human civilization does not. Nitocris is the name of a Pharaoh washed away by the sands of time, with nothing but ashes to incur skepticism. The movement of one’s existence from fact to fiction is a terrifying thing. Even after death, her own shadow haunts her. What a disgrace she’d been to Horus, enough to warrant punishment by the gods! But forgive her, forgive her... there still things in this world that brings her comfort. 

         She often dreams of them. At this very moment, tucked beneath the shade of a tree, her sleeping form is doing just that. It’s envisioning the vast boroughs of Egypt. Her cherished Merenre is there, ascending the Nile River in his boat of deliverance, given audience by Ra himself. It’s a dream, she realizes this, but she can’t help but lucidly mutter inanities mid-slumber. “Beloved brother... Ra-sama... you look like you’re having fun...” How fortunate she is! The warmth exuded from their combined presences feels so close. Even though it is no more than an illusion, it feels as if she is right there with them, at arms’ length, sharing their comp--- com... company? eh?

          Wait, no, this cannot be right anymore... this physical aura before her is surely...

                   !!!

      “P-P-Pharaoh Ozymandias! You are here!” She tries her absolute best not to invade his space, or rupture the delicate hearing in his ears. “Forgive my insolence! I did not mean to rest my eyes before you!” 

the wonders of worlds lost, the promise of future realms... history and thus the things which have yet to come are wondrous, beautiful things upon which to think on. perhaps it was because he himself was a part of that ancient history; a name etched within the past for as long as tongues would speak the stories. it was a rather awesome thought, that his name alongside his former master’s might be one remembered aeons to come. but there was much more to the world than he, so many more faces whose marks upon history were like wounds against the earth, or like carved stone forever to tell their legend. some were rather odd, myths and the like the sort of thing he imagined a child to find fascinating. and yet, this was all a part of the earth’s lore, the very making of his world.

it was rather late as far as museum visits went. the sun raked in through panelled glass, creating golden stripes across the old stone. dust lingered in the summer air, heat spinning them wild until they drifted to their bed like exhausted lovers within a dance. despite the rush of the city beyond, the halls themselves were almost perfectly quiet. it was a luxury really, mitsutada being allowed to spend such time alone in a place so grand, but upon learning of his interests, the porter at the door had felt too gracious to refuse him entry.

he wandered lost and yet so at home, amongst painted faces he had not met, studying books and waxworks he did not entirely comprehend. his single, sun-lit eye danced about as he went as if to soak in every second, every corner. so wrapped within his learning, he jumped when a loud laugh echoed through the wide corridors. a voice so bold, he shook beneath it. such a mighty bellow, he was far too curious a being to ignore it. thus, he gathered his coat and proceeded to chase it, his heels clicking as he went. what he found was not what he had imagined, but then what does one imagine when they suddenly hear such a loud guffaw? a man, glittering with his trinkets, wringing his hands before a figure made of stone. the man stood proud, taller than himself, and glistened like dry sand beneath the hot desert sun. only when his eye adjusted, did he finally make out the face etched into the smooth stone ahead.

▊狐 “Geh. I invite you to the beach as an act of good will and you come wearing your usual garb? I’m not really surprised, but are all pharaohs like this? It wouldn’t kill you to put on a swimsuit you know.” ‘Invite’ was a strong word, seeing as after how losing in points to him during the calloon incident she’d been forced to spend one day with him.

i see

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