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poptod · 4 years ago

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Dusk and Dawn (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: A gardener and a prince look for the beauty in the world and end up finding it in each other.

Notes: This is mostly a drabble that came about after I played with the hose while watering my flowers, and also after I read some ancient Egyptian poetry. gender neutral. Word Count: 10.5k

AO3 Link: Dusk and Dawn

God, you loved to watch him. He didn't know about that, of course, but you still liked to look up every now and then. Your garden was right below his room, and he often sat in the open arches overlooking the city. A soft sigh fluttered through you �� the sun set on your end of the palace, and the warm rays always glittered in the prince's golden robes. Surprisingly you actually had met him, though that was a long while ago and you doubted he remembered you. Still, you held the hopeful fantasy that maybe he was looking down, watching you tend the blue lotus pond.

For a long while you'd been tending to the western garden, bringing water for the plants, keeping the pond clean and making sure the turtles and geese were fed. There were a few birds who lived there, and those that did each had a name assigned by you. One had electrically orange tail feathers; that one's name was Abayomi. Another had black feathers surrounding her eyes – her name was Nuru. An ibis also stopped by every now and then, though you didn't have a name for it, as it usually roosted up in the treetops.

None of that really mattered, but tending the garden all day and living without many friends had set a special loneliness upon you, and with no visitors you could generally do as you wished. That's why you kept one of your prized possessions there amongst the flower bushes; a flower from China that grew in the shade. The Pharaoh was not aware of the flower, but you doubted he'd actually care anyway. After all, he barely glanced at the list of gardeners before hiring you, and he seemed to be doing it more to satisfy his wife's wishes than to fulfill a passion for the earth.

Either way, you were lucky to have the job you did – it paid well, was an easy enough, enjoyable job, and every now and then you could see the prince in his palace windows. The best times were when you could hear the jangled notes of him trying to play harp, though most times it was rather out of tune.

You circled the sandstone path of the garden once more, watching every flower and testing their sweet scent in the warm air. Once you checked the health of each vine, bush, and tree, you turned to the pool of water, the alabaster edge marking the lillies encircling a tiny, grass island in the center, where turtles liked to relax.

As the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared over the desert and oasis horizon, you stood from your knelt position against the white lip lining the water, looking up to a purple dusk above you. One glance at the open arches and he was not there. Slightly disappointed, you enjoyed the last few minutes of your job before you left. You didn't ever really like going home – your roommates didn't like you all that much (and to be fair, you didn't like them), and the gardens were much quieter. Unfortunately, you had to pack up your remaining tools, as your garden was the home of nesting animals and the few nobles who meandered the paths at night.

Tomorrow you would have to tend to the bushes. Their branches, while fruitful, had to be trimmed properly so as to keep a 'clean' look about the place. Another issue was the overcrowding of the date trees; you'd have to look into that, but you left that for tomorrow. As for tonight, you wandered on home, watching the stars appear in the sky like distant candles marking an oasis.

You awoke to the screech of birds outside your window, roosting in the tall trees even with your third-floor bedroom. Grumbling, you hid away from them, slowly acclimatizing yourself to the idea of standing up. When at last you did so, you turned to the small mirror in your name. Kneeling before it you tidied up your hair, making sure you looked even before reaching for your clothes. Normal clothes today, you thought – nothing special happening, just another day of tending.

Beneath the pile of cloth, something rattled, and as you pulled the folded clothes away you found a golden armband beneath them, clinking against the stone floor. You paused, curiosity consuming you until you set the clothes aside and picked up the band. Examining it, you admired the sun's reflection and the lapis beads dug into the shape of a scarab. Your brows knitted together; you had no recollection of seeing this, much less buying it. Maybe one of your roommates had gotten it for you, but it seemed improbable, as they often failed to pay rent. For a moment you contemplated wearing it, ultimately deciding it couldn't do any harm.

With a soft smile on your face you pulled on your sandals, tying up the leather laces before slinging your linen satchel over your shoulders. Running down the stairs, you made a quick stop to the pantry, taking one of the parts before you left out the front door. It would be a beautiful day, you thought, as the sun shone warm overhead, and in the distance you saw naught but a pale blue sky and faraway mountains. You passed by a couple birdsongs as you made your way to the palace, and though you made sure to appreciate them you also made sure not to be late. Not that you actually had to check in or anything – just a personal preference.

It didn't take too long before the palace stood in front of you, the tall, stone walls leering over the city. The sight unsettled people sometimes (mostly foreigners), but you found it familiar over all else. Another soft smile crossed you – if you could find time to stop by the kitchens, you could get leftover bread and scraps for the birds, which always helped in their amiability with you.

You passed by several people in the halls, none of which you knew, though silent nods were usually exchanged. Politeness was key when dealing with royalty and nobles, and your fear of them helped to keep you in check. You would never be able to find it within yourself to disobey nor befriend royalty.

Fortunately, you did stop by the kitchens, and the servants working there bid you a cheery hello and pleasant good bye as you came and went, stuffing day-old bread in your bag.

Continuing on your way, you came to the large archway leading into your garden. Sunlight shone through it and onto the stone you stood upon, lighting up the intricate detailing of the carved arch, and the bits of metal in your sandals. Warmth rolled up your body, comforting your skin as you continued forward. The sun had always been your friend, and you hoped it would remain that way, as you always smiled when the sun touched your face.

Setting your bag down on the stone floor you snuck behind the bushes, pulling out the box of various tools you needed. Shovels both big and small, shears, bags of earth direct from the Nile's shores, such and such – you dug through for a moment before reaching the large, metal clippers. Holding it with both hands you smiled, satisfied with the size before you stood. The bushes needed trimming; you'd do that first, and once you finished with that, you could climb up into the trees and harvest the dates, and later the figs nabk berries.

In the meantime, you listened to the faraway music of the temples, carefully snipping away at the loose leaves and branches. Out of habit you looked up to the sky, watching for both birds and the prince. When you found neither of them you let out a dissatisfied mumble, returning to the task at hand with a tinge of disappointment.

By around noon you finished off the bushes, and you excitedly prepared for your next task of the day. It was a tad harder than your previous work, but more worth it, and certainly more enjoyable.

Grabbing a wicker basket you set it beneath the date tree, looking up so as to carefully measure where the dates would fall. Date trees were tall, tall enough to need either a ladder or a rope, neither of which you had. You contemplated your various options before deciding you could probably climb up the trunk. Whether or not that was safe you didn't know, but it wasn't particularly important anyway. Climbing trees was fun.

Your first attempt ended up with you flopping onto your back as you fell. It wasn't a very long fall considering you only made it two feet into the air, but it still knocked the air out of you, which was an unpleasant feeling all around. Trying again, you kept your hands tight around the wood, using your shoeless feet to get a better grip. With a little more flailing you made it to the top, wrapping your legs around the trunk and releasing your hands. You floated midair, and with a wide, triumphant grin you began to pick at the branches heavy with dates, letting them fall into the basket far below.

Through the tree branches movement caught your eye, pausing your hands as curiosity once more overcame you. High above you, the prince stood at his golden arches, and for a second the two of you made eye contact. Reaching your hand out wide, you waved at him. He laughed – at least that's what you thought he was doing, and he waved back. Your own bright grin crossed you, but before you could think of something to yell, he returned to the safety of his room. You tried not to let it disappoint you and returned to the dates.

A few minutes later and the heavier branches were lifted of the bulk of their fruits, making the brush of the leaves much lighter in the breeze that passed by. You climbed carefully to the floor, jumping off when you could, and looking over the collected dates. It was a good batch – clean, well shaped, with little to no bruises. You had a special talent when it came to that, which you liked to believe made you a better gardener.

Lifting up the heavy basket you took it to the waterside, kneeling on the ledge and dipping the basket in. The design of the flax allowed water to pass through, and as you soaked the fruit the bugs and dirt washed away, fluttering to the bottom of the clear pond. With a grunt you lifted it out, the remaining water draining till all that was left was clean dates. You took one – just to taste, and within the first bite you knew the trees were having a wonderful spring.

As you made your way to the arch, ready to take the basket to the kitchen, you were stopped by nearly walking head-on into a man entering the garden. You fumbled only a moment, your grip on the basket tightening so as to not accidentally drop it on both your and the stranger's feet.

"Oh goodness," you breathed out as you stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding collision.

"I'm sorry, I – I didn't see you, sorry," he stammered, holding his hands out in front of him defensively.

Looking up to his face, your breath stopped, eyes widening imperceptibly. Immediately you dropped the basket, kneeling before him in a bow that pressed your forehead against the stone floor.

"My prince," you said, your voice weak from nerves.

"Oh, there's no need for that," he said quickly, helping you back up to your feet while you stared in awe and confusion. "I'm the one that almost ran into you, after all. You're the gardener, right?"

You nodded, heart pounding against your ribs.

"I see you from my room, sometimes," he said, and right away you recalled crystal clear memories of seeing him far above you that dated back years.

"I think I waved to you," you said softly.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "you did. I just... I thought I should introduce myself. I think we've seen quite a lot of each other, but I still don't know your name."

"I am Nedjem," you introduced yourself with a shallow bow.

"Ahkmen," he said, offering you his hand. Gingerly you took it, shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry to leave so shortly, but I need to take these to the kitchens," you said as you knelt, ignoring how close you were previously standing before him in favor of lifting up the heavy basket. He scooted to the side to allow passage.

"Will you be back?"

"Of course, my prince," you said with another short bow, this time bidding him a short good-bye.

A shiver ran through you – both from your encounter and the sudden shade in the chilled walls of the palace. Passing by the paintings adorning the hallways, you noticed your hastened step with bashfulness, and the ceaselessly happy smile creeping upon you. You couldn't control it, so instead you kept your head up and waved to the couple people you passed by.

It wasn't a long trip to the kitchens, and though the chefs wanted to discuss something with you, you quickly excused yourself with the excuse that the prince was waiting for you. They shut up pretty well after that.

The prince was just as nice as you thought he would be, something even you could tell from your brief meeting. A giddiness ran through you – he was so polite, especially considering his other family members. You'd only met his brother once, but you preferred it that way, considering in that one meeting that lasted exactly four minutes, he managed to find seven different ways to insult you. A creative lad for sure, but not kind.

You reentered the garden with the large, empty basket at your hip. Humming quietly to yourself, you stowed it away with the other tools, not bothering to look back at the pond.

"Is this where you keep your tools?" The voice of the prince said behind you, and before you could help it you jumped, whirling around to face him with quickened breath. At your reaction his eyes widened, and he said, "I'm so sorry, that's twice now I've made you jump. Oh dear."

"No, it's my fault, I should've noticed you standing there," you said quickly, trying to get your breathing under control. The prince didn't make it any easier – he was practically standing chest to chest with you, and with you backed up against the thick brush, you couldn't move anywhere. You could feel your cheeks boiling with a vibrant blush.

"I'm still sorry," he said with a weak chuckle, taking a few steps back so you could leave your little hole behind the bushes. You nodded your head gratefully, but you couldn't hold that long of a conversation with him, even if you wanted to. After all, you were still at work, and the fig trees needed to be plucked and trimmed.

As you took one of the smaller baskets to the northern row of fig trees, the prince followed behind you, looking over your shoulder as you worked away. With your bare knees dug into the soft earth, you ducked beneath the tree branches and reached for the more invisible of the fruits. There had to be a few visible for the King to pick, should he come through, so you took up the tendency of taking the bare minimum. The King hadn't said anything, so you assumed it was fine.

"Can I make it up to you?" The prince said in that mellowed, honey voice that you doubted you'd ever grow used to.

"What do you mean?" You asked, reluctant to turn away from your task, as any eye contact you held with the prince had your heartbeat picking up and your palms sweating.

"I frightened you terribly. You could've dropped your basket. Both times, too," he added, drawing a soft laugh out of you. Shaking your head, you tried to think up a response as you debated whether or not you actually wanted to spend time with him. He was kind, but you couldn't trust yourself to keep calm.

"That's really not necessary," you said.

"I know," he said as he knelt down beside you, dirtying his golden robes. Before you could say anything, he added, "I just want to."

"I would love to, but I'm busy with the garden most days," you said with a sigh, your heart sinking ever so gently into a pit of regret for something you hadn't even decided not to do.

"What about tonight? I can take you down to the river, we can sail for a little while," he offered, and though your immediate reaction was to turn him down, you paused before speaking. You could certainly use more flora and such for the garden (it was a little sparse around the walls), and one of the best, cheapest places to get it was in the wild.

"Can I collect plants?" You asked quietly, almost embarrassed to bring it up. But he just smiled, warm and comforting, as though what you said was not only special but worth hearing.

"Of course. When do you finish off here? I can meet you then," he said, and you answered with your usual time, which was around sunset.

He bowed curtly before he left, a hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. You let out a heavy breath – he could be quite intense, but you looked forward to the day you could relax around him, should that day ever come. In the meantime you fantasized while you gardened, dreaming of picking figs beside him and wading in the shallow pools.

The sun set slow that afternoon, verging carefully into evening. You didn't notice, still caught up in your plants, and having yet to feed the geese circling the pond. The ibis hadn't come today, but you weren't worried – it could handle itself just fine. As for the domesticated ducks and turtles, not quite so much, and as one of the servants brought you a small basket of wide, crisps leaves, you thanked them with a short bow. They left quickly, and with that you turned to the animals gathered in the pond and on its' island.

Slipping off your sandals you kept the basket of leaves close to you, carefully readying yourself for dipping your feet into the water. It chilled against you, crawling slowly up your leg till you stood calf deep in the water, wading across the soft dirt floor towards the island. Several of the turtles looked up to you, but the rest didn't pay your presence any mind. Smiling softly, you pulled a few leaves out, holding them in your hand for the more hungry ones to bite into. The crisp of the leaf in a sharp beak snapped in the quiet air, bothered only by the soft giggles leaving you at the sight.

Ahkmen watched as the edge of your skirt dipped ever so slightly into the water, smiling to himself at your absolute concentration. He stood, leant against the arch while you hummed quietly, taking short pauses to speak to the many turtles now staring at you. It was a rather unfamiliar sight to him, but he still couldn't help the smile on his face.

"I've got to feed the others now," you told the turtles quietly, leaving the rest of the leaves on the center of the island before wading back to shore.

Setting down the now-empty basket, you reached for the bag of bread crumbs, only then catching Ahkmen out of the corner of your eye. You nearly jumped – again – but fortunately, you kept your composure this time.

"Do you often feed them?" He asked, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a lopsided smile.

"Feed them every day," you said with a nod. "They live here."

"Really? I thought they were wild," he said, stepping away from his place beneath the arch to join you at the side of the pond. Still dressed in his golden robes, though this time wearing neither his cape nor his crown, he sat down on the pond's ledge.

"Some of them are," you said, sprinkling crumbs over the water around the ducks, "but some understand the ease of life here a little better than others."

They began ducking their beaks underwater, fast movements allowing them to eat before it soaked too terribly. You watched with a distant smile, sprinkling more over as they ate quickly, the sound apparently amusing Ahkmen.

"Could I feed them?" He asked, his eye switching between the geese and you.

"Of course," you said, handing him the bag.

With a grin he grabbed a rather large handful, mimicking your sprinkling, but ultimately failing when a sizable chunk fell from his palm, sinking into the water. He frowned.

"Don't worry," you said, "they'll get it eventually. They always do."

The two of you stayed there a little while longer, you calf-deep in water, and Ahkmen sitting on the ledge, his skirt crumpled in his hands to avoid soaking it. As you fed the last bits of bread to the ducks, the sun fell behind the horizon. That familiar purple tinted the sky, making way for the first stars, and in the southern sky, the moon. Dusk settled itself upon the land, and with that you looked to Ahkmen who was already staring at you.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" He murmured, tracing his finger over the lily pads. You agreed with a hum. "Shall we go then?"

He stood before you answered, and wordlessly you followed him, wading carefully in the water before making it to the edge. Hauling yourself off, you wrung out the end of your skirt. You offered a small smile before taking your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before you left the garden, walking beside him like good friends. For a little while he led you through the palace corridors, into places you'd never been before and didn't really care to be. It didn't take too long, though – soon he was leading you down an outdoor path to a distant boathouse, sitting on the edge of the Nile with its' canoes brushing up against the dock in time with the gentle movement of the water.

The scent of the shore hit you all at once, enlivening your heart till you were practically giddy, your pace quickening to reach the river sooner. Beside you Ahkmen smiled at your excitement, fixing his steps to match yours.

"I don't get a lot of free time," you told him quietly, your eye never straying from the fertile shore. "My work takes a lot of... well, work."

"I feel the same way," he said with a chuckle, "with all the studies I've got to do."

"At least we have free time in the night," you said.

"Indeed. And I'm happy to spend it with you," he said, leaning forward to catch your reaction. He was quite a lot taller than you.

"You hardly know me," you mumbled as a blush began creeping up your cheeks.

"I know you care deeply about the earth. That tells me a lot about you already," he said.

"Like what?"

"You're kind and thoughtful," he said, pondering quietly for a moment before he continued. "You're also quite beautiful, though I didn't need to see your garden to know that."

You said nothing, instead staring at the ground while Ahkmen watched your growing blush with much interest. He had a soft blush of his own, invisible in the dark of night, and he preferred to keep it that way.

At last you stood beside the shore, following him into the boathouse where the skiffs were tied up. As he set about positioning oars and untying ropes, you sat on the end of one of the many wooden docks, your legs dangling off the edge, just barely skimming the surface of the water. Staring upwards, you watched the sky's movements in the approaching midnight. Soon it would become much harder to see, but you didn't mind all that much – night was a beautiful time to be alive, and the moon above would be able to mark the definitions of the plants along the Nile. You fidgeted thoughtlessly with the strings of your bag, only pulled away when Ahkmen tapped your shoulder.

"Ready?" He asked as you pulled yourself to your feet.

"Yes, my prince," you said with a smile.

"You don't need to call me that. Not when we're alone at least," he said, taking your hand and leading you to another dock, where a boat sat tethered by only one rope in a weak knot.

Helping you inside, he had you sit on the end before entering himself, untying the rope and taking an oar in hand.

"Do you want me to do that?" You asked, too aware of his royalty.

"Aren't I the one who invited you here?" He asked in reply, a questioning smirk on his face.

You huffed, but unfortunately couldn't stop your own smile from appearing. He clearly liked your compliance, though you felt nothing but restlessness as he rowed, taking the two of you far from the boathouse and the palace. Sighing, you tried to comfort yourself – the prince was perfectly safe, and you had nothing to worry about. The thought alone didn't rid you of your anxiousness, though blamed that chiefly on the way Ahkmen kept an expectant eye on you, smiling when you smiled and generally watching you with an innocent curiosity.

"By the way, if my father catches us, this trip is for your garden," he said, breaking the silence, followed by your laughter muffled by your hand.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said when you calmed down enough to form words.

He was beaming at your delight, his eyes shining even in the dim light of the moon. You hadn't taken the time to notice it before, but he had a childish curiosity for the world, something you often found in yourself as well. After all, you tended to the geese and turtles as though you could speak with them, a trait more commonly seen in children than adults.

The shore rolled slowly by, marked only by the soft sound of water rushing against Ahkmen's oar. Ripples ran from the droplets falling in by the oar, brushing against the fingers you dipped ever so slightly into the water, finding comfort in its' familiarity. There were no fish in the river, at least none you could see – it was a bit hard to look for fish at night.

When at last you found your search fruitless you turned back to the shore, feeling nothing but your heart beating harsher every second you spent with the Prince. Not out of any logical anxiety, of course; just the need to be seen as good, as worth his time.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught a flower resting in the water, the petals white and the center pink. Your eyes widened.

"Could we stop here for a moment?" You asked, your eye never leaving the flower.

Wordlessly he followed your request, guiding the boat to shore, where you immediately jumped out. Water splashed up your leg, a few drops reaching him. You didn't watch, caught up in the search, though you still heard Ahkmen's quiet chuckle.

In the garden you tended, the lillies were blue – blue lotus to be exact, and though they were beautiful, blue was the only color they showed. Maybe it was just that specific strand of flower, but excitement still filled you as you reached the white lilly resting on a wide, dark green pad. Pulling the small knife out of your bag, you dipped your hands into the water, running your knife across both the pad and the flower's stem till it broke, allowing you to pick the two up as one.

"You know, people come to our gardens, and they always marvel over our blue lilies," you said, wading the short way back to the boat, "but I always find white lilies to be more worth the time. They grow everywhere in the rest of the world, but so rarely do you find one here. I think it'll make a good addition to your garden."

"I've always thought of it as a bland color," he admitted, taking your hand and helping you back into the skiff.

"It's purity, and it is silence," you said softly, still admiring the flower, even as you took your seat back in the boat, dripping river water on the floor. "Think of alabaster, and clouds, and the reflection of the sun – white isn't bland. Not when you look closer."

"Maybe you're right," he sighed, taking the oars back in hand and rowing you away from shore.

"It's also good to have more than one type of lily. Makes sure the colors don't clash," you said, bringing a soft chuckle out of him.

"That too," he said.

You turned to the stars, looking up with a distant smile as you admired their light. They had patterns – looking close enough, you could find anything, just like in summer clouds. Lions, trees, chariots, and all of it hidden in the heavens. You sighed softly, filling yourself up with a calm you rarely found while in the presence of someone else.

"I feel as though I already know you," he said, drawing your attention away from the light of the stars and to his light.

"How so?"

"Well, I... um, I've actually watched you for a while, from my room," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I hope that doesn't make you think any less of me. I just... you're very nice to watch."

Despite him initiating the conversation, he wouldn't make eye contact with you, intent to concentrate on the oar that really didn't require all that much concentration. Reaching forward you stilled his hand, allowing the boat to come to a stop in the river as he looked to you.

"I already kind of knew that," you admitted. The two of you had made eye contact enough throughout the years for you to realize a pattern.

"Really?" He asked, a blush burning onto his cheeks as he gripped the oar tight, letting his knuckles turn white.

"I don't mind," you said softly, smiling gently as he met your eye. It brought a small comfort to him.

"It wouldn't've happened if I were allowed to leave the palace, mind you. I just... it gets terribly lonely, sometimes. I know I have to complete my studies since one day I might rule this land in my father's stead, but I am still young," he said, spilling out information you hadn't expected to hear anytime in the next month. You took a moment to contemplate your response.

"At least you're aware of it. Better than ignorance or anything of that like," you said.

"You're a very kind person, aren't you?" He asked, tilting his head slightly to the left.

"I don't think that's for me to decide, but thank you anyway," you said with a soft giggle, making him grin as well, dimples creasing into his blushing cheeks.

"I enjoy your company a lot more than I thought I would, and to be fair, I already thought I'd enjoy your company quite a lot," he admitted, making you laugh. Immediately you covered your mouth with your hand, unable to stop the giggling falling from you. His smile only grew.

"I enjoy your company quite a lot, too," you said in a posh voice.

He let his head hang from his shoulders as silent laughs shook his body. Delight filled you – from his smile, from your own comfort, from the gentle current of the river, from your flower, and ultimately just from him. You were expecting a polite man. Not a warm one, but the surprise was one you welcomed with open arms.

As you headed back up the Nile in search of the city, you watched the shore carefully for any other flowers. You didn't end up finding any more, but you did pause for a few fern leaves, and the root of a vine whose leaves splayed wide. Watching the water pass by, you leaned against the edge of the boat, your chin supported by your palm, watching the shadow of your reflection beneath you. She smiled, and your lips quirked up just slightly.

Soon the bottom of the river could be seen, making you raise your head away from the water and towards the prince. The boathouse sat ahead of you, and as Ahkmen rowed you back, you took the little time left to watch the muscles on his back move with every stroke of the oar. You hadn't noticed before, but he was actually rather muscular. Just another thing you realized about him that night along with a dozen other things.

He gently maneuvered the skiff back into its' place at the dock, tying up the rope on his end before tossing his oar onto the dock. Placing his hands on the wood he lifted himself out, tying the other end before lending you his hand, helping you out. You murmured a soft thank you, following behind him as he put away the oar.

"We can do this again, if you like," he offered quietly as the two of you headed back towards the palace. "Or we don't have to. Up to you."

"I'd like to," you said, "if only to get more seeds."

He grinned, shaking his head.

"Shall I find you at dusk again?"

"That sounds nice."

When I hear your voice, it's pomegranate wine

I live to hear it

And if I look at you, at each look,

it is purer than any honey or beer.

True to his word, he did take you on more short excursions, though he called them expeditions, something that always made you chuckle. Maybe it was just because you were bashful around him, but no matter the reason you both enjoyed calling them that. Expeditions or adventures – you still found yourself enjoying them, even if you took the same path through the Nile every time.

At sunset he appeared in the threshold of your garden, watching you silently as he always did. Sometimes you spied him out of the corner of your eye, but most times you didn't, leading to you jumping when he made a sound. The other times that you did see him you let him stand there, feeling the heat of his gaze on your back.

What exactly he was doing you didn't know, but you didn't mind all that much, as he'd never shown any cruelty to you. It was a polar opposite to his brother – at least, in your interactions with the two princes. Kahmuh didn't talk to you nearly as much as Ahkmen did, and you preferred to keep it that way.

"How's the garden today?" He asked, making you twist around to him. The moment you saw him a bright smile lit up your face, now an instinct whenever you met his eye.

"Doing quite well. I need to feed the geese less, though," you noted as you stood from your seat beside the pool, your feet dipped in the water.

"Why? Growing too domesticated?"

"No, just too fat," you said, pulling a laugh from the prince.

As you stepped out of the pond, the geese tried to follow you, honking at you demandingly. You turned around, scolding them quietly before you hurried over to Ahkmen.

"My prince," you greeted him with a bow of your head, a habit you made sure to keep. Just in case. He didn't like it, which was obvious from his knitted brow, but he would have to learn to like it.

"Want to go out on the river again?" He asked, mostly ignoring your greeting.

"Of course."

And you found yourself out on the water for the umpteenth time, staring at the same stars, watching the same shore pass you by, and yet every time you joined him it felt new. Just like the first time you watched the shore carefully, scanning for any flora you could add to the garden. You paused only to look to the sky, charting the stars with your imagination, drawing lines across the heavens to form the earth in the sky.

"I've finally started taking astronomy lessons," he said, his voice airy as he, too, looked up to the stars. "I've always loved the stars, but... never got around to learning much about them till now."

"Is it a difficult subject?" You asked, leaning forward.

"Not yet," he said with a chuckle, making you smile.

With the skiff resting the middle of the river, he set down the oar, moving to sit beside you. He took your hand and pressed your cheek against his, matching your eyes together as he pointed upwards.

"Up there," he said, "you can see Hathor's constellation, right by the brightest star."

"Oh, yeah," you mumbled, watching where he pointed and drew out the sacred cow.

"Over here is an eagle. The tail runs pretty far, but it connects through the southern star," he said, and in your concentration you almost forgot about his touch against yours, curling around your fingertips and pressed against your blushing cheek.

"It's beautiful," you murmured thoughtlessly, not even noticing when his finger dropped down, landing on your intertwined hands. He hummed in agreement, keeping at your side.

Only when silence encompassed you did you pay attention to his closeness, an anxious warmth crowding out your thoughts as he breathed against you. You could so easily rest your head on his shoulder, or stroke your fingers across his forearm, or kiss his cheek – you didn't do any of those things. Instead you enjoyed the softness of his hand while you could, letting your imagination run free as you stared up at the patterns of the stars.

You almost drifted off, almost – one moment you were almost leaning into him, your eyes just barely closing, and the next he once more stood on the other end of the boat, the long oar in his hand. He was humming, quietly enough that you had to strain to hear. As the seconds rolled by you stared back up at the stars, memorizing his thoughtless hum and teaching each note to the distant lights above you.

Upon your return to land your feet grew shaky, too used to being in the gentle rock of the tide. Like all the other times he offered you his hand, and you took it, lifting yourself out of the boat and pressing your side against his for support. He didn't seem to mind, so you stayed right where you were. With your heart thumping so harsh you were worried he could feel it, the two of you left the boathouse, heading up the path back to the palace.

"Have you got anywhere to be in the morning?" He asked.

"No," you answered.

"I'll walk you home, then," he said with a soft smile, and you looked at your feet, ashamed of the blush that so easily overtook you. "I haven't anywhere to be tonight or tomorrow."

"Is that rare for you?" You asked quietly, your shoulder bumping against his arm as you walked.

"Let's just say it doesn't happen often," he said, making you chuckle.

Soon you found yourself at the fork of the path, the well-trodden one leading to the palace, and the overgrown path leading into the city. He took you that way, adopting a slow stroll that you didn't mind in the least. Even if you did get subpar sleep, it would be worth it to spend more time with him, listening to crickets and the distant sound of music. Like most summer evenings, the city was alight with the life of several different parties. The scent of alcohol grew thick in the air, and the shouts of patrons louder, marking where solitude ended and unease began. The prince didn't seem to mind it, but he noticed your discomfort, and in a motion both exciting and familiar, he held your hand in his.

Behold, if I pass before him,

I shall tell him of my turnings;

Behold, I am yours, I shall say to him

And he will boast of my name.

On a late summer morning, you awoke before the sun, bringing yourself to life with a heavy sigh. The blankets across your body draped as you sat up, already awake from the rather disturbing dream you'd had. With the thought of sleep eradicated from your head, you stood, dressed yourself, and left your home without word or breakfast. You regretted the decision about five minutes into the walk to the palace, as you stomach began to grumble uncomfortably. Instead of stopping by anywhere, you thought of your Chinese flower, and how beautiful it would be to see it in the total dark of the hours before dawn. Surely it would be a marvel – and that was what led you away from your comfy bed and fresh food.

Slowly you climbed the steps of the palace, keeping quiet footsteps to keep the peace. Two soldiers were always stationed at each end of the staircase, and though you'd never said hello to any of them, you did wave, which earned you an odd look and confused wave in return. You almost stopped to laugh and initiate and genuine conversation, but the pull of your flower was strong enough to hurry your footsteps towards the garden.

As you reached the open hallway leading into the garden, you paused, already hearing a voice from inside. Silently you approached the arch, hiding behind the wall as you peeked inside.

Ahkmen sat on the pond's ledge, wearing naught but a loosely tied skirt that tugged down with every movement he made. For a moment you lingered on the soft skin of his waist, but your thoughts were torn from there when he spoke, and with one glance you found him talking to Nuru. She didn't look like she minded, but it was hard to pinpoint the emotions of a goose.

"You see Nedjem a lot," he said, his right hand curled around the fabric of his skirt, and the left petting Nuru's wing feathers. "Do you think they like poetry?"

You perked up slightly, though kept in mind it'd be best not to be seen.

"I hope they do," he hummed, a gentle smile on his face as the goose burrowed her neck into her fat body. You really needed to stop feeding them so much. "Lately I've written so much. Mostly on pottery shards, but still... maybe you'll have an opinion on them?"

He proceeded to dig into the small pocket sewn to the side of his skirt, shuffling around before pulling his hand back out, opening it to reveal shard upon shard of limestone. Your heart began to race, your grip on the marble arch tightening.

"I'm not a poet, mind you," he added, talking to the goose as though she were a person. "I can barely write. But..." he trailed off, sorting mindlessly through the collection before pulling one out, holding it up to read.

"Oh to be the artist – able to stare at you for as long as I please. To be the writer, capturing your essence, the sweet melody in your laugh. Oh, to be the musician, mimicking that melody, serenading you with the kindest words and softest tone, to be an artist – what an endearing form of love. How wonderful it must be to be an artist in love. Um..." he stuffed it back in his pocket, picking a new one. "When I touch you, I am love incarnate. I have found a home in the touch of your hand against mine. That one's... quite a bit shorter. Probably won't use that one. Oh, I shouldn't be too straightforward with it, either."

You almost giggled – you didn't, fortunately, managing to cover your mouth with your hand before any sound escaped. But the sight was so sweet, so endearing you could almost imagine him saying those things to you, looking you in the eye, and running his thumb across the curve of your lips. A lump grew in your throat, hurrying your breath as you watched him continue.

"There's only one more that's worth mentioning," he said, although there were a great deal many more shards than the last one he pulled. "I want to love you in so many ways. I want to love you as a servant, as a master, I would love you as a king and I would love you as a farmer. As long as it's you, I could be anything if I still loved you."

"That's a pretty poem," you finally said, leant against the arch and surprising him just like he'd done to you months ago. He immediately looked up, his expression softening when he recognized you.

"Nedjem," he said with a smile, a tinge of relief evident in his eye. "Gods, I thought you were my brother."

"Fortunately no," you said, walking to join him at the side of the pond.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well for one, this is where I work," you said, making both of you laugh. "Who are you writing these poems for?"

He stared at you a moment before answering, "someone very special."

"I'm sure she's quite happy to have your companionship, then," you said, ignoring your own feelings on the matter, as anything detrimental you could say would only worsen your own heart's decay. "And I do like poetry. You can show me them, if you'd like."

"I -"

"Ahkmen!" Came a voice from the hallway, shouting with terror-laced words. "There's a fire in the kitchen!!"

"Again?" He groaned quietly, moving to his feet and running towards the hall. "I'll be back in a moment," he promised you before he left, disappearing behind a corner.

You almost smiled, but instead you turned to Nuru, who was still mostly asleep.

"He's a nice man, isn't he?" You said.

I hear thy voice, O turtle dove-

The dawn is all aglow

Weary am I with love, with love, Oh whither shall I go?

The edge of the sun touched the horizon, casting a hazy, golden glow across the land. Your skin tingled beneath its' touch, warm and familiar as you sat on the docks of the boathouse. Ahkmen was God knows where – you hadn't seen him after the fire incident, and assumed he was busy with princely duties. He had a fair amount of those. You, on the other hand, had spent the last few days fixing up the array of new plants near the garden walls.

"He likes poetry," you murmured aloud to yourself, your concentration on the setting sun and its' peach clouds wavering as you thought on the prince.

He hadn't ever mentioned that about himself before, but it was obvious he enjoyed it quite a lot, and as you thought of his poetry in crystal clear memory, you wondered if perhaps you could write your own poetry. Of course, it wouldn't be written down – you didn't have any papyrus or clay, and you didn't even know how to write. No, you'd have to memorize the words you pieced together, and you imagined yourself serenading him as you closed your eyes, letting your feet drop into the river water below.

You thought and thought, racking your brain for ideas or clues as to what you could do. Compare his beauty to a rose – a tad too feminine, but you hadn't any idea what else to call him. He was sweet; like a rose, and his skin soft, like the red velvet petals. His humor was the scent of a rose's nectar that delighted the bees so, and when you caught him brandishing a spear in a spar against his teacher, he was the thorns of a dark green stem. His life was the roots and you were the water, happy to be something within him, be it a thought or a melody – and he kept you close, safe, like the leaves of a rose bush and the spike of thorns protected every wonderful thing that coexists to form pure life.

You closed your eyes and breathed. You would remember; you had to. Hopefully it would stay in your mind for a good long while, as you had no idea when you would see him next, much less be able to actually speak to him in that manner. It was rather daring, though – a lowly worker infatuated with a prince locked up in a high tower. A reverse fairy tale, and as you opened your eyes to see the quiet ripples of the water, you thought of nothing but him and the stars he drew in your eyes.

Slowly the sun set low, dying once more as the moon took its' place in the sky above you. Looking up, you found the moon as a sliver, smiling in the dark. A cool wind settled over you, making you curl up to avoid the chill. Another deep breath and you turned to the water, watching the reflection of the sky dance, rippling with every slight movement.

Hours passed by and you stayed right there, memorizing your image of him, trying to imprint it in your memory. It would have to be perfect; he deserved no less, especially from someone so low as you. Neither of you had remarked much on your class difference, but every now and then it did bother you – you'd be less than human if it didn't. Sometimes class didn't matter, but sometimes it did, and that but had you gripping the wood of the dock tight. He was a kind man, of voice, touch, and words, and you had no doubt he could love someone beneath him. Whether he could love you was something else entirely.

Soon the darkest hours of night overtook you, and in the dim glow of the moon you could hardly see your hands, only feeling the way you drew your fingers up your thigh to rest in your lap. The silence that surrounded you was broken only by the roll of the river against the wooden dock, a few of the boats clanking against each other. You breathed deep, relaxing in the familiar scent of the Nile, comforted by the breeze and the dissipation of every physical thing. Nothing but pitch black – it might as well have been a new moon, as the distant shore melded into the faraway mountains without hesitation.

A hand touched your shoulder and you jumped, feeling the fingers run a line down your upper arm before stopping and disappearing. You looked up, finding nothing but darkness, yet as the figure sat beside you, you could hear the even breaths and the creak of the wood beneath them.

"What are you doing here so late?" Ahkmen asked softly, worry evident in his tone.

"I needed some time to think," you answered honestly. "There's a lot on my mind as of late."

"Would you like to talk about it?" He said after a moment to let your words rest in the space between you.

"Not really," you said with a smile he couldn't see.

The two of you sat there for a couple minutes, your shoulder brushed against his, his thigh against yours, and the chill wind keeping you close to one another.

"I wrote something for you," you finally said, breaking away from the thought of holding it back. What was the use of memorizing if you weren't going to tell him? Besides, you were alone – just you, and just him.

"Really?" He said, sounding surprised.

"I didn't actually write it down. I just put together some words," you said, smiling when he chuckled. You were looking directly at him and you still couldn't see him, but your head replayed every time you saw him grin.

"How does it go?"

"I want you to close your eyes," you murmured, moving to cup your hand over his jawline, running your thumb over his now-closed eyes. "Imagine the garden. My garden." Your heart raced when you felt his breath on your skin.

Once assured he followed your command, you began your recitation, digging your nails into your palm to avoid slipping up.

"I am yours like this garden," you said, keeping your voice soft either out of love or fear. "Planted with flowers, and fragrant herbs. Its canal is pleasant –– dug by your hand, cooled by the north wind. A lovely place to wander hand in hand; my body satisfied, my heart rejoicing, walking together. When I hear your voice, it's pomegranate wine –– I live to hear it, and if I look at you, at each look, it is purer than any honey or beer."

He didn't speak, but he remained in your touch, melting into the way you caressed his cheek. Raising his hand ever so gently, he set his own hand on yours, pulling it away just enough for him to kiss your palm, just enough to send you into a blazing blush.

"You remind me of the moon flower," you mumbled, barely able to get the words out without stuttering.

"A moon flower?" He asked curiously.

"I keep it in the garden," you said as your hand fell back to your lap. "Would you like to see?"

"Of course," he said, and the two of you stood, taking that familiar path back to the palace.

Gravel crinkled beneath your sandals, and birds circled overhead, but none of that fully processed with him so close to you.

"That was a beautiful poem, by the way," he told you in a murmur, almost reluctant to compliment.

"Thank you," you said, a small smile spreading across your face. "I suppose you inspired me a little this morning. I've never heard poetry before."

"Really? I've heard it quite a lot," he said.

"That's probably because you can afford it," you said, and the both of you laughed, leaning imperceptibly closer together.

He snuck you into the palace, and in return you snuck him into the garden, taking his hand and leading him onto the sandstone path. With a distant torch lighting the outside hallway, you could see the shapes of the garden trees and the walls. Ahkmen, ever so helpful, pulled a rushlight from his pocket, lighting it to reveal the closed lilies and, in the corner, the blooming petals of the Chinese flower. Once more you took his hand, leading him to kneel before it.

The white color that previously coated it was replaced with a vibrant pink, a color you were sure you hadn't ever seen before. If you had, it certainly wasn't as vibrant, and it didn't have you quite as awestruck as the flower did. The stem reached your shoulder when you knelt, covered in tiny petals, each belonging to its own blooming flower, ruffling in the slow breeze.

"I got it from a trader in the markets at Tanis," you told him quietly, careful not to break the trance of its' beauty. Turning to him, you saw his amazed face lit by the flickering rushlight, glowing in the dim of the garden.

"Where's it from?" He asked, his lips still parted in curiosity.

"She said it was from China. I'm not sure where that is, but she told me it's far in the east," you said, watching his expression carefully. The curve of his nose, the crinkles around his eyes, the slightest dimple from his smile filled with wonderment.

"I... I want to show you something, too," he offered quietly, as though you could ever say no.

"As long as it isn't too far away. Dawn will come soon," you said, noting the slightest variation in the pitch black sky.

"I don't care about dawn," he admitted as he took your hand. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course, my prince."

He pulled you to your feet, leading you away from the garden and into the palace. You turned down twists, letting him take you up staircases and through empty rooms. For a moment you thought to ask him as to his destination, but as you watched his delight in your curiosity, you let it be. You'd find out soon enough anyway – the palace wasn't outrageously large, though you'd bet without a guide it was easy to get lost. Fortunately, you had him, and he never let go of your hand.

Through hallways painted from top to bottom, through unused servant's quarters and empty storage rooms, and at the end of it all a large, wooden door in an unassuming hallway.

"My parents moved me here after Kahmuh started fighting with me," he told you, looking up at the bolted door. "I used to live in a much more occupied hallway, but I like the solitude. It's nice to hear the quiet."

You agreed but said nothing, letting his touch drop from yours as he worked with the bolt, eventually unlocking it with a heavy click. The doors slowly rolled open, aided by his hand till the whole of his room stood before you. In the center, pressed against the far wall was his bed, a silk canopy hanging above it. To the left his desk, and against the nearest wall a bookcase. At last your eyes wandered to the right of his room, finding the arches you saw so often from below, the open alabaster viewing the whole of Memphis.

When you didn't move forward he intertwined his fingers in yours, pulling you gently closer till he closed the door behind the both of you.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" He said, noticing your stare past the arches and into the city. "On festival nights the buildings light up like fireflies. So many people, all with their own thoughts and agenda, and all so small from here. Doesn't stop the city from reeking of alcohol, though."

You giggled, pushing him away as a dopey grin overtook him. While he went to light the torches hanging off the wall, you made your way to the arches, sitting on the cold floor and letting your legs dangle in mid air. His room had to be five or six stories above the ground, and as you looked down an anxious shiver ran through your body. Your legs and arms tingled, excited and fearful of the garden fall below you. Soon he joined you, letting his legs dangle beside yours, placing his hand right next to yours, where his pinkie could touch yours in a hesitant grace.

"You can see the Nile from here too. Fleets of ships, their banners covered in vibrant colors right next to the boats of fishers, whose boats carry no sail at all," he said, pointing into the distance where you could just barely make out the river. "It gets incredibly crowded sometimes."

"I see where you get your poetry inspiration from," you murmured, your eyes still stuck on the sight before you.

"That's not where I get it from," he said, and you turned to him with a confused expression, wondering why he was smiling and wondering where he was going when he stood.

Looking down, you picked at the dust on the floor, fidgeting with your nails as you turned back to the city. There were no celebrations or festivals, but still there were lights scattered across the many houses. If you keened hard you could hear the laughter of dinner parties and the music of dances.

Soft, calming notes came from behind you, struck on a harp. Turning around, you found Ahkmen sitting on a blanket, his legs crossed and a harp against his chest, plucking the strings with careful, gentle fingers. You didn't move – you couldn't, caught up in his focused expression, unable to tear yourself from his melody for even a moment.

"I'm not very good at harp," he paused to tell you, allowing you to break from concentration and make your way over to him. "I had to teach myself, and I'm not a very good teacher."

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand as you did so.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" You asked quietly, tilting your head.

"I... well.. yes, I'm... I'm just nervous, I'm sorry. I've never played in front of anyone, and I know you like harp. That's sort of why I, um, picked it up," he admitted abashedly, hiding his face from your eye.

"When did you learn that?"

"On one of our expeditions on the river," he said, his lip quirking up into a half-smile. "You were half asleep at the time. I don't expect you to remember it."

"I don't," you said, pleasantly surprised that he would remember that.

"The point is, I've been trying to get better. I practiced a lot, so hopefully I don't.. slip up," he said as he reached beneath a nearby pile of blankets, pulling out a roll of papyrus which he set in front of him.

You watched in curiosity as he cleared his throat, cheeks blushing despite the fact he hadn't even started. First he poised his fingers above the strings, then, after double checking the papyrus, he began. A sweet melody in major, simple to remember, and easy on the heart.

He cleared his throat again before he opened his mouth, a song falling from his lips. In that moment everything in your body stopped – you hadn't expected him to be a good singer. Hell, you hadn't expected him to actually be able to even play the harp, but here you were, being serenaded by your prince, comforted by his words and his simple presence.

"I love you, O still heart," he sang, "I stand alongside your image. Rejoice in sacredness, strong of voice – you are everything, perfect and pure, you are the earth and you are the sky. The ways I have hidden myself in you; My soul, My throne, O still heart, is yours."

When he finished you finally breathed again, your chest blooming a warmth you hadn't ever felt before. There were moments that could be considered similar, but when he looked up at you, uncertainty lacing his expectant eyes, nothing could compare.

You leaned forward, and wordlessly you pressed your lips up against his, kissing him sweetly in a moment he happily reciprocated. Comfort in his presence, happiness in his word, and it was home in his touch.

My hand in your hand

I walk with you

in all the beautiful places.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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kimaamaya · 4 years ago

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Guess who drew Yuki! Again! Spoilers, it’s me :( But this time in an outfit I made in Love Nikki to shake things up :)

I also tried using the mechanical pencil brush in Ibis Paint to color and it looks… OK? I guess? It isn’t horrible so that’s good

Also, this may be the last time you see this style. I changed my art a bit so I might draw like that from now on if I decide I like it ;)

The other day my earring fell out. I found the stud but I have no clue where the back went. My mom gave me another one and I spent 5 minutes trying to get it on, which I assumed was because I’ve never put them on myself, but turns out it didn’t even fit >:/

Thank god I was playing with my cat because I probably wouldn’t have noticed it was gone until I looked in a mirror. Which uh, when you’ve worn earrings everyday for years it looks really weird to see them gone.

Last night I played Project Diva. Apparently I haven’t played X since August 2019? It doesn’t feel that long ago. I got a huge wave of nostalgia from it, especially while playing Even a Kunoichi Needs Love :’D

I’m scared while typing this my playlist shuffled to SLoWMoTIoN-

The outfit I drew:

#a3!#a3! yuki #yuki rurikawa #rurikawa yuki #a3! fanart #my art #myart #fanart #a3! game #a3! actor training game #a3! act! addict! actors!#matte matte saiteitai de matte matte saite itai ya #Kima’s song recommendation of the day is Arisama by Chinozo #It’s a major bop #Can I tag this with Love Nikki? Probably not

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scripted-dalliances · 6 years ago

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Rest In Peace: Chapter Sixteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 16

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

A/N: I feel like I need to make a note of why I use Anubis rather than Jacquel. It’s mostly because Laura’s first intro to him is in death, where I feel he is more “Anubis than Jacquel” and same with Ibis, as meeting him in the funeral home.

+ I also want to explain of where Isis and Laura are by the end of this, if any of you have read the book, you’ll recall Shadow hanging out “behind the curtains” -where he eats and drinks, and generally has a rad time without Odin. This is what I sort of imagine the after life of the Egyptian gods is.

“Stories,' the green-eyed Sigrid said, unperturbed, 'are like prayers. It does not matter when you begin, or when you end, only that you bend a knee and say the words.” -Catherynne M. Valente

In the new room, Nephthys is a welcomed old face, one that Laura finds herself needing as Anubis coldly directs her remove her clothes and get up on the table. He is all business, as he moves around the room, while the two women talk.

“You knew your sister couldn't bring me back to life.” Laura says, kicking off her shoes and socks. Nephthys bends to pick them up, “You could have said.”

“I said she wanted to help, and she is.” The goddess replies, helping Laura to remove her shirt, jeans and everything else. Folds them as if precious and sets them aside. “We all will. It feels...”

“Good.” Anubis finishes, coming up behind them. An old set of tools in a thick leather case in his hands. Old enough that Laura thinks they should be a in a museum. “To work together as a family, to all play our part in a new story. We have not been afforded much of those roles.”

Laura doesn't really know what he means by that. So she simply gets up on the table and attempts to relax. The room is just a sterile as the funeral home, but far less homey. Her eyes struggle to take in everything, and not feel like the corpse she clearly is, but eventually the duo start working and she finds herself more entranced by the two working around each other.

Before, Ibis had helped, but even his presence had been off kilter in the sense that he mostly stood to the side, filling her head with false incentives.

Ibis had been commentary from the peanut gallery who kept her distracted. For what end, Laura doesn’t know, but at least here she knows that is not the case. Nephthys is a stark difference, as she takes one side of Laura while Anubis takes the other. Letting silence fall over them like a blanket, only occasionally broken by one needing a new tool.

Together, they work about her. Cleaning and fixing her broken and rotting body. Anubis undoes the stitching on her arms, belly and chest. Takes the miles of blackened thread and throws it away.

For each one he undoes on her, Nephthys slides her hands beneath the opened skin and gently performs her funeral rites. Taking time to remove the parasites and rot that infect Laura's bones and flesh. Normally the body would be fresher, the organs completely removed but this is different. The end they prepare her for isn't the customary type.

When all is done, Nephthys sews her up with gold thread, heavy but so fine and thin that it reminds Laura of a spider's silk. How she manages to keep it wrapped around a needle is magic in itself.

They each take the time to scrub away the dirt and grim from her skin, from under her nails and brush her thick matted hair until its glossy. It makes Laura feel like a little girl again, letting herself be taken care of.

For a long time the duo works in silence, before Laura finds herself breaking it.

“Does she know?” Laura questions. The two gods stop and look at her, “That I tried to rob her? The casino.”

Anubis goes back to his work, but Nephthys stops and peers down into Laura's eyes.

“She does. Though for what it is worth, you did not physical do so, nor did you succeed. My sister does not hold this against you, she has always been very good at seeing past crimes to the person behind them. She knows why you tried.”

Anubis shifts awkwardly, and after a long moment, speaks too. Voice softer than Laura expects as he fixes her nails.

“Once upon a time, Isis had a brother. Set was messy, chaotic and ambitious to the point of ruin.” Anubis looks at Laura pointedly, “He was also a loud mouth who never learned.” He says this in a tone as if he is talking about her. “-but no matter what he did, she still called him brother.”

“So, you're saying she is helping me because I remind her of her brother?”

“No. I am saying she heart big enough to forgive even the worst crimes.” At this, Laura glares and he mirrors the expression. “Do not make that face, it might stay like that. Rigor mortis is a thing you know.”

“What he is trying to say, very badly, is that she loved her brother. Always.” Nephthys runs her nails through Laura's hair. Fixing it to perfection. “In the grand scheme of things, Odin stole something far more precious from us. He did it with the selfish design for himself, right in our town, to one we considered ours. No offense, but comparatively, your crimes are of a child stealing a cookie before dinner. We might use money to garner attention, but we are not attached to it, not like mortals are.”

“Thanks.” Laura replies glibly.

Nephthys catches her tone, “What did you expect? To be punished indefinitely for such a soft crime?”

“Shadow did time for that soft crime, I made the biggest mistake of life after it. Everything even slightly good in my life went to shit after I tried to rob this place…so yeah. Maybe I was thinking it was borderline divine punishment.”

Nephthys glances at Anubis, whose gaze is fixed on the glue he is using on Laura's nails. Determining that he is distracted, she leans down to whispers mischievously in Laura's ear.

“Want to know another secret?”

“Always.”

“Those scales, the ones you are so scared of? Don't weigh crimes like you think. It weighs your heart, and that is a very complicated thing. It holds all your secrets. Every lie. Every truth. All the little dirty details, all the moments you felt light and loved.” She rests her weight on her arms to better peer into Laura's eyes. “All the times you felt alone and hurt and didn't say a word. Your heart has taken those seeds of pain, sowed it within and kept them.”

“This doesn't sound like a secret.”

“The secret, impatient one, is that it takes a great deal of sin and malice to tip those ugly scales. Guilt makes a heart heavy, but the worst ones are the hearts that feel no guilt at all for the terrible things they’ve done.” She reveals, “Only you can know the truth of your heart without those scales, and it is no secret that you judge yours too harshly.”

There is a knock at the door. Disallowing Laura any chance to comment on the state of her heart.

It was time.

“We'll have to take it out. The coin.” Isis told her, watching Laura come before her. They are back in the grand marble ballroom, alone. Above their heads, the night is black, without even the smallest star. Looking up at it, Laura feels as they've left Earth, like they are alone on another planet.

“I will be dead if you do. Seems a bit of a step back.”

Isis takes her hands and drags her to the center of the room. The white dress Nephthys had dressed her in was glowing in the darkness of the starless sky. There, at their bare feet is a pale gold dish, with just a hint of water nestled in the bottom. It takes Laura a second to register that it was moving. Soft, gentle waves so small a raindrop would disturb it. The mock ocean in the pan kept her attention until Isis gripped her hand hard in her own.

“The water will carry your spirit out of this body, and you will be put in a sort of...spiritual body. It will hurt. Forming a spiritual form is easier than bringing you back from the dead, but I can not promise it will not hurt. The stronger the spirit, the harder it is to pull it away.” Isis tells her, rolling her shoulders and closing her eyes. “Now, close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you. Clear your mind and think of what makes you want to breath again.”

Laura was in process of closing eyes, but suddenly finds herself glaring.

“Low blow. We both know I don't.”

Isis tilts her head, purses her lips and mockingly replies, “Oh? Really? Nothing comes to mind?”

Laura wants to tell her, no. She really fucking doesn't. She's a dead woman, with an ex-husband with no money, no job and smells like rotted pork chops. She wants to tell Isis that she's got nothing but her own selfish desires at this point, to want to feel whole and warm again.

-but then she thinks of Mad Sweeney's massive warm hands on her hips, lifting her like a precious bubble of spun sugar. Making her feel not a beat of a heart, but a gust that swelled her lungs. How she inhaled and exhaled in the aftermath.

-but then she recalls of touching him as he slept, when he shined so softly she could almost taste the light on her tongue. Making her blood boil and coat the very inside of her veins with liquid sunlight; the soft, perfect Sunday morning kind, where you felt like it was wrapped around your whole body. How she had nearly kissed him out of desire.

-but then she recalls his angry rant, of him telling her she has him. His luck, his heart and faith. How he had said with such fury, such hate, that it was just enough to make his confession honest. How he told her in not so many words he loved her, spitefully and painfully, and she believed him.

“Oh fuck.” Laura whispers to herself, shutting her eyes in pain as she becomes more and more aware of revelations. Of herself; when had she stopped wanting to slit his throat every time he spoke? When did she start smiling at his stupid insults? Before their deal? Before she slayed Odin to save him?

Of him; His antics, he soft tones and side glances. How he complained and bitched, dragged his feet, but never once lead her astray. Never tricked her or mentally fucked with her until she thought she was better off dead.

Oh, he repeated himself almost daily on why she should leave Shadow, to give up on that dream, darlin' cus it's deader than you. He told her many times to give up her old life, her husband and the dumb mission to save him. She had his coin, yes, but it was clear if he only waited another week or two, she would have rotted to pieces just like he warned.

Instead, he continued to try. One dark car trip after another.

All awhile, shedding coins of knowledge before her. Secrets of himself, of her and what was to come. He didn't have to do that, he could have lied. Could have tricked her from the start, and she wouldn't have known until it was too late.

She had already lost the coin once, and it was in his hands, and yet he still reached into her filthy corpse and put it back.

Like she deserved another chance, like he wanted her to have her vengeance and come out on top of this whole damn war. To get not just her life back, but to teach these new gods a lesson only a sacrifice could.

Because for whatever reason, he believed she deserved it, and so she did.

Water crashes against her feet, enough to make her cry out.

The water is warm, and rises quickly. The only reason that she does not move or kick away is because Isis still has not let go. Even when the water floods around her, hitting her ankles, knees and hips within seconds. Try as she might to ignore the sensation and keep her eyes closed, it was a struggle.

Mind on high a alert and wariness growing. She wanted to know what the fuck was happening, because how could there be ocean tides in this room, how could it feel like nothing was below them, how could it not drown them in seconds?

The water covers her head, and she chokes.

It's a violent sudden awareness that has her body clenching forward on instinct. Pitching her out of Isis's grip but into her arms. Beneath the water, they sink together, with Isis's strong grip holding on to Laura's shuddering body. As it rocked, twisted and shook.

As it splinted apart.

Laura’s mind races, trying to understand the reaction at all, she doesn’t need air, she has drowned before. Under Mad Sweeney’s furious grip at that, but this feels different. Less like drowning and more like splintering. More like the water was filling her body and pushing her out.

This was her spirit forced to leave a shell it didn't want to let go of.

The pressure builds and builds until finally, it happens.

She breaks.

Her lungs popped first, her spine bent unnaturally in agreement. She became a doll with cut strings in Isis’s hold.

Every nerve screamed in tormented harmony with her bones that cracked over and over like eggs against a bowl. That quick and easy.

The rest of her organs were slower, they took their time with her pain. Waiting their turn between cracks to slide in. A bloat of the bladder, a pinch of the kidney while her guts twisted in their own merry away. Without much care where and when she felt the pain, only that she knew it was always happening. A background pain that would soon also drown under the loudest of all.

Her heart.

It beat once, then twice.

By the third beat, she is breaking the surface of the water. Taking deep, shuddering intakes of air that burn, but just as quick heal and fill her lungs too.

Everything aches like a new sickness, but she reveals in it.

“Open your eyes, Laura.” Isis whispers, still holding her. Letting the girl lean against her in the great waters of this unknown world. Together, their hearts beat slow and sure. An echo to the other, in that way only a heart can, to prove it's existence to all. That only it can provide the predictable beats for.

Laura opens her eyes to the same endless galaxy from her first time in the after world and breathes.

If this is life in the after world, she finds she doesn’t mind it.

Later, they walk hand in hand, out of the ocean to a warm beach white sand, black mud and grass so green it redefines the meaning of the word. It's only when they are climbing out of a bank, when she turns to look behind her that she realizes the ocean wasn't an ocean at all.

It was a river.

#madwife #mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #madwife fic #laura x sweeney

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crowdoeszine · 4 years ago

Text

Evaluation

My project is about the Multiverse and looking at how context is used in art. I started off by choosing 12 words and researched them – with the outcome being I would create a Zine based off of them, however, my final outcome would not be the intended result as due to remote learning I would not have the resources to create a Zine. My project started out with me researching my 12 chosen words which were, Universe, Space, Time, Reality, Botany, Archangel, Freedom, Galaxy, Dimension, Darkness, White Noise and Anthropology. I researched the meaning of the words then found images that represented them and what I thought about when I thinking of the words – I also created mind-maps for each word, linking ideas and other concepts.

For my project, I also looked at context in art and how it is presented – for this I watched a couple videos and read a few articles and compiled my thought into a blog post. Context is important in art because a piece of work can hold an entirely different meaning if the context is known or unknown. For example, by adding context to a piece of artwork, it gives it a meaning and a purpose and makes it a visual story, in a way. Designers create context in their artwork by portraying it to the viewer via image and colour and communicate their intent and meaning through the work.

Another thing I learnt about was how to create a Zine in InDesign and what the history behind them was – after researching, I found out that Zines were first used in the 1930s but became more popular in the punk era of the 1970s – with bands and other members of the music community using them to promote. While I could not produce my own Zine, due to lack of resources, I found it very interesting how Zines have developed over the years, how they were once very popular but are not, not as popular but still hold the core values that makes Zines what they are.

In my project I used a variety of materials and resources, that I could use despite the circumstances. I did a lot of my editing and digital creations on Photoshop but I also experimented with photography and other digital art apps like Snapseed and Ibis Paint X. I used Snapseed to edit my photos that I took, you can edit contrast, brightness, hue and edit separate sections. Ibis Paint X is a free drawing app for tablets and phones – I used it to start the base of my final outcomes. On Photoshop, I used the paint brush tool to add small illustrations onto some of my photographs as I was experimenting with the idea of mixing reality with un-reality. I also used previous skills with the saturation and hue effects to edit my final outcomes and make them unique.

The photographs I took were themed around some of my chosen words and I took inspiration from the American photographer Daniel Kranken. I first discovered Kranken on Instagram and his unique style of photography caught my eye – his pictures are dark and he uses shadows to emphasise his main subjects and he likes to capture city spaces and life. I also experimented with different photography techniques, such as long exposure – I tried out this method during the night and I took long exposure shots of cars going down a road, the long exposure made the lights look like long tails behind the vehicles. Capturing their trail and movement in a still image, I like this idea of how you can use long exposure to capture moving objects in a still image but they can still appear to be moving.

I also looked into space and the colours in space, as it was one f my words. I was fascinated by the various colours you can find – lots of red, blues, yellows and purples – created by gas, dust and tge distortion of light in the vacuum of Space. This research led me to my main idea for my final outcomes as I looked at Nebulas in Space and how they are bright and vibrant in contrast to the black and darkness of what is around them. After creating a mood-board post about Nebulas, I started designing my own on my phone by creating a canvas and had a black background and added bright colours swirled into patterns. I used the smudge tools and blur tools to create a sort of swirling and whispy effect then experimented by crystallising the colours so that they would be spread out and gradiented more. Next, I set the layer to the divide option so that it would show through on the layer below, but with inverted colours. The outcome was this purple-red mist with a denser orange and white form in the middle. I took it to Photoshop where I used the hue and contrast effects to change the colours so there were multiple variations and turned them into postcards. I really liked the outcome because it feels as though each postcard artwork holds its own emotion.

A strength of my project would probably be my photography experimentations and understanding how and why context is needed in art. However, my weaknesses would probably be how I could have made more physical artwork, if I had the chance to do this project again with more resources, I feel as though my outcomes and other artworks would be more varied as I would have access to a larger variety of materials. During this project, I did learn how to efficiently work remotely and has helped me develop my at home working skills.

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artfulmiss-blog · 8 years ago

Photo

trigger warnings: death & fire

It was like he was watching a muggle movie without sound, he was mute as his son raised his wand towards him

The party is at full swing at the Burrow when Albus notices he forgot Artemis’s present at home. The thing is, he distinctly remembers putting the gift with everyone else’s, because he wanted to make sure it went off without a hitch. This is the beginning of the next step in his life and it should be perfect. But here he is, looking at the christmas tree and the carefully wrapped ring box is missing. Another item gets added to his ‘my family doesn’t care about me’ list. How could they have remembered to get everyone’s presents but forgotten his? It has to be an intentional thing.

“Everything okay babe?” His girlfriend asks wrapping her arms around his middle, her large brown eyes shining with warmth. This is the image he wants to carry for the rest of his life, his girlfriend gazing at him with love, ignoring the rest of the room in favor of spending time with him. She is his light in the dark, and he can’t wait to promise her forever. He bought the ring three weeks ago in a cute little muggle shop, it will take him months to pay the ring but its worth it. He wants to give Artemis the best.

“I forgot something at home.” that’s not news to Artemis, because she is the one who took the gift out of the pile and put it back in his room. “I am going to go find my dad and tell him I need to go back and get it.” he says looking around the room.

Artemis smirks.

“I’ll come with!” when he looks at her again, the smirk gone from her face, in it’s place a soft loving expression. “I need to brush my teeth.” she says with an adorable little frown.

Grabbing her hand, Albus leads her to his father.

The only sounds in the room were their breathing. Excitement. Fear. Confusion.

Harry had been nursing a drink in the corner of the room, though his expression was merry like everyone else’s, his eyes were troubled. One might think it’s because of the troubles in the wizarding world, that he is feeling like he is seventeen again and that the whole world is counting on him. But those who know him better, Ginny and the rest of the Golden Trio, know there is something else troubling him. Harry, as most of the wizarding world knows, is a powerful spirit elemental and can feel when something terrible is going to happen. His power isn’t refined, so he can’t determine a date or the event, but it has never steered him wrong.

Seeing his son approach, his expression softens. Albus has always been a quieter kid, who had trouble connecting with people, but somehow he found someone who made him happy. Artemis has always been a puzzle for Harry, something about her never added up in his mind, but the sight of his son’s smile was enough for him to push those worries back.

“Dad. I am going to go home and grab something. That okay?” That was okay in Harry’s mind, but… two kids barely out of their teens going to an empty house? Molly would have his head if Albus missed the batch of cookies she is cooking up. Plus, most importantly, he has to disarm the wards he activated around the house before he left. “Sure. Just wait a second, i’ll come with so I can disarm the wards in the house.”

Albus frowns, and begins protesting. "Dad, just tell me how to disarm the wards. Tell me the spell and I will do it.” He is in his twenties already, and his dad keeps treating him like he is an incompetent child. He is sure Lily and James know how to disarm it. He is not a weakling, if his dad just tells him the spell he will do it. He knows he can do it. Why can't everyone else see it?

Adjusting his glasses nervously, Harry smiles at Albus kindly. "No. No. I will go with you guys, I don't mind.” what were supposed to be nice words to soothe his son, make his son angrier, because all he hears is that he is too useless to do magic, that his father doesn't think he can disarm the wards on his own. Before Albus has the chance to open his mouth and argue, Artemis grabs his sand, rubbing circles in the palm of his hand, a touch she trained him to associate with calmness.

Once upon a time she would have to hint at the fact Harry doesn't trust him enough to tell him the curse, but her work is so well done that the smallest action performed by Harry can send him into a frenzy of self doubt. Artemis can see the situation more clearly, she and Albus are teenagers who are sneaking off in the middle of the afternoon to an empty house? Of course Harry is against them going alone, but her dearest boyfriend only sees his father thinking he can't do something. Again.

“All right Mr Potter. We will meet you at the floo.” The girl tugs Albus away, murmuring something in his ear that Harry cannot hear, but he observes that iby the end of their short walk, his son's shoulders are no longer tense. Once again, he is grateful she is in his son`s life, Albus needs someone in his corner.

Artemis heart beats so loudly she thinks Harry can hear it.

Shaking his head, Harry heads to the kitchen, puts the cup on the counter (on a coaster of course) and kisses Ginny’s cheek as he passes by her. His gaze flickers around the room one last time, making sure everything is alright, a habit he picked up from being an auror. Through the windows he can see some of the kids playing quidditch. James is asleep in one of the couches, having played a very long game before the day before, with a flick of his hand he moves a blanket over from the corner of the room so it’s covering him. Hugo and Ron are playing a very competitive game of chess. Arthur is tinkering with something. And Lily is reading about defense spells, ignoring the rest of the room, just like she did when she was a kid, but this time she doesn’t grumble when someone interrupts her, whilst she does look mildly annoyed, she sets the book down and begins animatedly chatting with Teddy.

It’s going to be a good christmas.

After all that has happened during the past few years, it’s time the Weasley-Potter family gets a good gift from Santa Claus.

The wand falters

Blood rushes through her veins as Albus falters. There is a glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there moments ago, one she had very carefully drained out of him by isolating him from his friends and family. But it’s there as he gazes at his father, lowering his wand. Harry hadn’t said any words, hadn’t tried convincing his son not to kill him, he had only gazed at Albus, his green eyes shining with tears as he realized what was going on.

It was that pain that made Albus stop, because until then he had thought his father didn’t care about him anymore, but in that moment he realized that the pain he saw in his father's eyes was not there because Harry was afraid to die, it was caused by who was behind the wand.

Harry breathes a sigh of relief, takes a stop forward and envelopes his son in a hug, tears running through his face as he consoled the sobbing boy, immediately forgetting the harsh words that had been spoken a few moments. And Artemis, the girl who had urged Albus on during the argument, was forgotten for a minute, in this father and son moment she was nothing but a shadow darkening their house. But being forgotten had it’s benefits, because the second they remembered she is there, they will also remember of what had happened and her role in it. If she was arrested, the whole Mayte operation would be at risk, and that scared the hell out of her. Using this sudden invisibleness, Artemis uses a body bind on both of them, so nervous about what is going to happen she doesn’t notice it’s not completely successful. There is two things that matter in her life: Albus and the Mayte mission, and right now she just lost Albus… the thought of her destroying Lawrence’s life work…

Her life work really. Her life. Her whole life has been about helping Lawrence achieve her dream, which eventually became her dream.

She won’t let Albus’s weakness get in the way of what she had planned, sure now it will be harder to pretend that Albus killed Harry and attempted to kill her, but she is Artemis Kent, she will figure out something, she has to. Because she doesn’t want to activate Plan B.

Plan B.

Activate an anti apparition spell (already activated by Harry when he entered the house)

Set fire to the whole house.

Die with Albus and Harry.

Become a Martyr in Lawrence’s eyes.

Become a poor victim in everyone else’s.

Plan B is of course something she doesn’t want to do. But looking at the situation in front of her she is beginning to think it’s the only thing she can do, because every single other plan she has thought of during the last minute will not only fail, but it will lead to her capture.

“Artemis.” Harry’s voice cuts her musings. Looking up, she no longer sees Albus and Harry as two separate beings, instead they turned into one -- the Potter, a vengeful god ready to strike her for what she has done. And how many things she did!

Albus had been free spirited when she showed up, close with his family and interested in the world he was already quiet, already had his doubts about his family, but nothing close compared to the hatred and disgust he has for them now. Over the years she made him a recluse, until all he cared about was a few certain subjects at school and her. Her in the middle as his life’s obsession. Honestly, Lawrence never truly appreciated that, sure, Albus was useless in the end, but he had become the perfectly trained dog for her. Charlie’s words echo in her mind, he had said once this about her, he had been wrong though. Artemis had certain free wills, she chose to stay with Albus after Lawrence told her he wouldn't be useful in their mission, that she should move onto other things.

But Artemis was wrong too.

Because Albus was not perfectly trained, when it was time for him to act he hesitated.

“Harry.” she replies coldly, in that moment she is not the eighteen year old girlfriend who makes his son smile, he finally sees what he had been missing. Her eyes are older, her voice had always been just one tad too sweet, and there is a certain evilness in her smile.

She takes a step back.

He struggles to take a step forwards, the body bind though weak is still keeping his arms locked around Albus, making it impossible for him to catch his wand.

Albus is frozen in his father’s arms, looking at the scene completely detached. Because unlike his father, he is still struggling to put the pieces together, Artemis’s brainwashing is too ingrained in his mind and seeing her acting completely different has made his brain stop. Too many feelings and informations coming out of everywhere, he can’t make sense of them. He can barely breathe.

Taking a deep breath she begins Plan B. It had always been in the back of her mind so she is standing in front of the kitchen, quickly she sends a burst of fire through the room, it spreads around like a vine, covering the walls and floor, the carpet and curtains become a tornado of fire, its flames are soon licking their skins.

The Potter’s green eyes filled with fear are the last things she sees, for the fire finally reaches the pipe of gas that runs through the kitchen, the explosion destroys everything in a itss radius, effectively killing Artemis in an instant.

Harry had activated a shield spell to protect himself and Albus for the fire. But it’s not strong enough to protect them from the explosion.

They survive, Harry tries apparating them out of there, momentarily forgetting about the ward, his energy is drained by the attempt and he faints before he can disarm it. By the time help comes they have both passed away due to injuries they sustained.

summary of the opera: artemis, harry and albus are all dead. they die around three o’clock, its the 25th of december. for now there are no clues linking artemis to the explosion, preliminary reports point towards a fire started by a flame left unattended in the kitchen, that spread through the house and caused the pipes to explode.

#forgotten starter #so you all see it #and... sorry

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