Fortune favors the brave The desert, midday, was at its hottest. The pharaoh was used to such weather, easily maneuvering the dunes beyond his oasis home. He'd been out hunting, and had come up with a small impala. It wasn't much but it would suffice. Mory needed it more than himself he was certain, he was a fit and young man while mory was a much softer male. He was well packed with muscle and his harsher existence in the desert showed in his body type. He was a silent wraith among the dunes, as he traversed them effortlessly. one might mistake him for a mirage or even a vision from the gods if they were thirsty enough and didn't know any better. His path took him in the most direct route of his home. Across dunes, to the redwater rocks and over the mountain to his home at the oasis. He deposited his catch easily and inside his den with mory and made for the water. He took his drink before settling himself upon his favorite perch in the shade. He laid upon his rock with his onyx gems focused upon his oasis. Speech

This had been the worst and most trying time in her young life. She blamed herself for getting lost, not watching where she was going as she left Archon and the other band members to go out and slake her wanderlust. It wasn't by intention that she had made it so far into the desert, her paws guided her here and she had been instantly aware of her unfamiliar surroundings. Her first week in the desert was spent trying to find a way out of it, away from the heat and blindingly bright sun. She had been unsuccessful in each attempt she made to escape the harsh sands and smoldering, blistering heat. Mirages had become commonplace in the months she spent trying to figure out how to escape from her own personal hell of sunlight and sand, slowly becoming mad the more her brain boiled in her skull. Archon and the Fallen Band had become an ever decreasing thought as survival instincts and the need for water slowly took precedence over everything else.  Her conscious mind became a swirling whirlwind of fever dreams and the need to eat, anything and everything turned into a potential meal as the she-beast moved through the sands and over dunes. The devil was made for northern climates, for snow and ice, her pelt thick and suffocating in the heat. It was no surprise that a mild heat stroke had taken over her mind, lending itself to the darker impulses she felt as she traveled. Already, two of her would-be rescuers had been demolished and devoured by the woman. Her God may look down and watch with disgust as she digested her saviors like animal crackers, but her mind had reverted back to its original state. It wasn't until the third month that she found any sort of relief from the harsh environment she had been in for so long. Unsure if it was a mirage or reality, Dea stared for a long time at the small watering hole. She was almost afraid to take a step toward it, for fear it would vanish and she would be left with an aching depression on top of all of her other ailments. Severely dehydrated, the demoness knew she would need water and would be forced to find out if the figment was true or false. Dea moved toward the gleaming surface of the pool, and she was reminded of when she turned the shrine's pool red with her blood. The scar over her eye throbbed as if it were new when she looked back, promising herself she would go after the insolent woman once she made it out of the desert. Slowly, with an unsteady gait that suggested she would fall over from exhaustion and the fire of the day, Dea made her way toward the supposed hallucination. She wouldn't make it to her destination, instead falling over and succumbing to her ailments, Dea lost consciousness almost halfway to the cooling and blessed waters of the oasis. Vultures began to circle in the air, making a scene and squabbling over who would get the choicest meats from her. Surely, anyone nearby would come save her from the scavengers and Death. Walk, "Talk" Think

Fortune favors the brave The pharaoh might of stayed where he was if it were not for the sight beyond his oasis. the sounds of the buzzards were enough to have the man lifting himself from his rock. So much for cooling off completely and enjoying his evening. He slunk off his rock and stalked towards the commotion and the wolfess he had seen. he took a moment once he reached her to scare off the buzzards with a few loud and sharp barks. then he stopped in front of her, her scent told him alot. Female, death and among it cannibalism. He wasn't the one to judge her though. The pleasure would be Amun's. Her heart would be weighed with a feather whence she died and her fate would become decided then. She looked every bit as tall as him but he did not fear her. With a swift motion he aimed to bite into her scruff for grip before working himself underneath her. once she was settled upon his back he moved with her towards his oasis. Once he got there he moved directly into the water and waded out into its depths. He stopped when the tip of her nose was touching the water. The point was not to drown her but to cool her off and allow her a chance to drink. Her pelt he knew was much too thick to frequent the desert. "Drink, and thank Amun that Ra has not taken your life today." His accent was thick and deep with the Egyptian deserts molding. Only once she had followed his command did he move again, taking her to the shade beneath his rock and sitting so she may slide off him. then he was moving again. He went directly to his den and took what remained of the gazelle since Mory was finished. He then returned and dropped the half eaten carcass in front of her. Eat. He then pounced onto his rock and laid himself in the shade from the trees over it. She owed him at this point. Speech

Fever dreams plagued her subconscious, filling her head with visions of her family and its destruction, of her future and its destruction. Through this, the distant tin of sharp barking found its way around the hazy pictures, and the tone was unfamiliar to her. Yet...it had been heard before. But, this was a stranger to her, someone she could easily fall prey to, someone she would have to fight if they pushed her too far. Dea's unconscious form winced in a full body twitch as Rameses gripped her scruff, her mind conjuring images of when her mother would punish her, or her father would carry her. She relaxed beneath the strange male's grip, muttering softly as he lifted her.  "Mother...it hurts..." Her usually strong voice did not have the weight it normally carried, instead a weak whisper was ushered from her lips, one she would hate herself for if she had heard it. It was a blessing that she had come into this state of being, that her new god had tested her would be the ultimate testimony. That her god saved her would be the ultimate hook. But, it was not her god who saved her, nor any of his followers. She could feel the cool of the water as Rameses slowly lowered her into the pool, though her mind did not register it as such. In her mind, it was the metal of the ship she had been born in that gently enveloped her frame. Cold in an almost painful way, the water brought her back into consciousness in a sluggish manner. Again the dusky, unfamiliar tones filled her mind and as the water barely touched the tip of her nose, Dea began to lap feebly at it. She made a soft growl in the back of her cracked throat, one that sounded more like a purr than anything aggressive. Small drinks of water cooled her internally, bringing relief to her boiling insides, but it was over too soon. Rameses hefted her out of the water and the heat crashed down around her, making her whimper in protest. The rock he set her on was cool and relieving but not as much as the water had been. "You can't leave me..." She barely whispered as she relived the memory of finding her mother in a snake pit. Weakness bombarded her, but she fought her way to the surface of her consciousness, one memory or fever dream at a time. Waging war against the black emptiness that seemed to grip her so tightly, Dea opened her bright pink eyes, though they were dull with her dehydration. Blurry and horribly out of focus, the demon stared at the dark figure that was Rameses, smelling the gazelle he gripped in his teeth. Again she heard the smoky command, looking the male up and down as he tended to her. She said nothing, just obeyed his order to eat, taking her time so that she did not retch and embarrass herself. How could he order her about? Did he not realize he was talking to a goddess? Once she had her fill, Dea looked up to the male on his rock. "Thank you..." She said reluctantly, but giving nothing else by way of emotion or body language. She did not trust the male just yet, even if he had saved her life.