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killing is overwhelming; dying might just be your thing (rule 63 bakuratem)
How could they not be? Less light, less sense of being watched over by something ineffable and yet uncaring. And so reliably they appear, cycling through the sky, faithfully permitting the people to mark their calendars by them - as if something regular is, by its mere ordinariness, made more worthy of enshrining.
Bakura sees things differently. The moon always returns, yes. But, like an egg swallowed by a snake, it always disappears, too.
She reappears in the capital, in the palace, on a very special new moon indeed. With all she's learned on her...pilgrimage...it's easy to infiltrate, now, for not even the guards notice the Beautiful Festival of the Valley has obtained a guest who, if not uninvited, was unexpected. After all, what is there to see? One more supplicant, hood up, flowers held in one jeweled hand. If she slouches over she might even trick people into seeing someone other than herself, someone who isn't out of place in a shendyt. She's not built to Egyptian beauty standards, and besides, she likes her new red coat.
Nothing's changed here. She hadn't expected it to. People are still getting drunk off their asses in the name of holiness; people with more power are still trying to figure out how to snatch it from people with less. The boy people once had tried to get Bakura to befriend - let the foundlings stick together! - until he proved to be such a pompous ass she tried to drown him in the lily pond is, true to the stick that's been up his butt since birth, lecturing some peon or other on propriety. Being scolded by the old man who's taken him under his wing.
Bakura is going to kill that old man last.
No, her target is elsewhere, will be somewhere there's no clamor, because she's all about duty now, isn't she, duty and honor and family and nobility, and it's a good thing Bakura hasn't eaten yet because she just might retch (psyche, she thinks it's funny, but in a fashion that makes her want to break shit, which is how most of Bakura's humor goes nowadays). So with that in mind -
Ah. There. Cornered by the administrators who review the year's taxes, doing business even on a holy day, how terrible, surely someone must rescue this captive Princess. Bakura tosses the flowers she's holding onto someone's memorial - she doesn't even know who; these aren't for them, anyway - and slips around from the back.
She's tall for a woman. And the Princess is short. ]
Barley tithes and goatskins! Now this is a party.
[ Her grin is feral, crooked on one side. Nearly slashed through by a scar she hadn't been sporting when she'd snuck out of this very palace, an eternity and yet no time at all ago.
When she sees the administrator's face spasm like he's trying not to notice curdled cheese, it's like she never left! ]
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[Bakura...you shouldn't be breaking into magicians' tombs...Bakura, you're going to give her a heart attack and leave a power vacuum in the church.
As fun...as it used to be...to try to figure out the traps, see if they could get past...it's a bad idea.]
Why on earth did you deliberately spring a buried magician's ka-trap?
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[ UTTERLY UNREPENTANT GRIN. Is Atem going to play priestess with her? Is she going to remind Bakura about safety and duty and piety?
Is that really what's going to happen? Atem???? ]
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...you don't have to prove anything by getting hurt, you know. Everyone already knows you're strong, Bakura...no one doubts that! What matters is making it to the end.
[It's a miniature lecture, sure -- or it would be, if the tone were more harsh. As it is, her tone's gentle enough that it's barely even advice...what comes across is less preaching and more concern for a friend.]
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Dammit, there's that feeling again, the one from when she was a kid and she hated everybody in this damn palace except for Atem. Now she hates everybody in this damn palace including Atem, but she still...she doesn't want Atem to get her wrong.
Atem doesn't know. Atem doesn't know a thing about the world, what the world is really like, what this palace is really like, so of course this shit was going to happen. Not a big deal. She's fine. She's Bakura, who doesn't need to prove a damn thing to anybody; she's Bakura, who has walked through wreckage and known in her gut she was home.
Nobody else needs to understand her. But before the Princess draws her last dying breath, Ankhsunatem must.
A flush of color seeps beneath that new scar. Use this, Bakura reminds herself. Use this. ]
Like you've seen the end.
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They're talking about the end of a tomb's trap-run, ostensibly; the goal at the end of obstacles, the game's victory conditions. But something about the way Bakura's skin flushes makes Atem think that's not all they're talking about.
Funny Bakura should bring up the end at this particular festival, where everyone remembers the dead, lending power to the people they've lost to the afterlife by saying their names and leaving offerings. They know, don't they, precisely what the end looks like? Even if she hasn't seen it, Atem has known what it will look like all her life.
And she knows what it'll look like getting there, doesn't she? She'll run the temple as gods-wife, until she marries someone and becomes his principal wife -- not the only one, but the one with greatest status, thanks to her birth as princess -- unless, of course, she's too old by the time her father dies and passes the throne on. Either way, she'll get a tomb, her last rites will be performed, and her name will join the others that get recited under the summer's new moon.
Bakura's end won't be that different, right? She'll get permission to have a tomb, Atem will see to that, and on it it'll have pictures of all of her adventures, and among her other titles and epithets, it'll say beloved of Ankhsunatem, great royal wife of Pharaoh Whatshisname.
So.....
....what's Bakura on about, here?]
Don't I know what it looks like?
....
What do you expect is waiting for you, at the end of the game you're playing now?
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[ She grins at Atem, and for a moment, she lets herself look not like a friend but like a thief eyeing her prize. She wants Atem to see the naked want on her face, the need to take, and let Atem assume...what she will...of what Bakura wants.
Atem, Atem, what has being royalty done to you. She'll kill you for you, you know! Kill you for the sake of what you could have been, all that fire and intelligence and wildness. Kill you to free you of that blood in your veins, the blood that tried to stamp out the blood in hers.
But not before she unleashes that fire, not before she drags you down with her. Never revealing it all, mind; that would be a fool's move. The best way to win a game is for the opponent to think they're playing a different one. ] But you could be. If you let me show you.
[ She leans in, attempting to press their foreheads together, murmurs: ]
Want to play?
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Want to play?
· Against you? Always.
· I don't have time for this.
Because there's so much she has to do, so much that she can't catch a break even on festival days, and the religious rituals that hold the country together, that connect the people to their gods, are her job to see to, the wheel of the year turns steady and unstoppably and will wait for no lazy priestess who falls asleep in the holiest-holy god-shrine, and Bakura luring her away from that will be nothing but trouble, nothing but chaos.
...but she's so bored. After her dreams, rituals that act like the statues are the real bodies of the gods feels like clumsy child's playacting, what is even the point of parading them around and making them kiss when she's dreamed what they really look like? It'd be a violation of tradition to say anything, though, and while she's greatly favored by the king as an only daughter, she's already pressed her luck hard...
When's the last time she did anything she was actually excited about?
And, Bakura....she loves Bakura like Isis loves Nepthys, she's missed Bakura, and she's concerned that Bakura is going out and getting herself hurt just because she can, and -- this soon after Bakura came back, it feels wrong to push her away.
Their foreheads press together, and that look on Bakura's face is absolutely shameless, though. Atem can read a face as skillfully as she can read the mood of a crowd, but it doesn't take much to see that Bakura looks like she wants to eat her. What is that? She knows Bakura's never cared much for decorum, hasn't been restricted by what's expected of her in the same way Atem has, but surely this isn't really about a tryst, because this advance is very sudden. Something's up. Something's happened.
Eyes, eyes so bright they look red in daylight, search Bakura's face from inches away, flicking over her -- there's that intelligence, that curiosity, that sharp analysis that she only digs up when she cares about what she's looking at. This isn't simple, is it? There's a hidden room, and Bakura is dangling one key in front of her, but it's a trick, and she can't see the true shape of this yet.
The best way to find out is going to be to play, she knows. She doesn't have enough pieces yet to determine the final shape of the puzzle, and in order to see more, she has to engage. Put some skin in the game, so to speak.
She doesn't seriously think Bakura's going to try to sleep with her, though. It's just an opening move, meant to get her interest, as calculated an attack as you're not capable is to her pride.
Dialogue option: selected.
She grins.]
Against you? Always.
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She pulls back, downing quite a lot of the remaining wine, and then hands Atem the amphora again. ] Step one! Drink this, or pretend to. We need an excuse for your upcoming scandalous behavior.
[ Her brows quirk in a manner implying Atem, if nobody else present, is going to have the time of her life with this game. And so is Bakura.
Just let her see Atem, the real Atem, one more time.....
No, there's no real Atem. There's just the Princess, and what could have been. But she's going to steal what could have been, before the end. ]
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Oh boy.
She raises it to her mouth, her eyes looking over the rim, and her words echo in it for a moment.]
Just what do you have in mind?
[Atem doesn't expect to be told. She does expect that this will be messy. She also trusts her ability to think on her feet, to adhere to her principles, to play this game with Bakura without compromising herself or the kingdom.
She drinks much less of the wine than she pretends to. She'll want her wits about her for this. But, really, at a festival like this, after how hard she's been working, it wouldn't be unbelievable for her to act up a little bit...]
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That's at least step three.
Oi!
[ This to the group of musicians, playing for the delight of the nobles and royalty in attendance. ] The dead're in a better place, right? Let's show we're happy for 'em! Somethin' faster!
[ The musicians stare at each other, and then at the unruly muscular woman in company of....of....
Gods almighty, what do they DO with this?! This woman is completely out of turn, but that's the Princess...!! ]
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When they hesitate, she lends her support. Because she's in, now, wanting to see where this is going, wanting to understand. She's not going to block Bakura's moves.]
Was she unclear?
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Good, good. A new tradition!
[ She holds out a hand to Atem. ] Care to dance? Your Highness.
[ Step two is apparently make complete fools of themselves in public. Bakura likes step two. ]
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Atem has been working very hard to fulfill the expectations on her and she's still not always taken seriously. So...why not cut a little loose? It's not like those dead statues she's responsible for are the real gods anyway. It has been so long since she's gotten to play...]
Are you sure? It's been a long time. I might step on your feet.
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[ And just like that it's a competition. Fancy that. ]
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[Just confirming that that's what they're doing.]
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Her voice is a warm burr. ]
No one traps me, Your Highness.
[ It's on. ]
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But...it's probably the wine hitting, Atem thinks, that's why she watches that happen and the skin of her face feels hot. It's a wine flush, alcohol does that, and wine's much more potent than beer. That's why she feels confined by her own skin, why no-one-traps-me fills her with hot envy, and a desire to compete.
Like Isis loves Nepthys indeed. Get it together, Ankhsunatem, you're not a girl on the edge of maturity at your first Hathor festival, you're the most powerful priestess in the two lands. And she's just been shit-talked, if obliquely, and she'll show Bakura who's trapped--!]
Is that so?
Very well, then. Let's dance!
[It's been a while, but Atem launches into an old Hathor-worship dance, going to circle Bakura, modifying steps and gestures as she needs to if she's forgotten them or if she needs to make or close distance. She doesn't go for a foot stomp yet!]
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And fun, too - what's the point of winding someone up if it isn't a good show? Or a good challenge. The High Priestess may know more fancy dances than Bakura does, may be delightfully fun to goad, but she's also the only person Bakura has ever met who's sincerely impressed her. Even the more recent priests she's encountered, the ones whose....absence.....at the festival will no doubt be both gossiped about and then the source of great agony once their reasons for declining to show are known, had been a bore.
Ankhsunatem trying to step on Bakura's feet, playing it cautious to see if she can catch an opening, is twice the thrill a half-dozen men fighting for their literal lives could have ever been. What's it going to be like, facing the girl's father....? Will he be a greater triumph, or will everyone once Atem's gone pale in comparison...?
All the more reason to give this her all, while she can. Poor doomed Atem! Bakura still won't let her win this game. Look at her, with her sophisticated motions and her slender hips. She's so little. Perfect for a thief. Born into the wrong family!
But if she'd been born where she deserved to be born, she'd be ashes and wails.
Bakura lets her own motions grow larger, more daring. She's being examined from all angles, and she makes the most of this. Get an eyeful, Atem. C'mon.
She twists, as if attempting to twirl out of the circle into which Atem's trying to pin her. Was this the moment you were waiting for, Princess? Three...two...one! ]
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...she sees that opening. Is it deliberate, or is it a real chance to get a little foot-stomp past Bakura's guard? Either way, it'll be interesting...so, she'll take the opportunity, or the bait, whichever it is, and with a quick two-step in, try to get her foot on Bakura's. Will she win, or will she just trigger Bakura's next move?]
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and here's a foot heading for Atem's, instead, trying to step on the stepper, as she reaches out in an attempt to tug the Princess close, secure her first victory. Hand on the small of the young lady's back, foot encroaching upon the young lady's foot.
Can a pampered High Priestess handle a multi-front attack? ]
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--but she's not looking out for an attempt to touch her. Surely not! The attempt to bring her opposite foot around is thwarted as she stumbles, pulled off-balance and off-rhythm by a hand at her back, bringing her forward! Her eyes widen.]
Ah--!
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[ It's a purr near Atem's face, close enough to tickle the Royal Ear.
She also tries to step lightly on Atem's foot while she's got the other girl off-balance, just to prove a point. ]
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Atem feels like she's just swallowed a hot coal. Warmth starts in her face, then drops down low in her stomach, like a bolt of lighting from the sky to the ground. Only, instead of lightning, it doesn't disappear, it stays there, and, like a fool, her foot gets stepped on. Her shoe's dirty now, she notices distantly, followed by the thought, I've had enough wine. I've become drunk. Her pride stings, and it is much too warm in here.]
You--
[Get it t o g e t h e r. Step 1: pull away! Get distance, to get a clear head! Ankhsunatem leans back, making a polite attempt to get out of the hold. With a burning face, and a smile she puts on that she hopes is gracious, Atem concedes, closing her eyes so her lashes brush the dark paint around them.]
The round goes to you.
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[ Bakura snorts, claps Atem on the back before letting her go. ] You're gettin' soft. Do you want the tomb to shut behind you?!
[ Wow, she hasn't said that since....since she was five. Had almost forgotten about it, until being in old, familiar haunts sparked old, familiar memories...
Pfft. Haunts. She's a riot, and only she will ever know. ]
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Atem folds her arms -- it is absolutely a protective wrapping-arms-around-yourself self-soothe disguised as closed-off body language, it's not as powerful as she'd like to make it look -- and shuts her eyes. She'll accept it with grace, with dignity befitting her station. After all, she's not the Pharaoh; she won't win every time.]
I did warn you I was an out of practice dancer.
[Stop flushing. The flush is just the wine. That's it.
She needs to go lie down somewhere cool. Maybe the gardens, the ones her apartments open onto -- there's an artificial pond dug there that sounds very good right now.]
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gets tagblocked, then listens to one (1) rica line and is suddenly fine
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