Had she been hunting her footsteps would have been silent, but as she descended the stone steps that led ever downward into the Amman common room, Nebti found the tiny pit-pat of her soft-soled shoes comforting. The sound reverberated off the stone walls with a familiarity that hinted at times past. So intimate and soothing was the sound that it tempted one to lose themselves in reminiscing memories as their guard slipped away under a lucid calm. Such was always her manner as Nebti found herself enveloped in stone walls that hinted at the cool darkness of the healing earth just one the other side.

As the comfortable room came into sight, Nebti felt the left corner of her mouth lift slightly as “hi honey, I’m home,” floated through her thoughts. Candles and troches gave the room a warm glow and chased back the mild chill that had soaked into her bones.

It felt more and more like ‘home’ every time she came.

A contented sigh slipped out of her as she shrugged off her heavy leather jacket. She found herself attached to the odd fabric recently; though not as sweet on the skin as silk, is had a quality she found enticing. Without it she was left simply dressed, grudgingly having donned a pair of faded blue jeans and a clingy, dark-green sweater of knit cotton. The turtleneck collar tickled her chin and the cuff of the sleeve felt constricting and slightly itchy, but it was perhaps the most modern outfit she owned.

However, even though she could never leave her old fashion habits behind, Nebti did embrace the most recent technologies, something made plain by the Ipod stuck in her back pocket and the tiny white cord that peeked out from under her hair and trailed down her back from the ear peaces. That same Ipod became responsible for shattering the silence of the common room only a moment later as Nebti plugged it into the Laptop she usually left here and turned up the volume; after all, no one else seemed to be around just yet.

The strains of a Metallica song, Lover Man, filled the room as she snagged a book from the many shelves, and then curled herself comfortably into one of the velvet chairs. As she began to read, a single fingernail tapped out a rhythm with the music on one of the oaken arms of the chair.

Outside the coven there was tension, unease, and discomfort floating one every breath of night air. Inside the coven Nebti was going to steal a little peace for herself.

Even if only for a little while.

Dryden sat quietly in the shadows. He had engorged himself in some late night reading, that he hadn't even heard someone enter. He currently wore a long black leather coat, that crumpled on the floor, as he was sitting with his back to the stone wall. Underneath his coat he wore a skin-tight navy t-shirt, as well as some loose black jeans with leather belt.

As his finger ran over the braille of his book, a smile curled on his lips. He was re-reading one of his old favorites; "Love's Labor's Lost" by the one and only: William Shakespeare. Dryden smiled to himself as he could almost envision himself in the Globe theatre back in London... so many years ago. Time's had changed since then, and it had taken Dryden many centuries to acknowledge that it was a good change... a marvelous change.

Dryden's concentration was rattled when the loud music filled his ears. The noise reverberated off the coven walls, added with the fact it was too loud to begin with and it was entering particularly sensitive ears, Dryden clutched his ears and dropped his book.

His mind's eye looked ahead of him, and saw Nebti, completely devoured within her own reading... and music. With no regard to others she obviously hadn't noticed within the common room. Either that or she didn't care. Dryden made a slight motion with his hand, and the 'Esc' key on the laptop was struck, causing the computer to exit from it's program and the music to stop. Dryden lowered his other hand from his ear, picking up the book he had dropped. He finally stood up, waiting for Nebti to object in some sort of manner.

The music had separated Nebti from the rest of her surroundings, letting her detach herself from reality and give her mind over to the stories of the book in her hand. It didn’t take long for her to bury herself so completely into the story that the sudden silence couldn’t have startled her more than an unexpected gunshot.

The book in her hands flew into the air as Nebti sprang out of the chair, landing several feet away with a defensive snarl written into her features. For a moment she simply stayed crouched low to the ground, but as she calmed and her surroundings became familiar again she straightened to her full height slowly. There was no one standing behind her chair within reach of the Lap top, but with calm came clarity, and she sniffed curiously at the air until her eyes zeroed in on Dryden.

“Ah, I didn’t see you there.” As old as she was, Nebti felt mildly ashamed as she found herself blushing. What a stupid a thing to do! She’d walked into a room and claimed it completely without even noticing the essence of another on the air. Not only rude, but utterly ridiculous, she may as well have been a fledgling acting on a whim.

“Sorry about that,” she motioned vaguely toward the Lap top, doing her damndedest to keep herself from tripping over her own tongue as she apologized. “I’m afraid I let myself get far too caught up inside my own head these days.”

Dryden stood up, as he approached Nebti he replaced his book upon it's spot in the shelf. He step into the light, and his features were much more visible. His eyes grey and dead, his jaw-line rigid and sware, his eyebrows furrowed at Nebti's apparent discomforture. He knew that he was older than the Female, who had roots similiar to Dryden's, but he didn't see any reason for the babbling. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture to her words,

"Think nothing of it. Just think better of your surroundings in the future." Dryden smiled, perhaps more to himself then his company. He moved, and sat down in a chair beside the one Nebti had just been occupying, simply assuming he was welcomed company, and if not then he didn't care.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck bristled as one of her thin eyebrows rose in a sort of questioning discontent over her suddenly flaring eyes. She’d never taken well to being told what to do - even if it was only suggestion. But, just as any other time in her life, she accepted it and mentally stepped over it. “I’ll try to.”

The rankling annoyance past through her system to be replaced with a deceptive coldness that turned her golden amber eyes into a dull brown of passivity. Nebti leveled them on Dryden, lost for a moment in curiosity over his dull eyes. He looked and smelled like the honey-sweet sands of home, but his appearance seemed to scream of something completely different. Her mind trifled with the oddity but a moment before she scooped up her book and slid back into her chair.

“So,” she began in Egyptian, letting the old language roll off her tongue with an intimate familiarity to test her theory, “why do I get the pleasure of keeping your company?”

Dryden, crossed his legs as he looked the fair vampire up and down. His leather boot rested on his knee, and he laced his fingers, with their long nails, together and rested his upper lip on them. He could see her perfectly, or as perfectly as one could without eyes. Her attire was endearing, her composure rigid yet inviting, but her smell overpowered anything his mind's eye could see. He was fondly reminded of a time long ago.

From what he knew of the Female, she had been born long after his time. In a time when Egyptian rule had changed, though similiar roots were just that, and they did indeed share those roots. He didn't know of many other vampires that could say that, at one time, they served under a Pharaoh. Vampires of that age were not common, and so Dryden gave Nebti the respect he thought she deserved... at least until he found a reason to the contrary. Whether it be to satisfy his own curiosity... or otherwise.

So, for the time being, Dryden kept his telepathic and mental projection abilities at bay. When he heard Nebti speak, he couldn't help but smile, which was hidden by his hands, this was a tongue he had not heard in a long... long time. Though the ancient language came back to him easily,

"You speak a tongue I have not heard in over three millennia. I appreciate the reminder." He nodded to her, "If you wish me elsewhere, I would be happy to comply. However, I sense you feel a kind of familiarity in me, perhaps something you have not sensed in another for a while. I would have to wonder then, why you would wish that kind of 'comfort' away."

Dryden could tell, that this would be an interesting exchange of words.

“I don’t wish you away.” Nebti had to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth to speak and the words came out thick, slightly slurred. It was painfully unjust to the language, even to her own years, but hearing it spoken back in return had been enough to take her aback completely.

When again she looked up at him - having completely forgotten the book in her hands - her dulled eyes were again a warm gold-amber and alive with curiosity. She looked Dryden over more closely, studying his posture, his movements, and committing his scent to memory with a silent vow to never to forget it. This was as close to home and kin that she had come to since that fateful night so long ago. She’d be loathed to go without his company, and it seemed he could very well guess it.

“As a point of fact, I can do no other than welcome you and whatever comforts you may offer. I dare say I haven’t felt any closer to home than you have, though you have endured longer without Egypt than I have, haven you not?”

With eager curiosity etched into her features, Nebti snapped her book shut and sat it aside as she leaned toward Dryden. She was completely taken with interest of him, and holding back a dozen buzzing questions was a difficult battle against her old habit of chatter.

What Egyptian woman wasn’t prone to chattering, after all?

Dryden smiled, memories flooding back to him. The men and woman of Egypt, the building, the gods... the culture. Something he alwaysed yearned to live through once more, but such lives only existed in dreams now.

Dryden retrieved a cigarrete from one his inner pockets, he lit it, taking a long drag before addressing Nebti again.

"I became 'immortal,' if you would, in the 18th Dynasty. Under the reigh of Hatshepsut, or the end of it rather." Dryden corrected himself, as memories of his final day as a human came back to him. Questions still remained unanswered as to that day, questions he was sure now, had no answers.

"And you?" He resumed his conversation, "Perhaps a century from then? I must admit, though I know you and I have similiar backrounds, you're specific history has not yet been told to me."

“Ptolemaic dynasty,” Nebti relaxed in her chair, her mind whirling to remember whatever she could about the eighteenth dynasty while warming to her topic. “Not long before the Roman rule of Julius, and then Antony, and then finally Octavian Augustus.”

Still, she sat perfectly and completely still as her eyes dulled slightly. Sometimes the memories were painful and faded, so many sands that were sifted to find a single peace of grain. “Cleopatra, she was my Queen after her brother was put out of the way by the Roman King. She bore his son,” she smiled fondly at the thought, but it faded just as quickly. “Those were troubled times, now that I think back on them. But then, the hindsight is always 20/20."

She blinked, stirred herself and returned her attention completely to Dryden. As she studied him a sly grin began to turn up the left corner of her carefully painted lips. “But then, Cleopatra held our true loyalties as our Pharaoh. Egypt was never more strong or wealthy as during her rein. And yet, during your time our first queen was shunned. I never thought I’d have the chance to ask, but why did it happen?”

She could remember the stories during those years when Cleopatra had taken the throne. For a long while the people called her "Hatshepsut returned." They had thought she had come to vengefully reclaim her throne to rule as Amun had always meant for her to rule. Of course they seemed like silly superstitions and myths now.

Even as these thoughts floated through her mind the jade amulet of Bes hanging about her neck grew heavy, and she clutched at it when it seemed to burn her soft skin out of spite. No, she would never forget the gods.

The expression on Dryden's face suddenly fell, as if Nebti had just told him off. His past came rushing back to him violently, the day in which he ceased being human, the day he commited his crime, the day he questioned time and time again.

"I can't answer that question logically. All I can say is that the people at the time, despised change. Hatshepsut was an immense change in what we were accustomed to, and if that wasn't bad enough she was posing as a man. The men felt shamed, hurt that they were foreced to idolized what they saw as a naive woman, playing a children's dollhouse game."

His face was strong, his jaw visibly clenched. It was clear Dryden wished this topic dropped.

Something inside her demanded a better explanation, but Nebti couldn’t seem to voice it. She caught herself simply staring at him, measuring his reaction with a critical eye. A moment ago he had been completely at ease, in total control of himself and everything around him. Now he seemed distant, detached, uncertain, and angry.

His features had fallen, giving an odd play to the stubborn set of his jaw. But, his eyes, there was so much emotion in him and yet nothing touched his eyes. Then she understood, at least partly, and curiously reached toward him. She had only just placed her hand before his eyes before she snatched it back. Waving your hand in front of a blind man, what sort of silliness was that?

“Forgive me, I see you don’t like that topic.” Nebti took a measured breath as she leaned herself back into her chair, studying him all the more closely. “Let us try something else, shall we? What do you think of Demaitre these days?”

Dryden, closed his eyelids over his useless eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. He opened his eyelids again, managing to regain his composure. The stiffness in his jaw loosened, and he was calm once again. A mask of cold-unfeeling emotions covered his face.

When Nebti came closer to him, he wasn't sure of what she was doing. Her scent become stronger, and Dryden could almost feel the sun rays of Egypt beat on his pale-colored face. Then he felt the slight breeze her hand created when wavering in front of his eyes, and if he could, he would've rolled them.

Still, Dryden couldn't prevent a smile, still hidden by his clasping hands. He took her apparent taking up of liberties, to take advantage of some of his own, even if it was a tad rude. As if not hearing her question at first, Dryden unclenched his hands, raising his right hands outstretching his palm as if about to catch a ball. Nebti's amulet, clasped around he neck, unfastened. It soared into Dryden's palm as his closed his fingers around the jewel.

Without taking his gaze off of Nebti in her seat, his fingers ran over the amulet. He then answered her question;

"Demaitre has made me quite fond of city life. Particularly the strolls in the park where I am left to my own thoughts, and the occasional theatre/cinema showing, I've always been a fan of those."

Dryden then let the amulet dangle from his forefinger, and continued,

"Quite an interesting god you keep close to yourself. Excuse me if I seem more rude than I intend, but I do not see you as one whom needs protection from a... God of Foolery." Dryden began swinging the amulet slowly, to and fro. "No need to take me seriously however, 'tis only my observation." He grinned maliciously to himself, enjoying the irony of his 'joke.'

Nebti lurched forward to snatch at the strings of her necklace as it came undone. She that at first that t had simply come untied, not something that had never happened before. But as it ended up in Dryden’s hand she found herself so tense she was certain her bones would soon begin cracking under the strain. He eyes flared back and forth between anger and unease before she finally settled her gaze on his hand. She nearly found herself praying over the safety of that particular peace of her past as her fingertips saw what his eyes did not.

When finally Dryden spoke, Nebti’s eyes snapped up to meet the lifeless color of his. As she listened, she began to relax and remember that, though in another time and place, this man was also an Egyptian and, with any luck, would still be inclined to little superstitions about the gods.

“Partially a God of Foolery.” Nebti’s eyes narrowed slightly as she measured him anew. “More highly revered as a protector of mothers, their children, and families.”

An indignant sound escaped her and she leaned across him to catch the amulet tight in her hand. She stopped there, however, remembering her manners before she almost took his finger off along with the wire/rope that made of the necklace strings.

“Please let go,” she turned her dulled, honey eyes up at him in supplication, forgetting for a moment that he could not see. “That amulet is more dear to me than anything else in my possession; including my damnded and hell-bound soul.”

A sly grin formed on Dryden's faced. This time it was not hidden due to his hand being occupied with Nebti's amulet. Nebti could see full well the mysterious grin the he wore on his face, he then addressed her actions.

"Do not treat me as you would a handicap, my dear. You may have the gift of sight, as you can see I don't. But the trade-off was something much more powerful, something I'm afraid you'll never be graced with. Forgive me, but I'd appreciate if you did not treat me as if I had a disadvantage."

There wasn't an ounce of genuine hurt in his expression, almost as if he made the request because it seemed like what someone in his position would say. But indeed, he could've gone without saying it. Let her think what she would, he'd surprise her soon enough.

Dryden, then adjusted his swinging of the amulet, and began swinging it in a circle with his forefinger at it's center. Then, he let the chord slip of his finger and soar towards Nebti. Now Dryden telekenisis took over, he guided the pendant and had the strings fasten themselves back behind Nebti's neck, the pendant hanging above her chest, as if it had never moved.

"And you?" Dryden asked. "What has brought you to Demaitre?"

Nebti sat as far back in her chair as she could get as her eyes lingered on his grin. She squirmed awkwardly, hating the intimidating aura he cast, and yet she was intrigued by it at the same time. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to completely set her back on her heels and leave her without a guarding weapon. So, she crouched, waited, half expecting some lashing comment or outright physical abuse as she watched him and listened.

Even after her amulet was again resting safe and heavy around her neck, she couldn’t shake the almost trapped sensation that clogged her throat. Several times she reminded herself of her age, of her strength, of her own talents and knowledge before she slowly relaxed herself and mentally found a new weapon for self-defense.

“I am not entirely sure just what drew me toward this city. I only recently came back to the states and have been traveling for quite some time.” She shrugged slightly, beginning to understand that he did see her in a fashion, and may very well see more than she did. “If any one thing keeps me here, it is the ever changing and yet dutiful Amman I have found myself among. Though, just how long I will stay is an unanswerable question.”

Dryden face slowly grew grimmer and grimmer. The smile vanishing from his face, sensing the fear from Nebti grow. But he knew she was drawn to him, in that inexplicable way she would riddle herself over for days after they parted ways this time. Until then, why not make her a bit more comfortable... if not... then a bit more uncomfortable.

Dryden lifted himself of his seat, approaching Nebti's. When he stood right next to her chair he crouched so that his knees were bent but his feet still being the only things supporting him. He stared into Nebti's face with his gruesome dead-looking eyes, and smiled his charming smile.

"You seem troubled, perhaps you grow weary of the underground. Would you like to take a walk outside? The fresh air might do you good."

Confused curiosity slowly replaced the dull background of fear in her eyes as Dryden stood and came closer. He moved with that familiar, natural grace she had once been so used to seeing every day of her mortal life. It nettled her, and yet she admired him for it. Rather she liked it or not, he was going to constantly remind her of her former home and her former life.

As he crouched before her, Nebti caught herself studying his dulled eyes again. They seemed misplaced in such a fine face, ill fitted, sort of like a defaced statue. Odd, she wondered what crimes he would have committed to be so mistreated. She became so engaged in her thoughts that his words rolled over her without meaning before slowly dawning on her somewhere in the back of her mind.

“A walk?’ She stared at him a moment as if she didn’t understand a word he had said. It took a moment, but as dawning struck she began to laugh at herself, and then began to uncurl from her chair. “I think you are right, a walk may do a good bit to keep my mind in one place at one time.”

Dryden smiled a smile that could warm the soul, even one without a soul. He spoke through his grin,

"I'm glad you think so. If you don't mind I could accompany you." Dryden then chuckled to himself, his gaze falling a bit towards the ground. "Perhaps it is the old mortal in me, preaching that I dare not let a woman roam by herself. However, I'll take heed to my modern self, and will respect your decision if you wish to walk alone."

Even with that proposition, Dryden thought it appropriate to stand up, facing the door. He propped out his left elbow so that she could link her own arm through his. Letting him guide her, even though it would be more like her guiding him.

Nebti returned his smile more readily than she would have expected and obligingly offered her hand. A scene from her time in England flashed through her mind, some memory of some ball long past. It came and it went, but something about their manner struck a familiar and comfortable cord.

“Egyptian men were wise, once.” She swallowed to keep herself from chuckling, eyeing Dryden with jest as laughter seemed to bubble just under the rigid tones of her voice. “Women are snakes, they once said. Never let them out of your sight least they bite you when you are not looking.”

She laughed, unable to hold it in check as the memory of her oh-so-severe husband muttering those very words after she announced she was keeping her daughters if it meant killing him to do it. “Egyptian women, are we really so evil as all that, or is it just that we don’t like being dominated by our men?”

Dryden simply smiled at the woman who he now linked arms with. He spoke no answer to her question, though his unsightful eyes held a response. As if the answer was behind them and he just wasn't voicing it out.

He turned his gaze to the exit, and walked slowly, leading Nebti out of the coven to go for their stroll.

At first, Nebti had the uncanny urge to pull back and free her arm from Dryden. She had been living and operating on her own for so long, finely free of the only other Egyptian she had known, and finely making her own choices. It made the feeling of being led somewhere somehow uncomfortable, disconcerting; as if she had just given up something. Of course she was just being silly, she knew very well that she hadn’t given up anything at all.

Still, she had to work a good measure of willpower to keep herself from being even more rude and childish than her pervious behavior had already made her appear. As they walked up the winding staircase, however, she began to relax and the pattern of her footsteps slowly began to fall into rhythm with Dryden’s.

By the time they were outside in the cool night air, Nebti was at ease with Dryden’s company once more; though, she did keep a scant few inches between Dryden and herself.

Dryden smiled to himself as he and Nebti broke out of the Amman coven, into the crisp night air of Westminstrel park. Thh way into the coven being completly hidden, they strode out towards a dirt path.

Dryden felt a kind of comfort with Nebti, though he'd never admit it. Something familiar from the Egyptian times in which he was born, he felt he was back there again, reliving a life he had known all to well. A life, that he now regreted, and was a reason for shame.

Still Dryden made no outward hint that his thought drifted to such lows, he just glanced and Nebti smiling, feeling her be a bit uneasy, he didn't call her on it as he had done before. He had already embarassed the woman enough.

Nebti always loved the night. She lifted her face toward the stars drawing air in to her lungs, relaxing completely for the first time. She could hear hear the sap running like blood in the trees. Every plant had a special scent, a vivid color. Droplets of water sparkled like diamonds on moss covered rocks. The moss itself looked like emeralds scattered along rocks and up the trunks of trees.
Her mind, as always, took in the data flooding into her mind as if the world was a jigsaw puzzle she was solving a little bit more of with every breath she took. She learned to story of the night by its scent, and then by it sound, and then by seeing it all in drastic detail with her careful eyes.

An owl slipped silently through the sky, it's wingspan impressively long, each feather iridescent under the shine of the moon's blue-silver light. This was home, as a creature of the night among other creators of the night. Nebti chuckled at that thought and glanced at the man that she had found herself strolling with.

Another creator of the night. There were so many in this city, but this one shared her roots. It had been long since she had the pleasure of such company. Though, perhaps she couldn't call her maker's company completely pleasurable.

Mayhap that was why she was being so edgy about him, just another Egyptian male prone to beating, threatening, and controlling a female. Times never completely changed, and people did not always change completely with time.

"So," Nebti swallowed lightly to make sure her voice was smooth and cool, belying the mild turmoil just under her cold surface. "Why did you decide to keep company with me? I am sure I offended you, though you have not out right said so."

Dryden found the question easy to answer.

"Perhaps a part of me yearns for company, though the outward appearance of a vampire would be to walk the road of eternity alone. Maybe... I tire of walking alone."

Dryden had said the words before he even fully comprehended them. Now that they had been said, the damage done, he couldn't believe what he was saying. This was unbelievable... this was atrocious... an abomination!

Dryden sighed heavily, before closing his eyes and letting his head droop. Most of all... it was true.

He was tired of walking alone? Nebti frowned slightly at the idea, not completely understanding. She had spent many hundreds of years always in company of a man she had hated with a passion. Aha, her son of Seth, her Seti, her maker, her own living nightmare. Something within her believed she had never been and still was not completely rid of him. She had longed for solitude, welcomed it with open arms when it beckoned. And yet, even so, she had seen fit to join a coven; to become a member of a strangely loose family.

And here Dryden walked at her side with his head lowered as if in shame of his heart’s longings. In her many years she had never seen one appear so formidable one moment and so vulnerable in the next.

Without really thinking about it Nebti uncurled her arm from Dryden’s and reached up to stroke her fingers through his carefully styled hair. She had always calmed and soothed her sons with such a touch, but after the deed was done the intimacy of it struck a painful cord. The faces of her sons swam in her eyes a moment, and then where gone. They were many years dead and yet her heart silently mourned as if they had lived and walked with her only a day before.

Nebti pushed her wayward thoughts out f her mind and turn her attention wholly onto Dryden once more. “I supposed anyone could become tired of walking alone. There is only so long one can suffer solitude before they crave another of a like mind.”

Dryden smiled as he strolled along. With Nebti's words, he suddenly felt at calm. He didn't feel threatened, he had the impression that she was, at times, lonely as well. He could very easily find out for himself, invade her mind as well of her thoughts. But Nebti's age rivaled his own, and penetrating the mental defences of elder vampires took it's toll on Dryden. Not to mention, he didn't see any reason to be rude.

"You're words are kind. Thank you." Dryden let himself be at ease. "And yes... I do suppose it is but natural. Tell me..." Dryden's tone changed to that of genuine interest. "...of the days long past. In the days of Egypt, I'm curious to know of your life under the rule of Pharoahs."

“My days under the Pharaohs?” Nebti chuckled and shook her head slowly. “Let’s see, I was born in Nekhen on the banks of the Nile in the South of Upper-Egypt during Schemu. And I lived right there on the banks until thirteen harvests had come and gone and I was married. What political things happened in those years, I cannot say. I was never interested in all of it when I was young. I know we lived under Ptolemy XII, and then for a time under Cleopatra V, and then Cleopatra VI very soon afterward, and then Berenice IV. It was not long after I was married that Ptolemy XII retook the throne only to die several years later. He had jointly ruled with Cleopatra VII, though we simply thin, and now, call her Cleopatra. Her brother-husband Ptolemy XIV, and her son Ptolemy XV co-ruled with her for a time, but not many know this. It wasn’t until Cleopatra laid eyes on that Roman that she became the mistress-vixen everyone knows her as.”

She laughed aloud and shook her head at the thought. What a woman she had been! A bit of a ninny at times, but strong willed and more determined than any man Nebti had ever known.

“She is the one I truly remember and still respect.”

A genuine smile tilted the corners of her mouth and she found herself completely relaxed in his company. It was an odd thing to let her guard down, and it created a strangely comforting feeling in the back of her mind. "Those were strange times, really. With the roman’s pouring in and Egyptians changing. I lost my sons to those changes.”

Dryden nodded his head, listening to Nebit intently. It was interesting, knowing what become of the royalty in Egypt after his fated departure.

"Myself, I lived under the rule of the father and brother of the first Female Pharoah. Thutmosis the first, and Thutmosis the second. Nothing spectacular happened under either of their rules, of at least that I cared to take notice. I had weasled my way to becoming the caretaker of the proceeding Pharoah, or so I, and Thutmosis the third, believed." Dryden took a deep breath, it had been a long while since he had spoke of his mortal days. It seemed suitable that he was speaking of it to one who had lived her mortal days in the land of the golden sands.

"When Thutmosis III's step-mother took the thrown, it was a very big surprise. It was blasphemy for woman to be Pharoah, the very reasons behind it were set in stone but were never accepted by anyone. Thutmosis III in particular."

Dryden stopped, side-glancing Nebti into view. Leaving it to her to guess the rest of his tale.

“And that female Pharaoh did not live long, if I remember correctly. There was a time that I wondered...” Nebti’s thoughts trailed into silence a moment, the vision of defaced statues and scratched out glyphs flashing through her mind. They swam in and out of her memory, elusive things that she couldn’t quite grasp as firmly as she would like.

Her silent musing stretched out and seemed to increase the space between them into a seamless void.

“How strange,” she muttered absently, speaking more so to the night in general than directly to Dryden. “How strange it is for two people so alike in their background and origins to have once been so completely different during their mortal lives.”

"This is true." Dryden's stride finally came to halt as he reached a bench. He brushed off his jeans, and sat himself down. Outstretching his arms over the back of the wooden bench. His gaze fell to the ground, as he let his thoughts drift to the times of Egypt. The hot days, filled with noises of slaves toiling outdoors, the soft and sophisticated indoors which exploded into a show of celebrations and lights once night fell.

His eyelids were shut over his clouded eyes, they fluttered slightly, as the visions of what was once home flashed through his mind. When he spoke it came as a bit of a surprise,

"Have you ever gone back, not at all the same is it? Funny thing, time. I wish you can see what I see..." he trailed off, his head falling back, losing himself in his empathy. He saw himself walking the sands of the Pharoahs, just as vivid as if he was actually there. In a time long ago... and time long dead... a time that was stolen from him.

“No,” Nebti chuckled as she leaned her hip against one of the black iron arms of the bench . “I’ve never gone back.”

Egypt, her father had once said, was in the blood. The life of the land was the Nile, the Nile was Egypt, and the Nile ran in the veins of her people. But the Nile, in all her glory, was not as important or sustaining as she had once been. Nebti crossed her arms protectively over her chest as she watched him stretch out and recline, his head lulling back lazily.

Dryden cut an impressive figure, she had to admit. She could smell the sands on him, hear the rush of the Nile and feel the hot sun beating down over the fertile land that had been her home.

Almost absently, she reached out and laid her hand lightly over his eyes, her fingertips only lightly touching his skin. She took a shallow breath and closed her eyes. Touching someone else mind was not exactly her strong point, but a mental push she could do easily, a request at entrance. She could see what he saw if he allowed her to look, but she would not touch his mind without an invitation

Dryden smiled, it was almost as if she had read his mind. His eyelids still shut over his eyes, he felt her power sweep over him. A sense of the mind that rivaled his own, though he didn't care to compare his strength to his own, this was a moment for her and him alone. Two fellow Ancients, of the Amman, who shared the same roots... the same place they had called home.

He subconsciously raised his hand, closing it against her own. Pressing it softly against his forehead, he envoked images in his mind, kindly grabbing her mentally into his mind. His empathic abilities worked full forced, as he pushed on her sense of perceptions. Smell, sight, sound he pushed these brain paths of hers, and pushed as hard on his own.

He opened his eyes, and he was still sitting on the bench. Nebti sitting awkwardly on it's arm. He still held her hand in his, as he took in the surroundings he had conjured.

The date was unknown, but the place was unmistakable. The sounds of waves came from behind them, as the illusion of the Nile flowed behind them. And before them, were the golden sands, that housed the cities of Egypt.

Blink once, blink twice, blink three times and you'd still see Egypt as it was many centuries ago. Children were running a round, as adults pushed blocks up ramps in order to finish to pyramids that had not yet reached completion. Soldiers under command of the Pharoah, over-viewed the work of the laborers.

Statues, commerating different dieties stood tall. Some temples could be seen, their radiance shining in the hot sun. It was if they were really there, as if everything was as it was.

Nebti felt first the lure, the pull that took her into Dryden’s mental touch. Her barriers and safe guards dropped away as she began to feel the push at her senses. The stall city air lifted to be replaced with the clean, hot air of the desert, the rush of fresh, clear waters beckoned her ears and a whisper of something elusive touched a new beat to the rhythm of the world.

Opening her eyes, Nebti found herself surrounded by a world that had lived, for so long, only in her memories. The well of emotion stirred deep, a twinge from far within, and welled hot to the surface to threaten tears. Nebti pressed her knuckles to her mouth, biting down in an age old habit meant to check and control her emotions. She had to blink a few times to clear her sight, but there was no mistaking the joy she took and letting her eyes devour each and every tiny detail.

From the statues, to the people, to the glittering sands, illusion, yes, but one she would be happy to stay trapped in. It was Home.

“That’s,” Nebti cleared her throat to get the roughness out of her voice, turning away from the vision to study Dryden with a mixture of wonder and respect. “You’re rather talented, aren’t you?”

She winced at that, she wanted to thank him, not compliment him. How long had it been sense she had last had reason to thank anyone for anything?

Too long.

Dryden took pride in his powers, and was why a smug look appeared across his face when Nebti fumbled with her words. He could tell that it had not her intent to compliment him, not really. However, her original meaning was lost on him, and unless she sorted out which words meant what and spoke them aloud, he wouldn't care to know what she had meant.

Right now, he revelled in his illusion just as much as she probably was. It was of course, made up of a combination of what Dryden remembered, and the memories he was able to retract from Nebti's mind. Perfectly harmonized is the perfect setting that was now before them. Dryden smiled, already feeling the pressure on his mind, he wouldn't be able to hold the illusion for much longer, still it was nice to feel the hot Egyptian sun on his pale skin.

Now, Dryden was able to separate reality from illusion. Even if he was pushing on his own senses to make it all feel real, he knew the sun was not due to rise for quite awhile. The same could not be said for others however...

(OOC: I am sorry that took so long, I just couldn't seem to get this post just right... truthfully I still don't like it much... but I have kept you waiting longer than enough.))

She breathed deep to suck in the scent of the world she had once known, reveling in the feeling of being home.

As caught up in the illusion as she was, it took Nebti longer than it should have to notice that everything was bright, glittering alive and well with sunlight. Sunlight.

Panic hit hard, sudden shards of instinctual fear yanking an unearthly shriek out of her throat. She whipped around, her eyes seeking desperately for a place to hide, somewhere to go to get out of the sun.
The only reasonable spot to avoid direct sunlight seemed to be the shadows cast by the tower statues of the gods, and Nebti spared no time at all getting to the nearest one.

As soon as she felt safe she took a pause long enough to catch her breath and begin to check over her skin. When she had been young, the sun had been able to burn down to her bones in moments. As she’d aged, it have been sunburns, and then charred flesh. But as she searched herself, she found nothing.

Bewildered, Nebti looked back out to where Dryden sat and felt her cheeks binning to flush red with shame.

She had forgotten, this was an illusion.