Chapter 9: Songs of Reefs and Restlessness
Harker and Carol recoiled as they dripped with water, tossed into the baths yet again to be washed and perfumed, however, this time, under the enthusiastic surveillance of the Pharaoh, who gawked at them from the edge of the pool.
Carol shuddered at the gaze and sunk lower into the water, hiding her chest with her arms and holding close to the white man's side, feeling polished onyx trace the silhouette of her back even as it rattled with fear and exhaustion. She whimpered as herbal mixtures were splashed across her skin, alabaster shining in flawless slabs that shifted with breath, shoulder blades faint and elegant.
The Australian snarled as a servant girl dumped a pot full of water on his head, beating out the mud and dust to let rivets of the cool liquid slid across sun sparkling druzy. Labradorite eyes narrowed with open enmity as a visible steam lifted from his shoulders, defined clavicle and abdominal muscles clear and fresh in the afternoon sun as he snatched a lathered rag from someone and scrubbed himself defiantly.
Memphis sipped warm wine and let it settle in his stomach alongside the slow spread of victory, blooming like a flower under the morning sun in the presence of the golden two. The way they stood in the rippling, floral fluid making him hum, pleased with what the gods had bestowed upon him.
Harker sneered through his dripping fringe, before coming it out of the way, feeling the last few straggling grains of dirt and sand come off on his hands. Small fingers glanced over his side making him look down and see Carol, huddling shoulder deep in the water, gazing up at him in a hesitant request of comfort. She was scared, and he wasn't surprised, the dark eyes of the Pharaoh frustratingly unnerving for him as well, the way they trailed to take in every line and defining curve. He sent a glare over his shoulder, before sending a settling smile down at his fellow Westerner.
"He doesn't stop watching." Carol whispered urgently, scuttling closer as arms were opened to her.
"I know, stay close." The Australian grunted, running the cloth over his nape and rinsing it out.
"Harker," The Pharaoh snapped, making the man close his eyes for patience. "Come here!"
The American girl looked between the two, giving Harker a worried look that expressed how he didn't have to follow the demand, before taking the cloth as it was dumped in her hands. She watched with a high tension as he waded through the waist deep water, the muscles in the white man's back shifting with barely restrained aggression.
Harker grit his teeth as he stood at the edge of the bath, Memphis standing over him with a satisfied smirk.
"What do you want, Pharaoh?" He huffed after moments of waiting, not liking the gaze sent at him. "I'm trying to take a bath."
"What is that mark on your arm? Tell me." Memphis demanded swiftly.
Harker thinned his lips and brought up his hand, covering the sun engraved into the alabaster in a protective, near self-conscious, manner. He didn't like how General Minus had uttered at it in an airy awe, and how Memphis had gained a hypnotic attraction for it, the entire trip back having been spent trying to wean information out from between Carol's lips.
For once, the girl had been silent.
"It's just a...fuck, what's the word. It's a tattoo." He grunted, unable to find the translation.
"Taht-u?" The Pharaoh stuttered, furrowing his brow.
"Yeah," Harker shrugged, "A tattoo. It's nothing to get all hyped up about, don't worry."
The teenaged king narrowed his eyes, before frowning and grabbing the pale man's arm, dragging him forwards until he could examine the deeply seated, black lines which curled beneath transparent layers of smooth, sparkling druzy. He scowled and rubbed at it, demanding a cloth and scrubbed the white complexion until Harker raised his voice, the skin red and raw.
"Ow! Get off!"
Memphis stumbled as an alabaster hand clapped away his own sun tanned, eyes of Nile reflecting pain and irritation set into a glare.
"Stop that!" Carol yelped, coming forward and placing her hand over the thrumming flesh, making her friend hiss.
"Do not tell me what to do!" Memphis spat, still buzzing with the strike, his hand held limp before him.
"Ah, that looks like it hurts." Carol tsked, washing water over it.
"It'll be a bitch to have in this heat." Harker grunted, before glancing down. "Carol, your chest."
The Westerner blinked, before she snapped her head to the Pharaoh who had found an interest in her figure, making her shout and leap at the first source of safety, latching onto her fellow white folk as surprised arms came around to hug her.
Harker blinked in confusion, wondering why she had just done that, but shook his head and tried to calm her. Australian brought her closer and walked them away from the Pharaoh, who watched in simpering silence as the two white forms bathed themselves in the bleeding sun of the afternoon.
Carol muttered something as the man fell onto his back, floating them across the water in a slanted manner, their waists beneath the herbal liquid as it rippled with their breath. She sighed as her cheek rested on a pale pectoral, making random swirls in the reflections of skies.
"We should get out soon," Harker uttered, wrists moving slowly to cart them through the warm light. "It's getting dark, and I'd rather be ready for bed than shivering when it is."
"Mm," Carol agreed softly, her eyes wavering in their focus as the heartbeat soothed her mind. "True…"
()()()
The Westerners were low as they sat in the sun by the pools that framed the court, lilies and lotuses floating across the water which Carol waded through, collecting armfuls of the sweet-scented flowers as Harker sat cross-legged at the shore.
Unasu watched from a few steps away, his arms set firmly behind him as he scanned the surrounding plains, his soldier garb shining in the light.
Carol bit her lip, feeling the bubbling temper of indignant betrayal simmer under her emotional exhaustion. Harker flicked away a twig he had been fiddling with, looking away from the man pointedly.
Unasu had been a soldier all along, sent by Memphis to keep an eye on them while they were condemned to suffer. He was just the same now, with only a different kind of cell for him to patrol. They could not go anywhere without him hovering, which gave them no privacy, the militant stationed by their door when they rested, and in the next room when they had attempted to watch them bathe, but Carol had drawn a hard line.
The Australian sighed and looked down at his hands, making an absent note of how long his nails had become. He hummed to himself as he began scraping sand out from under them, before pausing and placing the song he had begun with a nostalgic smile.
"Taba naba, naba norem," Harker sang quietly, sliding his hands over one another "Tugi penai siri, dinghy e naba we."
Carol ceased her restless plucking, and turned to the low notes, not recognising the language as the man pressed his palm to the hot stone by his knee, then to his shoulder, then doing the same on the other side of himself.
"Miko keimi, sere re naba we." He continued, smiling to himself as he touched his shoulder then raised his hands up to bring them to settle on his waist. "Taba naba norem."
"What was that?" Carol asked, coming to him as her feet sparkled under the sun, tracks of water disappearing behind her.
"It's a Torres Strait Islander song, Taba Naba." Harker laughed, reminiscent.
"Torres Strait Islander?"
"Yeah, don't you know? Well, I guess they aren't a huge topic outside of Australia." He hummed, thinking to himself. "In Australia, there are these group of islands above and around the top of Queensland. Those are the Islanders, people like Tongans and such."
"And they've got their own dialect?" She urged, her natural curiosity piquing as she came to sit beside him.
"Well, yes. Every part of our native groups have different dialects, even the Aboriginals from the mainland had hundreds of languages. Australia's a big lot of land." Harker explained with a laugh.
"So that's, like, a chant or something?"
"Nah, it's a children's song. It basically says 'let's go down to the reed and have fun'".
The American girl tilted her head, imagining families splashing in the green-blue of the beaches she had seen in pictures, a smile coming to her face as she heard phantom laughter.
"That sounds nice."
Harker reflected the expression, before humming as the girl shuffled into a cross-legged position.
"Can you teach me?"
"Sure, just follow me, yeah? I'll sing."
Carol laughed and mimicked the man's actions as the Islander tongue fell from him, sliding her wet palms over one another as lilts of history floated around with a strength that was granted with company.
"Taba naba, naba norem."
Memphis demanded the nobles pause their chattering as a warm voice floated up, charcoal eyes sliding across the horizon before he lifted from his lounge. He carried himself to the edge of the humid space, the court following close, before he peered to the figures of carved druzy, celestial, petal-soft smiles light upon their pale complexions as a smooth song of something otherworldly echoing into the Ancient's ears as Carol joined in, giggles lacing her tone.
"Tugi penai siri, dinghy e naba we." Harker rumbled, teeth of pearl flashing in open joy.
"Miko keimi, sere re naba we." The woman of alabaster followed, touching the earth to her shoulders as the man did.
"Taba naba norem!"
The Pharaoh watched as they raised their hands up, feeling the sun's radiance on their luminescent palms, before they curled their arms to rest their hands upon their waists, Carol letting out a tinkling laugh as the man of white calcite wiggled his hips.
The woman pushed herself forwards and wrapped the quartz bodies together in a jeweled embrace, gold and gems flashing in the sun as they were bowled backwards, joy and glee echoing through the place of royalty as the court watched the two ethereals tickle each other beside the blooming pool of floral designs which bloomed for their praise.
()()()
Harker dodged under a beam of wood as he made his way through the village of Goshen, slaves glancing at his cloaked figure, before scampering out of his way, his height making him a bit of a spectacle in the tightly packed streets. Under his arm, he carried a bundle wrapped in cloth, food and medicines crammed inside for both Sephora and Milanun.
Carol had gone to the Thebe's marketplace, taking Unasu with her. Memphis had attempted to keep Harker close to him as a result, nearly dragging the alabaster man down onto his lounge in front of the court and Isis - Harker had nearly bared his teeth at the sheer animosity that he had felt become directed at him by the Egyptian princess.
The Pharaoh had relented, however, when Harker had grunted out that he wouldn't try to run for it while Carol was still here. It had been bitter, but his leash had been extended for a short amount of time.
The Australian shook his head, before turning the familiar corner of mudstone and sand, and sighed as he came to the low door and cracked his knuckles against the warm wood.
"Sephora!" He called, before the door swung open and the old Egyptian smiled up at him.
"Harker!" She greeted, stepping aside for the white man to slide on in. "Sit, sit. Oh, Milanun! Milanun, Harker is here!"
The white man laughed from his seat, hood pushed from his shoulders to bare his pale skin to the stuffy hot room. He raised his bundle before unpacking it, Sephora giving a coo of awe as he handed over to her dried meats, fruits and jars of ale for her to store and consume over time at leisure.
The off to the side moved, before the brown, Haitian eyes of their princess peered out to see a smiling face. Milanun burst from the corner and wrapped her arms around Harker with a joyous cry, smothering her face into his shoulder as she knocked him onto his back, laugher booming from within his chest.
"Careful!" Sephora scolded, despite how she smiled at the two. "Try not to be too loud."
"How have you been? How's the leg?" Harker asked, sitting up as the woman held onto him. "Come on, show me."
Milanun curled into his warm side as he brought her leg into his lap, raising her skirt to allow him to unravel the bandages and examine sun tanned skin. He hummed thoughtfully as she dropped her head on his shoulder, hot hands thumbing an applying pressure with soft questions.
"No pain." She hummed, feeling the rough tips of her prince's fingers.
"It's looking good," Harker uttered, eyeing the stitches. "We should be able to take them out today, actually. But try not to split the skin, it'll be a bit fragile for a little while, got it?"
"So the princess has almost completely healed then?" Sephora urged, placing down a tray of drinks.
"Almost," The Australian nodded, smiling at their expressions of excitement. "You'll be able to return home soon!"
Milanun smiled and reached for the man's hand, holding onto it with a flirtatious grip. Harker laughed and squeezed back, before withdrawing his limb and looking to the elderly Egyptian mother.
"Ms Sephora, can I have a knife and some boiling water? I'm going to remove Milanun's stitches."
"Will it hurt?" The Haitian royal asked.
"No, no. You'll probably feel some sharp tugging, but it won't hurt any more than pinching." He soothed, before reaching over and snagging a thin piece of her skin between his fingers playfully. "Like that!"
"Ow!" She huffed, slapping his hand away and crossing her arms in a defensive manner to protect them.
Milanun was going home. She needed to plan. How they would get Harker out from under the thumb of that hateful Pharaoh. How they would smuggle this pale being across the desert of sand without having soldiers of saline lands laying their hands on her precious cargo.
The Haitian flinched as the hot, steaming blade of the stone knife glanced over her skin, the weak material of the stitches giving under the swift assault. The tension in her skin which she had grown used to through the days lessened with each swipe, one after another, before Harker tossed away the threads and rooted through his bundle, pulling free a container, which he popped open to curl a finger and gain a slathering of aloe vera gel.
He hummed comfortingly as he slathered it over the marks left behind, leaving a generous, gelatinous layer that gleamed on his finger and her skin, scenting a fresh, clean smell.
"Remember to be gentle with it, don't strain yourself. Eat and drink, and stay out of trouble."
"I will." She promised, letting herself be manipulated until her legs were once again united, still leaning heavily on the man's side.
Harker smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a familiar manner, letting the royal curl into him happily. He hummed before turning his attention to the matron who watched them with a nostalgic gaze.
"She missed you, kept talking about you."
"Yeah?" He uttered, the princess lost to her own world. "I missed her too. Thank you for looking after her."
"No problem, she was good company." Sephora smiled, looking at the woman's closed-eyed expression. "Makes this small, rickety place more lively."
Harker thinned his lips, before reaching out and squeezing the Egyptian mother's hand.
"Good." He smiled. "I'm glad."
