Amen Ra

Syrus, first to arrive, and first to leave. Namir glowered at me for a while, but she didn?t say anything. Isis stayed, and we spoke inanities. How long it had been, how ?nice? it was to see each other after all of these years. It was discreet, but I kept as far from her as I could. I knew what my evening had in store, though I?m not sure why they wanted to keep me. They couldn?t, however. I was allready forming a plan of my own, though I trusted that Isis was aware of it. It?d take some work, and it was assuming a few things that I didn?t know for certain yet. Whatever they were planning, it was big enough so that there were gods all willing to pin me in this body while they carried it out. It meant that there were probably even more in on this plan than I had even seen.
Evening came, and Namir left as well. Isis and I heard Jackal pass briefly, but she had only to look up, and his shadow dissapeared from underneath the door, fast as four legs would carry him. And then it was just me, and all of her attention there. In a moment, she was next to me on the bed, her eyes locking me down in place. Isis was terrifying, electrifying, and she was utterly irresistable, in that way. All her time with Syrus, and not in any way was she tamed by him.
When Seth had killed Syrus, that ancient brother?s vendetta, it was she who had revived him. Or rather, that was how the world would see it. She had told the world that the power of her love had done it, broght the corpse which was chopped to pieces, reassembled like a puzzle (just one piece short, just one last piece that we couldn?t find, or so she said,) back to life. So the Egyptians wrote, when she told it to them. Syrus believed this too, saw it as her undying affection.
She and I knew the truth. She pinned me there, a nailed hand going onto my shoulder, and gaze hard on my own. Her manicure dug into my back, caused me to arch, and in that instant, I was tossed to the bed like a ragdoll forgotten by her mistress. We knew that I had brought Syrus back, it had been my kiss of life on his patchwork lips. I knew what she had done with his last piece, when she had finished with it. Her mouth on mine, and I had no secrets. I could feel her lipstick smearing onto my face, the fine tickle of her hair on my forehead. Her mouth was hot, like mine ? there was no alluring cold about Isis, though the way she held herself, you would allmost expect it.
?You were always better than my husband,? She hissed, as I pushed at her, my hands sinking
against her soft breasts. Any other man would have been powerless, lost to her every beck and whim. I?m not taking her compliments to heart, nor letting her have the better of me that easily.
?You aren?t saying much,? Syrus, of course, was sexless. When Isis had found all his pieces, there was but one missing. The tale said she searched and searched, but could not find it. I knew better. She was far more civil about things than Jackal, but her control was almost absolute, too. When I saught to push her, she dug a thumb in under my sternum, stealing my breath. She followed this by dashing my head on the wall behind the bed. Isis fights dirty.
My clothing was like nothing, then, gone under her fingers in moments, though I don?t recall
being in any way helpful. That skirt ? that painted on skirt ? there was nothing underneath it. So when her hand was on me, I was hard, and that was it, she guided me in. She has a command over my body that I can say nothing about, she pushed down hard, tilting her head. She hadn?t even so much as taken off her shoes, and here I was, me, naked and under her control. It took nothing, it took no time, I simply bucked up, turning my hands to the bed so that I wouldn?t have to touch her any further. I surged, I sank into the heat, my breath slow and steady. Three, four, five and then it was over.
Just as I died, she whispered my name, my true name, given to me when the waters of the world created me, so that I could create. She whispered it into my ear like a psalm, and I felt only pain.

---

The morning after, I woke to find myself still in my clothes, lipstick smeared on my face. Jackal was outside, but by the shadow under the door he was in his true form and laying still by the door. Probably sleeping until I called for his help with Ormandi, or maybe I would just let her kill me today. It was a shame to waste an opportunity like that, when I was trying to get free. The weather felt grey, even in the carmel coloured room. Though I am not the only sun god, I am one of the oldest still around, and my confinement may still have some effect on the world.
This day, I started the same as yesterday. With a shower, a harsh scrub to my face - there were strill traces of Isis' makeup. This morning I was hungry, for some reason, but it was a distant sort of hunger. This body was starting to feel older, and it would only get worse, the more time I spent in it. There is no breakfast for me, no one waiting when I come out, though someone had refreshed the towels, and left me a clean set of clothing - nondescript, simmilar to what I was wearing, during the night. I changed into these, and pawed through anything I could find in the room. The telephone - there was no wire to connect it to the wall, but it remained there, on the table. It was a simple affair, buttons and a headset, and nothing more. Someone had placed a sticker with the number of a local cab company on the headeset.
There was the bed, and no window,and the bathroom, which had nothing in it but trial sized shampoo, conditioner, soap, a disposable razor with a super safety edge. It's damn near impossible to kill yourself with one like that. There was one drawer in the bathroom. It held a toothbrush in the package, and a tube of paste. And that was what I had to amuse myself. There was no bedside table, the light was situated in the ceiling, and the closet was full of bathroom. I turned the bed upright again, and stacked the chair atop the table, and then paced for a while.
That bored me quickly, and I decided even conversation would be better. When I tapped on the door and pulled it open, it was not Jackal outside. Or rather, it -was- a jackal, but it wasn't the same one that I have spoken of before. Jackal is most decidedly black, in any form, with the great ears and slim design of the animal he was created from. This animal was just as sleek and trim, yawning widely from powerful jaws as it rose to it's feet, but it was albino. Blue eyes looked up at me, tail set low and menacing. This was Ap-uat. I had thought him long dead, but perhaps a new scroll or a new text had been found in egypt, and researchers poured over it, excited about this discovery of Anubis's twin. It would have given him form again, let him wander the world.
He was a quieter personality than Jackal, but just as fierce. I wouldn't call them polar opposites, but simply say that they were each their own. Ap-uat didn't offer me a substitute name, and as I'm not very creative, and there are no alternate words for 'jackal', I thought of him simply as Wolfe. This was a step backwards - I had expected Jackal, and likely he'd been instructed not to see me. My situation was more difficult, now.
Despite my askance, Wolfe remained in his animal form, pacing the room with what I can only describe as patience. He was waiting for Ormandi, keeping his senses tuned, his eyes on every corner, and especially under the table. Ormandi was just uncreative enough to use the same trick again. As was I, if it had worked prior. If it isn't broken...
We spent hours that way, Wolfe pacing, standing out like fire against the ochre carpet, moving like the waves from shore to shore on the river of death. Nothing in the world concerned him more than every lengthening shadow, and I wore out the day in silence, with only my thoughts as company.
Memories are a welcome enough diversion and so I remember. My children, Gabe and Sky, sole creations of me. I would like to say that I was drunk, but I was simply lonesome. It happened before the Egyptians existed, through the power of their words and belief. Through myself, I became impregnated with the world and gave birth via my mouth. Not fun, no. After that I was done with children. After that, I would simply create. When I was finished birthing the earth and sky, I cried. My tears became men, and I breathed them life. when they grew old and died, I created them an Underworld. When they couldn't find their way to the gates, I created them guides.
It's afternoon by the time that Ormandi appears, she has wasted half the day plotting her victory - even if she won, it would be only a small triumph. She springs predictably from the bathroom. Wolfe has none of the failings of his brother, in that he's been paying attention, and he is in no way distracted by me. He snaps up her dark form, just at the neck and close to the head, capable jaws rendering her motionless. What came next, I did not expect. - Wolfe quite simply ran from the room, snake held firmly in his teeth. Since I wasn't looking for such a thing, I wasted one long minute staring after, the door markedly closed in his absence.
---
Then I stood up. I had created two guides to the underworld, long ago. I had done this when I was young, and the power given to me by my followers was close to boundless. Faith is very strong when it is young, and it was all given to me. And though I made copious use of it, it was not enough, never enough. You can see that nothing will go on forever - God simple cannot even speak to his servants any longer, though his great book is filled with pages and pages of such incidents. Or perhaps he can, and he is simply sitting back on his lapels. If so, he'll regret it someday.
God simple has his angels, and I, I have animals. I called up the pair of them, matched them into a set, and I did it by naming their names. You see, everything has a true name. I do, you do, every cat and mouse, every fish in the sea. It's simple. I think of what I want, and I name them. When I have said the name six times, the creature comes into being. When I say it six times again, the creature goes away. This power is not so effective now, but it still has this effect on us. Once, I spoke Jackal's true name. I knew wherever he was, that he pricked up his ears. There was a tugging at his heart, a longing to come and see me. Twice, I spoke his true name.
Wherever he was, the urge to see me became urgent, pulling his heart like a bait on a string. He would not walk, but run down the halls, run through the Egypt - on all fours as a dog if he thought it would get him here faster, running to get to me as quickly as possible.
Three times, I spoke his true name. I could hear him now, raising a call with an animal throat, howling his way down the hall as pain began to beset him. He could not think now, could not breathe or act beyond simply coming to me. He must come, he must be here. This power I do not have over Gabe or Sky - I did not create them, but I birthed them, and their true name belongs only to themselves and the waters, as mine should, before Isis stole it. I did not have this power over Syrus or Isis, born into the world from Gabe and Sky, as were Seth and his wife. But Jackal, Jackal I had created.
He let himself into the room, a hurried mess, and practically panting, frantic. I got the sensation that he wanted to fall at my feet, show his belly, and apologize for anything he'd ever done to upset me. The power of names is not one that I like to use, but it was important. So very important that I get out of here. Deep brown eyes met mine, I noticed one hand over his heart, his expression was absolutely pitiful. It was a cruel thing to do to someone, and the second time in as many days that I had done something ill involving his person. These were favors that I would have to make up, but not before I had further wronged him.
He must have slept since I'd seen him last, because he'd had time to dress freshly, and his wounds were gone. He was catching his breath, just starting to draw up, opening his mouth to ask me why or what, and I had my fingers in his well pressed shirt, drawing him in, pulling his mouth against mine, pushing my tongue in. He was nothing short of astounded. I think that he thought I was angry with him. I lured his tongue into my mouth, pulled him into the room, put my foot up on the upturned edge of the bed, and with a carefully applied pressure, righted it again behind myself. Jackal had the presence of mind to swing one hand back and paw the door closed, rendering it as good as locked, by both of our rushed standards. We didn't have a lot of time, and I couldn't afford to die here, and though the afternoon was still young I didn't feel safe in experimenting. So I had an option or two, and I fully intended to make use of what I could. Just enough to assert power over him.
I was fairly sure that I would regret the consequences later, but having Jackal around for a while would not be so bad, as compared to whatever Isis was planning. I was not really thinking all of this while we kissed, but as I said, I was left to think all morning. Jackal was growling low in his throat, unsure weather to lead or be lead. I made his mind for him. I had been backing up the whole time, and the point had been to keep him off guard. It took only a quick motion to wheel him around, a quick application of pressure to bend his knees over the edge of the bed, and he sat down, simple as that.
I simply had to press forward, and he leaned back, catching himself on his hands, eyes closed. When I took hold of the catch in his pants, his hand came up then, pushed on my shoulder questioningly. I did not give him time to ask, catching hold of either side of his unzipped pants and pulling out, pulling up, spilling him off balance. It was all a matter of keeping him that way, unbalanced. He knew what I was going to do, and he was torn between knowing better and desperately wanting it. So with just the right motions here and there, I could cause him to teeter, distract him just long enough for the real distraction to begin.
I pushed his pants into a pool over his shoes, fingers noting the silken quality of his boxers, and with vague amusement I saw that they were also black. It's easy to have class when you only chose one color. I should try it sometime. His skin was still cold, even his thighs frigid under my touch. Well, my mouth was warm enough for both of us. It took scant minutes before he was hardening under my attentions like clay in the sun. There was nothing here but the smell of sandalwood, blood hardened flesh in my mouth tasting of human salt. I wondered distantly, if I had had such things in the back of my mind when I created things. The taste of something, the cool feel of it under my fingers, the noise of it when it is in acts such as these.
Well, things live, and by living they become their own, and take on their own traits. If I controlled every hair, every little aspect, life would be so boring. Jackal's hand finds my hair, his head tilted back to reveal a very long stretch of throat. I'll bite him someday to return his favor, but for now, best just to concentrate on what I was doing, my tongue tracing every cool line of his cock until it was warm and so very wet. My knees were on the carpet, I focused on my fingers around his thigh. This is a delicate position of power, indeed. While he has fingers in my hair, a hand gently cupping my skull in encouragement, and I am in supplication on the floor, all it would take is a an imprecise and deliberate application of teeth to set him at my mercy.
I do not have the time for games like that today, and Jackal doesn't deserve it, not considering how I plan to use him. His voice at first is soft, a high and growing noise deep in his chest, but eventually it harshens, his breath rising quick in his chest around growls. He had been surprisingly still until he came, so the sudden arch of his hips caught me by surprise, almost caused me to choke on the sweetbark taste of his semen, in turn causing me to draw back. The last of it hit my face, and let me say, I dislike that. At least it was warm enough to start, and a swipe or two of my sleeve and it was good enough.
Jackal fell backwards on the bed, eyes lidded most of the way closed. He was catching his breath, though his teeth were showing faintly in his mouth, watching me carefully. He was powerless, now, as I sank down onto the bed, leaning in to speak on very close terms with his ear, putting my hand deliberately onto the Ankh, pressing down, sinking it's impression into the skin over his ribs. He didn't make even a noise of protest, and I could almost feel him tensing to push it further in against the arc of bones.
"You are going to take a moment to catch your breath, then you are going to clean up." These were truths, because I would see them out to be. The last part was also true, but I had to phrase it ever so carefully. You see, speaking the truth that I want will often make it so, but it it so very unfair. I am careful with the power, because saying, 'you don't know where it is', will cause a person's mind to blank completely o the subject, or making a statement about the temperature can cause things to turn most unexpectedly and most unpleasently.
"And then, I want you to lead me out of here." Jackal swallowed, the motion a pulse at my shoulder. I felt him nod, and let him up, where he then recovered his pants. I noticed, belatedly, that he was wearing -my- belt. Fucker. He didn't want to go against Syrus's words, somewhere deep in his mind, but far closer to the surface, I knew, he really wanted to do everything that I said. He wanted to please me, and if he didn't he knew that I could name him again, do it again, or simply remove his existance. All of these things made it easier for him to follow my instructions. Of course, I like to think that he was at least somewhat motivated by a like for me, and not entirely by the fact that I could remove him from the world with only the power of my voice.
He stopped only for seconds at the sink, splashing water on his face, and staring at his pupils until they undialated enough for him to stop appearing like a bewildered virgin, and then he opened the door. He had to hold it for me, or I would not have been able to pass through. I saw him hesitate, just for a second, pondering closing me in and running free to hope that my wrath would not be too great. I would not have named him out of existance for such a thing, but it made me prouder of my creation that he held firm. Perhaps now he could eventually live freely, away from Syrus.
I passed the threshold, and I could feel it, I could feel death screaming for me. Something in my expression must have said it to Jackal, because he turned and ran, body turning black and streamlined, and flying down the hall in streaks. I followed, I followed and stretched my wings wide in the narrow hallway.