32- Meeting the Family

32- Meeting the Family
Aisha drew every ounce of courage she could muster and turned to face the dining room.

After another few minutes in her bedroom spent asking questions, Imset made it clear she wouldn't get any real answers on who would be at dinner or why. He seemed genuinely upset about keeping secrets but it did little to soothe Aisha's anxiety. The best she could do was throw on her most badass dress and hold her tongue.

Imset had walked through the in-between and deposited her in the doorway with a tense kiss and a promise to return with a strong drink. He owed her that at least.

But taking in the full sweep of the room, she wished she'd laid into him a little harder. She couldn't fight the strained sound that burst out of her. Imset had called this a dining room. As if it were some cozy area off of the kitchen with room for six. The human concept tasted like ash in the face of such opulence and perhaps that was Aisha's own fault for visualizing something mundane. Her hands went numb. She wasn't exactly sure what he should have called it, instead, wasn't sure if there was any single word that could have prepared her for the sight.

It's just a room, she told herself, fighting back a cold sweat. The room was enormous, walled on three sides with dense limestone blocks that shone a beautiful white in the evening sun. Carved and painted pillars bracketed two large reliefs: one on the left wall of Horus' rule as the first Pharaoh and one on the right of Osiris motioning souls through to judgment. It was every bit the essence of the old world. Even the wall directly in front of her, the expanse of which had been retrofitted with a collection of floor-to-ceiling doors, accordioned in on itself to let the grandeur of the Nile in. Three sure steps and she'd been in the cool lick of water. She'd never seen anything this beautiful.

Thin white curtains flowed in the warm breeze, made gooseflesh out of her arms. It flared a few candelabras set along the length of the table, setting a hint of otherworldliness to the already refined room.

She felt...small. Terribly so, achingly so. And gutter poor compared to such finery. Imset's room was grand but it was mostly empty, nothing more than large, caustic furniture pieces and concrete accents. It hid the splendor of the larger palace. Even the gallery hadn't been so imposing because the women had used the in-between to take her directly there. She hadn't seen the rest of the palace. Hadn't thought it would be this grand. And in the gallery, the fine objects were on display. She could tell herself she merely stood in a museum and observed.

But this grandeur was meant to be used... As common practice. These fine things--finer than anything she had ever seen--were what composed a simple family dinner in the old world.

Aisha took two steps toward the dining table and shuddered as she counted the settings. It had been set for sixteen, a fact that had her blood cooling. A set of two chairs at each table-end, six spread out on either side. Sixteen people and she'd be the only human. Her stomach tightened, a wave of nausea rolling over her. The room was such an odd mix of old and new. Ancient carvings, weathered stone, modern crystal chandeliers, broad leather chairs that screamed twenty-first century.

Thin glass plates alternated with gold ones at each setting, half-filled water goblets with thick, ornate marbling on the right, perfectly portioned thin wine glasses with long stems on the left. Aisha stifled her panic and ignored her thready pulse as she searched for the place card with her name. She sat in her assigned seat, careful not to touch anything. This room might break her wide open if she let it--might make a mess of her. At least she had Imset.

"So you're the human?" a heavily accented female voice broke through Aisha's tension at the table, "So much conflict brewing over... you?" The voice had come from behind, beautiful but clipped like a foreign tongue. It took everything in her not to turn and face the woman. Aisha could tell that speaking in English was clearly for her benefit. And oh what a joy that would be... She was used to people being rude and belittling her. If humans did it, she wasn't surprised goddesses did too.

Anger kicked through Aisha so swiftly she almost didn't stop herself before she cursed the woman out. That would be a mistake in a place like this, she knew. Especially alone. Her emotions were all over the place lately, hard to anticipate, hard to curb but she had to keep a level head here. Aisha took a heated breath.

And what the hell did she mean Aisha was causing conflict? Was Imset in trouble? Is that what kept him away, kept him busy?

Imset had assured her no one would arrive for at least another five minutes, but clearly, he miscalculated that. And now seeing the ornate room, hearing the melodic woman's voice, Aisha feared she had severely miscalculated this dress. She felt the black latex rub against her thighs. The hem was too short, the neckline too low. Everything hugged her so tight, there was little left to imagine about her shape. It had made her feel powerful back while she was dressing, gave her the confidence she needed, but here? She felt exposed.

Turning incrementally, Aisha took in the fluid gait of the woman as she finally rounded the table into view. Definitely too refined not to be a goddess, in an elegant cut of floor-length fabric. Dark, glossy skin. Picturesque features. Tall with long, heavy waves hanging over her shoulders. The woman wore several coiled metal armbands and had arranged her eye makeup with a feline flare.

Aisha gulped against an already-too-dry throat and began to introduce herself, "Goddess--"

"Don't speak to me human!" the woman snapped so severely it had turned her entire face feral in an instant, "The other consorts are trained better. And they at least have power." She clicked her tongue as Aisha fought back the red hot embarrassment flushing her ears. Then the spike of anger so strong she bit her own tongue.

Aisha laughed at herself. At her haywire feelings. A sign that her anxiety was too high. Her nervous ticks were dead giveaways to her feelings for anyone who knew how to read them. That sharp laugh might get her in over her head around these gods.

"BASTET," Imset scolded, voice rough as it burst from behind Aisha, "Yell at her again and I'll have one of my sisters see to your manners." His tone promised every ounce of temper she knew he had but Aisha found herself focusing on the name he'd used. Bastet. An elder goddess... standing right in front of her and Aisha had the nerve to even speak in her presence... She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Save her from herself.

Bast didn't look a day over thirty--still lean and shapely in every place that mattered. Still fierce and brilliant to behold. Petty, obviously. Terrible disposition but the rest still held true. What would a goddess like that have against Aisha? A nobody.

"As if any of them could even touch me. Having power and being powerful are not one in the same," she said coolly, "And as always, you're trying to fight when you could fuck. How typical... And over that no less. Disappointing, but not surprising." Bast didn't spare Aisha another moment of attention, focusing solely on Imset.

Now wait just one fucking minute, Aisha thought. She fought the urge to open her mouth and say it out loud. These two had history. Sexual history? Gross. Obviously, she didn't expect Imset to be a virgin like she was but to have his... whatever the hell they were at the same table with Aisha? Was this how all consorts were treated? When she thought of his siblings she saw so much reverence, so much respect. But this... wasn't respectful at all.

Aisha swore Imset's jaw cracked, "Bast, her name is Aisha. And at your age, I would think you'd have learned some godsdamned decorum, yes? She's a guest, be civil." Aisha didn't like anything about his words. Not the pompous voice he used to refer to her, slipping into the persona like a familiar shoe. Not the heavy edge of an accent she never heard before, as if he were more comfortable to be himself around Bast. Not the way he skirted around what she was to him. Why did he call her a guest and not a consort? Everything rang wrong to her ears.

He'd just been possessive as hell in the shower and yet here, in front of this beautiful goddess, he wasn't claiming Aisha as his. Some unidentifiable emotion went through her. So intense she could hardly contain it. But she knew for a fact it hurt. There was no way a beautiful goddess of fertility having a history with Imset wasn't going to make Aisha wildly insecure. And sick to her stomach.

"For a human decorum is hardly mandatory," Bast said with barely restrained amusement. The thickening of her accent was a sign that she was also far too comfortable in Imset's presence.

Aisha could feel the tension radiating off of Imset but the reason wasn't clear. Was it because he was embarrassed? And if so, was he embarrassed about being with Bast or Aisha? The answer was obvious, she knew, hating herself for thinking it. Aisha knew she was hardly a spec of dust to Bast. The choice was clear.

Imset and Bast exchanged a few sharp words in Arabic.

Aisha looked to Imset, who feathered a muscle in his neck. "Behave," he growled at Bast, returning to English. Aisha dared a glance across the table, noting the way Bast found her place card, and slid into the seat. Not a single thing about her was out of place here. She belonged here. And Aisha didn't.

"Oh good, you guys are already-- oh, who the fuck invited her?" Nephy groaned, suddenly dragging her shoulders through the door alongside her husband. Aisha heard Serket and Neith cursing under their breath. So there was definitely history here. History none of them had intended for her to find out.

"And to think I just commented on your training..." Bast sighed, clasping one of the glasses of wine that had already been set on the table. Taking a heavy drink, Bast cut eyes at Nephy as the other siblings tagged along behind her. They each gave Aisha a silent, apprehensive glance, finding their assigned seats without another word.

"I think it's clear grandfather invited extra guests," Imset spat the last word as if it had rotted in his mouth. Setting Aisha's drink down, Imset briefly rested a hand on her shoulder, ghosting a kiss over her cheek as he rounded the table for his own seat. Well, that was something public, at least, she told herself. Since when did she require so little from a man? She always wanted acceptance. Body and soul. That didn't feel like what was happening.

"Did Bast display her notoriously terrible people skills?" Neith asked, not giving a shit as usual.

Aisha almost laughed, holding it in by a thread. She couldn't hold the smile, "It wasn't an entirely unexpected hello."

"Serket choked on her wine, "She's not supposed to be here."

"Who the hell are you to tell me anything about where I'm supposed to be, halfling?!" Bast fumed.

Halfling? Was it because Serket used to be human but now had power? Not goddesses in their own right but close enough...

"Be respectful of my wife," Qebe said sharply.

"And of course you would hop to her defense when she started it," Bast curled her lip in disgust.

"If you could manage to keep a man, maybe someone would defend you too," Neith said under her breath.

"Why would I need to keep a man when I've had the pleasure of trying out all of yours?" the venom met its mark when the table stilled. Clearly, Bast's history was with more than just Imset.

Aisha sighed, shoulders relaxing even as jealousy coiled dangerously low in her stomach. This was common among them apparently. What right did she have to be upset? And yet she was. Judging by the faces of the other women, they were equally enraged.

There was nothing to be against Bast though. And Aisha only wished Imset wasn't seated across from her. A quick look told her the same had been done with the other siblings. On Imset's side of the table, Serket sat in the first seat. Then Neith. An empty seat remained between Neith and Imset. Then Bast and lastly Nephy.

Aisha fidgeted with her dress under the table. The last week had built an inconsistency in their relationship--had made Aisha insecure about her place among them. Watching Imset sit alongside Bast was making it worse. Knowing the goddess had fucked her way through the entire table... Aisha couldn't even comprehend how she felt about that.

Imset sat stiffly and Bast purred--actually fucking purred--as his arm brushed hers when he reached for his drink. Aisha forced herself not to fist the fabric of her dress, forced herself to look passive, and keep her white-hot rage to herself. Imset swallowed his liquor with a pained grunt.

As everyone took their seats, Aisha found herself unsettled that no one sat on either side of her. Qebe sat in the first seat. Then Mutef. And empty space on either side of Aisha and lastly Hapi, who gave her a pained smile.

Her skin was too hot, clammy even, as she gulped at what Imset had brought her to drink. Whiskey and some kind of citrus? It settled in her stomach without a fuss but only made her warmer. The doors to the Nile were wide open, letting in enough breeze that her hair floated. And still, she felt overheated. Imset gave her a loaded stare from across the table but her mind wasn't in any position to try and understand it.

She couldn't think of anything other than her jealousy. And the feeling of betrayal. Even if it wasn't warranted. Being with someone before her wasn't a betrayal... but bringing to her this dinner blind... Everything had fallen tensely silent by the time Anubis entered with a smile, taking the empty seat to Aisha's left.

"Aisha," he gave her a terse head nod as he settled beside her, "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again quite this soon. Lucky me." His strong, tanned throat bobbed at the sight of her. "Do you always dress like that? I like it, if you do."

Bast scoffed.

Imset made a sound caught somewhere between violence and irritation, gripping the arm of his chair until it groaned. Anubis only let out a surprised breath, and leaned into Aisha's personal space, "You're welcome. Jealousy really is the best cure for a hard-headed god." He looked around the table, eyes settling on Bast in unrefined mischief.

"Oh please tell me she's been here making a mess of things? I haven't heard the women this quiet in a very long time." He nudged Aisha like they were old friends. She squirmed away, his humor about the situation making her sick.

"Listen asshole," Serket was the one to speak up, "I know what you did in the gallery, and let me assure you... try that shit again with Aisha and we'll help her bury your sarcophagus in the desert."

"Though it is a fine piece of history, I hardly care about the thing," Anubis laughed, snapping his fingers to add a swallow of amber-colored liquid in his cup, "Do what you wish."

"Oh was the implication not clear?" Serket flashed her teeth, "You'll be buried inside it." Anubis grunted and rolled his eyes, "Noted."

"Defensive of the human already, hmm?" Bast replied dryly, "When you already know what's going to happen to her. Hopeful, I suppose. But foolish."

Aisha swallowed more of her drink, trying to push away the severe discomfort she felt under her skin. What was going to happen to her? Was Bast referring to the final test? Yet another thing no one would explain? She wanted to speak so desperately. Wanted to give Bast her own medicine. But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She felt Anubis' eyes on her again. The dress had been a bad idea. Not only was she underdressed compared to the more formal regalia the men wore and luxurious cuts of fabric the women wore, but she felt exposed. Not just her body, which she'd always been pretty comfortable with, but with her humanness. She felt... common, crass. A human among gods. Worthless. She stuffed that word down.

Gods, how she suddenly wished Imset had made her change. She wasn't likely to have listened--because who the hell was he to tell her what to wear--but at least she would have someone else to blame for her embarrassment. How could she have gone from confident to insecure so quickly?

Aisha couldn't help but feel that a chasm had opened around her. All of the warmth and closeness she'd felt building between them all had vanished. And in its wake only cool, pleasantry remained. She hated it, wanted to say so from across the table but she lost the chance as soon as the air shifted.

Aisha gasped. She felt their presence before she even saw the four elder gods stepping into view. They were breathtaking, power rippling through the room. Pressure filled her head, enough that she almost cried out as the two on her right split off towards their end of the table and the two on her left moved closer.

"So glad to finally meet you," the woman whispered into Aisha's ear, rubbing her open palm against Aisha's back. Surprisingly, Aisha didn't go stiff, loosening into the touch as she might have once curled into her mother. She felt safe. Loved absolutely. And the pressure released in her head. Aisha turned, angling herself enough to sneak a glance. But the goddess notched a finger under her chin and tugged her eyes up, "You needn't fear me, daughter. We will be close." Another flush of love went through Aisha. Enough to make her nose burn with emotion.

Aisha noted that Bast kept her mouth shut.

"Let's not delay the meal Hathor," a male voice reproached, "The human isn't going to disappear."

Aisha felt the brush of silk from her sleeve as Hathor lowered her hand. The goddess appeared similar in age to Bast, though shorter and with a hippy figure in her purple gown. She looked gentle yet commanding. Aisha saw Imset's honeyed eyes in her. His mother, Aisha realized.

"Though some take issue with you, I am overjoyed," her voice smoothed over all of Aisha's rough edges like a balm, calming the raging emotion just under the surface. Hathor's eyes lit wIth her words but a tightness edged them as she turned back towards her husband, continuing the walk to their side of the table. Horus was unmistakable beside her. Strong jaw, hard-set features, close-cut hair. He wore a purple tunic with tapered pants and silvered sandals. When Horus inclined his head, Aisha wasn't entirely sure she still knew how to breathe.

"Father, typically family dinner is reserved for the immediate family," Horus made no bones about staring straight at Bast and then shifting his gaze to Anubis. He sighed as he settled into his seat. Aisha found herself staring, unable to look away because this was who she prayed to, whose statue she cleaned and anointed.

"Yes, well," the male voice at the other end of the table grumbled, turning Aisha's attention to him, "As there's a human present who is most decidedly not family... I assumed there would be no issue."

Father Horus had called him... Aisha absorbed in his red tunic--loose but neat, his graying hair cut-close to match a salt and peppered goatee. He couldn't have been older than fifty and yet... those dark eyes, almost pitch with how the light died in them, told her he had seen far too much of the world.

He wore several rings that clinked his glass as he swirled the wine. He refused to regard her, looking at every person at the table but Aisha. She let her eyes trail to the wall behind him, to the relief of Osiris leading the dead and her heart seized. The god of the underworld sat before her. Shared air with her. Her eyes unfocused for a moment. Then she flicked her eyes to the goddess beside him, Isis, clearly. She wore a cut of red fabric sashed at her natural waist and a thin length of fabric wrapped around her chest. She, at least, smiled serenely at Aisha.

The uneven rhythm of her heart was only amplified by the tenor in Osiris' voice as he finally turned his heavy stare to her, "So you are the human?"

Her mind blanked. His eyes sharpened as he waited for a response. One Aisha wasn't even sure she could formulate anymore.

"Y-yes," she rasped, her throat giving away all her panic. Anubis shifted her glass closer to her hand, drawing a small laugh from Bast. She took it gratefully and sipped.

"And your name? I've yet to hear it," Osiris gaze stripped her bare. It felt like he studied the interior of her soul. Pressure built under her skin again as he pinned her with his stare. She couldn't think, couldn't--

"Aisha," Imset thankfully answered for her. His voice had turned to stone. Though Aisha couldn't bring herself to break eye contact with Osiris and see why. So much pressure... Her skin was going to split under the strain.

Osiris leaned back, taking his wine glass with him, "Arabic, origin. At least that's something. And you look as if you're at least partly Egyptian." Though his words were seemingly positive, his tone sounded anything but impressed. "Though there has to be some irony in a woman whose name means alive binding herself to a death god. Tell me Aisha, do you fear death?"

Aisha couldn't think. Her head was splitting, her skin was bursting. She felt a trickle of liquid along her top lip, something warm and smooth. Her eyes burned. The room grew dark around the edges. She couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Grandfather! You're hurting her!" Imset boomed across the room, severing the connection Aisha had to Osiris' eyes. Immediately air flooded her lungs. She gasped, shaking.

Anubis' hand was there to steady her as she pitched out of her chair. His touch was oddly gentle, his expression strange. He passed her the water, waiting for her to take a drink before he returned it. Her skin loosened as she swiped her napkin across her lip, hands shaking like a leaf. She already knew what it was. No one had to tell her. She didn't even bother to look down. It was blood.