Journal Entry: Sat Mar 16, 2013, 6:31 PM
(( Let me start off by saying this: Nadége and I don't remember how we planned to bring Priest Seto back. He's been dead for longer than I remember; if this continues till summer, it'll be a year with a dead priest. So I've decided to say that while his body is dead in this time, he's returned to his own time alive and grief stricken, just so I have something to do with him.))
Seto had experienced darkness before. It consumed him, made him fall to his hands and knees under the power of his own father. He remembered the rage he felt at being submissive to someone who wished to destroy all he had worked for. He remembered not having the will to lift a finger against Akhenaden despite that rage.
This darkness was different. When the Rod hit the ground, Seto felt like his head had personally been slammed int the hard concrete of the sidewalk. This darkness surrounded him, suffocated him.
For a great while, there was nothing.
When he opened his eyes, Seto gasped. The light was blinding. He blinked rapidly and looked about, frowning.
This... was his room. The Pharaoh's room in the palace. He remembered being moved here after his coronation, still clenching the rope holding the Puzzle around his neck tightly between his fingers. The Puzzle was the only reason he had even been given a chance to take the throne.
The former High Priest did not understand. Moments ago, he believed that he was in Japan. That he had died in Japan. He was sure his body was there, with Mokuba who had promised he'd get it back.
He lifted a hand and stared at it, flexing the fingers slowly. Sharp cerulean eyes watched the way the copper skin was pulled taught over the muscles. Seto stared in awe at his hand, then arm, then his chest. His bare chest moved rhythmically up and down in a soothing motion he hadn't seen for so long. Too long.
Seto looked up as a young woman bowed quickly before coming to the bed. "Are you alright? You've been asleep for so long, my king, too long. For endless nights we waited for you to awaken, only to be disappointed with no change in your condition."
Seto didn't even listen to the rest of her rambling. He could have groaned in delight. His language, his native tongue, was being spoken instead of that accursed Japanese that he had difficulty saying and understanding. However, the king said nothing, just stared at the woman with his normal cold stare. Unlike his cousin, he wasn't a leader that was touchy-feely with his servants. Of course, he felt a small sadness for the slaves and had them treated better, but had no wild fantasies of freeing them as his cousin had when they were younger.
The pharaoh was in a daze as his servants swarmed around him. He was just barely aware of being dressed in his royal attire; his old Priest outfit with slight alterations. His crown had a stylized golden dragon on it instead of a snake, signaling that his country was no longer in a state of war. That, and the sight of his beloved dragon set upon his brow gave him a strong sense of pride. His long white skirt had his blue panel in front, marked with two white three-pronged F's facing back to back. A heavy golden belt was settled on his hips, his shoulders lined with even larger pieces of gold. He had a white cloak gathered around his neck that trailed down to his ankles. Around his upper arms, wrists, neck, and ankles were golden cuffs, his feet shod with brown leather sandals.
This is what he was comfortable in. Seto was so... dare he think it, happy. This was his home. Seto had spent years rebuilding the kingdom of his cousin back to its glory. This was the land he loved more than anything, and to gaze upon it gave him an overwhelming dose of pride.
"Your wife has come to meet you, my Lord."
Seto looked up quickly. He tried not to let his lips twitch up into a smile; Kisara. Kisara. The name was whispered in his head like a mantra, making him drunk on his own euphoria at the thought of having Kisara, this powerful, beautiful creature, be his wife.
The woman was not who he thought it would be.
She was beautiful, that was true, but she wasn't... Oh, how did those teenagers from Japan call it? ... 'his type.' She had long, thick ebony hair lined with golden beads and gems. Her dress was white with a golden sash tied around her slim waist and Seto, to much of his own embarrassment, noticed that the dress was quite see through. Of course, women and men of this time were not ashamed of their bodies. He cursed himself for being so awkward around it.
However, when Seto thought of beauty, his mind wandered to eyes the color of the sky and silken hair white as a dove.
In other words, the exact opposite of the woman standing in front of him. He longed for the peasant he found being stoned in the streets. The innocent girl who housed his beloved dragon.
While he loved his home, his palace, his time, Seto's mind often wandered to Japan. He hated how "modern" it was, how arrogant the people were. But he loved some of the residents, such as Mokuba. He was okay. And Kisara...
Why would they return him to his time without her? She was his ab, his heart. Seto regretted not telling her this more. He never thought he needed to say it, but he realized how important those few words were. He now knew that before long, you might never be given the chance to tell them again.
The Pharaoh somehow managed to move the wedding a few months back as he tried to figure out a way to get back to Japan, if only to find Kisara once again.
Seto would find her. After all, he had been the High Priest of Egypt, the second strongest man in the land. Now he held all the power, was looked on to as a god. He could manage finding the girl.
He hoped silently that Mokuba would revive his body in that time so that he may see him once more.
(( So he's dead in Japan, but lives on in his time. He's trying to think of ways to get back to Japan, if only to drag Kisara back to their time so he can marry her. ))