It was high time to get drinking. Surely, Akhenaten was waiting for his lovely mistress to be all dolled up and pretty for him to wear on his arm. Surely, the guards at her door were waiting to escort her, and not in the villa for any nefarious reason. After all, the Fallen Star could take care of herself, and worried little about wandering hands or neck breathers that might be tempted by the gentle curves of her body. Far more adept than one might realize, Ana once preferred to play dumb and obscure her talents. It was a nature that persisted even now.

With every intention of looking her best, Anastasia slipped herself into a cream-hued sheathe, a subtle shift of the hips as she worked the sheer fabric over them until she turned to face away from the bronze dish that made up her mirror. She hiked down the garment just a tad lower, and then moved on to applying a bit of kohl to her eyes just as she heard the door slam against the wall. The beautiful painting on the wall, of the Fallen Star and her Egyptian noble, painted by the man himself, shook with the tremor, but did not fall.

Far too focused on the careful task of applying her face paints, Anastasia pressed a hint of carmine to her lips before puckering them up, blowing herself a kiss over her shoulder at the mirror before she slid through the open door to meet the guest that intruded upon her unannounced. But, the waiting guards recognized the visage, and it was immediately clear to Anastasia that this was no intruder, but something other. Then, of course, the Egyptian woman spoke.

"Who are you?" Iaheru H'Sheifa asked her, and Anastasia knew at once that she didn't have the same question.

"And why did I buy you a villa?"

Of course, she affirmed it, making it clear at once that this Akhenaten's mother. How the Greek wanted to meet this woman, but under different circumstances. Being tracked down and cornered in her own villa, understandably, set the Fallen Star on edge. Particularly with the painting just behind Iaheru at the entrance, brandished for all to see, but of course, the woman had eyes only for Ana. Did she think Ana some witch, betwitching her son? Or was she closer to Neithotep's original opinon of her? She couldn't really tell, but...

In the absence of preparation, we have improvisation.

"I am the bard, Anastasia, my lady," she began, already turned to properly face the woman. She stepped out of her bedroom and into the room where Iaheru stood, with those two guards behind her and it was very clear just where they stood in all of this. They were Iaheru's men, first and foremost.

But, not a bead of sweat could be seen on Anastasia's lightly painted features. She took a slow breath as she considered her answer, gesturing towards the painting behind the woman before she said,

"Your son and I are quite taken with one another, Lady H'Sheifa. I'm well aware of my place, but nevertheless, I couldn't refuse these accommodations given just how close I get to be to Lord Akhenaten because of them."

Beyond the bright gaze of the Fallen Star there existed wounds far greater than could be inflicted by anyone in Egypt. Anastasia was not a being immune to fear, but the darkness she'd never fully get over braced her for other threats. Oh, the woes of her flight from Taengea, the ghoulish whisper of Alector of Athenia in her dreams... Lady Sheifa needed to present a larger threat for her thoughts of intimidation to land. However, Anastasia was wary, carefully metered her words to show the most respect she could muster despite the circumstances of the woman's entry.

If anything, the woman commanded that. There were so many questions running through her skull, attempting to gain command of her attention as hiccups that sought to overwhelm and break the façade that she wore. But she was accustomed. Anastasia followed the movement of Iaheru's hand as she graced the back of a chair with the presence of gilded fingertips, pulled it back and seated herself without a thought. Ana could already see the servant that tended to her in the kitchenette, preparing goblets filled with Sheifa wine for the matriarch to have with what could arguably be called her guest.

This is almost hilarious. She's being offered her own drink in her own little house, pulling back her own chair instead of letting her own servant do it for her.

Akhenaten had never mentioned his parents, or his position in his hei. Any questions she'd posed were waved away, and she'd learned to bring up other subjects in the off times they spent enrolled in large snippets of conversation. Both were the sorts to enjoy indulgences, to speak of the finer things in life rather than dredge into the midst of tumultuous topics. To venture too deep into those trenches was messy, unappealing business and the siren prided herself in her ability to bring joy, not the opposite.

She suspected that she'd hit a wall and was about to be served a fine dose of reality, but she kept her concerns off from her features, quite pleased to throw herself into the unwitting lifeline that the matriarch slung at her in the form of these cursory questions. Anastasia allowed the flush to bloom across her countenance, the smile joined along with the quietest of giggles so normal to those being flattered. She raised her goblet of wine once it sat in her outstretched hand and once left alone (or as alone as one could be in the presence of guards) she sat down across from Iaheru. Anastasia took a shallow drink from that goblet before she answered,

"That rings true, if the opinions of my former patrons were to be trusted."

Former. Anastasia, after all, had not performed in several weeks, doted on and about by Akhenaten and letting herself be strung along in the indulgence to excess. Living the life of a party fiend with no concerns for her own reputation as a storyweaver or the chase for opulent things was absolutely to her tastes. But, also probably the reason that Iaheru sat in front of her now.

"I could make mention of an ocarina, but in truth, my voice is the instrument. My lady, I am a storyteller, weaving the fine tapestries of myth and legend and bringing them to the masses clamoring to listen. In other times I am a singer. Others still, a dancer or an acrobat. Whatever stage the world gives me, I give a performance to drink to."

At least the matriarch laughed. It gave Anastasia a bit of lenience to really consider how funny it was. The slave worked within the sphere of her understanding, and Anastasia couldn't fault her for it. With the arrival of guests, be it her mistress, Akhenaten... anyone found permissable was bound to be offered refreshment. Even in Anastasia's modest villa, the replenishing stores of the Sheifa holdings were apparent. Akhenaten did not let his mistress suffer for anything. Then, the laughter continued, the bard's eyebrows raised at the suggestion that Hena's inclination was in any way odd.

Men are easy to understand, she always thought to herself. Their feelings were, without fail, tied to their desires and having the ability to invoke that was the obvious way to hold their attention. With Akhenaten, it was different. She wanted to know the man rather than simply hanging on his arm. Until that mystery was unraveled, however, she would not balk at her treatment. Anastasia did not speak for a moment, letting more of that wine slide down her throat in easy sips. It might've been obvious, by her habit, that she was nervous. Or it could be simply a taste for it. But, the impression had no bearing on the reality of hos incredibly odd this was.

Ana was pleased to allow herself the simple pleasure of basking in the attention being given to her. Despite the discomfort, those words of presumed praise were, as they should be, a flattery. The easy dust of rose settled upon her fair expression, and she nodded in recognition before he raised the goblet in her own hand once again. Drinking wine and letting the natural stillness rest between the words was working out for her so far. So, there was no reason to rush anything, so long as she didn't stall so obviously as to disjoint the atmosphere.

Egypt is a culture that preys on weakness. Here, strength of character was encouraged. Would Iaheru feel the same, as she stared down an unflinching Anastasia? She was very accustomed to being in her depth, but all of this served as a haze to cloud over her judgment, and not the sort that came out the end of a pipe. She was sorely tempted, to offer such amenities to Iaheru, but she debated whether that would be as useful as it was at turning Nia's favour towards her.

If she even had that.

"I'd be pleased to perform for you at any time, Lady Iaheru. Free of charge, of course."

The words came out before she could stop them, and added the necessary chuckle to make it seem like it was some sort of joke. She found her goblet was already being refilled, and eagerly she partook of more. Already, she felt the rose tinge in her cheeks as the decadence of Egyptian wine served to heat her blood and soothe her nerves. Slightly drunk was the way she always performed anyway, so perhaps this was the best way to go about it.

"I remember you."

Oh.

Akhenaten did not take Ana to greet his parents as he had his sister, but she might've recognized the woman from afar had she the wherewithal. Certainly, they'd crossed paths but not words. She hummed in thought, wondering if this was a test of her ability to weave a tale.

"First, there was the overwhelming amount of golden sheen reflected by candlelight. It was awe-inspiring. A beautiful bounty to be sold and then shared to the world. It seems so long ago, doesn't it? Things have escalated so quickly since then..." she realized, letting her gaze fall to her half-filled goblet of wine before she moved on.

"Then, it seemed like every candle went out in the house at once. The darkness was a terrifying force, but... almost thrilling, for the moment that I lingered. I did not want Akhenaten to worry for me, so I made myself scarce and escaped from the saraaya before anything else could go so horribly awry. I could see more guards heading into the house as I left, but by the time they did... those thieves were gone. It was madness."