Like himself, Kesi shared an appetite for this. The anger that swelled within his stomach sent hot blood coursing through his veins. And yet, he relished in this opportunity provided unto him by the Gods. To stand idly by and exist merely as an entertainer suckling at the teat of Egypt's fascination with the macabre and spectacular... it was not his prerogative.

I am not Somgi of Cairo.

He repeated it in his mind as he felt the tingle of excitement course down his spine. This day, @set was with them. He could feel it in his bones as Kesi handed him the set of robes, the mask so very similar to the one he wore on his face during key parts of the performance. For the moment, he stowed the robes in a sack slung around his bare chest, keeping his back and the massive tattoo of his circus' insignia for all to see.

This is for my escape, he reminded himself. He would act as the circus' ringmaster this day, to epitomize the Tempest of Set and remind those who stood in his path of the power he wielded. Spectacle was his specialty, and Kesi's question turned a familiar point. No, he had every intention of spreading the pandemonium outward, to allow it to engulf Cairo in fire and reverie. Amenemhat pressed forward, fingers threading into the hairs at Kesi's nape just as he caught her lips with his own, craning in order to properly reach her. It was, perhaps, the ringmaster's first time showing such public affection for her.

"All of Cairo will see our patron's grandeur," he assured his sister, just as he turned to face the rest that had gathered.

Feiyan? How interesting. Her loyalty is noted. Azarion is seeking instruction. I appreciate it. He can stay close to me. Raziya understands more than most what needs to be done here. Aelius is in good hands with her. Everyone else is in position.

"Azarion, I have plans for the temple. Work with the Setians to ensure that I am not disturbed until the people come crawling out. Kesi, let's go."

Amenemhat had complete faith in them to do as they were told, to use their brains. The parameters were simple enough. Throw stones. As far and as hard as they wanted.

"Don't kill anyone yet. By the time we're done with them, they might do it to each other."

A smirk cast upon his lips as he left them on the steps of the temple, far from the brewing madness that was already ensuing outside. Nem heard in the distance these voices of discontent growing louder and louder. Would these miscreants destroy a temple to get to them? He chuckled at the thought before he turned his attention towards the temple's centre.

Slaves were scattered, forced to their knees and staring up at the ceiling. Cuts and bruises marred their faces, along their backs. Vaguely, he saw the back of several and saw the familiar etchings he'd made. How fitting that his gifts to the temple would be employed for this purpose. Amenemhat motioned for the doors to close.

"What's going on? Where am I?"

Blindfolded and petrified if their voice was any indication, Amenemhat did not answer. Instead, he gestured for the priests to provide him with the necessary device. It might look familiar to Kesi, if she looked at it, though it was much larger, a stewing mixture crystallized and rendered into powder before being ignited. Amenemhat stepped back as slaves were forced into breathing in the fumes. Sputtering coughs with flecks of blood escaped each of their mouths, the kneeling slaves erupting into fits of twitching as Amenemhat brushed his fingers over the left cheek of each one.

A practised motion, but one that would worm @set 's blessing into the hearts of every slave he grasped. They looked to him, their attentions rapt on his words as he uttered,

"Your reality... it is false," the spectral tone wove into his words, his lips curling into a smile as he took fumes of the smoke into his own lungs as well. He offered himself, again and again, as a sacrifice to the will of his patron. He took his time, repeating the mantra once more before he elaborated. His every word was deliberate, carrying a slow, measured cadence as he circled the slaves and brushed his fingers along their shoulders.

"My voice is the only one you can trust. Any others who deter you from your course... they are liars. Charlatans and thieves. Their concerns are lies, their reprimands empty of bite."

Amenemhat felt the rush pound in his skull, laughter pulled from his own lips as his eyes glazed over, his lips curving wider and wider as low screams erupted from slave lips and then his own.

"R-release them o-out into the world," he told Kesi, he told the Setians. He didn't know which. Amenemhat felt his thoughts wither, a curtain falling over his consciousness as the edges of his lips chapped and frayed from the way the curve stretched his lips. Blood welled at small wounds, dribbling down his chin. Slowly, the expression wilted as he told Kesi,

"The world is our oyster." His words felt detached from reality, disconnected from his own throat. His heart pounded in his chest as he took the girl in another kiss, then claimed her hand and breathed into her ear,

"Let's give them the depravity they deserve."