The first thing Ekon Nguvu noticed about the new house was the silence.
There were no whispers of servants debating his virility in the hallways. There was no tap-tap-tap of an Elder's cane approaching the bedroom door to check if "progress" had been made. There was only the rustle of wind through the ancient Baobab trees and the heavy thud of his own boots.
He dropped a crate the size of a carriage onto the patio. The stone cracked slightly under the weight.
"Careful," a voice floated from the garden. "The moss on these stones is centuries old. It has feelings."
Nguvu straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. Even at seven feet tall, he felt small compared to the overgrown chaos of the garden. He looked over the courtyard to see his wife, Hikima—no, Ekon Amamihe.
She was standing amidst a tangle of wild vines, her Indigo Aura humming faintly around her skin. She wasn't wearing her formal ceremonial robes today. She wore a simple choli and a shorter skirt to allow movement, her Ocean Gourd artifact resting lightly on her head like a crown.
She looked... devastating.
Don't look, Nguvu commanded himself, shifting his gaze to a generic tree. She is a High Cultivator. A diplomatic partner. Not a breeding mare.
"The crate contains the kitchen supplies," Nguvu grunted, his voice sounding too deep, too loud in the empty space. "And the Djed-Hedj is secured in the armory. We are... operational."
Amamihe turned, a small, awkward smile playing on her lips. She tucked a stray braid behind her ear. "Operational. Good. Thank you, Nguvu."
They stood there. The silence stretched. Usually, this was the part where an Auntie would jump out of a bush and suggest they rub oil on each other's shoulders.
But no one jumped out.
"It is quiet," Amamihe whispered, hugging her arms.
"Yes," Nguvu agreed. He felt a sudden spike of Green Huenergy (Fear/Anxiety) ripple off him, hoping she didn't sense it. He was a Warlord who had crushed skulls with his bare hands, but being alone with this woman terrified him. "I will... I will inspect the perimeter. Check for stray fables."
"Right," Amamihe nodded a little too quickly. "And I will speak to the house plants. Establish boundaries."
Nguvu turned to flee toward the perimeter wall, but stopped.
"Nguvu?"
He looked back over his massive shoulder. "Yes?"
"The bedroom," she said, pointing to the upper terrace of the main building. "The broker said there were five rooms. But..."
"But?"
"I unlocked the doors," Amamihe grimaced. "Four of them are storage closets. Only one has a bed."
Nguvu stared at the upper window. Of course. Even miles away, the universe was conspiring with the Elders.
"We will... figure it out," Nguvu said, his voice straining. "I can sleep on the floor. My passive art is Tenacity. I do not require comfort."
"Don't be ridiculous," Amamihe sighed, walking past him toward the house, the scent of crushed jasmine trailing behind her. "You are seven feet of solid muscle, Nguvu. You won't fit on the floor. We are adults. We will practice Ubuntu. We will share."
She disappeared into the house.
Nguvu stood alone in the courtyard. He looked down at his trembling hands.
Two Pillars, he thought miserably. One Bed.