Like Herding Cats (tag: Isis)
She’d put it off for as long as her conscious would allow. The side trip to see Nanshe had been a bit of willful disobedience, a necessary diversion. At least, necessary to Bast. There was simply something in her make-up that would not allow her to do exactly as she was told. Even if she was the one to do the telling. The pause to see her friend in the middle of her spying mission for her mother was a needed bit of independence, though she only allowed it for herself because she knew nothing she had to report was all that important.
Briefly Bast considered going to see Horus. If only to tell him to stop pissing in the sandbox. If only to see the look on his face. There was a rather wicked urge to poke at him, because really, he took things far too seriously. He was probably taking this far too seriously. Got his undies in a twist over something that he should long since have resolved himself to. She would back him in any fight that came; he was not only her king, he was her brother. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t think he was occasionally kinda dumb.
Like now. She would have handled things a lot differently. But then again, were she in charge, Egypt would have fallen apart long ago. Bast was self-aware enough to realize that she was terrible when it came to being in any real position of responsibility. So maybe Horus’ way was best. She really shouldn’t judge. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still want to poke him with a pointy stick to watch his eyeballs pop out. That was just fun.
Isis was not in at her home in Egypt, where Bast first looked for her mother. That was not particularly worrying though. Sekhmet didn’t seem as though she was too pressed for time over this issue, and that went a long way towards Bast’s own easy attitude. While her mentor had taught her the fine art of laziness, Sek took her duties seriously and they came first. So if she was relaxed about it, Bast figured she could afford to be as well. A slow stroll through the home proved that her initial assessment was correct, Isis was not here. No biggie. She’d just head off to check on of her mother’s other haunts.
Her calm was shattered, however, as soon as she arrived at Isis’ villa in France. Servants were scurrying about, though not in a scattered fashion. This was all done with purpose, and that was even more alarming. Where was her mother? What was going on? Had something happened between Horus and Set while she’d been off playing? An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over her, and Bast never reacted well to that particular emotion.
It made her snappish. And she took it out on the servants closest to her. Her questions were sharp and pointed, and people that had known her all of their lives did their best to get away from her as quickly as possible. That did not improve her mood at all. So it was in a full-fledged temper that she finally tracked down Fatima. Nothing happened with her mother or her homes that this servant wasn’t aware of. Bast was convinced that she was secretly a shape-shifter and had a thousand eyes and at least a hundred arms, because it was the only explanation for how Fatima did everything and knew everything, all the time. It was freaky. Honestly, she scared Bast just a little bit.
But today, her expression was fierce and she didn’t hesitate a whit as she stalked toward the loyal attendant. Her progression was stopped halfway across the room, however, when Fatima blithely announced that she was too busy to deal with Bast’s poor attitude and she didn’t need any more of the servants frightened, thank you very much. And then, then, she shooed Bast.
Shooed. Her. With the waving hand motion and everything. Bast simply stared at her in confused consternation, until Fatima bustled past her to go deal with something else. What the hell? Like a lost lamb, Bast trailed behind Fatima as she moved through the villa, trying to glean what she could about what was going on.