Lion Head Mesa falseseer

She had promised Nazli protection long ago. And though it had been for her own amusement, and for her own gain, she felt wrong in her failure of that task. And if she could, hypothetically, hear the Gods... they would be saying find her, help her! 

Or was that her own voice? 

What was consciousness, what was divine, what was delusion? 

In her new self-made task, maybe all three were involved.

@Senmut had spoken to her of the Lake, and of the initial decree of peace. The Lake, she had overheard, where Nazli had been stolen away to. Peace! Well, alright, it was a good way to start a reign. Especially with all the tumult. Medusa, politically, could now see that. But fuck if she didn't want it's opposite. 

Did she pray? Maybe (yes). 

One fine day, they were heard. [size=small]@Zharille was among them now. And there was talk of Khaba withholding the pack, and the children, from her. Only the latter would likely drive the sweet Queen of Akashingo to anger, Medusa thought. But it was good that [[/size][size=x-small]I[/size][size=small]]something[/[/size][size=x-small]I[/size][size=small]] did. Otherwise, she would surely be mad in her own way! [/size]

[size=small]Medusa ranged to the prince-priest now. Or perhaps the Queen. Whoever could grant her what she wanted in this war-to-be.[/size]

his collar's clinks prevented true stealth, but the noble hoped he was not too intrusive a presence to his daughter's furious step, falling in pace with her hindquarters, stubby legs blurry in his hurry.

wasn't really meant as a conversation starter, when he said to the air and empty space in general: "awful lazy summer, this year."

Ah. 

If it wasn't one of the two cursed members of Akashingo. By her love, of all things. 

Medusa felt the safest thing to do was run from it. The feeling evoked fight or flight, for whatever reason. But not the man. Comforting, despite her instinct rallying for her to flee this sweet feeling. Gucci and Toula were, in her eyes, the epitome of goodness. 

Maybe for you, old man, Medusa dryly responded, though the last two words were not absent of the fondness that she felt. I have been busy learning with Senmut, to best be able to serve our Queen, her eyes turned to the man that was her father. By choice of her own now, too. I have heard more stirrings against Khaba. That he keeps the mother of their children away from the kids, 

A pause, before, and that he has stolen Nazli and keeps her there. I bet against her will,

Medusa, a gossip! Well, she was becoming a teenager, and she wanted to know what her father made of this. Medusa? She believed it. She had not forgotten that day, after all.

he chuckled, and it were a sound sincere and bright as crack of sunlight through murky clouds. none of that courtly masquerading and mockery!

yet, back to the ball it was for them, and gucci's head lowered, now in line with his daughter's forequarters, stepping slower but speedily still. his girth would thank him, he believed.

ears tah th' walls, hm? nawt mah child an eavesdropper! he jokingly chided. 

but this were a serious time, needing serious tones.

gucci sighed. root o' this mess is ol' young pharaoh's vicious heart. smidge too vicious, ah say, bad blend o' ma n pa, ra rest their souls.

young queen's gaht tah fix it, n ah fear she's soft fer battle. nawt combat, minds ya, tactics. discipline. intimidation. stuff needed tah strike fear inta hearts o' barbarians. their kind- well, khaba's proof. muscle n teeth, nah tonguework.

but yew he looked at her sideways, one brow cocked. this ol' man hopes that ain't bloodthirst in ya. what's ya take on this whispery nonsense?