Lion Head Mesa sixty-sixth

that morning, he had bid goodbye to the pharaoh @Toula and her divine lover @Rashepses. he had sought out @Legend to ask her to come with him, and had found @Eset at the last moment, bursting with words of @Nazli but saying only, "please give this to the priestess."

a bone medallion stained black with earth found beneath muat-riya, in which bits of mica had been sown long ago. in the sun it would be dull; in the moonlight would the object truly glow.

he had wrapped it in a shirring of lotus leaves and passed it to the hebsut before turning quickly so she might not question him, question why he did not give it himself.

jodai @Zaahira now invited forth from the palace at her own leisure, in case she wished to keep some distance between their traveling.

senmut's mouth was still sour.

another morning hence and akashingo rose bold and redstone before them. senmut near wept to feel the touch of the red sand beneath his paws again. this time he would not be leaving, and in this he was comforted.

making a few assumptions here, kick me if i'm wrong!

zaahira came at the side of pharaoh and semer-wati, as she had been instructed and as she had promised. the trip home was not as long as she remembered it. she kept them sheltered, warm, and spoke not a word unless she was asked.
the mesa beneath the haze of first light stole the breath from her chest. she thought to exchange delighted glances with pharaoh — it had been so long, too long! — before she sent up a long note to senmut announcing their arrival.

the air of her bedchamber was cold and stagnant, and smelled as strongly as it had the first ever night she spent in it. she spent her first moments smoothing her bedfurs, crushing aromatic petals; and beneath the pelt she had left behind was the wilted, petrified form of a lotus blossom.
eset. her heart churned.
she thought then to whisk through the halls and emerged again through the tunnel that led to the serpent. there, covered with frost and soft dustings of snow was the grave with the makeshift altar beside it. wildgrass had bloomed over the mound of dirt and had died with the cold.
the burn of tears came instantly. humbly, the jodai crouched down.
hello, raven, she smiles through her words, through the crushing feeling in her throat. it has been a while, has it not?