Lion Head Mesa Times being what they are

any+ all !

The mesa.

She would have laughed if she were not so done in. But there it pervades, red and dancing in the heat’s radiating illusion.

Three weeks of nothing, not a soul, not even a tree to shelter beneath so that her hide might not be subject to the raid of unabating sun. She could hear Ra’s laughter, as if to say: this is the plight of every mortal.

But by the low light of Khonsu’s moon she was lured to the faraway plateau, the only landmark that signifies she can’t be nowhere. And it’s her mother’s word spoken when she finally breaches her cusp, eyes drawing up the length to her apex before collapsing into exhaustion. 

“Akashingo,” She breathes, jaws part to call out but merely wheeze instead.

Toula kept the interior halls of Akashingo alight in this time. she would gather her people and tell them the stories of the Gods, and of Their wisdom. she hosted a great feast for her people, and presided over it with soft eyes and her ever open heart. Toula kept the halls busy, distracted—there was a pleasant buzz in the air. prayer was consistent, but so too were her lessons that the Gods knew all, and they would be led to victory by Them.
accompanied by her fellahin and Mazoi, Toula moved to the altar of Khonsu. with her sister still out there too, as well as her traveling soldiers, it felt prudent to visit Him. and it was no wonder, when she heard the cry and saw the figure slumped at their borders. with a gasp, Toula swept toward her—though her guards kept themselves between her and the stranger. 
you are in need of aid, Toula recognized, will you let me bring you to our Sesh? she asked, wishing for her consent in this.

Shaken and trembling, not for thirst or hunger or fatigue but rapture!

Disbelief. A dry gasp. “Hathor.”

The last of her tears will well as the goddess descends and she proffers all of herself. Her golden light strikes, jade-eyes glinting in tandem with the brightest stars, the mesa burns whitely behind her. Blood flows again under molten skin.

She shifts to discard weakness, to give her own spirit to the Goddess of sun, arms opened beneath the hardened desert days, to rise up with the living.

“ Hekenu. Yes,” she will follow her savior.

a woman of the faith! Toula found her eyes brighten along with her spirits. another gift from the Gods! so many, lately, and Toula only hoped that she was deserving. she cast a grateful look toward the heavens, and would be sure to speak with both Hathor and Iset further—
but first! Toula keeps her voice soft, gentle—the Mazoi will gather you, and I shall accompany you, she gestures to the warriors, who do so when it becomes clear that the stranger Khonsu brought them did not, and would not, disagree. 
and once she was gathered to them, supported by them, Toula would lead them to @Tavina at once. slow, she bid a fellahin prepare the Sesh.

fool, fool she was! tavina flung a soft cloth into a puddle of spilled potion and felt angry tears assail her eyes. nala's absence was so sorely missed that the normally taciturn sesh had become all but hardened.

a servant, announcing the queen. the sesh bit back a harsh retort and devoted herself to cleaning the mess until the young royal had come to her.

"Divine One." on the hallowed shoulder, an ailing woman. tavina moved to assist the newcomer to the small bed in the middle of the room, a plinth of stone covered with soft furs. "where did you find her?" she asked of toula, moving to examine, and feeling a sickening heat rise from the stranger's body.

Her Goddess is with her as they climb: the ascension into the Field of Reeds.

There is so much she wants to tell her! That every night she has prayed in her vagrant dwellings for this moment of deliverance. That never once has faith wavered. That she knew one day she’d come!

“You’ve come,” she mouths.

Too dry to speak or weep so she floats along mesmerized, scarcely aware of any others in the room though later she will recall: the guards and serfs and a woman who contorts her body into a lay.

She reaches a quivering paw to the Goddess Hathor.

portentous, the explanation. "great one, i might ask you to help me, and you also," to the fellahin lingering at the door.

"she is heat-sick. we must bring down her fever. take these to the wellspring," tavina instructed the servant, who took a stack of cloths and spun away.

"and you, highness. come here, elevate her head." tavina sluiced water from a shallow basin over the gasping jaws.

when her cloths were brought back, she laid them over the nape and shoulders and flanks of the ailing woman. "we will soak this regularly, and keep her cool, and watered. it is all we can do for now."

the Queen did as bid, not at all too proud to help a woman in need. she again felt imbued by the power of Iset, and as the stranger was lain against her Toula closed her eyes and thought only of Her magic, and Her power to heal. 
through Toula, She would work; the Queen let Iset’s healing touch be her own, healing through Her own bodily contact as well as Tavina’s work. 
while she did, Toula gently sang to Iset, the sound it’s own sort of magic at work.

Flashes of reality: layers over her twisting body. Violet eyes. The warmth of the goddess as her head is cradled and a prayer is sung, the holiest invocation.

This is what the toil was for. Her weary body spells out grace, staring up into that profound golden face.

Her throat is taut, her eyes draw to close. If this death, then it is a peaceful one.

beneath their ministrations and the young queen's prayers, the stranger soon faded into what felt like unconsciousness.

tavina replaced a cloth.

"we can only wait now, divine one." she smiled faintly toward toula, suddenly consumed by a fondness that was very vaguely maternal.