Lion Head Mesa my head is exploding like an atom bomb

forward dated to may 19th srry for all the forwarded threads lol. right after this thread

it takes a moment for the weight that it is her brother's imprisonment in her own home to finally collapse on racharra.

but what does it matter to him, to her? she couldn't even remember him well, what else could she expect from him? not everyone could afford to daydream like she has for so long.

he carried on his mother's ferocity after finding a home that would nurture it. here, her own ferocity had been tempered and buried until it lay dormant. how similar would they be if it weren't?
she knew of what he has done, what he is capable, and yet still snuck food to him. unable to bear watching the stranger who's only connection to her is blood that she has all but rejected.

she stares at her own food now, having punctured but not drank from a fruit and watched as it weeped out its juice. it spreads for a moment, creeping outwards before racharra laps it up to prevent it from spreading any further. sweetness on her tongue, the lightheaded aftermath lifts racharra from the clutches of a headache. but the weight keeps her grounded, one thought festering in her mind: how do i save him?

"yew seem'a lil' awf-put, mah lady," tuna says to her in a kind. and yet hushed tone as she brings yet another tray of delicacies to feed the growing girl, batty ears pressed forward as she lets her attention focus on the nebet. tuna is a smart one, perhaps more than. she lets on. but for now,  she would do her best to listen, to see if it brought comfort.

she would come to sit after a bit, wondering if she would be given a chance to listen, or if she was meant to turn her attention away, elsewhere from the noticeable tension in racharra's. face as she eats and sips. "does sumthin' both'r yew?" her head tilts, those dotted brown kohl-ed eyes watching her curiously.

can delete if you're waiting for someone else to respond!

dw, ur fine!! tag is for reference <3

the sight alone of the fellahin was not enough to cause racharra to perk until her voice rung out, and the nebet finally notices there's yet another tray waiting for her. it's enough to plumpen herself while her brother sat withering. deserved, probably.

it slides over as racharra translates the fellahin's words into something that made more sense to herself. an idea clicks, but whether it was worth pursuing was a different question she'd find the answer to later.

racharra turns to tuna, and wishes instead it were @Eset. time and distance is a cruel thing, between the move to the pleasure palace the hebsut has forgotten about the nebet, like all the others. so be it.
her mood an inconsistent boil, the nebet is careful with her words. changes, simply. a ritual was held, correct? what for? whisperings of something occuring danced in the halls, but whenever racharra tried to listen they would quickly whisk away as if nothing was said. ritual, they said. shmus.

she can hear her question, and even tuna feels herself a bit lost by the whole ceremony. to tuna, it was no secret to keep, as the river was blessed, the ties of the pharaoh to her gilded consort, and the pleasure palace of muat-riya itself as well as akashingo.

"a rit'ual, mhm," tuna would begin, not really understanding all that akashingo teaches, yet still trying to serve as a good mouthpiece, "sum'thin' 'bout a blessin. fer tha' riv'r, fer ah'kah'shingo an' muat-re'ya. ah think... sum'thin fer havin' kids." was that a good enough explanation? probably not, tuna was more than likely buthering the delicate process. she was the one tasked with flooding the river with the blossoms, remaining present to bring fish eggs and other necessities to the others, especially to toula.

"ah... don't un'nder'stan all that goes on'ere," she admits quietly to the young noblewoman, "but... sum'times, ah think it isn't sum'thin for me tah get." she looks over at the girl quietly as her ears airplane out, a show that she was a tad sheepish about the whole process-- tuna was thinking she was just rambling at this point.

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for a moment, racharra thought she had to clean her ears out.
the inevitable had come, and the nebet can't bring herself to continue eating.

i see, thank you. marigold color wilts in her eyes. soon, little princesses and princes would be running around the same halls she onced used to, blessed with blood of red sand and pure gold and racharra remains always at the fringes. a daughter in theory, never undeniably of akashingo.
perhaps the waves should've swallowed her. at least then she'd find a home in Tefnut's arms.

she downs the thought with a sip of fruit, frightened by the corners of her mind she had discovered. when was that there? is she going mad?

it's better that you don't. she returns to tuna. ..i don't think i ever understood. i don't think They even listen to our prayers.

They?

she must mean the gods, at least that is the idea that tuna can think of that makes the most sense in her mind. though as she gazes over the young nebet, tuna thinks quietly. she does not know all of the faces her, certainly many know hers only because she brings food and drink, and perhaps a drawl that can either sound like honey or as slow as molasses that can garner frustration. either way, tuna turns her gaze back to the young woman.

'sum'tahmes,' she murmurs quietly to the girl as she notices she seems off put from her meal, 'we haf'ta make things make sense tew us, 'n our ohw'n way,'

her batty ears press forward. 'an' answer r' ohw'n pray'ers bee'cus we're list'nin to our'selves.' 

tuna was a heretic, but not the kind that shrieked about. but the kind who knew that her beliefs differ, and she was okay with this. she followed the rituals, but only held her beliefs to be true, that is, if she had any. for now, religion and belief is something that is sinister and yet delicate, and she has not made sense of any of what she has seen. life, death, fertility, love--

she keeps those thoughts quiet upon her pink tongue.

what're gods for then if they do not answer the prayers of those beneath them?

thank you still, racharra dips her head to the fellahin. perhaps this is all a test from the gods. if so, they have incredibly dreadful timing! a test is the last thing the girl needs ight now, she's being tested enough as is!

but the fellahin's words, though did little to comfort the nebet, did take her for some surprise. do you believe in our gods, fellahin? a gentle question is posed to tuna, more of a curiosity than an interrogation. ..i think it is fine if you do not.