Lion Head Mesa yoakenoyume

the man spoke openly about his origins.
satsu slowed and then turned to regard him as arsenio boasted, but it was not pride she heard, or even hurt. she studied the heft of his body with a glance and her mind drifted.
he spoke of brothers dying, which brought a frown to her face.
the gregarious mannerisms did not fit well with the image he tried to paint of himself: this lowly fisherman's son, somehow exalted, made a warrior, made to fight.
warriors were nobles born to a daimyo, so far as satsu knew. the loss he spoke of kept her from deeply studying whatever else he said, though.
i had brothers. she said softly.
her gaze was dark, but she said no more about them, and turned around to continue winding her way through the catacombs and up, towards the daylight outside.
it was strange; she tried to think of their faces and couldn't quite fashion them in her mind. she saw arsenio, germanicus, and even ramesses lined up together instead, as if to welcome their execution as her kin had.
it was sobering.