Lion Head Mesa plumes

the taste of the fruit was at times too much to bear, yet she indulged in small portions all the same. it felt freeing in a way that satsu did not have words for; she was warm in ramesses' presence and somehow aware of everything while a haze descended around them. only them.
and as the pharaoh spoke satsu tried to follow along, finding it easier to relax her body against the stone floor and sprawl a little, as she had when confronting germanicus.
he wouldn't give a thought to it, she remarked suddenly.
for the great daimyo sadasane, women were 'pretty things to keep men warm,' meant to be silent so as not to 'disturb the peace'. as she said these things she took on a gruff mockery of her father's voice; yet even as she did this, there was a sense of nostalgia that prickled at the corners of her eyes.
soon satsu could not see the food or fruit before her, and only ramesses, who was a golden blur in the dim light. aureate, faceless. he would roll in his grave to know his line continues in a daughter rather than a son; but in a way i suppose it ends with me.
now was not the time of sadasane.
now it was satsu, it was ramesses; and she now touched upon the idea already brewing in his mind.