Lion Head Mesa i threw a brick right through the window

his voice cut through the stillness of an otherwise dull day, wherein not even the wind whispered across the stones.

against her better judgement nazli stopped. perhaps it was the servant's training that culled her momentum, perhaps it was a deeper sense of longing that engaged the urge to linger; she did want to see senmut, or akhtar, and go back to the easy days of the wedding or the moments before it, when ramesses lived and there was peace and happiness where now only dread did reside.

she turned one tall, wing-like ear towards him first, shy, and then the rest of her to face him. but her eyes were downcast to the dirt, trying to remain humble. by happenstance she saw the weave of reeds which had once fastened the medallion around her neck, and felt uneasy.

hem, i... was just... she didn't know what to say; none of her  tasks would draw her so far from the palace of late, especially in her condition.
—i thought i'd take a walk.

she felt too big, suddenly. misshapen.
that he should see her like this --!