Lion Head Mesa noctilucent

power was the furthest thing from nazli's mind; she had never had any, being a servant, and even when she thought she'd owned some piece of it for herself - when she'd chosen to give herself to ramesses - she knew now it was a manipulation. she had never had power, only some glimmering of hope, which had been weaponized against her. her mind was blank as she watched makono recline upon the furs, unsure of what the pharaoh expected of her. afraid even to ask, as if she should know by the sharp look the woman bore.

she could recall with great clarity the feeling of being bundled up close to makono. of what it felt like to sleep beneath the stars, while a giant brooded not far off. between responsibilities: away from the palace, and not yet near mereo. it felt like a lifetime ago. a myth, barely real.

nazli made a small noise as she cleared her throat. she did not move, because an order had not been given.

are you... angry, with me? she managed to ask, letting some of her apprehension bleed in to her tone. she hoped to clarify a moment later but couldn't find the words, and struggled, tense and awkward, feeling at once too-big and too-small, paradoxically. as she took a breath her sides seemed to swell and, noticing this of herself, she clipped the moment short. tucking her tail low. i did not want this.

how pitiful her voice was now! why even speak this aloud? and to the pharaoh of all people! it was not appropriate.