Lion Head Mesa and not just the muse

she had become a statue in the hours that followed. sat rigidly upon the throne, unmoving with tall ears. as if she expected a summon from the mazoi. that somehow, someway, someone had returned with his head.

that she would see him one last time before she tossed his useless body into the serpent lake. let him be useful in death where he had failed in life.

mazoi, she rumbled in a deep voice that lacked any warmth. a report?

her brow quirked only the slightest bit as she set her gaze heavy upon him.