Lion Head Mesa deathless death

At first, Zaahira only listens, blinking the remnants of sleep from her eyes. The names of these Gods are unfamiliar to her, but she is intrigued, eager to learn of them. She hears of the Pharaoh, of his passing; the glaze of the Queen's eyes when she speaks of him. Though she is a Queen, and he a Pharaoh, she is but her father's daughter. A child left behind too soon. 
They understand each other. The Queen's calm words and soothing touch are warm; wise, and not at all unkind. It is in this moment that Zaahira realizes this is what leadership is meant to look like. 
Rising to a stand, she is eager to follow, slinking beside her with slender limbs and a smile of warmth, tail falling into a sway. Zaahira sorry for your loss, too, she comments, a soft quality to the husk of her voice. She liked the thought of Selena and the Pharaoh being together in the golden glow of the afterlife, perhaps conversing and sharing wine. It brings a softness to her gaze, the hooding of eyelids. 
When she is asked of Selena, she thinks about it for a moment, face scrunching as the words in her mind are prepared for being spoken. She longed to be as eloquent as the Queen, honey-smooth and sweet; her own words are rough, thick, jagged, ugly. But she tries anyway.
Kind. Shy, quiet. Had pretty smile. Smell good. Kiss gentle. Innocent, her lower lip visibly trembles at the last part. She was so scared. Khaba order little woman to kill. Punish for stupid thing! Bastard. Want her back, She meets the Queen's eyes with her own. Not enough time.