Lion Head Mesa crook & flail

<3 never

captains of the palace guards did not often brush shoulders with the more brutish, nor with war itself. hatshepsuun possessed her own armies for that.

what khusobek knew was the inside of a harem with his man's eyes, the gilt and pomp of flesh paraded. alliances traded on the upright backs of noble girls who disappeared into painted rooms. in the fermentation of wine, in the tasting of meals before they reached the door of pharaoh. in poisoned servants buried in silent tombs, of concubines' children sickened with khamsin fevers, then stricken forever from royal memory once they had passed.

fine things. cold things.

in this place there was finery in less excess, so its nature caught his eye. zaahira had it as well. he watched through peripherals the stiff set of her body. had she once belonged to khaba? "Osiris will test him now. and i do not think he can survive having his heart devoured."

there was no smile. her cinnamon glint burned with the underglow of a pulsing ember. khusobek felt he knew the look of hate in its quieter forms.