Lion Head Mesa culture shock

a small hum for a wordless 'yup', and then the two are on their way. there is no mischievous glint in Tuna, no wry smile to offer a bit of comfort that whatever this thing is lacks seriousness. no, Tuna assures herself that Zaahira would soon know why this thing held a deep importance.

thankfully, the duo would not walk far, but up to the outer parts of the mesa where serpent lake flowed into the arid red sands. and resting near the shore, just far enough so that the water may never seep to disturb the soul that lay to rest remained a rather peculiar pile of dirt.

Tuna had tasked herself with its upkeep, sweeping away the bits of rock and unwanted material from its path to keep it clean and presentable. and when she would see what Haizel grew in the gardens, Tuna would snatch a flower or so to lay on this dirt.

the fellahin is still when she brings herself and Zaahira just a few feet away from it, tongue running over her teeth before she comes to search for a calm fiery gaze from the other. "yer Raven," she says softly, knowing that this is the only name Zaahira called her to Tuna, "ah found her 'n tha meada'w, covered in flowers. even in 'er death, she was mighty pretty."

Tuna would come to walk closer to the site, inviting the mazoi to join her if she wished as she comes to sweep a few lonesome pebbles away. "Senmut and ah buried her 'ere, wit'er flowers tew." she looks down for a moment to ensure that everything remained in order and in place for this moment. "ah've kept her restin' place clean, sometimes ah even sit out'ere and keep her company."

she comes to step away now, and perhaps see what Zaahira would make of this. "ah hope you don't mind that we did all'dat fer her."