Lion Head Mesa flowers before men,

the land was limp in the mounting heat. senmut had recalled everyone inside from servant to guard. he now lay inside his own chambers almost stricken with the heat, half-draped in the catskin pelt of his rank, the space filled fragrant with the aura of wilted flowers being playfully waved by a fellahin draped close to him as he reclined —!

the hemet-nekheb herself darkened his doorstep, and so swiftly that senmut was still disarrayed when he pulled away from jawahir, and they both fell before their queen. he sent the servant away with a gesture; he welcomed the queen into his own attending-room, petals floating from his shoulders. "there has not been, great one," senmut breathed, taking up a place at her divine feet, scribe eternal and face burning to have been caught so.

"what do you consider in your mind, divine queen?"