Lion Head Mesa The almond and the apple

“Eset,” she introduces along with a respectful dip of her head. She will look long into the woman’s eyes; warm and soulful they are, as well as familiar.

“Am I right to guess: Tuna?” she smiles, feeling at once welcomed in her company, and endeavors to offer the same despite the jitters of this new acquaintance. “This palace speaks highly of you.”

Her accented tongue is at first startling, so unlike anything she's heard before in the way it draws and holds long in strange places, though she does not find it unpleasant. That the fellahin is also a foreigner is another way in which they might find solidarity, she will hope.

Briefly attention is turned to Tuna’s present task, the care in which she had been polishing the fresco just prior.

“Did you paint them?” She inquiries.