Lion Head Mesa you've got mail

She is rising from the servant’s quarters, taking the dusted passageways shown to her by Tuna. They are not so kept as the others that lead out into the banquet hall and reception rooms, but they are thankfully quiet. She turns a sandstone corner and nearly stumbles over a little raven-coated girl before catching herself.

“Lady Racharra!” She breathes while recomposing herself. The little nebet had her maw full of glistening green gems. It was time, she imagines, to make good on their presentation to the Queen.

“Allow me to help,” she offers with a shallow laugh, “shall we gather the rest?”