Lion Head Mesa break my pencil on your empty poem

similarly to his last visit of the mesa, it was not long before a figure emerged to greet him. he rose at the sight of the tawny man, maw dipped in silent acknowledgment. he was not recognized by appearance alone, but scent was vaguely familiar. had this man been among the crowd during his initial hire? eh, it mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

the man spoke of senmut and his absence. it seemed the nomad had a streak of stopping by at the most inconvenient of times. "do you know when he might return?" he asked with a swish of his tail. not that he was pressed for time, but a single sandstorm could ruin the effort he'd put towards his work. the sooner he delivered his findings, the sooner he could reap the rewards.

the stranger introduced himself as naberius, prince to sun and sand. alphus gave a glance in the southern direction of desert wasteland. "sun and sand," he started, words twirling about his lips as if thought over them carefully. "as in of the south?" he questioned in earnest, curious if this prince was of the desert.