Lion Head Mesa texas

aw <3

it felt nice to be back at the mesa. though parts of tuna couldn't deny that she missed the faces of those she had grown close to. she could not deny the importance of maintaining the place of the summer palace. and certainly, she could recount the nights of the feast with distant fondness as she had come to dance, to serve, and even to eat when able. but as she tends to the palace needs of the mesa, she couldn't deny the bits of loneliness she could feel, here and there in the quiet moments.

she decides to keep herself busy with work, using the collected bundle of flexible twigs with leafy attachments and the tougher ends of the wheat plant to clean the hallways in a makeshift broom. it certainly put a strain on her neck and back, but in some way, it felt better to know there was a thrum of pain to keep her grounded than the silence of knowing she was by herself. the sound of her tiny collection of broom material echoes through the rocky walls, the pebbles and rocks scattering quietly away.

wish i was back in texas... i miss those wiiide open skies...