Lion Head Mesa המבול

a red man comes to greet him. he is lithe, handsome; cloaked in crimson and sharp-edged much in the same way izaiah was. akashingo; the red palace. bodies begin to surround them, both of high and low class. the stonebuilt face is unmoving save for intrigued glances here and there.
erpa-ha, this man is called. izaiah, the boy introduces. he gives a small, relieved smile. very much so.
he speaks of smokey eyes, of minya, of his internship which led him now to the palace doorstep. the position he seeks here — a doctor, no longer a student.
there is so much to this place. where minya was stationed in open scrubland and shaded only by the trees, this place was the mesa. the interior is somehow even more grand! his eyes slowly begin to adjust to the flickering light as he studies the narrow scarlet-crested face of the priest. he wonders what god he praises, but finds himself too nervous to ask.
instead, he lands upon idle, friendly chatter. he eyes the wellspring with interest. i have to say, this is much better than what i expected.