Lion Head Mesa [sc] Boa

Something incorporeal, like a caged lioness, roars to life inside her. She has the urge to release a cry of frustration.  Her encircling arms cling harder.

“It’s a spectacle either way, isn’t it?” She asks Legend in a muddling voice, the expression on her face warring between acceptance and dread. Worse is the awareness that had returned to her own body, the want that felt like fires being lit all over her skin at the lightest touch. How long until her scent exposes her?

She wanted to ruin; she liked the idea of being ruined.

“It is myself I do not trust,” Eset confesses, “if I traveled with anyone, it would be with you. But I have never been alone before. I- I wish for this.” She needed it; there was something she must do- and she knew she could not stay a moment longer and risk her fortunes changing.

But Legend stills her- and it takes the hebsut only a moment to truly understand the despondency worrying the face of her friend. Eset does not glance for the banks of the serpent, but she knows she would see priest and priestess together if she did. She reaches to take Legend’s hand in her own.

The hebsut did not know the relationship between Erpa-ha and mazoi, nor the nature of their desire for one another. The heart could be pulled in as many directions as turns of sun. But she did know what she’d witnessed with Senmut back in his room at Muat-riya, and now she hesitates with that reality on the tip of her tongue.

“He is in love with Nazli. I think… I think he always has been,” her eyes rove the other woman’s clear blue gaze, regret furrowing the soft line of her own brow. “I’m so sorry, Legend.”