Lion Head Mesa divide

for a moment she is thinking the gold spear is ramesses.

but this one did not wear a gold cloak. instead it is a cloak of shadows. she thought that she recognized it all, only the figure was larger now. grown. princesses did not dance in ceremonies but in politics.

maybe she might have stood among that assembly once.

now she figured she was too old and too worn to be even a useful mazoi. it was okay. it no longer defined her to be held only by titles.

the question was not lost on her, either. her mouth opened, prepared to speak, only to close and offer a lick of her lips. uncertain. would it unravel her? would the rickety organ in her chest be able to handle it? but this felt like being welcomed back, in one way or another.

she nodded only, not trusting her voice, if it still lived in there.