Lion Head Mesa butterflies

She liked that answer best, and did not, for even a moment, doubt his authenticity. Not for the way he carried himself with so much revenant poise. His answer was admittedly vague, but the princess did not coax him further now, for in time she hoped to know him better!

“It is so beautiful!” She compliments. He was, too, so he must know a great deal about beauty. That her eyes are the identical deep scarlet of the flower is no coincidence, and she smiles grandly, thinking how the goddess Neith would admire such a thoughtful offering. Mernieth respected and admired all the gods and goddesses, but it was Neith who most intrigued, and complexed her, as if some aspect of her namesake, which dwelled within the passages of ancient texts, lived also in her own ren.

“I feel her, sometimes. Within me,” her eyes narrow. “Well, it is hard to explain,” and would a mortal understand?

“Do you have a patron God, Charmion?” She looks into the trim angular face with eager interest.