Lion Head Mesa meadowlands

can I just say I ADORE him

Someone had scattered flowers in her room. The petals, blushed red, offer their delicate floral scents to the air, a sweet mix which brings to mind her mother’s perfumes– and the way she and daddy left so suddenly.

Her head whirls to the occupied doorway, where her most favored fellahin now stood. Handsome, well-coiffed, bearing gifts and the olive twinkle that she’d come to miss.

Of the many dignities acquired from Moontide’s hunt, one of the most significant was learning to tune her smiles for show. The princess could crank it wide when she chose, even to crinkle the edges of her eyes. Perhaps this is the trick of royalty. A way to stay forever in the good graces of the world. 

“Charmion,” here the amiirad employs it, a tranquil greeting of full teeth, when really what she wants is to sink her face into his chest and cry.