Lion Head Mesa they feed on temple grain ☥

that fear in neith's voice stilled khaemwaset's paw upon the granite dais. he turned to her with a startled blink that perhaps restored the prince over what he had been, a thinning veneer draped over what he was.

"i did not mean to frighten you," amiir spoke with chastisement in his voice, ears splayed to show the breadth of his unwillingness to let her be scared of him.

a final glance to the thrones. "come. let us go to the top of the mesa. we should join the erpa-ha for prayer."

but he was somber as he looked at neith, hoping to see her own face clear of its trepidation.