Lion Head Mesa Toiling

"oh, i believe you are very, very wrong, isetnofret."

and all at once it felt as though ramesses were within this chamber, goading senmut, grinning as he stood behind the priest in the place once occupied by Amun.

horror grabbed at senmut! what was happening to him, to the red palace? but when he opened his mouth to warn away the nobleman draped prettily beside him, it was only the same voice which emerged, a honeyed assurance in it which had never belonged to senmut before.

"your very name proclaims that the gods themselves call you beautiful," puppeted by the ghostly paleness of an undead god to which only he alone could bear visible witness; "and i am a mouthpiece for their words. you may trust in my assurance."

"perhaps it is your turn to take. to plunder as the world has done. what would you say to that notion?"