Lion Head Mesa plumes

the world shimmered.
she watched ramesses and thought he ate more of the berry, but then realized she was watching his lips, the stain to them, the movement of tongue. she looked away after.
satsu looked to her meal, what was left of it, and pushed the remaining fruits away with a soft touch. there was not much meat left either. time felt as if it had stalled.
he is gone, they are all gone.
she stood up and wavered, sinking to her haunches.
i should not claim the ushiyo name any longer, it is dead.
her eyes watered again, and this time she was not mindful enough to do anything about it. there was a grim smile on her face now, the laughter having vanished, her body swaying minutely as if a breeze pulsed at her.
you have many names— pharaoh, ramesses, likely others in his languge she had not heard, even some that only jawahir held for him in private. as husband, will you name me? am i to become satsu— satsu-ramesses, or, her words slurring.
nekubi, nekubi satsu, of the red sand.
she shook her head, or started to, then stopped when the world spun.