Lion Head Mesa (ap) godhead

the last time she had been here, he had been in the mountains. tamar had been with her. the smell of the room was much the same - cleaner now, more pronounced in its herbal notes - without a trace of filth among the furs. a dearth of them lined the bed. on one side was ramesses, on the other satsu.
the shelves were barren. she did not see the feather, but in time would fill the empty spaces with her own things; their things, too, as their history together cemented.
sobekneferu, prayed the pharaoh softly.
there were no onlookers. the crowd had been entertained by the blood-sport of the mazoi; she had watched as they followed their orders without hesitation to beat the red-fur man, to banish him. a show of power she could have put an end to.
moving to the furs, her eyes on him — focused, despite the redness of her cheeks, her throat. the humming in her skin — climbing silently in among them.