Lion Head Mesa retrograde

:o

at times his moments felt electric.
this was not one of them. akashingo lay shrouded in mourning and their godhead sat in his throne, veiled by the day's hangover. but he had invited no lovers to his bed. he had barely eaten.
it was an exhausted and flatly glittering stare turned to the priest.
"holy one," ramesses greeted in a monotone, not descending from his plinth. "please tell me that the gods have granted you a finer vision for akashingo than the maladies that plague us now."