Lion Head Mesa mastaba

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treva glowed. her pelt smelled of crushed flowers. the fragrance of the wellspring hung about her in an aura.
but ramesses' heart was crushed with grief, even as his mind sought to remain that of a pharaoh, and one fit for the glory of akashingo.
the lazuli eyes traced over the richness of her coiffed and rounded flanks. "i did not intend to see you before this time was over. and yet certain things have happened which now bring me to your door."
he straightened. "when the veil of grief has passed from akashingo, you will join me upon the throne."