Lion Head Mesa bull

in mute silence senmut turned and led makono away from the wellspring, to the halls of the priests where nala would soon walk, where the scarlet walls were painted in dark river-mud and berry-juice, representations made by their kind of the gods above.

more to be done, more to be etched. pylons of jubilee and obelisks to Amun. but for now, senmut held back and bowed his head, listening to where makono might step, listening for what obeisance she might make.

she stayed close to him.

perhaps that in and of itself would be suspicious, invite whispers and traveling words. it mattered not to her in those feverish moments. overcome by the world at large all at once.

i do not know if i miss when my days were just of worship, prayers and painting. the training of a princess. and idle thought too large for the girl who had only just begun to fill out the final stretches of her frame.

is there a painting for...

me she wanted to say. crown prince, Apis Bull worshipper.

somehow she felt small among the decorated walls.

senmut kept his eyes from her divinity. "your ka is male. that is why you could not forever exist inside the body of a princess."

the young wolf indicated the cups of paint. "you are holy. your touch in this place is sacred, great one."

fade? but never has to be <3

her ka.

male.

she had heard it before and yet each time it struck her harder than the last. but her touched was asked for, she felt, among these walls.

if he would keep her, she would stay here for a while. painting, marking the walls. allowing her touch to grace this part of akashingo in a way that somehow felt permanent.

all the while she would steal glances at senmut.