Lion Head Mesa (ap) talking to a plant in the corner

She wasn’t a servant anymore, he said, and for a moment, a hysterical laugh built in her throat. She dispelled it with a short cough, her eyes finding Pharoah and queen.

I do believe, sometimes.. Sabah mused, going silent with a click of her tongue against the back of her teeth.

I may have jumped from one form of servitude to another. The admission was quiet, but hung across her tongue like cotton stuffed between her teeth.

She had changed her name, but that had not changed her eternal desire to belong, somewhere. From lonely girl, to lone captain. Sabah snorted, abruptly wishing she was alone. Or had more to drink. Or perhaps both.