Lion Head Mesa sins and scars you'll never recognize

Who are you, Sabah? Who are you Nephele? Who are you, Two? Vicious man beater, thieving rat, nothing? Who are you?

It was with a grind of the Jodai’s teeth that she cast away the questions.

Who are you? Who? Who? 

What could she answer? That she did not know? That she was not Nephele, that she was not Two? Then did she lay claim to the vicious air of Sabah? Did she pretend she was someone else? Could she return to that life?

Because, she wouldn’t lie, part of her heart ached to just pack up everything and run like hell. Take the bird, the skull, her life, and cut ties with Akashingo and run until her breath was out of her lungs. That was Nephele, that was the stifled, wilted thing she thought died long ago. The want to run? That was who she was as Belladonna. Gods above…how many masks did she have? Who was she without any of them?

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you, to swing the whip? To serve the orders? Little Two, little Rodent, runner runner little Runner? Who are you?

She stared at her eyes in the waters of the wellspring.

Who are you?

She drew in a shaky gasp, voice whispering, barely audible.

Who are you?

I don’t know.

Sayf hadn't heard what exactly was said, but he heard the woman's voice as he made his way to the wellspring. 

He trotted softly to her side and bowed his head respectfully. She was the leader of the mazoi. The fellahin served her above all of her soldiers. Except one, but no one could know that. My lady, he said, head still bowed. Can I be of service to you? 

Perhaps she wanted to be bathed or fed? Maybe she needed someone to listen. Sayf could provide whatever the jodai wished. He raised his head as he waited for her answer, soft golden eyes lifting some but not meeting her gaze.

Sabah cringed.

It wasn’t the Fellahin’s fault, no, it was her own. A recognition of what, exactly, she had entangled herself in. The serf becoming the enforcer, ha! It was like she was living a very bad power fantasy. The kind of delusions of a naive child, brought to life before her eyes. She swallowed thickly.

No, no it’s…it’s fine. You can come sit, if you like. She said, tipping her head skyward to think for a moment. 

Gods, this is weird. She whispered to herself. She had been the one who served before, and now others served her. She was Sabah and Nephele and Two, and many other identities all trying to hide a sack of neuroses the size of this entire mesa. After a moment, she appeared to gather her courage and speak again.

You…do you like it? Working here? Are you…treated well and everything?

Sayf quickly accepted the jodai's invitation and took a seat at her side. She whispered something he couldn't make out, and Sayf watched her closely. She seemed upset in some way. He wished to help in. 

At her question, the fellahin nodded. Yes, my lady, the pharaoh treats me very well, and I am honored to serve him and the rest of Akashingo. The mesa was the perfect place for the coyote. 

Does something trouble you? he asked. He would listen if she wanted to share, or he would stay here and talk about whatever she liked. Maybe she wanted to be cared for in other ways, but he would wait and see what she asked of him.

He was happy here. A part of Sabah wanted to demand he tell her the truth, but she didn’t sense any sort of lie. She gave a short puff of air, nodding slowly.

Good, thats…that’s good. She shuffled her stance, tail giving a half hearted sweep.

Its nothing that can be helped. My past is…A grimace.

Complicated. I suppose you could say once…I was something akin to a Fellahin. A servant.

Sayf was immediately intrigued. He was sure to hide the interest, though, since something about her past seemed to be upsetting her now. 

Sometimes talking about it can help how you feel about it now, he told her. And I am a good listener. He offered her a soft smile. 

How did you move up? he asked. He hoped his question wouldn't further her discomfort. She had felt comfortable enough to bring it up, but he was unsure where the line was. Still, he was interested to know more about her past. Not that he had ever considered doing the same, but he had never heard of such a thing before.

I didn’t. 

She moved to indicate the scarred leg, fur unable to grow over the old injuries.

I tried to run. I was a child, scared and unused to hard work. This was my reward when they caught up to me. Sabah’s face looked like she’d eaten something sour.

But the nobles…overextended their reach. There was comparatively few of them, far too many of us. All it took was a rebellion. And I was free.

Sayf listened quietly and intently as the guard leader told him of her past. Like him, she had been born into servitude. And like him, she had not known kindness. 

But eventually, she had found freedom, and now she lead the mazoi. Freedom had never been something he thought much about, surprisingly; he wouldn't even know what to do with it. But being here felt like it might be similar. 

I was born into this life, too, he told her, hoping to convey that he knew better than most what she had been through. I am sorry that you suffered so much. If she would allow it, he would offer a gentle touch of his nose to her shoulder.

Sabah allowed it with little more than a twitch, before turning to attempt to press her nose to Sayf’s forehead in reply.

My suffering wasn’t for naught, αδελφός. I have learned, I have grown. And when the time comes, you will too. She murmured.

Sayf closed his eyes and smiled at the returning affection. There was some unknown force shared between them—maybe sprung from the knowledge of what it meant to truly serve. 

She hinted that one day he might be more than a servant, but that was not really what he wished for. He would keep that to himself, though. And maybe he would learn and grow in ways that didn't threaten his good fortune with the pharaoh. Now you lead the mazoi, he commented. You have come far. He looked up at her with admiration. Her spirit was strong.