Lion Head Mesa thebes

the day was hot and long. lines of fellahin and mazoi toiled to bring the stones.
ramesses came to stand beside @Siptah, who oversaw. they were both stained in red mud by now.
"in nine days, the mourning period for your queen mother will be ended. how much more time will you need to complete her tomb?"

Tags for reference!

Siptah had grown accustomed to the feel of the red mud-clay in between his claws, caking into his fur. He liked it — it reminded him of the job he had just done. The honor he gave his mother in doing so.

His father approached, and Siptah bowed his head. "I will have it done by then. But I will have some last-minute sacrifices for her to take with her." Siptah was learning to control his emotions, or at least make them harder to see from the outside. He did not cry for Satsu today.

"I wish to hunt for her, with @Ashikaga and @Makono. She should have our first kills." Something for her to admire in the afterlife.

ramesses did not acknowledge this with more than a flick of his ear. but he had heard all the same. the tomb would be finished.
his son did not weep and as he stood beside his father, he seemed older than his handful of months.
"your mother would rejoice to have these things," pharaoh said. sorrow touched his own voice with hoarseness. "what will you bring her, my son?"

There was much he wished to bring Satsu — food, furs, perhaps even those fermented berries the adults ate. Tavina had also suggested a song, but he was not sure he'd have it done in time, and wouldn't he have to perform it in front of everyone? It was a daunting thing.

"I've brought her honey and other sweets, but I want to give her our first kills, and... I think my favorite fur." A sleeping fur could be replaced. His mother could not. He swallowed roughly, looking away.

"Did she like songs?"

tags for reference! @Raimo and @Jakoul <3

"take the new mazoi and go out upon the steppes," he said, gesturing west of akashingo. "there are birds and other kills to be had. while you are hunting, heed them. they know their trade and you are still learning."
satsu. music. songs.
"when we were married, she danced."
"her voice was a hymn by itself."
sorrow hitched in his throat. "bring her songs, siptah."

Siptah had not yet been taken far from the mesa, so his eyes lit up as he looked to the west. Perhaps this would be just what he needed to improve his spirits. It would be even better with his sisters there with him, and he intended to invite them. "I will, father."

Satsu, dancing? Siptah found it hard to picture, but he smiled nonetheless. He debated working on songs with his sisters as well, because at the moment he had zero ideas. He felt horrible, having hardly known his mother. He felt like a bad son. Siptah looked down, swallowing hard.

"Do you have any suspects, father?"

"i do."
but the set of his jaw said that he would not utter the names. he was not sure. dissent would enter the palace if his son was set upon others without proof. and siptah already carried a great burden.
"in the end, what they suffer on earth will be nothing against the judgement of Ma'at."

Ramesses did not give a name. Prince Siptah shifted, to look down upon the workers building his mother's tomb. Could it really be one of them? He was so sure it was Jawahir, who, due to her duties, was not here. It riled something in the young Prince nonetheless.

"Why would the Gods let mother be killed? Wasn't she royalty, too?" Had she done something wrong? Surely not...

"she was. and we do not question why the gods choose to take someone to their bosom." his voice was heavy. "your queen mother was given a place in the afterlife, and early. we can only imagine that she was of such great importance, she was taken into their council."
his heart ached with a glaring and painful snap.
"come, siptah. we will visit the priestess. perhaps she may have words of comfort for you."

He had to believe his father's words, for if Siptah did not, he would lose himself to his sorrow. He swallowed, feeling as if he had a large lumpy something stuck in his throat. He said nothing until his father beckoned him away. "Yes... perhaps." So many had offered him words already, but little of them had helped. Still, he followed the Pharaoh away all the same.