Two Eyes Cenote Portrait of a Lady

Early days were for clearing the sanctum of dust and debris, and scrubbing down centuries-old rock lichen from the palace foundations until they shown perfect and gleaming. It was a smoothly run affair; the fellahin worked as a monolith prioritizing first Queen Toula’s personal bedchamber as well as that of the amiirad Ashikaga before attending to the Erpa-Ha, Neb and Nebets. Next was Tavina’s medical ward, a long chamber with natural outcroppings that could store herbs, finely pumiced and cleansed until the undulating walls immaculately glistened. Arduous and repetitious was the work, but each once-austere room began to take on a character of its own and was consciously chosen to complement their individual occupants.

The servants might complete the initial cleaning in two week’s time, but when all is said and done, Eset wishes to construct something. For this, her voice quietly seeks the insight of @Sayf, the fellahin most experienced among them.

Sayf liked Eset; she worked hard and took pride in her work. She was what all fellahin should strive to be. Serving the palace was more than companionship for the wolves that lived there; it was also making sure everything was clean and running smoothly. There was always something to be done, and the fellahin were working from morning until night every day. Sayf liked it that way. He was filled with purpose and busy paws left little time to dwell on his grief. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Eset appeared, and it was clear she needed to speak with him. Sayf set down the pelt full of berries and meat and turned to the woman. Eset. What can I do for you?

It would be seen as menial work to most, but Eset is pleased to know the fellahin find a certain level of pride and satisfaction in their work. Including Sayf, who had been keeping the halls of Akashingo long before Queen Toula found her at their threshold. It is perhaps this shared diligence that had given she and Sayf so few vacant moments to know one another. His work is undoubtedly impressive, but the man behind remains obscure. She knows little of him aside from the knowledge he was a favorite of Toula's father, Pharaoh Ramesses, and wishes now to amend it.

“How are you, Sayf?” She asks, golden eyes sweeping over his ashen face, detecting a solemn air about him.