no pretended brother will ever have your crown ☥

 it was @Taliba and @Mesen-ka whom the amiir had chosen to take with him upon excursion.
 blood stained the sands to announce where he had walked from one altar to another. pigeons, scorpions, a fawn antelope; sacrificed over the course of many hours with great effort.
 he felt aged. he felt ageless, and as he turned his steps to seek the medjay and his child, khaemwaset found his own voice highflung and joyous, a shout of praise to Horus.

the staff team luvs u

Taliba's transition into the work of a mazoi was not met with any fanfare. Nonetheless, it was sooner than she anticipated that she stand at the shouldrer of one of the royals. Sooner than she felt ready for, but now she worked alongside her father. He at the prince's right hand, and her at the left. It did not surprise her that the amiir chose her father for his retinue, but she was a tenderfoot.

She needed to work hard to impress.

Taliba's individual interactions with Khaemwaset could be counted on one paw; he was not the most sociable prince. Nonetheless, the boy's ambitions did not escape her. Perhaps he hadn't noticed her witness him sit upon his parents' thrones as small pups. Perhaps he did. Taliba could not recall; she didn't stir him from where he sat that day.

She did her utmost not to disturb his work this day, either.

Diligently, his chosen gifts to the gods were carried, processed, and provided. Crimson wept upon the altars. Iron hung heavy in the air.

When the amiir turned, she rallied alongside him with her own wordless cry.

Praise to Horus!

the staff team luvs u