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The lights are not all on upstairs. - Aiesha - 5/24/2026
The stranger was given her own room. Not only that but, with insistence, it was made in to a form she found acceptable. She, who had entered the palace and confronted the Pharaoh himself, before all of them, and had spoken in such a way. Aiesha felt a stirring of emotion in her belly just thinking about it.
It was not a sense of protection, which maybe would have taken root if it was her own father that she had rallied against and not the man Khaemwaset; it was not a sense of propriety either, as she had herself tried to step aside from all things hierarchal here. The feeling was a confusing one. Almost like... Envy. To be so violently received in this way, and so outspoken, and yet treated as a goddess!
And still the woman held power of her own, it seemed.
Aiesha watched on one such evening as Sitamun whisked out of Satakhetem's presence, hurrying, her eyes downcast as she seemingly ran for the shelter of Merneith's room. On another she had seen the artist come with his stains and his paints, the dog-man, and leave beaming. Her curiosity grew for the woman but so did an ample amount of fear, if not for the amiirad then for Satriya as a whole.
Finally her last shift of the evening was over, and she was relieved, and told to go and eat. Aiesha hurried away, much like the fellahin had.
She sought a larder, taking a few things without consideration as to what, and then moved on again to an exterior battlement of the Skyspear, where she may eat in the open air.