For much of your lifespan, you had not much of a motherly figure to look up to, besides Mut. Mut was your friend, and also a mother figure to you, always caring for you like you were her own. In the quiet living quarters, Mut brushed your hair, braiding it.

“Your hair is very soft. How I adore brushing it.”

She smiles and runs her fingers through your scalp. Chuckling at your relaxed expression.

“Comfortable, are we?”