Lion Head Mesa like one of your french girls

When the fires of the daylight star burned low, Akhtar was found in his quarters, much as you could find him anyday. He didn’t go hunting or searching for anything, and with war sniffing its nose at their flanks, what better way to spend his time than not getting ripped to shreds by weirdos.

Anything was better than that.

Tonight, though, was a glorious night. A night when Akhtar broke out his “paints”, got tipsy, and began to draw.

What he was working on wasn’t recognizable in any sort of way, no, but in his mind it was a beautiful rendition of a heron. He swept his claws back off the blob of the creature’s head to mimic feathers, frowning to himself for a moment, before shrugging and moving on. He hummed as he worked, an old song, honoring deities he had grown up with. He couldn’t quite remember the words. He didn’t believe he should be worshipping fish after all.

i hope you don't mind me throwing tuna in here, you're welcome to notice her at any time<3

the days grow and tuna still feels weary of the possibility of war within Akashingo. the fellahin was no clueless being, as she has seen the days drowned in red. She did not wish for such a gory site to stain the halls and sands of the holy grounds. but the more she listened, the more she learned that this was going to be no simple diplomatic notion.

Akashingo was owed blood. A mother was owed her cubs. and the Greatwater pack would have to answer to these debts, be it at the hands of the servants or the mouth of the prince. tuna did not envision seeing Toula take on such a path that would require a tactician's tongue.

when she was replaced by another Fellahin, tuna would initially come to turn in for the night. though, on her way from the blessed Toula, she would come to hear [and perhaps smell the slight pungent mix in the air] that would come to draw her attention. her great ears would come to push forward in curiosity as she could see the lord at work with his paints. and while Tuna was no art critic by any stretch, she seriously struggled to make anything out of whatever it was that the man painted before her.

she decides to not disturb him but instead quietly watches from peeking around a corner where able. and when she did not focus on his painting, she focused on his song. and for the moment, it sounded lovely in her ears.