Lion Head Mesa sackcloth

The maid girl was difficult to ignore. Her autumnal coat flitted past the woman Satsu at every opportunity, timidity in her gaze. Arsenio watched her shamelessly, the piercing blue of his eyes followed the path that she cut whenever she stepped into his line of sight. The misthofóros did not believe that the autumn wolf was a threat to the lady of Akashingo, only that she drew his attention as an individual of interest.

It was morning when her vibrant colors appeared outside of the queen’s bedchamber. Arsenio was positioned stiffly outside of Satsu’s sleeping place, waiting for the hour when he would follow her to her tasks and listen to all that went on around her. The autumn maid approached with weariness in her features and branches clasped in her teeth.

Good morning, ypirétria, Arsenio greeted her with an easy, toothy smile.