Lion Head Mesa Antallagí

this boy was grating upon the last of the courtesan's good nature. ordering them about as if they themselves were fellahin, not somehow equal to them, or above; jawahir shot the boy a sly look, smiling, but feeling no love for him.

and then the girl spoke. she was flighty. made nervous by the depth of the boy's voice maybe. jawahir softened for her sake and drew a little breath.

your father? oh, my dear, i will make sure it is known that we will have company. perhaps they would, perhaps they would not; the fellahin could keep the man entertained if he appeared and the girl could rest from whatever ordeals she had survived.

if that was what she wanted, jawahir would not stand in the way. the creature moved so that belen could go forth towards the mesa, lingering before arsenio to briefly bar his way — a warning in those dark eyes, a thin smile upon those lips.

go, then. if you are so desperate for his attention. dismissive, and then they slid out of the path.