Lion Head Mesa reed

it could only, in the very barest way possible, be called a smile. tugging at the corner of her lips before it faded just as fast.

she understood. maybe not as deeply as her father, but she had been burdened with social roles from a young age.

okay, she agreed softly. content to fall back into a comfortable silence, no more need to boast or roar about the future. instead her demeanor would seemingly flip to the opposite. thoughtful and subdued.

her father would understand.