Lion Head Mesa fah

he stood at the door. for a while, he was perfectly still. Toula could not refrain from imagining him a part of these halls, a stony fixture—a gargoyle statue, foreboding and fierce!
it was only when he shifted that the illusion broke. but Toula found herself in good humor from it, and gestured towards the furs on the floors. please, make yourself comfortable, she invited, and then drew toward another pile of furs atop a small, unassuming plinth—more like a stone chaise lounge than plinth, perhaps—and lay comfortably across it. eat, if it pleases you, and she then picked one of the sweet meats for herself, enjoying the taste of it upon her own tongue. it was nothing too lavish; Toula could not permit anything so grand in this period of mourning!
do you enjoy the duties of Mazoi, then? she inquired, truly hoping to know him better! was it in this way that he found his purpose?
Toula then came up with an idea, but held her tongue and waited for his answer first!