Lion Head Mesa crook & flail

hope u don't mind me popping in <3

Khusobek was a mysterious man.
She knew not where he came from, although she knew he was, perhaps, newer blood to the red palace just as much as Zaahira herself. But he carries himself effortlessly the same way pack-born Akashingoans do, and so they were not all the same. Zaahira was a wildwoman; feral in a past life. She was no royal.
But nonetheless, she had her duties here.
A chuff rolls from her nostrils as she glides through the hallway and towards the inky dark of the catacombs. Khaba lay there, and though Akashingo's victory was one she celebrated, feelings of old made her gut twist as she approaches his jail. It wasn't pity or sympathy, per se, but nervousness. A fear of him seeing her.
She approaches Khusobek hidden in a shadow, taking her place adjacent to him. When she sits, she is tall, poised; chin high, shoulders pushed back. She doesn't greet him traditionally. Instead, she mumbles, He makes me sick, as her gaze is cast downward to the floor.