Lion Head Mesa crook & flail

He was a gift, he says, and at that, a soft grin tugs at the edge of the aspwoman's mouth. She dips her head, chin resting against her chest before it raises again. I did not know Akashingo's reach was so broad, she comments, a gruffness to the shell of her voice as it bounces off the catacomb walls. it has many connections. And it is weird, being foreign in such a place.
Her nerves have given her a prickly feeling in her toes. It feels odd to openly disclose her non-royal blood; the fact that it is quite the opposite. Sinir was a woman of the great bay on the edge of Kyneswood, wild and stained with seasalt. She spoke little and had even less to lose.
And Zaahira, well—
May I ask you something else? and if he were to accept, she then inquires with a crease to the edges of her eyes, are you lonely, Khusobek?