Lion Head Mesa culture shock

the grand warrior comes to greet her with open arms and her magma gaze seemingly calms as it meets with a cocoa brown, melding together like those terry's chocolate oranges. normally, Tuna has learned that formalities are a large part of Akashingo and often greets others by their titles and whatnot, though with the greet of her own name, Tuna likes to think that perhaps her and Zaahira are something like friends. a wag of the tail is clear as she comes to look over her warrior.

"Zaahira," she comes to say politely, "it's good t'ah see yew too, all'n one piece after that uh, event." war never sounds too pleasant to the ears. at the offer to join her, the fellahin happily falls in line just a stride or so behind the woman, hoping to guide her in a general direction towards the outer reaches of the mesa. "a walk's nice this time'a day too." there is a glow within Akashingo, and perhaps in Zaahira too as she strides with pride.

"ah gott'a ask, 'scuse mah rudeness 'n it, but..." she looks towards the other with a curious glint in her deep eyes, "how did it feel marchin' on khaba's an' makin' 'im pay?" she likes to think that the mazoi would revel in the moment of marching over their enemies, after all. Tuna could have begged to be a fly on the wall during the battle and just listening to all that had happened. but in the end, for a lowly fellahin, she could only be happy that they all came home together, alive, in brandishing the glory that is of Toula's reign.