Lion Head Mesa fist & jaw

Beyond Zahiira’s breathy ask for wine, the man moves to rise, his sudden vacancy churning the spring’s waters in a tempestuous wake. She nods and averts her eyes, waiting for him to pass from the room. There’s a stirring of hairs at the back of her neck, his dissatisfaction is clear. It does not bode well for her.

But she will release a breath and swiftly return her attention to at least one satisfied Mazoi, Zahiira appears pleased, if not a little shy. Her look softens, and something in her stance will, too.

She will want to suggest that, since he is gone, there would be no rush for Zahiira to leave. But she will do as commanded and offer to help the woman rise from the edge of the wellspring. “Come, I will escort you to your quarters, and I will fetch your wine, my lady.”