Lion Head Mesa culture shock

at the question of maintaining it, there is a soft nod from the fellahin. it did not take much effort since she worked more in the beginning to rid the place of weeds, large abnormalities, and other nonsense that would displease the eye. the praise and thanks is met with a kind smile as her large ears swivel to hear the tale spun from zaahira.

and for a moment, tuna is taken back to her days as a child. she and her siblings would sit and listen to their bedtime story, yawning and fighting to stay awake to get to the best part. while love stories were not a common choice for children, there has always been a yearn inside tuna to know what that feeling is like. "she soun's like mah typ'a laydee" she would say warmly, a small toothy grin beneath her lips.

but the story takes a turn, as they all seem to do. and when she comes to see the change in zaahira, the girl comes to gently place her paw atop her friend's, letting her know that she was there. there is not much she can do to help with the feelings that continue to storm within orange eyes. for a moment, tuna says nothing to allow time to recollect the pieces.

"that uh," what was the word zaahira just said? "chehlb, will haft'a answer tew yer teeth, then. we'll bleed'er dry." it is not a promise of action that is perhaps wanted, but it is hope that justice may come one day. if allowed, tuna would come to reach and offer a soft, comforting brush of her muzzle against zaahira's chocolate cheeks upon the notice of her tears.

"but fer now," a cast towards the sky which began to shift colors, "ah'd rest. yer raven walks in'tha land of the reeds, and ah know that someday, yew'll 'ave'er again." for her and herself only, tuna could only hope. perhaps osiris keeps an eye on her soul in the afterlife.