Lion Head Mesa Viper

Eset offers her the wine herself, and Zaahira willingly laps at it. A stronger sip, this time, the burn flooding her throat as she swallows. She is praised; this brings a thin smile, a humble one.
The ghost of worn-down nails against her arm brings another shudder, and when the aspwoman looks to her again, there is the coolness of shame.
My lover was murdered, it comes out softly, plainly; a fact of life. I seek mentorship from Akhtar and the Hemet-nekheb herself so that I may still speak to her.
Her. She swallows the implication like a dull knife. It is not something she has ever shied away from, but now—
I am... trying to move on. Focus on my craft. At that, she offers another closed-mouth smile, laced with melancholy. But it is okay. You did not come here to listen to my woes.