Lion Head Mesa Hate [m]e baby, maybe I'm a piece of art

she was a soft thing, a spiceflower caught beneath the grinding block. a tooth showed in his cruel merriment. "you are a bad liar who makes up for it in beauty." 

"i am khusobek, one of the mazoi." his cold eyes flickered over the aquiline nobility of melody's face. "are you going to tell me why you are hidden and weeping?"