Lion Head Mesa sword & jaw

He looks pleased. It is inappropriate and he knows it. She will not be convinced of this genuine show of good faith, and even then she likes the mazoi better the way he was before- bitter and incensed by war. Easy to predict.

She complies in stepping forward and turning her back to him, stilling in anticipation of the collar’s weight. Unbidden comes a flickering memory of her claws over his neck.

“Your Queen owns many gilded collars I imagine,” she glances aside but will not see him behind her. Improper; a pushback, if only to convince him this did not hold sway.